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titan-fodder · 3 years

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Pyroclastic (Mike Zacharias x Reader)

Summary: Some would argue that the park is dead, but you know better; it’s livelier than it has been in hundreds of thousands of years, a shuddering, breathing monster finally rising to its feet after an eternity of slumber. Soon, it will open its mouth in an earth-shattering scream, and then, everyone will see.

Not dead; just waking up.

Rating: E (explicit)

Word Count: ~19.5K

Warnings: slow burn, friends to lovers, Eruri, implied Mobuhan, spelling Miche ‘Mike’, swearing, fighting, lots of nerdy shit, explicit sexual content, breeding kink

A/N: This is my contribution to the Smut Pile’s Apocalypse collab. I urge everyone to check out all the pieces on the masterlist. A big thanks to @pleasantanathema and @whats-her-quirk for being about as excited about this as I was, to @shadowworks for always encouraging me when I take on projects too big for my own good, and to @mindninjax who volunteered her husband’s expertise on this. I’m pretty proud of this piece and had a blast writing and researching for it. This is by no means scientifically accurate, but I did my best to make it realistic (as in I watched Supervolcano again and spent a lot of time on the USGS website). Also, I have been to Yellowstone exactly one (1) time in my life and was terrified the entire time which is where my fixation with it comes from.

Enjoy~

GLOSSARY

Caldera - large basin-shaped volcanic depression with a diameter many times larger than its included volcanic vents; commonly formed when magma is withdrawn or erupted from a shallow, underground magma reservoir.*

Pyroclastic flow - A hot (typically >800 °C), chaotic mixture of rock fragments, gas, and ash that travels rapidly (tens of meters per second) away from a volcanic vent or collapsing flow front.*

Tephra - pieces of all fragments of rock ejected into the air by an erupting volcano.

VEI - The Volcanic Explosivity Index (VEI) is a relative measure of the explosiveness of volcanic eruptions.*

*definitions taken from USGS website

4 Y E A R S B E F O R E

Levi looks pissed when he’s on screen. He looks pissed all the time, but he looks especially pissed when he’s made to stand in front of pointed cameras and outstretched microphones.

You can’t blame him; it’s not actually his job to deal with the press, but some years ago, Erwin had twisted his arm this way and that and convinced Levi to take over conferences.

“They understand you better,” he’d said. “You enunciate better than me. We can’t have people misunderstanding me and panicking, can we?” The blond had purposely spoken with an accent thicker than usual, and Levi had called him every name under the sun, but in the end, he’d relented, and now…

“Dr. Ackermann! Dr. Ackermann! Is it true that this has been the largest earthquake in Yellowstone since Hebgen Lake?”

Levi squints, actually cringes at the question, then waves one of his small, bony hands. “Hebgen Lake was a major quake—7.2 on the Richter scale. This was only a 5.3, and yeah, it’s been a while since the park has had a quake larger than a three, but that doesn’t mean—”

“So, should we be worried about a supereruption?” Another reporter asks, and you clamp a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing as the light leaves your colleague’s eyes.

Levi’s jaw slides, and he pauses, no doubt to think about how to answer because this is a delicate question, one that the general public always reads extremely far into. He’s good at keeping his expression blank, at least, probably another reason Erwin requested he take over interviews.

“Listen,” he starts off, slate eyes locking onto the largest camera in front of him. “Yellowstone is a hub of seismic energy. It wouldn’t be the park we know and love today if it wasn’t shaking and letting off steam like it usually does, right?” This gains a few relieved chuckles from the crowd of journalists.

“Was this earthquake bigger than the ones we’re used to? Yes. Are we monitoring each and every tremor that we pick up? Also, yes. So, don’t make yourself sick worryin’ about sh—stuff you can’t control. We’ll let you know if it’s time to worry.” He sucks his teeth for a second, waiting for his advice to wash over everyone, then adds, “Keep a bug-out bag packed, though. Not because of the volcano or anything. Just because… The world is crazy and so are people, and it’s always good to be prepared.”

They take it as a joke, laugh a little louder as Levi steps down from the podium, but you’ve worked with him long enough to know he had made the comment with serious intent. It’s a lot easier to fly out of town at a moment’s notice when you already have the necessities packed, and though he won't tell them all the facts this early on, there’s a chance that they will eventually have to evacuate, yes.

“I fucking hate that big, blond bastard,” is the first thing Levi tells you when he’s within earshot, much less well-spoken in casual situations than when his face is being broadcasted. “Voht iff they dunt understahnd me, Lebi?” He mimics your boss badly then pantomimes an uppercut with a dramatic grunt.

