#the rage that lingers; deep seated and a foil to you

[alectocarrion]

do you think my expressions should match? how it is on the inside, say so --  holy fuck, i'm about to die angry for no reason, twisted up inside

[doortotomorrow]

Mirrors and Cautionary Tales : John Murphy’s Journey to Redemption

When it comes to John Murphy, plenty of people have wondered why he spent a significant portion of his screen time interacting with the seasonal villains, and I think I’ve come up with a reason why this feels like such a steady trend in his overall story arc. It all comes down to how these villains represented Murphy’s internal struggles with himself as he grew and matured into the man we now know him as today. 

Let’s take this back to the very first season of The 100 where we first encounter Murphy as he touches down onto Earth and the kind of person he was back then. As beloved a character as he is now, I can’t mince words or sugarcoat things. He was the villain for the delinquents in the first season. So, what kind of villain was he?

He wanted power and authority by any means necessary - ( “Well, I think the princess is dead... but I know the king's about to die, so who's really gonna lead these people, huh? Me, that's who, and, yeah, maybe I'll have to kill your grounder-pounding little sister.” - We are Grounders I )

He was downright wrathful - ( his willingness to kill Jasper, holding someone over a fire, ganging up on Wells to remove his bracelet, almost killing Raven )

He was selfish and all about his own self preservation- ( making everyone else do the work around the delinquent camp while Bellamy is gone, wasting resources to blow a hole in the drop ship to make his getaway )

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With those things out of the way, let’s jot down all the villains Murphy interacted with.

Charles Pike

Ontari kom Azgeda

Paxton McCreary

Josephine Lightbourne 

Sheidheda

We’ll start with John Murphy’s origin point and his experience under his abusive Earth skills teacher, Charles Pike. While Murphy was largely absent from witnessing much of what Pike did to become Chancellor of Arkadia, he did see the end result of how that worked out for him. Desperate, in a jail cell, and then later on, stabbed to death in an act of revenge for the horrific things he did while in a position of power he practically stole. 

On the Grounder side, he had the unfortunate luck of being trapped in Polis with Ontari kom Azgeda. Initially, he went along with the whole false Commander thing, masquerading as her Fleimkepa and even gave her advice on how to maintain her power...but then he started becoming unnerved by her violent paranoia, ultimately getting traumatized by her when she viciously abused him.

Murphy’s front row seat to watching two people’s quests for power and authority left him with this valuable lesson : being power hungry will turn you in a paranoid, unhinged person with a list of enemies a mile long. You will never, ever have a moment’s peace. You will always be looking over your shoulder wondering if this is the day you get a knife in the back.

After the third season, Murphy’s desire for power and authority completely disappears. It’s not something he’s interested in anymore because he’s been shown that it’s simply not worth it. 

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Enter season five and its main villain : Paxton McCreary. What does McCreary like to do for fun? Start riots, blow things up, fire off big guns, and getting high off of combat. Oh, and he’s always, always emotionally detached and angry. His default setting is rage. It’s sounding kind of familiar, isn’t it? 

The fifth season is where Murphy’s at his most chaotic and destructive(both internally and externally). He’s blowing things up, playing with huge guns, causing riots, jumping into any battle he can for the adrenaline rush, pushing everyone away, breaking up with Emori until finally, it all comes crashing down on him. All of this chaotic behavior leads to him getting shot in the Rover, nearly losing his life in the process.

On the other side of the war, McCreary’s wrath caused untold levels of destruction. It was McCreary’s need for destruction that lead to Earth being completely fried, it was McCreary’s wrath that resulted in the loss of Monty and Harper, taking away two members of Murphy’s family from him. 

All of this unquantifiable destruction and death was a giant wake up call for Murphy. McCreary leaves him with this lesson: if you let rage and chaos possess you, you will end up losing everything. 

That’s why, when the sixth season rolls around, Murphy’s lust for battle was greatly diminished. 

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Speaking of the sixth season, it’s time to revisit Sanctum and get ourselves reacquainted with Josephine Lightbourne. 

When Murphy arrived in Sanctum, his heart was heavy, clearly in a state of mourning over those he lost when he woke up and realized Monty and Harper were gone. Not only that, but yet again, he had suffered another traumatic near death experience during Sanctum’s Red Sun event. His first day out of his long hibernation was hardly fun at all, experiencing nightmares about going to hell when he fell into a coma and waking up screaming over what he saw.

So, in a moment of vulnerability and wanting to avoid going to hell, Murphy became more and more tempted with the concept of the Prime’s method of immortality. The ultimate survivor’s move : not dying at all. It’s at this point where he met Josie and saw first hand what living forever does to a person. At first, he made a deal with her to get his hands on some empty mind drives(getting Emori in on the deal as well), but the longer he lingered in her company, the more immortality started losing its luster. When it was revealed Clarke was still alive, Murphy joined the others in helping to get Josie out of her head.

Immortality had turned Josie into a sociopathic monster, utterly incapable of respecting other people’s feelings and wishes, only focusing on her own wants and needs for the sake of preserving herself. This wasn’t who Murphy wanted/needed to be anymore, having fallen in love with Emori, and creating a family alongside her which Murphy valued too much to lose. After all, what was the point of living forever if he lost his family?

That’s why, when the mind drives come up again in the seventh season, they’re now a symbol of finite time in Murphy’s story. Just a few more hours with the woman he loved as humanity itself faced its final hours.

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With all of these cautionary tales Murphy’s seen play out throughout the seasons, avoiding all of those pitfalls the previous villains fell in, we’re introduced to his perfect foil : Sheidheda, the dark commander. 

Sheidheda was everything Murphy could have become if he never went on his journey of redemption, falling in love, and finding a family to fight for. Sheidheda craved power and desired nothing more than to see everyone kneeling at his feet. Through the Flame, he had lived forever, waiting for his moment of opportunity to arrive where he could rise again. If something got in his way, he’d burn it all down, creating chaos and bloodshed in his wake. He’s all of the previous villains combined into one package.

We were in desperate need of a hero...and we got one.

When Murphy and Sheidheda had their first confrontation, Murphy was deep into hero mode. He helped Emori calm down a rioting crowd, saved Sanctum from a nuclear meltdown, and rescued a group of frightened children. He kept on saying he was tired of playing the hero, but let’s be honest here, he wore the title well. Sheidheda was flawlessly utilized to showcase how far Murphy had come as a character, becoming a man we know his father would be proud of. 

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There you have it! My long, long winded way of breaking down why Murphy spent so much time interacting with the villains. It was their way of marking down each stage of Murphy’s overall arc. It was very much intentional. 

[free-pancakes]

A Fire in the Shadows

LeviHan - Avatar the Last Airbender AU fic

Characters: Levi, Hange, Erwin, Mike, Nanaba, Moblit, Kenny, Zeke, Sasha, Jean, Armin, Kuchel, Porco, Pieck, Pyxis

Summary: Levi, the nephew of a fire nation captain, stumbles upon a ragtag group of 5 known as the Scouts, formidably known for foiling the plans of local fire nation control, living in the forests a few miles north of Ba Sing Se.

Chapter 7/?

Chapter 7: The Lotus Tile Chapter 6: The Panda Lily Chapter 5: Interconnected Chapter 4: The Fire from the Shadows Chapter 3: Bonds Chapter 2: Trust Chapter 1: The Scouts

(crossposted to ao3)

Notes:

Sorry for a horribly late update, but here's a long chapter to make up for it! Also this is quite self-indulgent and features a Nanaba POV bc I love the idea of Levi and Nanaba being best buds :)

CHAPTER 7: THE LOTUS TILE

“Nanaba, please.”

Mike placed a hand on Nanaba’s shoulder.

“We’ve known Levi for almost a whole year now, don’t you even want to give him a real chance?”

Nanaba grit her teeth and she shoved him away, storming out of the hut. She grabbed a rope, slid down to the forest floor, and walked out to separate herself from Erwin and Mike, to get some air.

“How could they just… trust him like that?” She yelled out, her voice feeling small as it immediately disappeared in front of her, absorbed by the thick, forest foliage surrounding her.

Nanaba was frustrated, and absolutely appalled at Erwin and Mike. Each of them had gone on a mission alone with Levi and Hange, and suddenly they just… trusted the guy? Acting like long-time buddies? Like one trip with him was somehow transformative, turning how they viewed him a whole 180?

Sure, objectively, Levi seemed… alright. He’s worked well with them as a group overall, and hasn’t pulled anything fishy so far. But for whatever reason, Nanaba felt that something was off. Her gut told her that there was something Levi was still keeping from them all—and that worried her immensely because, well, her gut was rarely ever wrong. Hange was one of her closest friends—she’d snap the little man in two before he could even lay a finger on Hange.

Nanaba suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder—eliciting yet another burst of rage within her.

“Mike, can you please just—“

She turned to find Hange staring at her, the lamp in her hand lighting up her face, highlighting the deep concern in her eyes.

“Oh, sorry Hange.”

“Mike getting on your nerves again?” Hange teased, elbowing Nanaba as she wriggled her eyebrows.

Nanaba’s shoulders relaxed a bit, and took a pause.

“Doesn’t he always?” She retorted, and the two of them fell into a fit of laughter. As their giggling gradually died down, Hange took Nanaba’s hand.

“Please come with us tomorrow?” Hange said softly, giving Nanaba her best pout and puppy-dog eyes. She really wanted Nanaba to get along with Levi—she thought they’d make great friends if she just gave him a chance.

“…Fine,” Nanaba said as she rolled her eyes. “But can’t promise to be nice to him.”

Hange raised her fist in the air in triumph. “Sounds like a plan!”

—————————

As the sun began to rise, breaking dawn’s purple hue, the three arrived at the entrance to a small, bustling town. Hange stretched her arms back and let out a huge yawn.

“Wanna do that any louder and wake up the whole damn town?” Levi muttered as he reached to press up on Hange’s chin to stifle her yawn. Levi wanted to smile as Hange laughed, but he couldn’t help but hold it in, as he felt uneasy sensing Nanaba’s glare staring him down from the side.

“Let’s plan on meeting back here in an hour? Grab supplies, food anything else we might need?” Hange asked, which elicited a nod of agreement from the other two. As they all split ways, Nanaba hung back for a bit, watching Levi’s back as he promptly walked down one of the streets with stalls setting up shop for their early morning shift. As she looked over to see Hange heading in the opposite direction, she realized that she had rarely observed Levi alone, and even more specifically, seen him separate from Hange—so she decided this would be her chance to check up on him, to see anything that may confirm her suspicions and distrust towards him.

She trailed behind Levi, just far enough that he likely wouldn’t notice. And… all was pretty normal. He simply stopped for a new water canteen and various other things. Though just before Nanaba could let her guard down, she noticed Levi linger and stare at a tapestry on the wall outside the town’s tea shop.

She watched his eyes linger on the Fire Nation emblem stitched into the cloth. She couldn’t read him, and was unsure of what kind of emotions lay in his gaze. But, she found herself narrowing her eyes—he had been staring for a bit too long for her liking. She didn’t know what to make of it, so she quietly followed Levi into the tea shop. Nanaba watched him sit at the small bar up front, so she found a table just within earshot, and lifted her hood to keep him from recognizing her.

After sometime, Nanaba took her remaining bites of food and sips of tea. Before she could stand, she heard Levi shift from his chair to leave. And suddenly, she heard the small clatter of wood hit the tile floor. She turned her head slightly to steal a peek, and watched Levi bend down to pick up what looked like… a small Pai Sho tile?

“Sir, I think you dropped this,” Levi said quietly, reaching his hand out towards the man who had just left his seat next to Levi a second ago. The bald man turn around towards Levi.

“Oh, clumsy me, huh?” The man exclaimed with a chuckle. He reached his hands towards Levi, closing Levi’s fingers over the tile, and pushed it back towards him.

“What’s your name, son?”

Levi’s gaze remained steady, his eyes blank.

“Levi, sir.”

“Levi…?

“Just… Levi.”

“Alright, ‘Just Levi’! The name’s Pyxis,” he said with a smile—something in his eyes made Levi feel slightly uneasy, though. As if Pyxis knew something about him.

“Tell you what, I’d say it’s your lucky day. Keep that. It might protect you someday.”

Pyxis turned around to leave.

“Wait!” Levi called out to him, following him outside the shop. Nanaba quickly threw some money down on the table, hurried after to listen right by the door to the shop.

“What do you mean, it’ll protect me?”

“If you’re ever backed into a corner, let’s just say, there may be a time when it comes in handy for you someday—someone may recognize it, and I assure you, that would save you from whatever mess you were in. Or… of course, if you choose to give it to someone you love, they’d be protected,” Pyxis explained. He brought his fist up to Levi’s chest and tapped over his heart, and winked at him before walking away, sipping on a flask he pulled randomly from his pocket.

“Someone… I love—“ Levi whispered, standing quietly as the cool breeze gently blew strands of hair away from his face.

Levi stared at Pyxis, and back down at the small Pai Sho tile in his hands, engraved with a lotus symbol. He flipped it around in his fingers for some time, his eyes lost in thought before he slipped it into his pocket.

Nanaba’s eyes narrowed as she wondered if Levi would tell her, or any of their friends about it.

She sighed and waited for the coast to be clear before she made her way out. She turned to stare at the fire emblem outside that Levi had fixated upon earlier.

Nanaba wondered if just maybe... Levi might...

She shook her head.

“No way,” she said firmly, and hurried back to meet up with Hange and Levi.

—————————

“Got it!” Nanaba yelled as she took off with a sprint, Hange and Levi not following too far behind. A blast of fire raged right past her face, and the three ran even faster through the trees.

Suddenly, a Fire Nation soldier slipped out of nowhere, startling Nanaba and causing her to trip. Before she knew it, she found herself almost fallen off the edge of the rocks on the side of the mountain, Levi’s hand in hers the only thing holding her from falling to her death.

Levi hoisted her back up, and they fell into a pile of leaves, the sounds of Hange fighting the soldier happening just behind them.

“Are you okay, Nana?” Levi asked between exhausted breaths.

“Yeah, thanks… Levi,” she answered. She quickly stood up and pulled Levi up with her, and the two looked at each other, nodding. They ran back towards Hange, but before they could reach her, another soldier ran past, fire bending through the tree trunks. Multiple giant trees began to fall, causing Levi and Nanaba to run back and away—and now Hange was left alone with 2 giant soldiers, at best. They started running around the fallen trees and debris, but it seemed it would take them awhile to find their way through. As they ran, flames shot upwards from the fight—there had to be at least 3 Fire Nation soldiers out there with Hange. But out from the sounds of combat, a scream echoed through the air, shortly followed by a deafening silence.

“Hange!” Levi yelled.

Nanaba looked at Levi, and almost froze on the spot. In the past year, she had never seen much change in expression when it came to Levi—he guarded his intentions and thoughts behind an expressionless glare at all times. But this time, she watched as tears streamed down Levi’s face, his eyes filled with genuine worry and pure panic, utterly lost as he stared at the debris, desperately trying to think of a way around it faster.

“Levi, spring me upwards? Like how Mike does it!” Nanaba yelled. Levi wasn’t as strong as Mike, but it would have to do. Levi nodded, and Nanaba ran towards him, and as she jumped up, Levi pushed up on her feet, propelling her overhead. She landed haphazardly near the top, and climbed upwards. Hastily, she pulled a rope from her backpack, tied it around her waist, and threw the other end down at Levi. With all her strength, she pulled and moved backwards, hoisting Levi up with her.

As they reoriented and looked down, the scene made each of their hearts stop.

“…H-Hange?” Nanaba heard Levi whisper, exasperated.

Nanaba watched the soldiers sprinting off far into the distance, and Hange, like a shadow, unmoving on the ground. Her backpack’s contents strewn about carelessly, her arm twisted in a way that made both Levi and Nanaba want to vomit. At that moment, rain began to drizzle over them, water stained with red on the ground around Hange.

Nanaba stammered— “They realized she didn’t have the documents we stole, and just… she didn’t even have them so why did they go so far…”

Levi jumped down and Nanaba hurried after him.

“Levi! It’s not worth it—it might storm, and we have to look after Hange and get all of us to a safe place!”

Levi froze, Nanaba staring at his back as he began trembling—trembling with an undying rage. She laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

“Come on.”

Nanaba hurried over to Hange—she was knocked out cold, her left arm obviously broken, burns and cuts strewn over her face and arms. She was injured badly, but luckily other than the arm, nothing too serious. Levi walked gingerly towards them, and stared at Hange. His eyes lingered over the cracks in the left lens of her glasses, spiderwebbing outwards from the center. He bent down to carry her, Nanaba helping by keeping her broken arm steady as Levi shifted her into a comfortable position in his arms, her head falling forward against his chest. Levi nodded, and they began walking to descend down the small mountain.

Nanaba bared her bow and arrow in case anymore enemies approached—but the weather might just keep them safe for now. The rain began to fall a little harder, and Nanaba stole a glance back towards Levi and Hange. It may have blended in with the rain, but she could tell that Levi was crying, his eyes tinged red, filled with sorrow. Nanaba turned back to focus on what was in front of her, feeling her hand clutch at her chest, caught utterly surprised at how much it pained her to see Levi so upset.