“Why’d you make him sound Russian?”

“I was trying to make him sound stupid ‘cause that’s what he is.”

“I have four doctorates,” Erwin states as he falls into step with both of you, finally moving from his little hiding place behind one of the news trucks. “I’m not stupid. And, I do not sound like that.”

“That’s what you think,” Levi grumbles, doing his best to shrug away from the larger man when Erwin slings an arm around his shoulders. It doesn’t work, and Levi ends up stumbling to keep up with Erwin’s longer strides, which only serves to irritate him further.

“You looked good up there. I mean, you sounded good. Sounded sure, comforting…”

You shake your head at Erwin’s obvious struggle to just not be the big weirdo that he is, but it sure is painful to watch sometimes.

Governor Zachary takes over the conference, leaving the three of you to make your way inside the lodge that the emergency broadcast was set up outside of. Levi and Erwin bicker through the lobby then through the back doors that lead you to the jeep that you all swing yourselves into.

The sky is still a little dusty with shaken sediment, and some of the park rangers are setting up barricades at the mouths of a couple hiking trails leading to what is now a moderately large crevasse that’s opened up in the Biscuit Basin.

Other than that, the park doesn’t feel much different as you ride through it on your way back to the lab. The Summer sun brings with it your favorite 70 degree days, and if it weren’t for Erwin’s questionable driving, you’d be tempted to hang half your body out the window just to feel the warmth better. The faint smell of sulfur in the air is soothing at this point—the smell of activity, the smell of science, the smell of home. Geysers are still shooting boiling water to the skies. The mud pots are still bubbling like ominous cauldrons. That earthquake couldn’t have shaken too much out of place if all the geothermal spots are still behaving as they normally do.

The tires kick up rocks and dust as Erwin brakes dramatically outside of the base, right behind another familiar jeep that makes Levi roll his eyes.

“Great. The boy scout’s here.”

“Oh, be nice, you little grump,” Erwin chastises him. “Mike’s been nothing but kind to us since he started working here.”

“Yeah, except for the time he misjudged the depth of that puddle and—”

“Splashed you with mud, yeah, yeah, we know, Levi,” you finish for him as you slide out of the vehicle. “You bring it up every time you see the guy. We know.”

“And, didn’t he apologize afterward?” Erwin prompts.

Levi doesn’t answer, but you respond for him: “Profusely. Drove him back to the lab, offered him his spare change of clothes—”

“Useless,” Levi hisses. “The dude’s a giant.”

“Not his fault he’s…” You try not to sound too giddy when you step through the door and see the man in question. “Enormous.”

You don’t know Mike very well, one of the newer park rangers but with a background in geology which leads him to your neck of the woods very often. The few conversations you have had with him have all been pleasant. He’s soft-spoken but obviously intelligent with good instincts about both the park’s weather and wildlife.

He’s also the only ranger you’ve seen actually pull off the dorky park uniform, but that could just be because the different shades of green look good against his tan skin and bring out his light eyes. Even taller than Erwin and a little broader too, M. Zacharias (as his little, metal name tag reads) is a slab of a man, and yet, when he grins, it’s almost boyish.

“Hey, Mike, what’s up?” You greet.

He turns his head to look at you, flipping shaggy hair from his face, then offers one of the soft smiles you were hoping for. “Just came to drop off some samples for Hange.”

“Disgusting,” Levi mutters just for you to hear as he passes, and you shove him hard enough to make him stumble and flip you off.

“How’d the press conference go?” Hange asks, tossing a small, corked flask of mud from hand to hand—what you assume to be the sample—while twirling in their computer chair. The last member of your team, Moblit Berner, glances away from the holographic model he’s studying to hear the answer.

“I think it went well,” Erwin says. “Levi handled it like a champion, as always.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, old man,” the brunet bites out, joining Moblit next to the expensive projection table in the middle of the lab. “What’re we lookin’ at?”

“I’m just running the numbers from today’s quake. The possible effects it had underground.”

“And?”

Moblit is quiet for a beat too long.

“Mobs, what is it?”

You, Erwin, and Hange make your way over to the table, staring at the laser-lit park model and the chamber underneath it.

“Well, in most of the scenarios, it’s fine,” Moblit tries. “Nothing to worry about.”

“And, in the others?”

He looks to Erwin, as everyone does in times of concern. Thick eyebrows pinched together, your boss motions to the hologram. “Show us.”

Moblit punches a few things in on the app he uses to control the model, then takes a deep breath and lets it play out for everyone to see, including Mike who slowly makes his way over, curiosity apparently getting the best of him.

At first, nothing looks to change, just a living, breathing reenactment of what you were seeing today—every geyser, every fumarole, every little rumble, every minute rise and fall of the ground sped up to be detected with the human eye.

And then, it stops.

“Why did it…”

“Just watch,” Moblit shushes you.

The outline of the ground fractures in several different places, statistics for different earthquakes blinking above. The known vents of the park—every geyser, mudpot, and fumarole—are rendered inactive, and under it all, that massive chamber everyone is always so worried about begins to bulge upward and outward, growing larger and larger until…

The map shorts out, flickering then disappearing entirely, leaving the six of you staring at the space where it was shining just seconds ago.

“Was that…”

Erwin inhales deeply through his nose before exhaling the word that will eventually bring the nation to its knees.

"Supereruption."

3 Y E A R S B E F O R E

Even through the thick headset, the whir of the helicopter blades is loud, a rhythm pulsing through the air strong enough to be felt in your chest right alongside your beating heart.

Thankfully, Mike’s deep voice is loud and clear when he speaks, nodding his head to the right, “Look down at about two o’clock.”

You follow his command, tilting your head and peering down at an empty field.

“I don’t see anything,” you say.

The microphone hanging in front of his mouth picks up his chuckle, and the sound of it echoes in your ears, making you grin albeit a little confused.

“Exactly. That’s a big spot for bison this time of year.”

“Then why aren’t they here?”

Mike lets the chopper hover for a while, both hands still on their respective control levers.

“Ground’s been moving too much,” he says after a few seconds of silent staring. You’d known the answer already but hearing the wildlife expert confirm it fills you with a little more dread than you’d originally harbored. “They feel things we don’t, the tiny quakes, the tremors. Stuff you only think the seismograph picks up—they feel all of it.”

“They know what’s coming,” you say more to yourself than to him.

Mike offers you one of those charming, close-lipped smiles. “When in doubt, trust the animals.”

A line you’ve heard him say a few times now. Mike loves everything that lives in the park, from all the common lake trout and sand cranes to the endangered grizzly bears and gray wolves.

Trust the animals, he says. Because he trusts them. Because he loves them.

“You wanna fly over the Grand Prismatic?” Mike asks, pulling you from your thoughts, and when you look over, you find your reflection in his mirrored aviators as he stares at you.

His mouth quirks up at the corners, causing yours to do the same, and you nod. “Yeah, always.”

It’s your favorite view in the park, the colorful spring from up above. Mike had learned that a few months ago, and now whenever you ride in the chopper with him, he makes sure to pass over the beautiful attraction just for you.

Nearly 200° Fahrenheit with a pH of 8.7, the pool, while still dangerous due to its temperature, is one of the more moderate dangers of the national park, tame in comparison to the Norris Geyser Basin with temperatures up to 459° (a thousand meters below the surface, anyway) and a pH of about two. It’s dissolved bones—human bones. And, would claim even more if given the chance.

You suppose that’s expected for a basin that’s sitting over a chamber of 1,500° molten magma.

The Grand Prismatic is just as stunning today as it is every other. Its outer orange and yellow rings darken to greens and blues the further inward you look, thick steam rising from all over but more condensed over the middle.

It was one of the park's biggest attractions, tourists flocking to the spring with their cameras, too stricken by the vivid chromaticism to listen or read about the temperatures and microbials that are responsible for the colors in the first place.

As you hover above now, just to the side of the steam, your heart aches. There are no ignorant tourists to take pictures of the pool, the boardwalks and trails to these hot spots now blocked off once it became apparent that the earthquake that took place last year was not the last of its kind. Your team as well as the park rangers went to the park board as a unit and suggested that tourists needed to be kept away from as many geothermal features as possible, all of you with the same fear in mind: someone (or many someones) falling in.

It's always been a risk, but now, with weekly rumblings, that risk has multiplied exponentially. All it takes is someone losing their footing on the boardwalk over the Norris Geyser Basin for serene sightseeing to turn into tragedy, and that's on a good day. Throw a 5.7 earthquake into the mix, and the park could lose an entire tour group to the heat and acid.

It's just not a risk any of you are willing to take anymore.

Most of the park remains open. Old Faithful continues to draw people in by the thousands. They sit and watch boiling water shoot into the sky every hour or so, clapping happily at the sight, unaware of the way you and your team hold your breath in wait, hoping for the geyser to go off on its usual schedule.

One day it will stop. One day they'll all stop. And, then…

"I can't believe it's all gonna be gone one day," you muse, blinking down at the prismatic pool for as long as Mike will let you.