——————

Light flickered against the rocky wall. Flames of their small fire licked the edges of the tinder pile, and the small crackles of burning wood echoed quietly throughout the small cave they found for cover, halfway down the small mountain. Thunder rumbled, and lightning flashed right outside. They would just have to wait the storm out overnight.

Luckily, Levi had learned a lot from all the time he’s spent with Hange, so he worked on tending to her injuries, Nanaba standing by when needed. Levi did his best to stitch up her lacerations, and they set her arm the best they could, a makeshift splint made from what they could find and the bandages from Hange’s bag. Levi finished it off with a sling made from the red cloth headband he always wore on his forehead, and they simply hoped it would be good enough for now—they’d have to meet with Moblit the next morning at their rendezvous point and make sure that it was done well enough to heal properly.

After their hard work, exhaustion fell over them. The two sat in silence, quietly eating their small food rations as they both stared into the fire. Peeking up at Levi for a second, Nanaba saw it—the rage hadn’t died down, flickering in his gaze. She wanted to say something, but she didn’t know what exactly to say—the words “It’s not your fault,” lingered on the tip of her tongue, but she knew that it would fall on deaf ears.

Levi was clearly blaming himself entirely for Hange’s injuries.

Before she could clumsily utter a word, Levi tossed her a small sleeping mat, and she listened to the sleepiness in her eyes.

She drifted off for a minute or two, but responsibility woke her up—she figured she’d fetch some water to refill their canteens before sleeping for the night. As she drowsily opened her eyes, she paused.

In front of her she saw Levi writing something on a piece of paper, and reach into his pocket. He pulled lotus tile from that morning, holding it in front him, and stared at Hange, laying asleep in front of him.

The old man’s words came to Nanaba’s mind, echoing in her head— “if you choose to give it to someone you love, they’d be protected…”

Nanaba’s jaw nearly dropped—Levi was trading that potential safety away, and giving that tile to Hange meant…

He really did love her.

Levi placed the note and the tile into the front pocket of Hange’s bag, where she’d likely find it immediately when they’d return home. Levi sat directly above Hange’s head, and lowered his head, eyes closed. Their foreheads touched as he cradled her cheeks in his hands, his fingers lost in her messy hair as she slept soundly, probably in a deep sleep after all the pain meds they had to give her earlier. After a few moments in that position, Levi lifted his head, and ran his fingers through her hair, trying to gently wake her. Her eyes opened eventually, drowsy and laden with sleep, probably very unaware of anything that was going on. But Levi persisted, sitting her up slightly. He grabbed the new canteen he had bought for her that morning, and poured some water into her mouth, making sure she’d stay hydrated for the night, and laid her back down, Hange immediately falling back into a deep sleep.

Levi looked up, startled to see Nanaba standing right above him.

“I can refill,” Nanaba whispered, reaching her hand out towards him. Levi nodded handing her their two canteens.

“Thanks, Nana.”

“Yeah,” Nanaba whispered as she walked away. At the entrance of the cave, she looked back to see Levi staring down at Hange, continuing to run his fingers gently through her hair.

The storm continued to roll through, and Nanaba quickly got them some water from the nearby stream. Thoughts raced, but she was too tired to make much sense of them. But she felt it.

“Goddammit,” she muttered, as she felt herself feel much softer towards Levi, a lot more trusting in less than 24 hours. She hated admitting when Mike and Erwin were right. She wondered though, if her gut was still right, that maybe Levi might be trustworthy, but that he might still be hiding something...

Nanaba returned to see Levi still doing the same. She dried off from the rain and laid back down, all the muscles in her body tired and achy. She’d simply worry more about it tomorrow, she thought. And before she knew it, she nodded off into a deep sleep.

—————————

Thunder cracked, it’s boom so loud that it shook the cave. Nanaba shot up now wide awake, her heart racing. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and looked outside. It was still the dead of night. As she sighed in relief, she turned back to Hange who was still asleep. But…

Where was Levi?

Nanaba looked around, and he was nowhere to be found. She called out his name—

No answer.

The storm continued on outside, and Nanaba felt her heart drop in her chest. She should have said something to him—there was too much residual rage left in him, and she felt quite responsible for not trying to calm it. Worry fell upon her, as the worst case scenario popped into her mind: Levi must have went back to fight those soldiers, and there was no way he could take them all alone.

She sprung to her feet, grabbing her weapons and backpack. She took a look at Hange—she was sure she’d be safe here. She threw another blanket over her, and plunged out into the rain.

She sprinted up the mountain, her speed significantly shot from the muddy ground slowing her down. The sound of yells began to grow louder, and Nanaba pressed on towards it. But as soon as Nanaba arrived to the site, she found herself standing still, her bright eyes widened—Levi… seemed to be just fine on his own, but…

The scene was absolutely surreal.

Three Fire Nation soldiers were strewn about, writhing on the floor. All of them had cuts and burns all over, with their left arms bent unnaturally—quite identical to Hange’s injuries. Fire from the fight glowed, making each of their outlines quite striking to the eye. Nanaba stared, her eyes scanning all of this, trying to make sense of it all.

But as her eyes finally wandered upwards, there, Levi stood before her. His face glowed orange from the light of the scattered flames, in contrast from the dark blue hue of night—and his eyes were blinded with a fiery rage, his teeth bared almost like a wild animal, and…

Fire burned at his fingertips.

Nanaba’s felt her chest squeeze— she was right! She had been right! Levi had been hiding a secret from them all—he was a firebender. This whole time.

But the strangest thing was… Nanaba felt no pride at all. She wasn’t happy she was right, which was strange.

Instead, she felt nothing but hurt in her heart, seeing Levi like this. Nearly a slave to his guilt, clearly pained that Hange had gotten hurt while he was around. It was interesting actually—she realized that Hange actually hadn’t gotten any severe injuries like this since Levi had joined them…

Levi stood, unmoving. It was like he was frozen, not there.

“Levi?” Nanaba called out, but Levi didn’t answer.

She walked up cautiously towards him, but he didn’t move. And it wasn’t until she was just a few feet in front of him and called his name once more, that the flames in his hand extinguished. It was as though he returned back to the present, his eyes locking with Nanaba’s, now filled with hurt—the rage had finally dissipated. He realized now, that his secret was out in the open for her.

“Nanaba, I can explain—“

But his words were interrupted. Nanaba had taken her hand to cradle the back of his head, pushing him towards her so that his forehead could rest on her shoulder. And it was like all of Levi’s worries flowed out from him. Tears fell down his cheeks, and he sobbed as Nanaba held him.

She couldn’t believe she was saying this, and she hoped with all her might that she wouldn’t regret it in the future. But she felt something once again, a gut feeling that this was the right thing to do. For whatever reason, of all times, she remembered something her mother used to tell her as a kid—that sometimes, friendships could transcend lifetimes. And Nanaba wondered, if that had anything to do with the new friendship she was forming at this very moment.

“Don’t worry, Levi, your secret’s safe with me,” she whispered, and Levi hugged her tighter.

—————————

“Yes!” Sasha exclaimed as Armin finally cut through the wooden bars of the Fire Nation base holding cell.

“Kicking this down will probably alert the guards right outside of here, so are all of you ready for that?” Jean asked.

Moblit, Armin, and Sasha nodded with determination in their eyes.

“Alright, our plan should get us at least through the first guards, and we’re just going to have to wing it for a bit after,” Jean announced. He took a deep breath, and kicked down the wooden cell bars. The crash echoed, and they heard footsteps immediately mobilize just outside. Sasha threw open the door, and Armin poured out the remaining water he collected.

“Now!”

With a flick of his wrists, the water turned to ice, causing the guards to slip down the corridor. Moblit jumped out, sliding on the ice past the guards, and the other three followed suit. The ice was thinner than ideal, and the guards began to chase after them, stumbling, throwing flames out at them. They sprinted quickly, only to run into more guards, so they turned the other corridor.

“A dead end!” Moblit yelled. The four felt panic bubble inside their chests, desperately thinking of a way out of this mess.

Suddenly, the sounds of a struggle began around the corner, and the temperature seemed to increase significantly.

“More fire?” Armin asked.

“Maybe it’s Hange!” Moblit exclaimed.

They all cautiously moved forwards after the sounds of guards yelling and being shoved into utility closets ended. And as they turned the corner…

“Levi!” Moblit yelled, seeing him with flames at the end of his fingertips. Moblit, relieved to see him, ran up to give him a hug.

Levi smiled, ruffling Moblit’s hair.

“We came just in time, huh?” Nanaba asked, eliciting a huge smile from Moblit, who turned to also tackle her with a hug as well.

“I knew you’d come!” Moblit said, and continued to bury himself in the hug. After the smiles of reunion began to fade, Nanaba locked eyes with Levi. The two looked at the kids.

“Where’s Hange?” They asked. The four looked at each other, a serious look falling upon their faces, causing Levi’s heart to drop.

Moblit began to tear up again, and Jean quickly explained the situation.

Nanaba could feel Levi’s anxiety from where she stood, so she grabbed Levi by the shoulders to ground him.

“It’s going to be okay, Levi,” she said, knowing full well that he was twirling the lotus tile in his hand. It worried her greatly that Hange would give that back to Levi.

They knew what that meant if she was returning it to Levi: Hange knew there was a high possibility she wouldn’t be making it out of here alive.

“Levi, I’ll take the kids, and I’m sure we’ll come up with a plan. Hopefully Erwin and Mike found Hange, but it’s better we cover more ground.”

She patted his shoulders.

“Go Levi, we’ll back you up once we find Erwin and Mike, you can count on us.”

Levi nodded and began to run.

“Wait!” Levi spun around, to find Nanaba chasing behind him. Like that horrible night that their friendship began, she placed her hand on the back of his head and pushed his head onto her shoulder.

“We’ll find her, I know it,” she whispered. And Levi hugged her tighter.

—————————

Levi sprinted through the corridors of the Fire Nation base, yelling Hange’s name. He ran and ran desperately kicking open doors only to find empty rooms. Still holding the lotus tile in his hand, he sprinted, determined to find her.

He felt stupid for thinking about this now, but he couldn’t get it out of his head that he didn’t just tell her he loved her in Ba Sing Se.

“Stupid,” he muttered as he kicked down a door to yet another empty room. Light strewn from the end of this hallway, and he ran towards it. He was suddenly bathed in the late afternoon light, out into the open training grounds of the base. And there in front of him, was the person he least wanted to see.

“Hi Nephew, how’s it going?”

Kenny stood facing Levi, and Levi felt a fiery rage burn inside him.

“Where’s Hange, Kenny?” Levi demanded, knowing he was pressed for time. “Ohhh, your girlfriend?” He asked, chuckling to himself at the desperation spilling from his nephew.

He raised a hand in the air, holding a pair of glasses, with the left lens missing.

The glasses frames he knew all too well.

[ahkaahshi]

12:27 AM [kuroo tetsurou x reader]

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x fem reader (platonic relationship)

genre: fluff and angst

warning(s): swearing, brief mentions of alcohol consumption

word count: 2.8k

overview: you go on one, final late night food run with your best friend to commemorate your last evening in tokyo

notes: as stated above, the reader and kuroo’s relationship here is purely platonic. it just felt right. also, this one’s a bit more dialogue-heavy than usual, but it’s intentional :) hope you enjoy!

At 12:27 AM, Kuroo’s standing in the kitchen, poring over an open cupboard of food—none of which seems to fulfill his cravings. Tapping the toes of his house slippers against the tiled floor, he sends a glance over at where you’re sitting on the couch, watching the movie he’d put on with rapt attention. His attempts at successfully blocking out thoughts of what’s to come tomorrow are foiled once more when his gaze settles on the luggage waiting patiently in the entryway.

“Hey, (f/n),” he calls out to you, shutting the cabinets in front of him and turning away from them. The eyebrow you raise at him expectantly has him continuing, “Whaddya say to going on one, last late-night food run in the city with your old pal?”

With a snicker, you toss the mountains of blankets off your body and stand up as you say, “You act as if today’s my last day on the planet, Tetsu.”

“Seriously, though, who knows when we’ll be able to do this again?” he wonders, “Might as well live like it’s your last day on the planet, even if it’s just for a night, right?”

You shake your head as you pull on an old Nekoma hoodie out of your backpack that matches the one he’s wearing. “Quit it, dumbass; you’re gonna make me all sentimental.”

A grin spreads across his lips and he gives you a playful shake once the two of you have stepped into your shoes and left his home. It warms your heart but shatters it at the same time, since you’re painfully aware of the fact that tonight will be the last time you see it in person for what could be months. And if his words hadn’t already made you a bit emotional, the drive through Tokyo would’ve done the trick.

He rolls the windows of his car down, letting in the cool, nighttime air that whistles past as the vehicle picks up speed. In an effort he wants to seem as spontaneous as possible, he plays music from a playlist the two of you had made together back when you were in high school, shouting and dancing along to the lyrics of every song with you with an enthusiasm that has you doubling over in your seat with laughter.

Every stoplight gives other drivers and pedestrians buzzing around the bustling downtown area the opportunity to shoot you judgmental looks or those of entertainment, but you’re too busy living in the moment with him that you barely notice or even care, for that matter. You don’t know where he’s taking you, but you don’t bother to ask. Instead, you find yourself lost in admiring the dazzling array of lights passing you by during your drive through the lively city. Knowing you’ll be in a new one by this time tomorrow has you gazing upon everything you’d simply passed by before without a second thought with a newfound appreciation and lingering nostalgia.

Eventually, after Kuroo’s impressed you by maneuvering his car into a tighter parking spot than you thought he could fit in, you find your destination is a small restaurant tucked away in one of the back alleys aglow with neon signs. Though it’s packed to the brim with other patrons enjoying a late-night meal, there’s plenty of conversation between you and your friend to fill the time you spend waiting for a table.

Once you’re inside, you bask in the warmth heavy with the delicious smell of fresh food as the two of you sit together and reminisce over steaming bowls of ramen. “You know one thing I’ll never forget?” Kuroo begins, fishing out a few plump noodles with his chopsticks. You glance over at him expectantly while you blow on the broth in your spoon and he chuckles before adding, “The look on Lev’s face when he hit you in the back of the head during warmups and you gave him the coldest stare I’ve ever seen.”

“I felt so bad when I realized it was him, though, ‘cause I thought it was you!” you defend.

Kuroo’s unoccupied hand flies to his chest to complete the feigned look of shock on his face. “And you were gonna look at me like that if it was?”

“You were always aiming for me, Tetsu.”

“You were always on the court!”

“Helping Coach toss and keeping hitters like you from fucking up your ankles by coming down on stray volleyballs, you asshole.”

Kuroo shrugs and comments, “I never hit you hard, though,” and moves another serving of noodles to his lips. “Just wanted to keep our beloved manager on her toes is all.”

With an incredulous scoff, you retort, “Yeah, you did that, alright. And even well into uni, too.”

There’s a pause in your conversation as you both take a moment to enjoy your food before Kuroo questions, “Could you please submit your evidence to the court?”

“Halloween,” you state, (e/c) eyes laser focused on his own, hazel ones. He’s narrowing them, as if he’s trying to remember the event in question, so you help him out by continuing, “You and Kou were insistent on coming with me to a raging house party that night. The two of you got so, annoyingly drunk that you were laughing at the top of your lungs like hyenas about videos of pets dressed up in costumes at three in the morning.”

He raises a finger contemplatively. “I might’ve blacked out, but that does sound like something I’d do.”

“In that case, you probably forgot about all the noise complaints I got, then; and how the owner of the place came to scold me in person.”

A bashful grin forms on his lips at the memory you’ve reminded him of, and he concedes, “Alright, alright; we’ve both done a lot of stupid shit in the time we’ve known each other, so let’s just leave it at that. Besides, I’m sure you wouldn’t want me to remind you of the time you lost your bikini top in the ocean and were too mortified to move, so you made me swim in and get it, right?”

“This conversation is over,” you declare, face growing hot with embarrassment as a vivid image of the moment in question flashes across your mind.

As the two of you continue enjoying your delicious meals and reminiscing about other, more positive experiences you’ve shared together, you feel the knot that’s been settled in the pit of your stomach for what seems to be weeks now make itself known once more. In spite of your outward calmness and enthusiasm, you were starting to have trouble hiding your nervousness. The last thing you’d wanted was for anyone to notice and try to talk you out of your decision, but Kuroo’s far more perceptive than most and knows you well enough to understand what you’re thinking.

When the two of you finish your meals and find the strength to scoot out of your chairs, he notices the way you gaze longingly at your surroundings. He catches sight of the gentle glimmer of emotion in your eyes as you request that he drive you anywhere he wants—just to hold off on going back to his place for a bit longer. And each time he takes his eyes off the road ahead to cast a glance in your direction, he finds your attention fixated on all the buildings and people that pass by.

But it’s not until the two of you arrive at a nearly empty parking lot outside a large, sprawling park that he decides to bring up the question of what’s on your mind. “Hey, (f/n),” he says, making you turn on your heels to face him where you’d been standing a few feet away from his car, watching the twinkling lights in the distance. He looks so carefree, perched on the hood of his vehicle, hands shoved into the pockets of his black joggers, whereas you’re much more on edge, trying to keep your foot-tapping against the loose gravel to a minimum.