"Nah," the man disagrees. "Not gone. Buried, yeah, but not gone."

You snort, turn back to him with a grin and roll your eyes. "Yeah, no big deal. Just miles of pyroclast and ash, probably snow when we get thrust into another ice age 'cause of the crazy climate swing..."

"Alright, alright, I get it. The sun dimeth and the land sinketh."

"Gusheth forth steam and gutting fire," you continue grimly.

Mike turns the helicopter back toward the landing zone, saying nothing else and leaving you to take in the sights below. You're grateful for the silence; it's good for processing, for preparation.

And, you're grateful for Mike, one of your best friends at this point—soft and kind despite his intimidating stature, smart as a whip, and just as stunning, if not more so, than the Grand Prismatic.

"Any idea what you'll do afterward?" He asks, holding a hand out to you to help you from your seat in the chopper.

"Not really. Survive, I guess."

You land just a little too close to him, your face nearly coming in direct contact with his broad chest, but Mike steps back just in time, making you extend your arm, still connected at the fingers, before he drops your hand.

"A feat all on its own," he says flatly, but he perks up as you both begin walking to the park ranger base. "Maybe you'll find another team to work on."

"I don't want to find another team," you tell him honestly. "This is my team. This is my home."

Mike hums, an understanding little sound, body warm when he gently bumps into you on the gravel pathway to the lodge. "Yeah, I know."

A geophysics major at UCLA with a specific interest in volcanology, getting to intern with the Erwin Smith at the Yellowstone supervolcano had been a dream come true. You'd expected to gain knowledge and experience—nothing more and nothing less. You'd lived out here for one summer during your graduate program, clocking the field experience you needed to get your degree and taking in everything you could.

Back then, it felt like all you did was ask questions and get in the way. By the end of that summer, you knew every variation of Levi Ackermann's irritated sighs, every different pitch of Hange Zoe's shouts and how they correlated with their experiments. Moblit had been the newest permanent addition and was even more nervous than he is now, trying and failing to keep up with Hange (which he's much better at doing these days).

They were all fantastic, but it had been the lead researcher who'd reeled you in. You'd never met anyone as passionate as Dr. Erwin Smith, captivated by the monster underneath the park and thrilled to share his brain with anyone willing to hold their hands out for it. Hell, he'd even helped you with your Master's thesis—hydrothermally altered mineralized systems and their seismic reflections.

When you graduated, the Yellowstone team was the first you reached out to and the first you heard back from. Erwin said you'd been a perfect fit even as a student (which you hadn't exactly believed but definitely blushed at anyway). Mobs, Hange, and even Levi seemed happy to have you back. It was like you were meant to be here. In this park. With all of them.

Studying the volcano and all of its properties has always been like breathing to you—natural and necessary. You move when it moves, every shake and tremor a heartbeat in your own chest, every shooting geyser like blood in your veins. The mudpots are your bubbling emotions, the fumaroles, your sense of building pressure and release.

You feel at home in the park because you trust it. Because you love it.

You don't have room for another team in your heart, but as you walk inside the lodge next to Mike, watching as he takes off his sunglasses and grins at one of the other rangers, you think you at least have room for one more person.

2 Y E A R S B E F O R E

The lab has two extra bodies in it—two extra unwelcome bodies who keep getting in your way and touching things as they ask questions that no one has the answers to yet.

“When did you say this was going to happen?” The rotund state governor, Dhalis Zachary, asks for the second time since arriving, picking up a sample test tube that Moblit immediately plucks from his hand with a nervous smile.

“As I said before, it’s difficult to place a concrete timeline on an event like this,” Erwin tells the white-haired man. “We don’t exactly have in depth records of the last three eruptions, so all we have to go off of is the earth itself and our simulations.”

At the edge of the projection table, Nile Dok, FEMA director, cautiously waves a hand through the holographic model displayed in front of him. He obviously doesn’t think anyone is watching him because the slender man jumps in surprise when you snort at your desk, and his angular cheekbones take on a pink tint of embarrassment from having been caught.

He clears his throat, straightens the knot that sits over it, then turns to face Erwin and prompts, “Three eruptions before. One was a lot bigger than the others, though, right?”

Erwin nods. “Huckleberry Ridge. Over two million years ago.”

“We’re hoping—if a supereruption is to occur—it’ll be closer to the size of Mesa Falls,” you pipe up.

“Which one was that?” Zachary asks.

“One-point-three million years ago, two-hundred-and-eighty cubic kilometers of erupted materials…” Levi lists off as he makes his way over to the table with a sanitary wipe in hand. He doesn’t like people in his space, doesn’t like strangers in the lab, even (especially) government officials (“They leave fingerprints, and they breathe on everything, and they waste our fucking time.”).

“Two-hundred-and-eighty cubic kilometers… That’s the best-case scenario?” Zachary looks to Erwin, eyebrows raised high over his wire glasses.

Erwin stares at him for a moment, contemplating the best and easiest way to explain this to someone who has no real experience in the field. Eventually, he settles on, “Moblit, can you run some simulations for me?”

“Of course, sir,” the mousy scientist agrees, phone in hand and pulling up the app before the boss can even finish speaking.

Everyone gathers around the table except for Levi who steps away from it, grumbling under his breath about coming back to clean it later. He at least hits the lights, making the model easier to see as Erwin starts listing off numbers and scenarios.

“The best case, actually, is only one vent opening, maybe two. It would be something comparable to Mount St. Helen’s, though probably a bit bigger, say point-five cubic kilometers of material. It would be necessary to evacuate the park and this region of the state at the very least.”

Zachary hums, “And, how likely is that?”

Erwin shrugs. “Hard to say right now. As the earthquakes increase, though, the likelihood of a small eruption like that, uh, dwindles.”

“Small,” Nile scoffs.

Zachary makes a similar noise, slightly louder, a little more offended, then rattles off, “Mount St. Helen’s killed almost sixty people. The blast, the ash, the lahars—” as if you don’t all already know.

“No one’s discounting the damage of the eruption,” Levi cuts him off. “But, if you’re sweatin’ at those numbers, all due respect, Governor, I don’t know if you’re ready to stomach the rest of this little light show.”

The older man cuts his eyes at Levi who squints right back at him, only turn and shuffle over to his desk when Erwin waves him further away, a silent way of saying ‘keep your smart mouth away from the authority figures’.

“Moving on,” you cough, twirling a finger to get both Erwin and Mobs to continue.

“Yes,” Erwin nods. “So, any eruption is dependent on how much magma in the chamber is eruptible magma. Just because it’s there doesn’t mean it will come out.”

Moblit punches in a few numbers to show what a small-scale eruption would look like, first with one vent then with two.

“With just that amount, even with two vents, it isn’t enough to completely destabilize the chamber.”

“And, destabilizing it would be… bad…” Nile states more than asks, brown eyes lit up by the model in front of him.

“No shit,” everyone hears Levi grumble from his desk, and Erwin huffs and looks at you, expression a little exasperated as he jerks a thumb back toward the grumpy man in yet another one of his silent motions— a plea in this case—'go take care of him’ which you do.

Levi is slumped in his computer chair, arms crossed over his chest as he peers over his desktop at the four men gathered around the hologram.

“Should’a just gone with Hange and the boy scout to collect samples when I had the chance,” he mutters.

“You hate collecting samples, especially sulfur samples. Which is what they’re getting now.”

“Yeah, well I hate these guys even more.” He says it quietly enough so that they won’t be able to hear, and even if they could, both Governor Zachary and Nile are too invested in the information that the scientists are giving them to pay attention to anything else.

“What’d they ever do to you?” You push, curious now because sure, Levi has always been the surliest of the team, but it’s rare that he’s surly and loud about it.

“Nothing. They have done nothing because they don’t belong here. They have no idea—no fucking idea—what’s about to happen.” You can hear his frustration even through his whispers. “Best case scenarios? Why are we even going over those? We know damn well that we’re not looking at one or two vents. And, we’re not lookin’ at Mesa Falls either.”

Letting out a long breath, you lean against Levi’s desk, ignoring the way he grunts in protest.

“I know. I’m sure Erwin and Moblit will prep them for the worst case.”

“There’s no prepping for it,” Levi hisses, gray eyes flashing. “We’re talking about—"

“…A nationwide cataclysmic event.” Both of you register Erwin’s voice at the same time and glance at the other group to find them staring at the lit-up simulation of the Huckleberry Ridge eruption.

“Which would pretty quickly turn into a worldwide problem,” Moblit adds quietly.

“Worldwide?” You hear Nile question in a low but very alarmed tone. “Because of the ash?”

“Well, yes, but, it’s not just ash,” Erwin clarifies, diving into his explanation of tephra and how dangerous it is. He reminds the men how far it traveled after the Mount St. Helen’s eruption since they’ve apparently latched onto that one, then challenges, “Now imagine an eruption about… six hundred times that size.”

“Six…” Nile swallows, turning his entire, slender frame toward Erwin and repeating, “Six hundred times bigger? That’s what we’re expecting?”