“Hmm?”

He purses his lips for a moment before answering slowly, “I’ve been thinking about this for a while—the last day we’d spend together. And it’s one of those things that you just can’t really prepare yourself for, no matter how hard you try to, y’know?” The muscles around your brow relax, and your expression becomes more curious upon being pulled out of your worrisome thoughts. “I know how I’m feeling, but how are you holding up?”

Your fingers interlace themselves as you bite the inside of your cheek. Even if you want to, there’s no bullshitting Kuroo. Not when he’s seen you in every state you can imagine and is often one to pick up on your feelings before you’re even aware they exist, though he often brings them to your attention with a more lighthearted approach than most would think appropriate to take. Doesn’t mean he cares any less, however; and you can see the genuine concern in his hazel eyes shining a paler color in the white moonlight.

“I’m excited,” you tell him. With the way your heart’s pounding in your chest, you’d be surprised if he couldn’t hear its pulse in your voice. Moving towards him to occupy the space on the hood beside him, you take a deep breath and look up at him. “But I’m terrified at the same time.” It’s instantaneous, the way you lean into his touch the moment he slings his arm around your shoulders to pull you closer to him. “Since we were kids, I was always talking about wanting to move to another country, remember?”

“I thought you just said that to make me sad whenever I pissed you off.”

You lightly swat his chest and argue, “Oh, be quiet.” But, before you can continue with what you were going to say, you find yourself focused on the words he’d spoken instead. “Wait, did you actually mean that?”

With a gentle chuckle, he shrugs. “Nah, I was joking.” The adam’s apple in his throat bobs when he turns his attention towards the sky and admits, “But I always did get a little sad whenever you mentioned it. Still do.” A moment of silence filled with the distant sounds of traffic and the chirping of insects ensues during which you watch your fingers toy with the aglets hanging off your hoodie. “I mean, come on, now; what kinda kid wants one of his best friends to move away when he knows how big the world is but how singular and small he is?”

“Tetsu,” you murmur softly, feeling your lip tremble with emotion and your eyes sting with oncoming tears, “You’ve always been there for me through, like, everything. Or, at least, it feels that way. Part of the reason why I’m so scared of leaving is because I’m gonna be all by myself, in a brand-new place, just thrown into the deep end of things and having to teach myself how to swim all over again. But another part of it is because I’m gonna be away from you. And even now, as an adult, I still don’t wanna move away from my best friend.”

He doesn’t even have to look at you or hear you sniffle to know you’re crying, and he tightens his grip around you, placing his other hand on your back. Appreciative of the gesture, you bury your face in the soft fabric of his sweatshirt and pull him into an embrace so you can hold onto him for a few, long moments that you wish didn’t have to end.

“Hey, it’s all good as long as you don’t forget about me once you make it big out there, okay?” His tone is teasing and lighthearted, as per usual, but you can hear the subtlest break in his voice that has more tears cascading down your cheeks and pooling in the creases of his sweater.

“I’m not gonna forget you—I could never—but, what if I can’t do it?” you whimper, “What if I get there and I hate the job, or I hate my coworkers, or I hate life over there? Then I’ll be stuck out there with no one.”

Rubbing your back gently, he assures you, “If worst comes to worst, you can come back home and regroup. You’ll always have a place to stay here. Well… unless I get super famous and end up being offered a job to travel around the world.” You can’t help but snicker at his comment, and neither can he. “Even if I’m not physically there, I’ll always be there in spirit. And don’t discount the possibility of me showing up at your doorstep, since we know I have a tendency to do that.”

“Like a stray cat I keep feeding.”

“Exactly. Maybe you’ll even get two if I can convince Kenma to come with me. We’ll have to see how long he can survive off his Switch alone.”

Your bodies both shake with laughter for a few moments before you pull away from each other, and his hands slide onto your shoulders to give them a firm squeeze. Keeping your head lowered for a moment, you drag the sleeves of your hoodie across your eyes to wipe up any stray tears you hadn’t left on his. When your gazes meet, though, the confidence in his almost entirely dissolves the knot that’s been building in your stomach for so long.

“Hey.” He shakes you gently, and you jokingly let your head roll about, eliciting more snickers from both of your mouths before looking at him expectantly and with your full attention. “Don’t let the worst-case scenario hold you back from something that could be great. You’re so quick to think about how likely the worst possible thing is to happen, but why can’t the best be just as likely?”

Playfully, you tease, “Wow, seems like someone’s trying to get me outta here,” with a smirk.

“(F/n),” he sighs, sending a long plume of steam upwards from his mouth. Giving you a firm pat on the arm, he admits, “I’m gonna miss you like hell. But this is what you’ve been wanting for so long, and I want you to do it so badly. Partly so I can say that I have a vacation property abroad, but mostly because you know I want the best for you, since you deserve it.”

Your lip quakes once again at his confession, but you manage to blink back the tears this time and crack a smile. “Okay. But if you’d better not get even the slightest bit sentimental or teary-eyed tomorrow or else I’m gonna cry like a bitch all the way through the airport.”

“Eyes will be dry as long as you promise to video call me the second you land so I can go on the cab ride with you and see the whole, cute apartment reveal thing that’s so trendy these days.”

A mixture of a giggle and a gentle sob leaves your mouth as you watch his figure distorted by your swimming vision rise from the hood of his car. You feel warm hands on your wrists pulling you up onto your feet before you’re ensconced in another tight hug while Kuroo rocks from one foot to the other.

“You’re gonna be fine.”

After giving you a squeeze hard enough to push the air out of your lungs, he releases his grasp around you and opens the door on the passenger’s side so you can climb in and retreat from the coldness of the night. “With all these emotions plus the food, I’m gonna knock out so fast when we get home,” you mumble with a soft sniffle, reaching for the packet of tissues in his glove compartment once he’s settled in the driver’s seat.

He scoffs and furrows his eyebrows at you as he sticks his keys in the ignition. “Who said you were sleeping tonight? You’ve got the whole plane ride tomorrow to do that.”

“Alright, you can’t blame me for being cranky, then.”

With a shake of the head, he shifts the car into reverse so he can back out of the parking lot and start the journey back to his home. While the music you’d been blasting earlier plays softly from the speakers, you rest your head on the door once more to watch your familiar surroundings breeze by outside.

“Tetsurou.” You glance over at him and his head of haphazardly styled hair that you’re sure won’t fit on the screen of your phone the next time you see him, and his eyes meet yours when he brings the car to a halt at a stop sign. “Thanks for spending my so-called last night on the planet with me.”

extra that didn’t make the cut: kuroo didn’t shed a tear at the airport until after he thought you’d left. but you’d actually just hid somewhere and caught him with watery eyes. you still video called him as soon as you landed, though.

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[ask-de-writer]

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 16 of 83 : World of Sea

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 16 of 83

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

copyright 2020

written 2007

All rights reserved.

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users   of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may   reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information   remains intact.  They may use the characters or original characters in   my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical   compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story?  Read from the beginning.  PART 1 is here

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A few days later, Barad laid aside the three ephemerids that Kurti had used to calculate their position.  She sketched their position lightly on the chart.  Barad marked boldly over her mark.  Kurti had done the entire sighting and calculation on her own, with Barad watching closely, and taking his own observations separately.

“That was excellent, Kurti.  I need you to prepare for an entertainment this evening.”

She listened in dread as he explained what he wanted of her.

I must have failed at something. Why else would he do this to me? “Sir,” she asked in a small voice, “I had thought that I was pleasing you.  What did I do wrong?”

He looked at her in genuine puzzlement.  “You have pleased me, Kurti. Nobody has ever pleased me as much.  This is not a punishment.  It is a matter of fairness.  Morgu won a night with Chena fair and square. She died before he could claim his prize.

“I am only giving Morgu and Selked a fair chance at the prize again. You can also be of help to me in two other ways.”  At once, she perked up and listened closely.  “By doing this, I am tying two of my best men tighter to me.  Besides, you can listen to what they have to say for clues to their true feelings and anything else that they may mention that I can profit from.”

“I think that I see.  I was afraid that you were punishing me, I admit. So, this isn’t about anything that I’ve done, is it?”

“No, Kurti, it isn’t.  If I ever seek to punish you, I will be direct and you will know what you are being punished for.  That is my way.”

“So, by doing this, if one of them wins me, I will be serving you.”

“True, now fix up this cabin and get yourself ready for dinner.  You will dine at the officer’s table with me tonight.”

Surprise must have shown on her face because he laughed out loud.  “You should see yourself!  I kept the other cabin girls locked up because it was necessary.  They would have talked without thinking and betrayed my secrets.  Even when there was nowhere to go, they kept trying to escape.  You are so different from them that you deserve better treatment.  Besides, there are a few officers who are getting too full of their place on this ship.  You will be the perfect foil for that as well.”

Now it was her turn to laugh.  “First Officer Timms is probably the only one that won’t be furious at you.  Shall I dress demure or risque?”

“I hadn’t thought of that!”  Barad had the delighted grin of a small boy getting away with a goodie that was not his.  “Let’s not push them too far at once.  Dress just a little on the risque side of good taste.  I leave it to you.”

Dinner aboard the Grandalor was rarely a cause for interest or any but the most vicious of gossip.  Tonight, some had noticed that an extra place had been set at the officer’s table.

“What’s that about?  Any idea?”

“Not even.  I asked the mess-boys about it and they don’t have any clue. Just say it’s Capt’n’s orders.”

“Gonna set up some new officer maybe?”

“Here he comes!  Maybe now we’ll know …”

Captain Barad strode imperiously into the dingily lit mess.  Nobody had seated themselves yet, not being so foolish.

The Captain’s imposingly solid bulk was dressed as though for a formal occasion.  He was wearing snug dark trousers tucked into flared topped ankle boots of dark dyed, pebble-scaled Wing Ray.  A white sash-belt set off and complemented a loose shirt of brown satin with moving black highlights.  He stepped aside from the entryway and Kurti stepped into the room beside him, casually taking his arm.

She was dressed in a snugly fitting blouse of the same satin as Barad’s shirt, also throwing dark highlights.  A narrow belt of white, matching Barad’s, contrasted with her snug dark pants and dark slippers of polished, glittering, small scaled Lesser Dragon hide. They made a striking couple and both knew it.

With inner amusement but a straight face, Captain Barad thought, there’s two officers — — four men and — — five women of the crew that have made an obvious effort to dress up.  Setting an example does appear to be working.  Look at them all stare!  I think that they’re in shock, I really do!  He led Kurti to the chair next to his on the left, pulled it out and seated her as though she were a lady of consequence.  He seated himself, and the rest of the crew finally sat on their benches.

The officers looked on in barely concealed anger and confusion at the cabin-girl who was usurping a place at their privileged table.  Kurti smiled back at them like a Wolf Eel seeing lunch swimming by.  The rest of the crew looked on with varying degrees of amusement and puzzlement.  

Kurti was one of their own but they had written her off.  A cabin-girl was as good as dead.  Everyone knew that.  Barad’s cabin-girls had never lasted long, once chosen.  None were ever seen again before this.  Now there she was at the officer’s table, on the Captain’s left hand, a place of high favor.  What was going on?

Gossip began to rage like a fire in the rigging.  It was well known among the crew that Barad was always quick to criticize poor work, nearly as quick to say a good word for work done well, and to ignore almost entirely work that was merely adequate.  The principal guess was that Kurti was doing — whatever her work was — extremely well.

Dinner itself was unremarkable.  Just the usual fish-cakes, seaweed salad and water.  Kurti smiled inside as she watched it being served by a confused Jaret.  He was a galley worker that she knew.  They had never gotten along.  When the meal was done, she left on the Captain’s arm.

They stopped by the sick-bay to see if Tanlin was any better.  An empty bunk greeted them.  Doctor Corin apologetically proffered a tallow-slate.

“I am sorry, Sir.  She slipped away last night.  I have prepared her particulars and other papers for the Log.  When you have done, I will sign the papers and entries.”

The Captain wrinkled his brow in thought and looked about the small sick-bay, at the eight curtained bunks, arrayed in a row of four, two deep, the Doctor’s desk with it’s tall apothecary cabinet and the examination / operating table, centered in the only clear space in the room.

“Thank you, Doctor Corin,” said Barad quietly.  He took the tallow-slate.

Kurti looked sadly at the bunk where the cousin that she had never got the chance to meet had lingered four and a half Wohans.  She spoke softly, “We appreciate all that you have done, Doctor Corin.  We visited her early last night.  When did she die?”

“I found her gone at the second drum of the third night watch,” he answered her.  Turning to the Captain he added, “I put her body in the corpse locker until you should order her funeral or embalming for transport back to her fleet.”

“Who knows of her death?” asked Barad, suddenly intense, struck by a thought.

“Only we three.”

“For now, keep it that way.  Curtain her bunk and let none see that she is gone,” he ordered.

“Not even my assistant?” queried Doctor Corin.

“Especially not Mikka,” said Barad decisively.  “Give her other work that keeps her out of the sickbay for now.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Barad and Kurti initialed the sick-bay casual visit list and left.  They were sobered by Tanlin’s passing but they had never truly known her.  The two had other and more pressing things to think about.  By the time that they had got to Barad’s cabin door, they were feeling once again the effects of their prank at dinner.

Once in his cabin, she laughed and the Captain chimed in.

“Did you see their faces?” he hooted.

“Which ones?” she replied, delighted by the response that she’d seen. “The officers or the crew?  The ones that I used to know just about fell off their benches!  That was even better than the officers for me.  After you chose me, they wrote me off and wouldn’t even talk to me when they did have the chance.”

Barad looked at her, seeing her anew, yet again.  “You have changed, Kurti.  I was sure that going before the whole crew like that would at least embarrass you.  You show no sign of it.  May I ask why?”

She sobered and considered carefully before answering.  “Truly, Sir, it is survival.  Your cabin-girls have a short life usually, and an unpleasant one, if rumor be true at all.  

“From what I have seen, they did not even try to please you.  That was their job.  You have always had a short way with people who don’t do their jobs.  Most folks have some point where they will say something like, I would rather die than — whatever.  

“I’ve decided to live.  That means doing my job as well as possible.   With what has passed between us, I could not marry to get off the ship now.  You would never feel safe, and rightly so.  One slip of a tongue and we both would be convicted of violating the Marriage Laws. Command me if necessary or just tell me what is needed and give me the chance to do what you want as well as I can.  For however long I live, Sir, I am yours.”

Barad beamed.  “I was right.  You think deeply.  This goes far beyond the present task.  You have clearly told me why I can trust you, in terms of your own self interest.

“Now, I have that game of Three Dragons to play tonight.  You are the stakes.  I leave the whole set-up and refreshments to you.”  He pulled her to him and kissed her.  She responded with the appearance of enthusiasm.  Then he released her and playfully patted her behind. “Get to it.”

As she was about to leave, Barad impulsively handed her a six-inch dagger of Strong Skin fang, honed to a razor edge.  Startled, she was about to refuse it when he spoke.  “Kurti, There are only two people on this ship that I trust enough to allow them to be armed in my presence.  One is Selked, whom I’ve known from childhood, and the other is you.  Carry this to defend yourself, if any of the crew should get ideas.”

TO BE CONTINUED

<==PREVIOUS   NEXT==>

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[mysecretshameuniverse]

In the Stacks (18+)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader 

4.3k words

Plot:

After working a hard case together, Spencer and Y/N finally discuss their feelings for each other.

Warnings:

Slight Angst, Subject Matter similar to that on Criminal Minds

Fluff, Smut, Exhibitionism, Unprotected Sex

Enjoy!

~~~

There’s something about the smell of old books in the stacks of the library that was always satisfying. You were crouched, scanning a shelf. Dr. Reid was standing behind you, leaning over and searching the shelves above. Suit jackets discarded long ago and cheeks flush in frustration as you both stared at the titles. The pressure was on, with Hotch and the team waiting for word from you and Spencer about a clue the unsub had left. A clue that was unfortunately hidden in the pages of the book you were both desperately scanning for. 

This unsub, was a moral enforcer and a sadist. He’d killed a total of 16 people so far, men and women alike, with no previous connections between them. He liked to play games with his victims, forcing them to into making devastating choices and releasing the “winners” back into the world. 

You had recognized the scenarios from a psychology class you’d taken in college before the Academy. It turns out your hunch was correct, he was following a set of theories presented in a textbook simply labeled ‘The Moral Life’. In it, you recalled a series of theories were discussed, meant to test the reader’s idea of what a true moral code is. It was the last victims that had helped you make the connection. The unsub had forced a woman to choose between killing her own sister or a room full of 5 strangers. 

You’d held her hand as she wept, explaining in between gasps that when she’d opted to save her sister, the room full of strangers ignited in flames. 

You promised her you would catch the bastard who’d done it, but your faith in yourself was wavering. The unsub had left a clue at the crime scene, leading you to this library, but he’d clearly beaten you here. Hiding the book somewhere in this vast expanse of books. 

Sighing, you sit down, pulling your knees to you chest and burying your face in folds of your arms. Your eyes burn, frustrated tears threatening to spill over.  Above you, you hear Spencer's low whispering to himself stop as he notices you take a break. 

“Y/N?” he asks, moving down into a squatting position beside you. He’s met with a soft sniffle in response. The Doctor opts to sit down, placing a reassuring hand on your back. “We’ll catch him.”

Lifting your head slightly, you turn to face him still resting your head on your arms. 

“I should’ve caught on sooner.” you say, voice cracking as you continue to fight back tears. 

“You can’t blame yourself Y/N. It’s not your fault-”

You interrupt him, “I have a Doctorate in Psychology Spencer. I should’ve recognized what he was doing sooner, maybe we could have had him before he killed those-those people.”

“Hey, shhh hey,” he moves a stray lock of hair that’s fallen over your face. “We have all had these cases, the ones where we feel like we should have done more, thought about a clue harder, where we missed signs at first. It’s our job to profile but we’re not perfect.” 

You sit up, not answering and instead looking away from him. He reaches over and softly turns you to face him. All the noise and frustration stops for a moment as you catch yourself looking deep into Spencer’s eyes. 

“We will catch him Y/N. I promise.” 

He says it so earnestly that you let yourself believe him. Letting your gaze linger, you smile softly. His eyes, those beautiful hazel eyes, had been the very first thing about him that you’d fallen in love with. How they lit up when he smiled, the delicate amber glass they were when he cried. 

He returns your smile, and winks, standing up. Returning to his search for the book.  You remain seated, gathering yourself before diving back into the search. 

About a two years ago, you’d stolen Spencer Reid’s place as the youngest in the BAU. Hotch had hired you after a brief trial stint, and you’d helped them capture an unsub who’d kidnapped several women and kept them in his aging mothers basement. You’d managed to figure out where he’d been hiding them, and Hotch extended an invitation to join once you’d graduated the Academy. 

You and Spencer became close quite quickly, bonding over your mutual love of books. It had started on your first jet ride back to the BAU, you hadn’t packed anything to pass the time in your go-bag out of nervousness for your first trip with the team and your phone was dead.

Spencer had noticed you sitting and staring out the window, case sitting heavy on your mind and he made his way to you. “It’s good to decompress after these cases Y/N. Reading always helps me, I tend to not bring as much home with me when I do.” he said, smiling and handing you a worn paperback book.

You’d glanced at the cover, then laughed. “Spencer, you consider ‘Concepts of the Calculus’ decompression reading?”

“Well, yeah. You don’t?” he answered, almost confused by the thought. 

“Honestly, I’d rather read the dictionary cover to cover.” you joke, softly handing him the book back. “But thank you Spence I appreciate the thought.”

He smiles back at you, taking the book and settling in beside you to read. 

The next time you flew together, you were resting your head on hand, dozing and staring out the window as the rain splattered against it. Smack. A thick book lands softly next to your thigh. Looking down you realize it’s a Dictionary, and when you look up you’re met with the grinning face of Spencer, very obviously pleased with his own joke. You can’t help but laugh, picking up the Dictionary and tossing it back at him. 

Things progressed from there, and afterwards it was nothing but lunches, late night coffee breaks spent giggling after grueling hours of paperwork, and trading books on the jet. You’d been to his place, and him yours, having spent many a night watching Russian films as Spencer whispered the translations to you softly, and  you forcing him to watch your favorite horror movies. “Thick as thieves,” Rossi would say, watching the two of you head out in the elevator together, heads bowed close laughing.  It was an aching thought in the back of your mind if he was as in love with you as you were with him. Does his heart skip a beat too when you accidentally brush shoulders? Did he spend as many hours with his head tied in knots over you as you did for him? 

You’d resigned yourself to never knowing really, convincing yourself that the a workplace romance was a bad idea and only worked in the romantic comedies Penelope had forced you to watch. 

And yet, every so often he’d do something that would cast doubt over your resignation. How he always seemed to seek you out in a crowded room, how he’d always read books you mentioned to him immediately so you could talk about it the next day. Derek would make sly comments, egging Spencer on about you and you’d swear you’d catch him blushing, trying his best to avoid locking eyes. 

A flash of lightning and the biting crash of thunder awaken you from your daydreaming. You look out of the stained glass window, and see rain pelting against it aggressively. The rain always makes you think of Spencer now. 

You shake your head, trying to gather your thoughts and take in the stained glass window. It’s a portrait of the Virgin Mary, surrounded by flowers. Finally you make the move to stand, dusting off the seat of your pants. An odd choice you think, the Virgin Mary as a portr- then it hits you. 

“Spencer.” 

“Hm?” He doesn’t stop scanning the titles in front of him.

“It’s in the Religion section.” you say, already moving out of the aisle. 

Your sudden movement catches his attention and he finally turns to look at you. 

“What?” he asks, eyeing you in your frenzied state.

“He’s a moral enforcer right, he takes people who he thinks have done wrong and he makes them pay. He obviously has a God complex, and look at where we’re at, he led us to an library sponsored by the church. Subtlety is not key with him, if he hid that book from us, he hid it in-” you don’t get a chance to finish before Spencer rushes past you. You follow close behind, finally feeling optimistic about this case.

~~~

Two Days Later..

~~~

Spencer holds the heavy oak door open for you as you glide past him. Heels echoing in the marbled entryway of the library, and the eerie creak of the door closing behind you. 

You’d caught the unsub, now identified as Daniel Maddox, a pyschologist with a career falling apart as quickly as his marriage had. His stressor having been catching his wife cheating, with a man who had almost been his last victim. 

You’d burst into the warehouse that Maddox had set up, flanking behind Derek and JJ. The time had profiled correctly, and Maddox had made this final game impossible to win, breaking his own moral code in order to get justice for himself.  Maddox, infuriated his plan had been foiled had simply screamed in rage, waving the pistol in his hand wildly and blaring expletives. 

In the end, Spencer had managed to talk him down. Leaving Maddox a sobbing mess, while you helped the victim out of his bindings. 

Now, you’d opted to accompany Spencer in returning the book back to the library before the crew left for headquarters.

He holds the second set of doors open for you too, and you step in to the quiet library. At this time of night the library is quiet, hushed classic music playing quietly over the loudspeaker. There’s only one or two stragglers remaining, college kids sitting at study tables across from the doors, and the kind old librarian, who’s face lights up when she sees the two of you arrive. 

“Did you catch him?” she asks, any formal greeting forgotten in her excitement.

You simply smile at her and nod. She whispers a cheer, clapping her hands softly and reaching out to grab your hand.

Her joy is met with smiles, and she pulls you in for a hug. Spencer, in an effort to avoid the germs holds up the book and says: 

“I’m going to go put this back.”

and he walks quickly down the long corridor towards the end shelves. 

“Oh what a sweetheart he is.” the Librarian says, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. 

“Isn’t he? Although I should go with him, keep him on track. If he gets to browsing we’ll miss our flight.” you joke, leaning forward to peer around the towering shelves to spot him 

“No worries dear, we’re closing up in about 45 minutes anyway. Take your time, I’ll be in my office if you need me.” and with that, she lets go of your hand and walks down the opposite direction of Spencer to her office.

You follow Spencer, finding him in the second to last stacks, leaning against the thick, wooden table at the far end. He studies the stacks intently, before reaching out and sliding the book onto a shelf.

“Did you find the books proper home?” you ask, walking to meet him at the table. He nods, smiling.

You smile back, asking “What’s got you so happy Doc?”.

He laughs, then turns to look down at you and says:

“I told you so.”

You roll your eyes, “Really Spencer? Come on...”

“Come on nothing, I told you that we would catch him and we did. I told you so.” He beams at you, and despite your annoyance at his gloating, you can’t help but feel relieved that you were able to catch him in the end. You refuse to give in to him though, instead rolling your eyes once more and shoving him playfully.

He catches your hand, pulling you to face him so he can study your face.

“Jokes aside, are you feeling better Y/N?” he asks, fixing his warm, intense gaze on you. Your heart flutters, and you curse yourself for how easily this man can turn you into mush. You consider his question briefly,

“Now that we’ve caught him, yes. I still feel some guilt, I wish we’d done it sooner. But I’m fine. Really. Thank you Spencer.”

He smiles down at you, “Anytime Y/N, anytime.”

You expect him to let your hand go, but he doesn’t. He looks pensive, the smile barely registering on his lips as he gazes down at you. His eyes are intense, you’d swear you could almost see the thoughts racing through his mind. Your heart fluttered again for a moment, hopeful.

“You know,” he begins, “you and I make a pretty great team Y/N.”

You smile tentatively, trying to calm the sudden butterflies that have begun to do flips in your belly. Spencer continues to look down at you, you can tell he’s seriously considering something.

“Yeah, we really do...” you answer, then squint your eyes, tilting your head ever so slightly to look at him. “Is everything okay Spence?”

He nods, then slowly he releases your hand. He laughs, shaking his head and then runs his hands over his face. “Shit.” he says, and you let a laugh bubble up. He rarely curses, to hear the expletive leave his lips is a shock. 

“Oh? You wanna talk about it?” you ask around a giggle. He runs his hands through his hair, ruffling it considerably before resting them on his hips. He chews his bottom lip and, you realize, he’s staring at yours.

“I want to do something Y/N.” he finally says. “I want to do something but I’m...”

He chuckles, running his hands over his face again. “I'm scared. I don’t want to ruin this,” he gestures between the two of you, “If i’m reading something wrong.”

You feel your heart skip a beat, and your mind running a mile a minute. He..he couldn’t be...could he? You try not to let your nervousness show through, and simply respond: “Well, what does Rossi always say? Go with your gut right? Trust yourself Spencer, I trust you.” 

He studies you for a moment, then under his breath he murmurs, “Fuck it.”  He crosses over to you in two quick steps, taking hold of either side of your head in his hands and kissing you. 

You feel every part of your body ignite with joy, you feel his lips connect with yours in an intense kiss. You barely have a moment to process it before it’s over, and you feel Spencer pulling away.

“Wait,” you whisper, then reach your hands up between you and wrap your arms around his neck. You bring him down to you, connecting your lips once more. You feel him melt into this kiss, bringing his hands down from your face and wrapping them around your waist instead. 

Kissing Spencer is everything you’d hoped it would be, his lips are so soft and he smells like warm sandalwood and his hands feel so strong holding you waist securely against him. Finally, you break this kiss coming up for air but Spencer comes back immediately. 

Each kiss becomes more urgent, and you can feel yourself running your fingers through his curls, and his hands running up your back. Your bodies pressed together so tightly that when Spencer finally breaks away, peppering your neck with kisses, you become very aware that you can feel him rock hard against your thigh. 

“Spencer,” you whisper, breathy. The feeling of his lips on your neck making you light headed. “We can’t, not here.”

He doesn’t stop, continuing to lick and bite at your neck. You hear him mumble a muffled, “No cameras.” against your neck. The thought of the Librarian and college students being on the opposite side of the library is a fleeting, long enough to let your guard down. 

Spencer comes up to kiss you again, letting his hands roam once more and you slowly walk you both backwards until you’re pressed against the table. Without hesitation, you feel him lift you up and set you on the edge of the table. He pauses, taking a moment to stand back and look at you. He looks beautiful, faint moonlight shining on his face, lips swollen and pink from kissing, and hair disheveled. But his eyes, those soft, sweet amber eyes are no more and you wonder if you’ll ever be able to appreciate them again or if you even care because the animalistic, hungry way he’s looking at you makes your skin get hot and any rational thought leave your mind. He makes quick work of your suit jacket, hurriedly ripping it off your shoulders and tossing it on the floor beside him. As he fusses with the fabric, you can’t help yourself from planting kisses along his jawline. 

With your jacket in a heap on the floor he steps back, breathing heavy. He squints at you, pupils blown out wide while he fusses with his tie. The sight of him making you suddenly aware of just how badly you need him right now. You reach out to grab him by his belt loops, and he steps back just out of reach. You whimper, desperate to have him on you again warm lips kissing you all over again and hands roaming. In one quick motion, he rips his tie from around his neck, the sudden movement drawing your focus to his hands.

You watch him slowly fold the tie over on itself until it’s a small roll, and then he walks painstakingly slow towards you. This Spencer is very different than the kind man who brings you coffee in the morning. His jaw is set, and his the look in his eyes is intense as he slowly rakes them over you from bottom to top. You feel yourself spread your legs as he approaches you, eagerly awaiting him. He’s close, so close to you know that your face to face with your lipstick marks on his neck. He holds the folded tie up,

“Open.” he says, and on instinct you spread your legs further. He smiles, then simply takes one finger and taps against your lips. Your mouth falls open, and he places the tie inside, then taps your jaw to close it. “Good girl” he says, and you whimper again. The sound muffled around the tie.

Then suddenly, hes back on you again kissing your neck, and you feel his hands roaming down and grabbing at your breasts. His hands wander further down and you feel them hike the edges of your dress up. He steps back again, and you watch him lick his hand palm to fingertip before reaching down and sticking his hand in your panties.

You melt at his touch, feeling him hurriedly and expertly running his fingertips over you, hitting all the sensitive points. You can feel yourself slick against your inner thighs as he fervently circles his fingers over your clit, and his mouth slowly kissing at your neck. Your moans are muffled by the tie in your mouth, and you find yourself throwing your head back in pleasure granting him more access to your neck.

Every muscle in your body feels tight, and you white knuckle grip the table with one hand and wrap the other tightly in his hair. You can feel yourself approaching the edge closer and closer, the warmth building up inside you ready to burst. 

Your moans become quicker, and more desperate and his hand moves quicker against you, expertly rubbing against you. Your fingers tighten in his hair and just as you’re about to go over the edge he stops, and the sudden absence of warmth in your body is tangible. You buck against his hand, and he peppers your face with kisses as he slowly pulls his hand out. Pulling back from you slightly, you watch him lick his hand , cleaning you off of him. He stands,quickly undoing his belt and pulling himself out up over his boxers. 

You know you look a mess, pupils blown out, hair messy, neck purple and skin hot and red. Spencer takes a moment to look over you smiling, proud of how disheveled you look. 

Finally he comes close again, using his hand to pull your panties to the side and line himself up. You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him close. Feeling his hot breath as he breathes heavy in the hollow of your neck. You moan as you finally feel him push in, the sheer size of him stretching you in the most wonderfully painful way.  He braces himself on the table with one hand and he grips your hair, and you feel him pull out and ram into you again. Trying desperately to contain your moans you bury your face in his shoulder and you can feel your whole body getting hot. Your body tingles as he builds a steady rhythm and you hear him swear quietly under his breath in your ear.  You can feel your climax building up in you again, getting ready to burst and he quickens his strokes getting more frantic. You feel the warmth building, coming faster again and you finally go over the edge. He continues to move as you ride the wave, and as your coming down he follows soon after, burying himself in to the hilt and biting your shoulder to suppress his moan. You feel him scratch his nails along the table next you and he braces himself again. You relax, hanging limp from around his neck by your arms, waiting for the stars to leave your vision. 

He whispers something muffled against your ear, you can’t hear him. The blood is still rushing. You mumble around the tie in your mouth and Spencer laughs softly. He pulls back, still breathing heavy but levels with you looking you in the eyes. He slowly pulls out of you, and you hiss softly feeling him rubbing against your sensitive walls. He quickly tucks himself back in his pants. He softly moves to remove the tie from your mouth, and you immediately go to rub your jaw, registering the soreness in it finally. 

“What’d you say?” you ask, softly rubbing at your jaw. He takes over, delicately rubbing circles over your jaw before softly holding it and capturing your gaze.

“I love you.” he says, and you smile. You giggle softly, removing his hand from around your jaw.

“You’re just saying that because you’re very high on adrenaline right now Spence.” you slide forward off the table and stand, slowly adjusting your dress back down.

He frowns slightly, putting a hand under your chin and tilting it up to face him. 

“No Y/N. I mean it, I do.” He looks down at you as earnestly as he can muster, his eyes slowly returning to the sweet honey brown from before. You take his hand from your jaw, kissing the knuckles softly. 

As if on cue, his phone starts to beep. Spencer reaches into his jacket pocket, checking the screen and you break away to retrieve your jacket from the floor. 

“We have to head out, the jet leaves at 12:15am but Hotch wants to debrief before we leave. The teams meeting for dinner.” He places the phone back in his pocket and turns to you, “Y/N, I...”

“Spence,” you stop him, holding a finger up. “We’ve gotta go get cleaned up. But I’ll tell you what. If you really mean it, tell me again tomorrow when the high from all of this-” you gesture between your bodies, “has worn off.”

He smiles, nodding. 

The two of you sneak out of the library as quickly as you can.

~~~

After a hurried dinner and debrief the team split to finish packing bags and head towards the airport.

You and Spencer are lingering behind the others who are much further ahead, climbing the stairs in the jet. You both take your time, walking in content silence across the tarmac together. You’d managed to clean up enough to avoid any obvious suspicion at dinner, and the team was so happy to have closed the case that at this point they were too tipsy to see even the most obvious signs. 

“Hey Y/N?” Spencer says, looking at the watch on his wrist. He stops walking and you turn to face him. 