In his little rolling chair, Levi’s chest puffs a bit, finally satisfied that the gravity of the situation is beginning to set in. “Maybe they aren’t as dumb as they look.”

Erwin is about to say something, right hand lifted with his index finger extended in a very matter-of-fact way, but before he can manage to get anything out, the door to the lab swings open and Hange walks in, Mike just behind them carrying all the collected samples in what almost looks like a lunchbox.

“We’re back—” Hange stops, taking in their surroundings, the lack of lights, the bright projection, the grim energy, then shouts, “Hey, get some Pink Floyd playing! Like a planetarium in here! Is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear me…”

“Dr. Zoe,” Moblit clears his throat. “We were just going over the utter devastation a supereruption could wreak on the country.”

“Oh, were you?” Hange pauses, brow rising, lips puckering into a sour expression. “My bad.”

Raising a hand to your forehead, you laugh to yourself for a few seconds before shaking the untimely amusement off and making your way over to Mike to take the sample kit from him.

“Careful,” he warns jokingly as he passes it off. “Got some very fragile gas and mud in there.”

“Yeah?” You tease. “So, I shouldn’t, like, shake it or anything?”

“Definitely should not shake it. Here, here, just—” He takes it back, grinning broadly as he tells you, “I think it’s best if you let a professional handle such dangerous compounds.”

All the doom-and-gloom you had been feeling mere seconds ago evaporates entirely, and you let out a frankly embarrassing giggle as you watch Mike very carefully set the samples down on Hange’s lab table, making a show of securing them and whispering a final, “Stay,” so that you clamp a hand over your mouth.

Levi groans in disgust, and, at the same time, Erwin mutters an apology to Zachary and Nile for, “… employing a team of children.”

Your face heats in embarrassment, but it doesn’t keep you from smiling at Mike when he saunters back over, looking rather sheepish himself.

“Lunchtime soon, right?”

“Yeah, in a bit—”

“Please go now, for the love of God,” Erwin sighs. “And, take Levi and Hange with you.”

None of you need telling twice, quickly grabbing wallets and home-packed meals before rushing from the lab before your boss decides to murder one or all of you.

Levi steers Hange toward his car, leaving you alone with Mike which you don’t mind in the slightest. You take most of your lunches with him anyway, some of your breakfasts and dinners too, so this is simply part of your daily routine.

“I’ve got some sandwiches packed already. Wanna hit Mount Haynes?” He suggests, sliding into the driver’s seat of his jeep.

You point a fingergun at him and nod. “I like the way you think, sir.”

He takes a very specific route, avoiding any damaged areas, having to veer off of the actual road at a certain point to take a safer path he and other rangers have made. You watch the mountains of the park grow closer and closer, what you know to be the ridge of Yellowstone’s caldera looming nearer.

Mike parks at the base of your intended destination then reaches into the backseat to grab the aforementioned lunch. You have no intentions of actually hiking to the top of the mountain—don’t have the time or the will, honestly—but as soon as the two of you have worked up a sweat and are at a decent enough elevation to look out on the park underneath, you drop to the dusty ground and take it all in.

Even from this distance, you can see some of the gases and steam in the air. That’s the only movement there is, though, save for the occasional ranger vehicle zipping along. The land seems almost barren at this point. The grass is still green. The sun is still bright as it is every Summer.

But, there are no animals, no tourists, no real life. Instead, it’s been replaced with cracks and crevasses, with barricades and warning signs.

Trail Closed

Road Closed

Danger: Keep Out

It’s been almost six months since the park decided to shut down to the public, and if you’re being honest, it should have closed its doors long before. It took people dying to bring the board to their senses, an earthquake that shook the ground for minutes, the crust of the earth splitting right under the historical lodge that so many loved.

Fourteen casualties. Twenty-nine injured.

That’s what it took.

You barely recognize the park now, feel like the last endangered species left within its boundaries. It’s just the research team, some of the rangers, and the occasional outside visitor (board members, government officials, or press that gets waved away).

Some would argue that the park is dead, but you know better; it’s livelier than it has been in hundreds of thousands of years, a shuddering, breathing monster finally rising to its feet after an eternity of slumber. Soon, it will open its mouth in an earth-shattering scream, and then, everyone will see.

Not dead; just waking up.

“You look tired.” Mike’s voice may as well be carried by the breeze, light and low, refreshing as it passes over you, and you flash him a smile while nodding.

“Exhausted.”

He grabs a sandwich from the lunchbox, and you fish hand sanitizer from one of the many pockets on your pants, squirting it into your hand first then holding it out to the man beside you.

“Seems like you spend more time here than at your apartment.”