“Hm?”

“It’s 12:01am.” he turns his watch to face you.

“Yeah?”

“So it’s officially tomorrow.” He answers, a slight smile playing on his lips.

You smile back at him, “Yeah Spencer I guess it is.” you shake your head, laughing as you walk towards the jet. He grabs your wrist, flipping you around to face him. 

“I love you. I am in love with you. and I want to shout it from the rooftops! I want everyone to know that, and I want any and everyone to know that I simply adore you Y/N.” He’s breathless after his declaration, looking down at you so earnestly with those amber eyes of his that you can’t help but burst into a grin.

“I love you too, Spencer Reid.” you answer, and he grins back at you.

“Good.” he says, letting go of your wrist and softly squeezing your hand.

“Good.” you repeat back to him, returning the gentle squeeze. Keeping your hands linked, you both head to the stairs of the jet together.  As you approach it, you give his hand one final squeeze before letting go. 

“Hey Spence?” you stop walking, and turn to face him while asking. 

“Yes Y/N?”

“Before you go shouting anything from the rooftops, let’s talk to Hotch first. He’s going to want an explanation. Deal?” You stick your hand out for a handshake. 

Spencer grins at you, then takes your hand and shakes it. “Deal.”

~Fin

[the-moon-and-stars-my-love]

The Lupins Part 4: Changes

Lyall Lupin: @marvelousmisterscamander​ Hope Lupin: @the-moon-and-stars-my-love​

February 16, 1965 - St. Mungo’s

When Remus woke early in the morning, his first thought was that his body ached more than it ever had, and it added to the beginnings of his panic when he realized he was not in his own bed and a woman he had never seen before was placing glass jars down on the table beside him. The previous night’s events were still fresh in his mind and a scream of horror ripped from his throat, causing another sharp pain to course through his body as he scrambled to try and get away.

Hope had been in and out of sleep while sat in a chair beside her son’s bed, and the instant his screams hit her ear, she was awake and out of her seat. She reached out to her son, her hand gently touching Remus’ shoulder as she raised her voice to say his name and get his attention. Remus jerked, his head turning towards the source of the touch, and his eyes welled with tears instantly as he recognized his mother, immediately launching himself into her arms. Hope held him close, careful to not hold too tightly, but still needing to comfort him as much as she could.

“Shh, Remus, it’s alright, cariad. I’m right here,” she whispered into his hair, relief and tenderness seeping into her voice as he cried into her chest, his entire body shaking. She barely heard the soft click of the door as the healer left the room to give them time alone.

When Remus was finally able to breathe and his panic had subsided, he pulled away to be able to look up at his mum, wide eyes rimmed red. His hand came to wipe at his nose, and Hope noticed the bandages that were wrapped around his wrist. Her heart clenched as she took him in once more.

“Mum?” Remus asked through sniffles, blinking up at Hope. “Where are we?”

Hope swallowed thickly and licked her lips, reaching up to brush back Remus’ hair. Her palm lingered against his cheek for a moment. 

She caught herself, taking a deep breath. “Someone came into the house last night. A bad man. He came in and he hurt you while you were sleeping,” she explained, speaking slowly and willing her voice not to crack even though her throat felt thick with emotion. She watched as Remus’ eyes seemed to get wider if possible and he began to curl in on himself. Hope continued speaking, her hand reaching out to grasp his gently. “Your da got him away from you and we brought you here. The Healers have been treating you,” she finished.

Remus was chewing his bottom lip, still sniffling into the quiet room before he speaks, voice quieter than Hope had ever heard him, “Am I okay?”

The question hit her like a slap in the face and her grip around his hand tightened slightly as she thought back to the conversation she and Lyall had had with the Healer not two hours ago.

-----

*Two Hours Earlier*

Before Hope could speak, a door opened and a Healer stepped out, waving the couple over and saying, “Mr and Mrs Lupin? May I have a word with you?”

Lyall and Hope made their way over, stepping into the office and sitting down across the desk from where the Healer sat. The couple reached for each other’s hands at the same time, clasping their hands together, both their shaking easing a bit as they used each other to ground them.  

The two listened as the Healer explained, and confirmed their suspicions, that their son had been infected with lycanthropy after the attack. Lyall Lupin had left the room almost immediately, hands shaking in rage, leaving Hope to be led to Remus’ room and sit in vigil, waiting for him to wake up.

-----

“Truth?” She waited for him to nod. “You’re healing, so you’re going to feel better soon, but there’s going to be some changes, cariad. The man who hurt you-” she hesitated, pressing her lips together. “You’re not entirely okay,” she admitted finally. Hope took a breath, looking at him closely. “You’re still our Remus. Our clever and loving little boy.” 

“A lot of other things might change. A lot of things will change. But not that. Never that. I promise.”

For a four year old, Remus’ face seemed to have aged overnight, and he already looked so tired, his skin still slowly regaining color. He rubbed his eyes with his fist, a small yawn escaping him as he did so. Hope smiled softly, ruffling Remus’ hair gently. “Something tells me you still need some sleep, my love. Let’s get this potion in you and then you can get some more rest. We’ll wake you when we’re allowed to go home,” she said, reaching over to the table on the other side of the bed, grabbing the vial and uncorking it as she handed it to Remus.

Hope laughed softly as she watched Remus’ nose wrinkle while he drank the potion reluctantly, so similar to how he drank any type of medicine. She reached into her pocket and pulled something out wrapped in gold foil. 

“Tastes better than what you just had, I bet,” she told him with a playful smile, watching as Remus quickly unwrapped the candy and placed it in his mouth with a happy hum.

Hope stayed, humming quietly as she stroked her hand over Remus’ hair while he settled back under the sheets of the hospital bed and fell asleep, unaware of just how much his life was going to change.

[spookyspaghettisundae]

Bad News Bateson

Harry was trembling. The mixture of fury and fear pumped through his body, pulsed with each throb of his heart. His fingers gripped the steering wheel, but his hands quaked. His car stood still.

He started punching away at the dashboard and the steering wheel, unleashing the pent-up rage that boiled inside his blood. One punch went astray and hit the center of his steering wheel—his car horn honked, which startled him and made his body freeze up. Cold sweat and the stink of fear erupted from his pores.

Piercing blue eyes darted to and fro and he craned his neck back and forth to scan his surroundings. Reason said that there was nobody nearby in this part of the city, in the middle of an industrial environment, under a bridge with a decent amount of traffic, even in the dead of night. But Harry’s reason had flown out of the window a few minutes ago.

He needed to figure out what had gone wrong—and fast. His life was on the line.

The taste of bile and vomit lingered in his mouth. He still felt like throwing up, but had fought back the urge mere minutes ago. He swallowed in a futile effort of pushing the foul flavor back down. After taking three deep breaths in an attempt to get a hold of himself, he got out of the driver’s seat and walked around the car to the trunk.

He stood there, staring at the closed trunk and hesitating to open it again after what he had seen. The despair had taken such deep root in his heart that he wished that a different sight would welcome him when he opened that trunk again.

He wished nothing more than having been mistaken, but he knew there was no mistaking this. Not putting it off any longer, he unlocked the trunk and opened the lid.

The mangled corpse wrapped in plastic was still there. Some random stranger snatched off the street, with spatters of blood held in neatly on the inside of several layers of semi-transparent foil.

The trembling started again. The hand holding up the trunk lid transmitted the quaking, making the whole thing shake. Harry’s fingers clawed into it with such force that one of his fingernails began to bleed, but he did not notice that. Because there was a corpse in the trunk.

And the other one was missing.

He shut the trunk again and paced up and down, oblivious to the police sirens in the distance that had nothing to do with him but would have made him nervous on any other night. He paced back and forth, uttering series upon series of profanities as he tried to retrace each step he had made that entire night. He had to figure out where it had gone wrong. He needed to find that second body.

His boss, Miss Bateson, wanted not one, but two. Failing at his job in his line of work meant bad things would happen. Some of the other wiseguys who worked for Bateson had disappeared before and word had it they had failed in their tasks in some way.

Although he did not know for sure what had happened to them and rumors never got too explicit about it, Harry was no nice guy—he knew that it could not be anything good. They certainly did not win the lottery and go to Disneyland.

Worst case, he was going to be the replacement for the second body. Scratch that, he thought. If he did not show up at all, it would be even worse. He was never quite sure who this Bateson really was, but she was bad news. Came out of nowhere, took over some turf, usurped one of the local gangs, moved in and just absorbed some crooks like Harry in the process. Instead of choosing loyalty to his old crew, he seized the opportunity to follow the new big boss in his neck of the woods.

Whoever she was, he suspected Eastern European mafia or something. She had the according thick accent, weird habits, and a bunch of well-clothed knuckleheads for bodyguards.

Big money, ruthless criminals. The kind that removes your kidney and then sells you off into snuff movie production or some weird sex dungeon that you never return from. Harry knew none of that for sure, but his imagination ran wild with all sorts of horrifying scenarios that might be inflicted upon him.

None of it mattered. Where the hell did the other body go? Who the hell steals a body from a trunk? And barring that, how the hell did he lose the body? None of it made sense.

Going to the cops and turning himself in was not an option. Although he knew no specifics, he knew for sure that Bateson had people on the police payroll and at least one contact running a prison. But he was so far out of his mind right now that he seriously followed that train of thought, something he would have never even considered back in his racketeering days before he had started working for Bateson.

He could try running and hiding. He wanted to try that, but then he would have to dispose of the body. Swiveling around, he looked over to the river and weighed his options. Short-term, he could dump the body in the drink and bounce town. That option looked more and more attractive by the minute.

But some nagging voice in the back of his head told him that he would end up looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life, and his boss would appreciate his loyalty and give him a shot at making it up to her if he owned up to his failure.

He ran a hand over his balding head, smearing the sweat and slicking his hair back like that. He took a few more deep breaths. Then he returned behind the wheel and collected his thoughts.

Getting another body would be easy, but he was on a schedule. He had to deliver this one first. Harry would suck up to the boss. It was the only sane thing to do.

The rest of his drive passed in a blur. All the streetlights and car lights flying by. The goons in black suits with earpieces at the edge of the Bateson residence, and driving through the wrought iron gates of the walled area around the villa, walking up the path to the luxurious building as gravel crunched underneath his shoes, and barely noticing the party going on inside the place that he could see into through the wide-windowed walls.

The deep bass tones of crappy electronic music droned on but sounded a million miles away, like Harry was underwater. He dodged and weaved through the several dozen well-dressed people at the party whose conversations he could not hear—nor did he care to. He had his mind on what to say, how to apologize. All he really registered was the looks the guests gave him: some curious, some amused, some malicious. All evil. Just like him, but to differing degrees.

It was not the first time that Harry had regretted his life choices. But it was the first time he regretted them this hard.

Before he knew it, he stood by himself, flanked by gorilla-sized men in their suits, wearing sunglasses at night and indoors. Holstered guns barely hidden bulged against the fabric of their jackets. They stood by his side with their hands folded in front of them, staring at their boss in silence.

She, Bess Bateson, stared at Harry. She was as beautiful as a runway model or the statue of a Greek goddess, he thought. Never before had he met her in person in a situation where she paid any attention to him, so this was the first time it struck him. She crossed her legs and caught his attention like that. His gaze wandered down to high heels that ended in thin dagger-like stilettos. Clickety. The bright red of her lipstick stood out against her pale white skin, which in turn stood out in high contrast against her dark hair and pitch-black attire. Clickety.

Long, pointy fingernails drummed against the sleek chrome armrests of her chair. Clickety. She looked like an evil queen on her throne in this room comprised of stark contrasts between black and white marble and red velvet cushions. She stared into Harry’s eyes, her gaze stung. His soul burned in that gaze.

Those fingernails, like claws, drummed against the armrest, rhythmically, hypnotically. Clickety, clickety, clickety. Filling the awkward dreadful silence after him having confessed his failure. And her stare never ceased, she never blinked. There was something alien, otherworldly about her. Something thoroughly evil, Harry thought.

She looked like the devil. Beautiful, but wicked. Wicked to the bone.

Bateson stopped drumming her fingernails.

“Do not fuck up again, boy. I want another one by this time tomorrow night,” she said. Even Her voice spilled out like smoke, silky and lulling Harry into a false sense of security. Even the expletive she had uttered came out smooth and pleasing to his ears. It made him ponder the next words only long after leaving.

“You are lucky that I am on a diet.”

On the way back out, people snickered and failed to hide their sadistic grins at the sight of the wet spot in Harry’s crotch region.

He did not care that he had pissed his pants. He wanted to get back home as quickly as possible to change into fresh clothing, sure. He loathed the idea of spending more time on the prowl to snatch another unsuspecting schmuck off the streets to deliver to Bateson.

But Harry was happy that he was still alive. So much so that the world around him and time itself blurred once more, but in a more pleasant way, like being high on drugs. On the ride home, when the smell of urine on himself really sank in, those last words from Bateson finally sank in as well.

Was she eating these corpses? Harry did not want to know. He had done some messed up crap for money, but this lady weirded him out far too much.

He was going to finish this last job, and then bounce town. Start a new life elsewhere, far, far away from this city. Maybe in another country.

After he got back home to his lousy apartment and locked himself in, he showered and got ready for bed. Just before downing some whiskey—someone knocked on his door. He hesitated, deciding not to answer at this ungodly hour, and poured himself another glass. Drank it.

Then more knocking followed.

His heart raced and he took a deep trembling breath. Forced himself to maintain his composure. Approached the front door and looked through the peephole.

Batesoon stood there, dressed even more snazzy than before. It puzzled him to see her having changed her outfit in the same night, but he figured that was a thing that classy gangster women did. The two goons from their meeting earlier now stood next to her. Harry swallowed and opened up.

Her luscious lips moved with a grace that matched her movements as she shifted her weight from one leg onto the other, like some sort of royalty unfamiliar with walking or standing around too much. And from those lips spilled more words, asking him, “May I step inside?”

Harry stammered in the affirmative. Saying “no” now seemed like a really bad idea.

Bateson pushed past him and held up a hand. The bodyguards got the gesture and stayed outside. One of them closed the door behind her after she entered Harry’s humble abode.

She sat down in his ratty old tan chair and crossed her legs. The tips of her fingernails drummed against the wooden knobs at the end of the armrests.

Clickety, clickety, clickety.

Harry just stood there in the middle of the room, dumbfounded and curious but also terrified. Clickety. He did not know what to say. What to do. Clickety. How did she know where he lived? That was easy, she probably pulled some strings. Clickety. Why did she come in person? Was this a good or a bad thing for him? It had to be bad. Clickety.

It was, in fact, bad. The drumming stopped. Her fingers curled around the ends of the armrests, looking like pitch-black claws. A sinister fire burned inside her eyes as she stared at him, never blinking.

“I changed my mind. My diet ends tonight,” she said.

Everything happened so fast that he could not scream before she ripped out his throat. He learned she was not human, but that lesson came far too late.

And because nobody would miss him, she would get away with it.

She always did.

—Submitted by Wratts

[sherlokiness]

“You have your mother's eyes. Honest eyes, and innocent. Blue as a sunlit sea. When you are a little older, many a man will drown in those eyes.”

“The man kept staring at him, with eyes  as big and black as wells. I will fall into those eyes and drown.”

Why not just say men? Why many a man? It makes you think specially that Jon’s answer is a perfect fit like in the highlights. I also love that Jon will not merely drown, no, he will also fall. The use of “will” is also important as you will see with the other drowning eyes references below. Jon will fall and drown, like it’s a certainty, like a promise.

I wouldn’t call it reaching because when it comes to Jon and Sansa, they are like puzzle pieces. They answer each other’s dreams and wishes. George is the biggest troll. I see you and I love you.👀👀👀 Taken out of context, Jon’s response is the only drowning of eyes that isn’t akin to falling in love. In context, he says he will drown in the eyes of the innocent man he’s being forced to kill to prove he’s not a crow anymore. Well, he didn’t kill the man. He’s still a crow and Old Nan says “Crows are all liars.” He’s a crow who slept with a woman to prove his loyalty. Bam! Take that, Aegony.

These are the only other references to drowning in eyes I could find: And they are just delicious. Such sweet coincidences.

“No, she was one of mine, gods love her, black hair and these sweet big eyes, you could drown in them."  

Could drown and no eye color? Gods love her because they answer her prayers." I think Lyanna's eyes are blue. Benjen has blue-grey eyes and there is no mention of the color of Lyanna's eyes. GRRRM is hiding something but it's been revealed in the first book. "blue as the eyes of death" are Lyanna's eye color. Just replace death with love and you have your answer. love=death.

"But he does not know you," Dontos insisted, "and he will not love you. Jonquil, Jonquil, open your sweet eyes, these Tyrells care nothing for you. It's your claim they mean to wed."

Robert is talking about Jon’s mother and her sweet eyes while Sansa also has sweet eyes.They did all they did for love. It fits in the context too because Ned wouldn't know about the WW. Val's eyes turned blue, another hint.

"Long dark hair and blue eyes you could drown in, and he had."Tyrion drowned aka Hugor Hill, a King.

"She could only imagine…to run her fingers through those thick brown curls and drown in his deep brown eyes.” 

She could only imagine, huh? So Tyrion drowned and he married her. 

“Cersei had almost drowned in the depths of his sad purple eyes.”

 Almost drowned like you almost married Rhaegar?

Sweet-Big blue eyes: King Robert talking about Jon’s mother, Lyanna Stark. Wolf. Sansa.

Sad-Deep brown/purple eyes: Queen Cersei talking about Jon’s father, Rhaegar Targaryen. Dragon. Jon.

The perfect set. King and Queen. Wolf and Dragon. Ice and Fire. Sansa and Jon. Stone and Snow. Sweet and Sad

"Sweet and sad as love.”

This phrase basically says that sweet and sad together means love. So Sansa really will have her happy sweet ending.

The story of Florian and Jonquil, Sansa’s favorite, was described by her as sad but in the D&E novella, it was “sad and sweet” after Florian has defeated the giant which I think is Dany. The sweet comes after.

“Sweet lady," said Florian, "all men are fools, and all men are knights, where women are concerned."It was a good show, sad and sweet both, with a sprightly swordfight at the end, and a nicely painted giant.

"Myrish. 'The Seasons of My Love.' Sweet and sad, if you understand the words.” 

Fourth verse could very well be “ I loved a maid as sweet as spring, with flowers in her hair.’

"The dragon has three heads." He went to the window seat, picked up a harp, and ran his fingers lightly over its silvery strings. Sweet sadness filled the room as man and wife and babe faded like the morning mist, only the music lingering behind to speed her on her way.” Sweet and sad are related to TPTWP.

"I am composing a new song, you should know. A song so sweet and sad it will melt even your frozen heart. 'The Roadside Rose,' I mean to call it.”

What song could possibly melt Sansa Stark’s frozen heart?

Sansa’s eyes: Big blue eyes.

A king’s wife: “The Maid brought forth a girl supple as a willow with eyes like deep blue pools that Hugor took as his first wife.”

Tyrion, Sansa’s husband, used the name Hugor Hill. Sansa is going to be Jon’s first wife. 

Jon’s eyes are deep dark purple. He has Valyrian eyes

"Dornishmen were small and swarthy, with black hair and small black eyes, but Ned had big blue eyes, so dark that they looked almost purple.” 

So blue eyes could be mistaken for purple.

“Jon’s eyes were a grey so dark they seemed almost black, but there was little they did not see.”

That’s how Jon’s eyes are first described.

"The colors are strange," he commented as he turned the blade in the sunlight. Most Valyrian steel was a grey so dark it looked almost black, as was true here as well.

I think Jon might very well have Valyrian eyes. GRRM wouldn’t want it be too easy of course from the first book. The description of Jon’s eyes and Valyrian Ice are almost the same. We even have several passages of eyes=ice.

The Kings of Winter.

He was walking through the crypts beneath Winterfell, as he had walked a thousand times before. The Kings of Winter watched him pass with eyes of ice, and the direwolves at their feet turned their great stone heads and snarled.

Jon, he'd said, but Jon was gone. It was Lord Snow who faced him now, grey eyes as hard as ice.

There was an agelessness about him, a stillness; on Roose Bolton's face, rage and joy looked much the same. All he and Ramsay had in common were their eyes. His eyes are ice. 

We have a Brandon called this,

Brandon Stark this was, Edrick Snowbeard's great-grandson, him that men called Ice Eyes.

It might be why he gave us FAegon. If dark blue eyes could be mistaken for purple, then why not dark grey eyes as dark purple especially that the Daynes and Targs have the genes for purple eyes?

“Young Griff had blue eyes, but where the father’s eyes were pale, the son’s were dark. By lamplight they turned black, and in the light of dusk they seemed purple.” FAegons blue hair make his “blue” eyes dark blue. His hair emphasizes his blue eyes and hides his purple eyes which are said to be a lighter shade than Rhaegar’s.

“The man had her brother’s hair, but he was taller, and his eyes were a dark indigo rather than lilac.” 

Dark indigo is more blue than purple. Indigo plus blue= dark purple? If we use the old meaining of the word indigo then we would end up with “indigo dye.” 

Indigo dye is an organic compound with a distinctive blue color (see indigo). Historically, indigo was a natural dye extracted from the leaves of certain plants, and this process was important economically because blue dyes were once rare.

So indigo = blue. The old word Azure denotes “blue dye.” Azure is another word for sky-blue. 

Jon doesn’t need to have Valyrian eyes to be Darkstar’s foil.  But Jon is also the dark and dangerous poison to Dany. His eyes are angry.

“He had collar-length black hair and eyes that caught the deep blue of his doublet.” Dunk thought.

John the Fiddler/Daemon Targ had blue eyes because of his blue clothes and black hair.

“In the dimness of the lamplit cellar they looked black, but in better light there true colour could be seen: deep and dark and purple. Valyrian eyes."

Dunk says Daemon has Egg’s eyes were deep dark purple once he learned that Egg was actually a Targ. If Jon really had Valyrian eyes then it would be a bit contrived if everyone were wrong about his grey eyes all along. But it would be an undeniable proof that he’s blood of the dragon too and rightful heir.

If we apply the same logic to Jon, his eyes might not be the dark grey/black people think they are. He has brown hair and dresses in black so people would think his eyes are dark grey/black but are actually dark purple. The lights also have to be taken into consideration.

[maximumsuckage]

Add a puppy to the story. Puppies make everything better

Solvay amici, have my original characters, who I’ve been playing with for so long that they don’t have any personalities anymore and are probably ripoffs of other characters at this point

Thestorm raged overhead, but Samandriel, guardian angel and demon slayer, wasprepared.  The mug of tea steamed on hiswindow seat, and his book was open to the page he left off on, and no demonshad escaped Hell recently (at least, none in his district) so he was free tosimply read and relax.  There wasprecious little time to ever simply relax, and he relished in it, taking histime to wrap a blanket around his shoulders and get comfortable next to thewindow, where he could watch the tumultuous clouds pour their offerings of rainand lightning into the darkness of the lake below.

Assoon as he had settled in, taking a sip of peppermint, there was a poundingknock on the front door.

Heclosed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and prayed that the knocking would stop.

Itdid, for a moment, and then it started up again, the pounding of a fistcrescendoing over the rhythm of the storm.

Hedropped his head to his hands.  The truthwas, he was free of all but one demon, one demon who stoically refused to dieno matter how many times he’d tried to kill her.  It was easier, at this point, to just leaveher alive, but interrupting his night off?

Theflaming sword was set on his counter. Sam snatched it up as he stalked through the house towards the frontdoor.  At the divine sense of his power,the sword ignited in holy blue light, and when he opened the door, drops ofrain sizzled before they even touched the blade.  

“Whatdo you-”

Lacey,tempter of souls and purveyor of sin, raised an eyebrow.  There was blood splattered on her face,though it had been smeared by the rain, and she wore only a tank top- thesweater she’d been wearing was waded up in her arms, and she clutched thebundle to her chest.  

Hereyes reflected yellow in the presence of the blade, a sure sign of the rot anddecay within her soul.  “Are you gonnainvite me in?” she asked.  “Or are youjust gonna smite me down?  You know itwon’t work.”

Samnarrowed his eyes.  “It’s my night off.”

“Good!”  Lacey elbowed past him, giving the flamesword a good berth, and promptly sat on the floor, holding the bundle in herlap.  “Go get me some towels.”

Samclosed the door behind her, already regretting answering it.  “Why do you need towels?”

Sheignored him though, as she unwrapped the sweater.  Something yipped, and Sam dropped his face tohis hands.  “Why did you bring a doghere?”

“Nota dog.”  Lacey held the thing up,cuddling it to her chest.  “A puppy.  Look at her, isn’t she precious?”

Itwas quite precious, though Sam would never admit that to the scum in human shapesitting before him.  The puppy settledhappily into Lacey’s arms, soaking wet. It was some sort of hound mutt, all big paws and lolling tongue, and thesmell of wet dog and wet demon would never come out of the carpet.  

“Why,”he repeated, “did you bring a puppy here?”

Laceypressed her face to the puppy’s.  “Ikilled her master.”

“What-Lacey!”  Sam groaned, leaning against thecounter.  This was great.  Now the alarm would go out to Heaven aboutdemons, and there would be angels stalking his little town, and that wouldattract more demons, and Sam would get demoted, and he would never have a nightof peace again-

“Youlook constipated,” Lacey mused, shaking the sweater in front of the puppy’snose so it could pounce on the wet fabric. “Don’t worry.  It won’t be tracedback to me.”

“Youhave his dog,” Sam pointed out, through his teeth.

“Notfor much longer if you don’t get me some towels so I can dry the thing off,”Lacey said.  “Poor baby will catch hisdeath.  What’s up with this weather?  Someone spurn Thor again?”

Samignored the comments as he walked off to find a towel for the little runt.  This was honestly what he got for talking toa demon without killing it.  It was hisown fault.  He just couldn’t kill thebitch- she always foiled his plans, and left him wondering how she was stillalive-

“Oh,look, Uncle Samandriel is back with a towel.” Lacey cooed at the dog when she saw him return.  “He’s gonna make you all warm and dry… crankup the heat, my feathered bro, the poor thing is shivering.”

Samnarrowed his eyes but turned up the thermostat a few degrees as he walked overwith the towel.  “Lacey, we had anagreement-”

“ThatI wouldn’t simply pull a demon’s game of killing for no reason,” Lacey replied,shrugging.  “But I had a perfectly goodreason on this one.  Guy was a dick.”

“Youcan’t just kill someone for being a dick.”

“Youcan if they’re a rapist.”  

Samopened and closed his mouth, and then decided maybe he could ignore thebreach.  “As long as it can’t be tracedto a demon’s kill,” he said, retreating to the back room to grab his tea beforeit got cold.  He wrapped his fingersaround the mug, looking down at the demon as she fended off puppy bites whilerubbing the little beast down with a towel.

“Inamed her Lucy,” she said as she dried the creature off.  “After our Lord and Destroyer Lucifer.”

“Youcan’t name the dog after Satan,” Sam said, wrapping his fingers tighter aroundthe mug.  “In case you forgot-”

“Don’tpull the holier than thou card on me,” Lacey said, sitting back with the puppyin her lap.  “You’re a worse angel than Iam a demon.  We got drunk together justlast week.  I bet that’s a demerit.”

“Itwas an attempt to kill you.”  

Laceystood up, little hound wriggling in her arms. “C’mon, Lucy.  Say hi to UncleSam.”  She held the dog closer andcloser, until it was scrabbling to lick Sam’s face.  He huffed, leaning back, one hand up to guardhis cup of tea.

“Anyways,”Lacey said, “I gotta open the coffee joint early tomorrow.  And you have a big backyard, and dogs likeangels anyways.  Your wings are like chewtoys.  So ta, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Holdup, you can’t just-”

Andwith the lingering smell of brimstone, Lacey was gone.  

Thepuppy barked at Sam, hopping forward in a bow, waiting for him to move.

Hesighed, rolling his eyes upwards, like his father in Heaven would come down tohelp a lowly guardian angel.  The dogbarked, taking it upon herself to leap forward and bite at his shoelaces.  He glanced at the door to make sure Laceywasn’t watching, and then knelt on the ground, picking up the now-tatteredsweater to continue the game of tug-of-war.

[weconqueratdawn]

Kowalski’s #5 ~ moar holiday edition

Gradence bakery/coffeeshop AU ~ on AO3 / Read from the beginning

Original!Percival Graves/Credence Barebone Teen & up Fluff, awkward flirting, slow burn, first date, holidays

Fic Summary: Where Credence finds solace in baking and a slightly-washed-up Percy finds solace in Credence.

Chapter Summary: First date in a craft store and car trouble.

Millions of thanks to @pangaeastarseed :) And happy holidays everyone!

*

Credence was waiting outside on the steps when Percy pulled up. He looked half-frozen but was clasping a flask of something hot and steaming.

Percy popped the passenger door open. “I’m not late, am I?”

Credence gathered his bag and his flask and scrambled in. The door banged shut against the cold.

“No, not at all,” he said. “I prefer waiting outside, watching people go by. And our buzzer doesn’t work that well.”

So that was why, Percy thought. Worried he might miss Percy - needlessly so, as now, secreted carefully in Percy’s phone, were all ten precious digits of Credence’s number. Hopefully that meant he hadn’t spent the whole morning wondering who on earth took someone to Kraft-Mart for a first date, like Percy had.

“I brought coffee,” Credence said. “And also doughnuts.”

Percy laughed. “You brought the bakery with you?” He opened the cup holder so Credence could set the flask down - it got stuck sometimes and needed a sharp tug.

“It’s cold,” Credence said. “And Queenie said traffic might be bad.”

“Traffic is always bad,” said Percy. “There’s no escaping it in this town - unless you want to leave at 3am.”

But the traffic wasn’t that bad, after all - and the coffee was very good indeed. Once they’d made it out of the city, it only took another forty-five minutes on the Interstate.

Credence was a very quiet passenger but not the sort which needed constant attention. He seemed perfectly happy to gaze out of the window while he ate his doughnut, and took excruciating care not to douse the car in sugar. The car definitely wasn’t worth the effort, thought Percy. But perhaps it was more than simple politeness - perhaps Credence either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care what a heap of shit he drove nowadays.

It was surprisingly comfortable, and by the time they arrived, found a parking spot, and crossed the enormous lot, it didn’t seem at all strange to be walking around a craft superstore together. In fact, it’s very unlikeliness in the eyes of others made it into a kind of shared adventure.

“That woman keeps staring at me,” said Percy. “I think she thinks we’re lost. Or up to something nefarious. Quick, look interested in these candles before she comes over and quizzes us about Martha Stewart.”

Credence smiled. “The baking section is all the way at the back,” he said. “Once we get there she can quiz us as much as she likes.”

After far too many aisles of holiday-themed crafts - the glitter and foil in red, green, and gold looked appallingly aggressive when encountered all together - signs of hope appeared. Rows and rows of huge pastel bowls and spatulas and moulds skimmed by until Credence found what he was looking for.

There the shelves were cluttered with tiny tools and he spent an age examining piping nozzles and cutters which all looked exactly the same to Percy. On the top shelf was a boxed decorating set - for $300, Percy noted with disbelief. Credence took it down, studied its contents critically, then replaced it.

Percy was conscious of a dull sense of regret - once upon a time, not that long ago, he could’ve whipped out his wallet and bought it for him without batting an eye. Even if Credence would never accept a gift like that, it was still nice to think he could have offered.

He stood uselessly by, waiting, and tried to convince himself that technically he still could - even if it wasn’t a sensible thing to do in his current circumstances.

Credence hadn’t finished, though - the next aisle over was entirely stocked with food colouring pastes and gels. He lingered over these particularly, and took a long time choosing between a sky-blue and a turquoise. The turquoise won out, and after that he seemed ready to leave.

Percy dragged his thoughts from the meagre contents of Credence’s basket and his impotent desire to fill it to the brim, and instead made himself look forward to lunch. There weren’t many places nearby - certainly nowhere fancy - but at least taking Credence out would be something.

“Is there anything else you want to look at?” Percy asked, before they reached the checkout. “While we’re here, you might as well.”

They were just passing through yet another holiday section - the aisles opened out suddenly into a mass of differently-themed Christmas trees. In fake-rustic buckets around them were the baubles, tinsel, and lights which went with each theme.

Credence paused. “Maybe the decorations?” he said. He gravitated towards a sugary pastel-coloured one, and stared at it like it was forbidden fruit. “We never had any when I was growing up.”

Percy absorbed this quietly; of course he’d noticed the menorah in the bakery window but, even for Credence, this seemed a strangely guarded comment.

“I could get some fairy lights,” Credence said, mostly to himself. “For my room.”

“Well, why not?” Percy encouraged. “There’s no law against it, is there?”

Credence nodded rather seriously, and a packet of candy-coloured lights joined the other items in his basket.

After Credence had paid, they trudged back across the lot to Percy’s car. There had been a light fall of snow - not enough to worry about but it was slippery underfoot.

Percy locked Credence’s purchases safely in the trunk. “There’s a place not far from here we could go to eat,” he said. “Haven’t been myself but the reviews were good. Want to try it?”

“That sounds nice,” said Credence. He had a way of glowing quietly with pleasure without actually smiling, and Percy felt his self-esteem buck up a notch.

The car was freezing inside; Percy hurried to get it started but the cold seemed to have got to the engine. It spluttered out, though that wasn’t unusual. When he tried again, the same thing happened. It was only after the third failed attempt that Percy felt uneasy.

By the sixth, he was beginning to get mad. By the tenth, he was outright angry. And by the twentieth, he gave up in utter rage.

He had climbed out and wrenched open the hood before he realised doing so would achieve precisely nothing. He didn’t know anything about engines - he’d never had to learn, not when he’d had a brand-new car every year and a goddamned driver as well.

“You fucking piece of shit,” he said, hopefully in the general direction of whatever it was which had gone wrong. Then he slammed the hood shut again, hard enough to make the whole car judder.

Through the dusting of snow on the windshield Credence’s face was discernibly pale and drawn.