“Oh, most definitely.” You unwrap what looks to be turkey and pepper-jack and try to ignore the way your stomach flips at the fact that it’s your favorite simple-sandwich-combo and that Mike remembered. “Lot to do in the lab. Obviously.” You take a bite—no mustard, only mayo—and feel some of the tension between your shoulder blades begin to unwind.

“Figure you wouldn’t want it any other way, though,” Mike comments before chomping into his own sandwich.

“Right you are. I mean, end of the world, potentially. Scary stuff, but also…” You swallow, lick your lips and stare out at the landscape in front of you as you grapple with words. “It’s like… I’m terrified, but I feel like I’m exactly where I need to be. Like…”

This is how I’m supposed to go out, you almost say, but you’re smart to keep it to yourself. That’s a thought for you and you alone, one you haven’t shared with anyone because nobody else would understand except maybe Erwin.

“This is what you’re meant to do,” Mike supplies, and you look over at him. “This is what you love. I get that.”

And, he’s right. But, the park and volcanology—those aren’t the only things you love.

Mike sits there, legs crossed like an overgrown kindergartener, shaggy hair blowing in the wind, light green eyes so, incredibly warm and bright, and it feels like you can’t breathe anymore, like your lungs and throat are already full of ash that hasn’t fallen yet, tight with dying declarations you can’t bring yourself to make.

“Have you ever heard of Katia and Maurice Krafft?” You ask, and yes, your voice does feel somewhat strangled, the space behind your eyes burning just a little hotter than usual.

Mike shakes his head, takes another bite, and gives you his undivided attention.

“They were these French volcanologists who got really famous for the pictures and footage they took of erupting volcanoes. The recordings they got for the community were—I mean, they were pioneers. They changed the game. There’s photos and videos of them just—” you gesture nebulously with both your hands, nearly flinging your sandwich off the side of the mountain and making Mike reach out and catch your wrist before you can.

“Please, no feeding the park’s wildlife, ma’am,” he jokes easily, and you have to shove the sandwich into your mouth to keep from giggling like a schoolgirl. Mike shows the smallest of satisfied smiles, completely unaware of his own charm, and it’s maddening and intoxicating, and it’s all you can do to keep talking about the brave scientists.

“Anyway,” you continue. “Katia would get, like, within feet of lava flows. Just walkin’ right beside ‘em in her special heat suit. And, they’d wear protective helmets because of, you know—”

“Explosions. Falling rocks.”

“Yeah, exactly. They were just there, documenting it all happening, nerves of fucking steel. Katia was usually the one gathering samples and stuff while Maurice recorded, but he was right in the thick of it too. This badass couple learning and adventuring together.”

Mike eventually questions, “What happened to them?” but you’re sure he knows the answer when you deflate a bit.

“Mount Unzen eruption—got caught in the pyroclastic flow. Died instantly.”

“At least they were doing what they loved,” he says, and you nod.

You’re silent for a while, neither of you eating but both of you staring. You think about the Kraffts often, especially now with Yellowstone’s imminent eruption. Doing what they loved… They died for their research, and though you never got the chance to meet them or even speak with anyone who has met them, you have a feeling they wouldn’t have wanted it to happen any other way.

“Just so you know,” Mike gets your attention, and when you look over at him, your heart swells.

The sun is reflected in his eyes, making light green glow with more than just warmth and sincerity, and god, you’re so in love with him, you can feel it in your bone marrow. You ache for him, you pine for him, and you want to live for him, but how…

“I’d film you walking next to a lava flow,” he tells you. Despite the little smile playing at his lips, you know he isn’t kidding.

Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and you have to look away before any actually fall, but your sniffle definitely gives you away. You swear internally, berating yourself for getting emotional in front of Mike, though you can’t say you’re too surprised. Your stress levels have been through the roof, working non-stop for months now, the government breathing down your neck. People have died and the park is literally fracturing before your eyes, and you’re not ready to see it end—to see everything as you know it come to an end.

“Pretty dusty up here,” Mike comments while nudging you. You find him holding out a handkerchief, letting you take it then turning his gaze forward again to allow you a little privacy to dab at your eyes.

Mike has senses beyond the normal human spectrum. He has a sense for weather unlike anyone you’ve ever seen before, from thunderstorms and tornadoes to record snowfall and, on a few occasions, earthquakes. You can still vividly remember being in the lab the day of the fatal quake that damaged the hotel, seeing Mike suddenly look at the seismogram seconds before it started picking up the first tremors. Levi had called it “freakish”, but you had called him “incredible”.