Percy turned his back, sat heavily on the hood, and took a deep breath. He wouldn’t be this angry if he’d been on his own. It was so unfair; why couldn’t he be allowed to keep up the pretence, just a little longer?

He pulled out his phone: a tow truck it would have to be. The woman who answered his call was disconcertingly, if falsely, sympathetic. In the background the general hum of dozens, maybe hundreds, of similar calls could dimly be heard. Percy imagined a throng of helpless middle-aged men, many with impatient wives and children in the back seat. It did not improve his mood.

When he hung up, he remembered Credence was still behind him, waiting. Probably staring at his knees, hunched and tense, rather than watching Percy make a spectacle of himself.

He stood, and went to open the passenger door.

“We’d better find somewhere to wait,” he said. “Could be a couple of hours before someone can get here.” On the other side of the lot were a few smaller stores - among them, hopefully, a place to eat. “There’s a diner over there - come on, let’s go.”

Once the car was locked he strode off toward it, leaving Credence to follow. His quiet glow of pleasure had vanished, and just then Percy didn’t think he could stand the reminder of its loss.

But, if anything, he felt worse over lunch. The food was fine but there were none of the other things he’d pictured - no cosy booth, no gentle flirtation, no shared smiles or laughter. Their table was stuck in the middle of the room, and every two minutes a server swept past them with bowls of curly fries or trays rattling with drinks. Credence focused entirely on his plate and didn’t attempt conversation. Percy couldn’t dredge up anything to say, either.

It seemed he’d done all the damage it was possible to do already - losing his temper and making an ass of himself. Then he’d grimly ordered lunch like spending time with Credence was something to be endured. No wonder he was silent and withdrawn. He’d had a better time serving Percy coffee.

That was the thought which did it - the one which managed to break through Percy’s admittedly ridiculous self-pity.

He threw his paper napkin onto his half-full plate and put his face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he said. Then he took a deep breath and looked at Credence. “The car breaking down wasn’t great, but everything else was totally unnecessary. I’m sorry for being an asshole and spoiling your day.”

Credence looked up in surprise. Percy watched his face grow rather serious and intent and hurriedly kept talking.

“My temper didn’t used to this bad - or at least I don’t think it did - but there seems a lot to be angry about at the moment. That piece-of-shit car is only the tip of the iceberg.”

He realised he’d started to shred his napkin into little pieces. He dropped it again, and resisted the urge to fold his arms across his chest. It would only make him look sulky. Or threatening.

“I know I’m not showing myself in a very good light here,” he said. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to take this outside the bakery again.”

Credence’s watchful gaze continued on for a few moments. Then, without a word, he got up and went to the counter.

Percy stared after him. Could he be leaving? He saw Credence lean over to speak to someone, but couldn’t tell what he said. He seemed to be pointing at something and then waved over towards their table. Was he asking for the check?

But, no - he turned and came back. Relief flooded Percy; relief and more confusion. Credence had two plates of pie, and a server followed him with two mugs.

He took his seat; silence reigned once more while their unfinished burgers were cleared away.

Once the server had left, Credence pushed a plate and a mug towards Percy. “They’re for you,” he said. He picked up his own fork and took a bite of a pie.

More silence followed. Credence ate slowly and thoughtfully. Percy examined his own plate, wondering if he’d missed something obvious.

“Queenie told me something once,” Credence said, suddenly. “She said even when everything feels like shit - and might actually have gone to shit, who knows? - we can always do something about the moment we’re in. To make it a bit better.”

Even if he’d orchestrated all that to get his full and complete attention, Percy thought, he couldn’t have done a better job.

“Right now, it’s cold outside,” Credence continued, “and we’re somewhere warm, with something good to eat and someone to talk to, and- And even if it doesn’t feel like much, it’s something little to enjoy, while we can.”

Percy was astonished. “Queenie told you that?” he said, hoping he might learn when and why.

“Queenie has a way of just knowing things,” Credence said. “She's real smart but not many people notice.” He stopped and frowned at Percy’s untouched plate. “Try some, it’s good.”

Percy stared at him for a full minute before he too started to eat.

“Are you trying to induct me into the pleasures of comfort eating?” he asked, feeling a little more like his old self.

“Do you feel comforted?” said Credence.

Percy struggled with that for a while before he answered. “Not because of the pie.”

Credence smiled cryptically. “It’s never because of the pie.”

When they eventually pulled up outside Credence’s building again, they were only an hour late. The tow truck had arrived sooner than expected; all the car needed was a jumpstart. By then Percy had been able to bear the ignominy with something closer to humour. Maybe it really was funny, just a little bit.

He killed the engine. They both looked out, to where Percy guessed Credence’s apartment must be. Neither of them moved. A curtain twitched and a face appeared at one of the windows. On the sill below it twinkled an LED menorah.

Credence waved up to the peering face and twisted to get his bag from the back seat.

“I guess I should have wished you a happy Hanukkah,” Percy said, and turned to Credence with a smile.

“Oh,” he said, tucking the empty flask safely into his bag. “Because of Jacob and Queenie? And Tina?”

“Yeah,” said Percy. “I thought you might be related or something… Who’s Tina?”

“Queenie’s sister. I live with her.” Credence pointed up toward the window. “I think you saw her once in the bakery.”

“Right,” Percy said, thinking hard. “So you’re not Jewish?”

“No,” said Credence. Instead of getting out of the car, he sat back in his seat again. “I don’t really know what I am now,” he said, after a moment.

“Can I ask…?” Percy began. He got the feeling this conversation ran deep. “Why all the hesitation about the decorations?”

Credence shrugged. “My mother didn’t approve of the commercialisation of Christmas - she said it was the dilution of God’s message.”

“Wow,” Percy said. “God’s message, huh?”

“Exactly,” Credence said. “No decorations, no presents... nothing but church. And you don’t even know what she would’ve said about me living with Tina and going on a date with you.”

“Sorry it wasn’t a better one,” Percy said, feeling doubly guilty.

Credence gave him a sidelong glance and smiled. “I thought it was pretty good, actually,” he said, and went a lovely shade of pink.

Percy still thought he’d failed somehow but the assurance was nice. He swung open his door open, and went round get Credence’s. At least he could end their date on a note of gallantry.

That seemed to lead straight to them both hovering on Credence’s doorstep. Credence wore a touchingly open expression; one very earnest and a little lost. His gaze wavered uncertainly across Percy’s face, particularly around his mouth.

Percy resolved to make it up to him, next time. He leaned in to kiss his cheek, making sure to linger longer than necessary; it wouldn’t do for Credence to doubt his interest.

“I thought it was pretty good too,” he said. “Merry Christmas, Credence.”

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[myaekingheart]

70. Sekkachi

So say goodbye to all your friends I fell in love with her again My baby 'Cause I'm not that kind of girl -Not That Kind of Girl, My Chemical Romance

               Sekkachi nearly spat her tea across the room when Guy told her the news. “I’m sorry, Rei did what?” she asked.

               Guy nodded dolefully. “Kakashi seems pretty upset about it” he said. It was clear he felt bad for his eternal rival—losing love was never easy. And deep down, a part of him felt a little guilty for having constantly asked him about the proposal plans, only for the relationship to fall apart.

               Meanwhile, Sekkachi was fuming. She gritted her teeth and squeezed her cup until her knuckles turned white, drumming the fingers of her opposite hand on the table. “After all those years” she growled, “All those fucking years of whining and complaining and senpai, notice me!”—here, she slipped into a mocking, high-pitched tone the likes of which she used on missions as Shitagi—“and she has the audacity to throw this shit away just because god forbid she’s a little depressed. I swear to god, if I ever run into her on the streets, I am going to pound her face into the dirt so hard!”

               Guy couldn’t help but laugh as he took a sip of his own drink. “So you do still care about her after all” he said matter-of-factly. He knew that at the end of the day, she could never bring herself to do such a thing.

               Sekkachi rolled her eyes and scoffed. “As if” she spat, taking another swig of her tea. “I couldn’t care less what that little carrot-haired runt does. I just hope she knows if I see her, I’m going to beat her up.”

               “Well, I wouldn’t get so hasty” Guy then said. “I almost forgot, there was one thing she wanted me to give you.” Sekkachi cocked a brow, eyeing Guy suspiciously. If Rei had something to give her, she didn’t want it. Guy reached into his back pocket and slid a small gold foil box across the table. She skeptically took it and opened it up, finding a single aquamarine earring inside. Immediately, Sekkachi covered her face and turned away. Guy reached across the table to rest a reassuring hand atop hers. Her chest rose and fell unevenly, and the hand covering her eyes quickly grew damp.

~o~

               It was a blistering summer day in Konoha. She had three more blocks to walk and Sekkachi was already sweating through her fancy clothes. Truthfully, she didn’t even understand why she needed to dress so nice in the first place. It was just a birthday party. She knew it wasn’t her place to demand these sorts of things, but dressed like this, she was wildly out of her element. But it was at Naru’s request, and she couldn’t possibly refuse.  

               It was her thirteenth birthday party and she insisted it be special. After all, she had said, you only become a teenager once. This is a rite of passage! I’m a fancy adult now and therefore we need to act as such. Sekkachi pressed a hand to her gurgling stomach as she remembered her own thirteenth birthday. She didn’t feel any more mature afterward than she had when she was twelve. Actually, if anything, she felt worse. Nowhere did she say she had wanted to commemorate teenagerhood with a needle through her belly button, the small ring now rubbing against her too-tight dress.

               Thirteen, however, suited Naru rather nicely. She opened the door, brimming, and tugged Sekkachi inside. On the surface, she looked no different than before but there was something in her attitude, perhaps a newfound albeit placeboed sense of confidence. Delicate flowers were weaved through a headband of braided hair and when she walked, her flouncy dress bounced and bubbled like she was some sort of fluffy cheesecake. “I thought turning thirteen meant becoming an adult” Sekkachi commented as she followed Naru back to the garden. A modestly wrapped gift was tucked under her arm. “Don’t you think that dress is a little childish?”

               “Oh, pfft!” Naru swatted the air dismissively. “You’re not getting the point! Being an adult doesn’t mean putting away childish stuff, it just means I can do whatever I want and no one can say anything about it!”

               Sekkachi had to admit, as precious and petite as the dress made her appear, it certainly suited Naru’s personality. The pastel blue complimented her bright eyes, the shape of it accentuated her bubbly personality, and the flowers printed on the fabric perfectly matched those weaved through her hair. For all intents and purposes, she looked like a princess. Sekkachi smoothed out her own dress, suddenly feeling significantly underdressed. Her only relief was when they reached the gardens where Rei awaited their return, also wearing something far less extravagant. It was then that Sekkachi realized just how much the whole thing seemed to make sense. After all, this was Naru’s birthday. She was the center of attention. It was natural that she look as such—though then again, when wasn’t she the center of attention?

               The Fuzuki clan was rather well-off and, as such, lived comfortably near the center of the village. As history foretold, they were one of the first clans in Konoha and were instrumental in helping to establish the current standard of government alongside Hashirama and Tobirama Senju. They retained close ties with the village’s leadership and Naru’s father even served as a correspondent for Lord Third. Their financial status was clearly exhibited through their intricate, sweeping garden and fine china. She really is a princess, Sekkachi thought to herself as she surveyed the place.

               Naru squealed as her mother handed her her birthday present, wrapped in a small gold foil box. She removed the lid to find two dainty aquamarine studs inside, the perfect shade to match her dress and eyes. She thanked her parents profusely and asked their maid to fetch her a mirror so she could fix them to her ears in that very moment.

               Anything else her family gave her left Sekkachi feeling extremely self conscious about her own gift. She wanted to believe she knew Naru well enough, but she proved rather difficult to buy for. In a fit of panic, she had settled for a floral haori she found in an antique shop. It was simple and perhaps a little too subdued for Naru’s tastes, but Sekkachi had hoped it would at least be appreciated. Now, however, she wasn’t so sure.

               “Your turn!” the blonde then announced, grinning to Sekkachi. The blue-haired kunoichi’s eyes went wide and she tried to stammer out a protest, but Naru wouldn’t hear of it. When Sekkachi froze, Naru took it upon herself to take the package herself. As she watched her pull apart the twine knot and unfold the wrapping paper, Sekkachi felt as if she was silently exploding. This was a terrible mistake. She was going to hate it. She didn’t do a good enough job. She was going to hate her.

               Naru gasped loudly as she held up the haori and a strange look painted her face. Sekkachi wasn’t sure whether it was delight or disgust, and Naru was taking way too long to clarify. And then it hit her: it was too big. Oh god, it was too big for her. “Y-you know, I can return it if it doesn’t fit, or—” Sekkachi started but then Naru hugged it to her chest and grinned.

               “That won’t be necessary!” she announced. “Of course I’m going to keep it. I love it!”

               “Y-you do…?” Sekkachi asked in disbelief. “I-it’s not too big…?”

               Naru rolled her eyes. “You say that as if it’s a problem!” she laughed. “It’s a little big, but that just means I can keep it forever! I won’t have to worry about outgrowing it!” For once, Sekkachi was eternally grateful for Naru’s unending optimism. She sighed and sunk back in her seat, a relieved smile touching her lips, and she realized it was likely the first time she had relaxed since arriving.

               The last present opened was from Rei, which Naru insisted was the way it must be done as she was her best friend. From her, the blonde received a pair of shoes that Naru went wild over. They were chunky and pastel with little pink bows, the exact sort of thing you would expect for Naru. Sekkachi wondered how difficult a time Rei had picking them out, if her comrade had struggled the same way she had. But then again, likely not. Naru and Rei were much closer and had known each other much longer, at least in an amicable sense. They were sharing lunches and having sleepovers while Sekkachi berated them in the academy. It was a level of friendship Sekkachi knew she could never reach.

               “You should eat something!” Naru insisted later that afternoon, motioning toward the grand cake they had cut into. Just the mere sight of it in its sugary glory made Sekkachi’s stomach flip. She hated to deny her, though, and so feeling as if there was nothing else she could do, Sekkachi succumbed.

               "Just a small piece” she insisted, but it was too late. Naru had already cut her a large chunk of cake, strawberry jam oozing from the fluffy layers and thick white icing caked on the sides. She grabbed a fork and stared at her opponent questioningly, thinking to herself If I have to die today, it might as well be by birthday cake. And then, mustering all her strength, she took one large bite.

               As expected, the cake was absolutely delicious. The icing was light and sweet, the strawberry filling perfectly tangy, and the cake itself moist and spongy. Sekkachi fell into it for a moment, closing her eyes and letting herself enjoy the taste. She at least owed herself that much.

               One bite wasn’t so scary. It was the second, third, fourth, and so on that heightened her anxiety. One bite meant just a taste. It was safe, polite, demure. To eat the whole slice was to succumb to gluttony, to jump off the cliff knowing full well she was destined to crash straight into the raging waves below. She wasn’t prepared for the intestinal suicide. She wasn’t prepared to go home early, crawling on her hands and knees, suppressing the impending flare-up. As such, she forced herself to linger. She chewed the prongs of her fork as she pretended to be interested in the small talk about boys and fashion and who’s dating who. Her stomach began to churn.

               “What do you think, Sekkachi?” Naru then asked, snapping her from her daze.

               Sekkachi stammered, her fork falling out of her mouth, bouncing off the edge of the table, and jamming into the dirt. “W-what? About what?” she asked, blinking.

               A sly smile touched Naru’s lips as she rested her chin in her hand. Sekkachi grew weak, the color draining from her face. For a moment, she truly feared for her life. “Well, I was going to ask you if you thought Chikara-sensei was dating anyone, but now I’m curious about what you were thinking about!” she exclaimed. It was too late to try and save face. There was no way she could deny her absentmindedness.

               “I wasn’t thinking about anything…” Sekkachi lied. Panicked, she started shoveling cake into her face. Naru’s grin widened.

               “I guess I should’ve asked who you were thinking about, then! Although I’m pretty sure I already know!” she said. She could hardly suppress her girlish laughter.

               Sekkachi froze, mouth stuffed, and asked in a muffled tone, “Wait, what?” Her cheeks turned bright red. She hadn’t been thinking about anyone. Or at least not during this conversation.

               Rei cupped her hands over her mouth to stifle her laughter. This was too rich. Naru beamed as she replied, “We all know you and Guy are secretly an item!”

               Now Sekkachi was choking. The maid raced in to give her the Heimlich and once she had caught her breath, Sekkachi glared at the two of them and asked, “Where the hell did you get an idea like that from?!” The minute the curse word dropped from her lips, Naru’s parents shot her a stunned glare. The other thing about the Fuzuki clan was that they were borderline virginal. Curse words and anything else considered inappropriate within a formal setting was vilified to the extreme.

               Unlike her parents, however, Naru found a certain charm in Sekkachi’s unfiltered language. She had grown quickly accustomed to it, as well, and was therefore totally unphased. She took a sip of her tea, fully prepared to spill whatever she knew and excited to do so, at that. “We all know you meet up with him for weekly sparring matches. You two are so close, it’s only natural to assume you’re dating! Now I’ll admit, I had never pegged Might Guy of all people as your type but whatever you’re into, I guess!”

               “That’s a far-fetched idea” Sekkachi muttered, wiping the crumbs from her mouth. “I swear, Guy is just a friend and nothing more, okay? I don’t understand why you always have to go prying into other people’s business, anyway. People have a right to their privacy, you know.”

               Naru simply giggled and took another sip of her tea. She clearly struck a nerve, meaning that Sekkachi was, in fact, hiding something. It was only instinctual that she would want to figure out what. And truthfully, there was a myriad of things that Sekkachi kept hidden but the most pressing of which had nothing to do with romance. In a quick moment, Sekkachi’s stomach creaked and she could feel her insides rearranging. Fuck. Chewing her bottom lip, she sprang from her seat and hastily bid everyone goodbye, insisting that it was getting late and she had forgotten she had an errand to run for her mother. She booked it out of the Fuzuki household and raced as far down the street as she could manage. She was only halfway home when the pain overtook her and she had to duck into an alleyway to keel over and hyperventilate.

               Her mind raced as she clenched her eyes shut and tried to breathe through the pain. Deep down, she was cursing the old woman, the matriarch of her clan, about that damn belly button ring. The purpose, she had said, was to redirect her chakra and therefore cure her of her affliction. But here she was two years later and she was still just as sick as ever, if not moreso. She looked left then right, trying to get her bearings on where she was, what was nearby, and where she could find a bathroom she could die in. No luck. Groaning in frustration, she pounded her fist against the ground and curled up into a fetal position. This was it. This was the end. They would find her soiled corpse tomorrow morning when the cloud of flies became unbearable. As she huffed and cursed, however, a familiar voice then rang overhead and she suddenly was unsure whether she was saved or doomed.

               “Sekkachi!” he called, “You’re not looking so good. What’s going on?”

               I’m about to shit my brains out, that’s what’s going on, she thought unkindly. She opened her mouth to speak but could form no words. Fortunately, Guy caught on rather quickly. Without a second’s hesitation, he tossed her onto his back and raced through the streets of Konoha, dodging civilians left and right like a madman, before skidding to a halt in front of the Fumeiyo clan’s grounds. By the time they arrived, Sekkachi was certain she had left her intestines in the dust. It took a few minutes before they finally caught up with her, burying her face into Guy’s shoulder with a groan. He kicked the door open and waltzed inside as if it was his own home, then carried Sekkachi all the way to the bathroom. She slithered out of his grasp and crawled to the toilet, ripping her dress off frantically and shrinking in on herself.

               It was only a few months after they had met that Sekkachi was forced to admit to Might Guy that she was sick. Her thirteenth birthday had just passed and the piercing certainly did not do it’s intended job. She had no choice but to cancel her weekly match, employing the stomach flu as her excuse. At least that way, anyone who attempted to pry wouldn’t believe she was lying. Guy was not one to sit back and do nothing, however. If his dear friend was sick, he would ten to her and ensure that she was healing. He had gathered a colorful bouquet of get-well flowers and a basket of onigiri and set off, a part of him almost too excited to see the look on Sekkachi’s face. She was so coarse and blunt, the thought of doing something to make her happy exhilarated him.

               Her house was nothing like what he expected. Not that his expectations were very high, but this was certainly a shock to his system. The Fumeiyo clan had been historically tread upon for generations, almost as much as the Uchiha, thanks to a long-standing curse that their ninja were liabilities in battle. The working men of the village wanted nothing to do with these harbingers of disaster. As such, their tight-knit clan resided on the outer edge of the village where a stream trickled and weeds grew high. The house itself was in utter disrepair.

               A sour old woman turned Guy away at the front door, insisting he never bother them again. Defeated, he began trudging home but not before the wind carried soft-spoken gossip to his ears. He snuck beneath a window and listened closely as a man and woman discussed Sekkachi’s fate.

               “The outlook is bleak” the man said. “The ritual should have cured her. At this rate, I don’t think she’ll last another year.”

               “That’s not true” the woman replied. “She’s tough. I’m sure she’ll pull through.”

               “Even if she does” the man argued, “what about her quality of life? She’ll never be normal.”

               The woman sighed. “I’d hate to break the news to her. It would break her heart.”

               Guy didn’t stick around long enough to hear the rest. He raced home in a daze, unsure of what he had just heard but knowing full well that none of it was for his ears in the first place. His limbs felt disconnected from his body, and his mind wouldn’t shut up. So she was sick. That much was true. But there was no way this could be a simple stomach flu. If not that, then, with what? And would she ever be cured? He hoped so. She didn’t deserve to suffer. He had so many questions, and he desperately wanted answers, but now was not the right time.

               When she finally returned, Guy was overjoyed. She had pulled through after all. He surged forward and hugged her tight, exclaiming of how much he missed her. Sekkachi cocked a suspicious brow and shoved him off of her. She was sick. So what? It wasn’t that big of a deal. She could tell he was going easy on her as they sparred, however, which only pissed her off that much more.

               “Alright, what is your deal today?” she asked, voice forceful, during a lull in their training. “Why are you going easy on me? Do you think I’m weak or something? Huh? What is it?”

               “N-no!” Guy stammered. “I didn’t mean to, I just--! I didn’t want to push you too far if you were still getting over your sickness!” He knew that, for himself at least, he was willing to strain himself to the utmost limits whether he was feeling well or not. Those were his own self-rules, though—no one else’s. He could never subject those standards onto anyone but himself.

               Sekkachi narrowed her eyes and leaned down so as to get right up close in Guy’s face. “Going easy on me isn’t going to do me any favors” she growled. “I want you to pound me into the dirt, I want you to kick my ass. I want you fight me like a man, got it?”

               “Are you sure?” Guy asked. Sekkachi grimaced, forcing him to quickly add, “Listen, it’s not that I don’t want to! I just don’t want to hurt you.”

               “I’m not a fragile piece of glass, Guy” Sekkachi insisted. “Besides, it’s not like I haven’t been sick before. What makes this time any different?” Guy averted his eyes, stammering, and Sekkachi could feel her gut drop. “Oh my god, what do you know?” she asked quietly, angry and scared and confused. He was crossing a line she had firmly drawn in the dirt. No one was ever supposed to know about this.

               Back then, the whole thing was so weird. He explained everything quickly and anxiously, almost as if he expected Sekkachi to strike him. Instead, she sunk into the grass in disbelief. It would take her a minute to process all of this information, to process the fact that someone finally knew of her affliction. A charged silence surged between them for a long while before Guy pursed his lips and finally muttered, “I just want to make sure you’re okay. I care about you, Sekkachi.”

               Well shit. There was no way out of it now. Sighing, Sekkachi tightened her ponytail and braced herself for the explanation. “Guy, I’m sick” she started. “I’m never going to get better. I’ve got this chronic digestive disorder that makes normal shit a living nightmare. I can’t eat anything without being fucking terrified that it’s going to make me sick. Even if the food itself doesn’t fuck me up, the anxiety does. Sometimes it’s so bad, I pass out from the pain. My clan, they say that these piercings are supposed to help”—here, she motioned to the belly button ring in her stomach— “something about redirecting my chakra to help with the pain. It’s never done any good. My belly button, all the way up my ears, my nose, none of those have helped, and I’m sure anywhere else they try to stick holes in me isn’t going to make much of a difference either. I have to live the rest of my life knowing I will always be dysfunctional. That I’m always going to be sick no matter what. I’m going to have to suffer through every day of the rest of my life.” By now, she was starting to get choked up. This was exactly why she never wanted to say anything. She had already cried in front of Chikara-sensei about it, the night of their very first mission. Food was so culturally significant—existing not just for sustenance, but as a tradition and social ritual. It only emphasized her disability that much more. She hated food. She hated everything about it, the fact that it was so varied and delicious and that she couldn’t have any of it without feeling like she was going to die.

               Guy reached out and took her hand in his. “I’m sorry for what you’re going through, Sekkachi” he said. “I can’t even imagine how tough that must be to live with every single day…but I know you’re much more than what you’re going through. You may not be able to do ninjutsu or genjutsu, and you may be sick, but you are still one of the strongest ninja I’ve ever known!” Sekkachi rolled her teary eyes and scoffed, confident that that was a lie. Guy chuckled and smiled at her. “And if it means anything, I am going to stick by your side no matter what! Just let me know when you’re feeling sick and what I can do to help and I’ll come running.”

               Sekkachi wiped her nose with the back of her hand and smiled sadly. “You’re way too nice to me, you know” she commented. “You have no reason to be this nice.”

               “Of course I do” Guy replied. “After all, you’re my friend. You might even my best friend! And that’s just what best friends do.”

               From that point onward, Guy’s friendship proved to be indelible to Sekkachi over the years. Guy was certainly a man of his word, and on this blistering summer afternoon he had definitely kept his promise. He stayed in the hallway outside the bathroom the entire time, pacing back and forth on his hands so as to get training in while he was on standby. He refused to walk away and risk not being there if she needed him. During the entirety of her flare-up, however, all she could think about was what Naru had said at that party. Did she really believe her and Guy were a thing? And if she did, then who else had bought into it? A shiver ran down her spine. If only Naru knew how false an accusation that was.

               Guy grinned as the bathroom door creaked open and an exhausted Sekkachi trudged out into the hall. “You okay?” he asked, patting her on the back. There was something so weirdly casual about it, as if he was congratulating her on a good effort in a game of football or something.

               She gave a single, definitive nod as she crossed the hall to her bedroom and began changing into a pair of loose sweatpants. She had no reservations about doing this in front of Guy, and he certainly couldn’t care less. “Can I ask you something?” she asked, tying the drawstring loose around her bloated waist. Guy arched a bushy brow in intrigue. “Do you think people assume we’re dating?”

               “Dating?” Guy repeated. “Why? What gave you that idea?”

               Sekkachi shrugged and seated herself on the edge of the bed, hugging a pillow to her stomach. “Some things happened today, some words were said. I don’t want to get into the details. The important thing is that apparently people think we’re something of an item. I guess the minute a guy and a girl start hanging out together, they’re automatically treated like a couple or some shit.”

               Guy shook his head. “Well, this is the first time I’ve heard of this” he replied. Sekkachi wasn’t sure why, but that came as a relief. Maybe because that meant Naru’s rumor wasn’t as widespread as she had feared. If Naru was overcompensating, then perhaps their reputations were saved. “Are you trying to tell me something?” he then asked, cocking a brow in intrigued suspicion.

               Sekkachi didn’t think she could do this anymore. Her hands began to shake at her sides, both an after-effect of the flare-up and a result of her anxiety. She propped open the drawer of her nightstand and pulled out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes, fixing one to her mouth and igniting the end. As she shoved the pack back in the drawer, she propped the window open so as to better dispel the smoke.

               “You really shoulnd’t do that, you know” Guy commented, shaking his head as he took a seat at her desk chair. “Isn’t that going to make you sicker?”

               Sekkachi scoffed. “Sometimes these days, it’s the only thing that makes me feel healthy” she replied. She took a long drag and let the smoke billow up from her lips slowly. Guy couldn’t really see the appeal, but whatever worked for her, he supposed.

               “You never answered my question” he then said. She knew. She wasn’t sure if she could now. “You know you can be honest with me, Sekkachi.”

               “Guy” she sighed, “you are the nicest person I have ever met. Did you know that?” Might Guy smiled back at her. She toyed with the tassels on the edge of the pillow, her cigarette in her opposite hand. She didn’t want to look at him. She was afraid of what he was about to say. “I just need to know…guys always have ulterior motives, you know? They always do things for the sake of getting something out of it for themselves. Usually because they like someone. And I just need to know, and be totally honest with me here, do you…I mean, you don’t—”

               “Sekkachi, I’m going to stop you right there” Guy interrupted, holding up a hand. Sekkachi froze, finally gazing back at him with wide, uncertain eyes. “You know I consider you a good friend of mine. I don’t want a rumor like this to ruin the friendship we have.”

               Relief washed over her, sighing out her cigarette smoke. “That’s good to know” she said. “Because I was so scared you were going to admit that you loved me or something.”

               Guy shook his head. “Sekkachi, I consider you family. I don’t think I could ever think of you like a lover.”

               “Honestly? I feel the same way” Sekkachi admitted. Her hands trembled as she could feel the words rising up in her throat, something she had never before said aloud threatening to spill. She leaned forward and locked eyes on the ground, suddenly very aware she had no control over whether or not she was about to say it. “I love you, but like a brother. You’re always there for me, you’re always pushing me to do better. I feel like I can be open and honest with you. And that’s why…Guy, there’s something I need to tell you.” Guy’s brows raised as he leaned closer, fearing the worst. He knew she was sick, but was it worse than they expected? Was she dying? He needed to know. She took a nervous drag of her cigarette, exhaled, chewed her bottom lip. This was it. Now or never. “Guy, I’m gay. I like girls. I’m a lesbian.”

               Might Guy leaned back a moment, processing the confession. This was a huge moment and he needed to tread carefully. Sekkachi’s leg bobbed up and down on its own accord as she awaited his response. This was killing her. Then suddenly, before she knew it, Guy’s arms were wrapping around her in a tight hug. She blinked a few times, not quite understanding, and then he said, “I’m proud of you, Sekkachi.” Her cigarette snuffed out and fell to the floor as she broke down. No one else knew.

~o~

               “You sure you’re going to be alright?” Guy asked as he walked Sekkachi home. She clung to that little gold foil box, terrified of losing it if it wasn’t in her grasp at all times. As they ascended the stairs, she nodded and then smiled softly at Guy.

               “Yeah, I’ll be alright” she said. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

               Deep down, she knew that was impossible for him, but he knew better than to press her. He bid her a brief goodbye and then they parted ways toward their respective apartments. As she reached her front door, however, there was a small basket on her doorstep covered by a gingham dish towel. A small note was folded and placed squarely on the top.

               This was highly unusual for a number of reasons, and for a moment Sekkachi was terrified this was some sort of planned terrorist attack. She wasn’t sure why, exactly, anyone would be targeting her of all people but her anxiety was getting the better of her. She inspected the basket closely only to find that whoever left it was, in fact, trying to kill her. There was nothing but food inside.

               Finding no other choice, Sekkachi kicked her door open with her foot and carried the basket inside, leaving it on her desk. She sat on the edge of the bed and stared at it for a good long while before finally picking up the note attached. The message was short and simple yet shocking.

               Sorry for your loss. Here is some comfort food. Hope you enjoy. -Mikazuki

               Sekkachi had only met this girl a handful of times, one of Rei and Naru’s comrades in the ANBU, but this seemed wildly uncharacteristic considering her shy demeanor. It also didn’t make any damn sense. There was no reason whatsoever for this girl to be leaving food on a practical stranger’s doorstep. Sekkachi peeled back the dish towel (which she assumed Mikazuki would want back, if only she knew of a way to return it to her) to find a myriad of comfort food inside: onigiri, homemade senbei, manju filled with red bean paste.

               It was a nice gesture, of course, but felt so inappropriate. I hope she knows all of this is going to go to waste, Sekkachi thought to herself. She couldn’t eat any of it even if she wanted to. Or perhaps she was just being difficult. Deep down, she knew many of these foods were actually rather palatable for even her hypersensitive stomach. She supposed she feared that eating it would mean accepting whatever ulterior motive Mikazuki was after. There was no way she was doing this just to be kind.

               Sekkachi looked down to the little gold foil box in her hands and sighed. When did life become so damn complicated? If Naru was still alive, none of this would be happening. The memories of that birthday party were still so vivid in her mind. They were so young and stupid, so naïve. If only the three of them knew what was waiting around the corner. And then of course her mind leapt to Rei. A seething rage bubbled up inside of her chest at the thought of her. This was all her fault. Breaking up with Kakashi was almost deserved. A solid punishment for everything she had done. And yet…she couldn’t quite wrap her brain around why Rei would go to the trouble of relaying her this box. She popped open the lid and watched the single earring roll around inside. It almost made her nauseous. Perhaps so many years spent working together left Rei and Sekkachi far more telepathic than they had expected. Sekkachi rose from her seat, box in tow, and approached her desk, opening the top drawer and pulling out an identical aquamarine stud. How the two earrings got separated, Sekkachi would never know. Naru had a strange way of organizing her belongings, sometimes meticulously color coded and other times a complete mess. None of that mattered now, though. All that was important was that the pair was back together, and it was all because of Rei.

               Sekkachi clutched the earrings in her fist and sucked in a sharp breath. Nothing was ever going to repay what Rei had done, yet perhaps she had been too hasty. Naru was gone. All they had left now was each other. Her eyes shifted to the framed photograph on her desk of the three of them when they were just genin, so bright and happy and confident. She grazed the glass over Naru’s image, tightened her grip on the earrings, let the stones press into her the flesh of her palm, and then truly let herself break down.

Oof I'm gonna be totally honest with you guys, this was a REALLY difficult chapter to write. I really wanted to explore the origins of Guy and Sekkachi's friendship, but more importantly Sekkachi's illness. Her chronic illness is based on my own so all of her struggles with food and her digestive system hit really close to home, and it was EXTREMELY hard to try and find the line between being honest but tasteful and being gross and way too honest about the literally shitty experience of having a sickness like this. I just hope I did it justice.