It’s not just the weather, though. Mike has a way with people and animals too, like he can gauge their emotions and act appropriately. It’s how he knows what days he can push Levi’s buttons and get away with it, how he knows when Hange is too busy and overwhelmed to gather samples themself, so he gathers some for them.

And, it’s how he knows exactly when he needs to pull you into a hug, like when the team realized the chances of a small to moderate eruption were next to nothing, like when he had told you how many of those hotel guests had gotten hurt and died and you’d stared at him with wide, watery eyes, and like right now, as you think about Katia and Maurice Krafft, the fate they met and how yours might not be any different.

Will you die doing what you love? Will you be able to welcome it as bravely as they did?

You rest your head on Mike’s shoulder, letting yourself melt into his side, his arm sturdy and grounding where it wraps around you, and as you look out over the sunlit grounds, one last question plagues your mind:

Does a pyroclastic flow burn as hot as the molten feelings inside of you?

You can’t imagine anything does.

1 Y E A R B E F O R E

The message is broadcasted straight from the state capitol, Levi's expression grim as he reads off the paper hidden on the podium.

"I know all of this sounds apocalyptic—the ash and blackouts and probable climate change, and it is scary, but we still have some time, so there's no reason to panic. We just urge that if you haven't already started preparing, now's the time. Please."

A couple steps behind him and a little to the right is Erwin, standing tall and nodding at everything Levi says as if he's providing some kind of credibility.

"Considering we're looking at a VEI eight, the team of volcanologists at Yellowstone have recommended that all of Wyoming and its neighboring states evacuate, but I'll let Homeland Security go over all that."

As he turns to step back, the crowd of reporters and journalists begin shouting out questions, and Levi grimaces as he moves to stand next to Erwin who places a hand in his shoulder.

You can't hear everything being asked from where you're watching at the lab, but you can't imagine it's anything good judging by the way Levi's frown just keeps growing.

Fortunately, the vaguely familiar secretary of Homeland Security, Dot Pixis, takes the stand quickly, holding up wrinkled hands in an attempt to calm the crowd.

"We have some more very important information to cover in this address, so if you'll allow me…" He clears his throat and straightens a stack of papers on the podium, no doubt a huge list of protocols that the public will only half listen to.

You swivel back and forth in your chair as you watch the thin man on screen, his voice scratchy but strangely soothing as he outlines rationing, supply storage, and evacuation routes.

"We're also negotiating with our neighboring countries about opening borders. Now, anyone seeking refuge would still be required to fill out an application for a temporary visa, but—"

"God, you know they gotta love that," you mumble to yourself.

Hange, tinkering somewhere behind you, laughs and agrees, "Yeah, after decades of treating immigrants like trash, and now we're just knocking on their doors, asking for help. Ridiculous."

"Embarrassing, is what it is."

It was for whichever government official had to make that call, anyway. You're positive that had been a hard pill to swallow.

As far as you've heard, the foreign affairs part of this mess is actually going quite well. You'd accompanied Erwin to the big meeting with Canadian officials and watched him and Pixis plead a case for America, emphasizing just how bad the eruption will be "at home", then switched tactics at whiplash speed to go into how countries needed to work together since this wouldn't just be the US's problem in the long run.

It turned into a rather inspiring speech, if you're being honest, prompted you to text Levi a short, how is E so damn charming all the time? to which he'd responded, Believe me, you're asking the wrong fuckin guy.

With multiple government agencies now backing the states and setting plans in motion, the impending eruption seems even more real. You thought your stress levels were high before, that your sleep pattern left little to be desired, but oh, you had been wrong.

Case in point being Mike walking into the lab with a brown paper bag and slightly unpleasant expression as he asks, "Have you eaten today?"

Your glare has no real meaning as you grumble, "Had a granola bar this morning."

"It's nearly six," he groans, pushing you, chair and all, up to your desk and setting the bag in front of you. "Please eat something before you pass out."

"Okay, okay, Christ. You're more attentive than my mother."

"I met your mom last year, and you and I both know she would be hysterical if she knew how you've been treating yourself lately."

He has a point. In fact, you're glad Mike is naturally quiet and didn't bond too strongly with her, otherwise you have a feeling he would have called her by now to complain.

The chicken salad sandwich you bite into must be imbued with some kind of magic, because you let out an honest to god moan when you swallow the first bite.

"Oh my god, what did you put in this?" You ask as you blink up at your best friend.

Mike snorts and rolls his eyes. "Uh, actual nutrients maybe? Weird how your body needs those."

Hands too busy shoving more food into your mouth, you headbutt him right at the hip, just hard enough to make him grunt and sway. He steadies himself, glances down at you like he's annoyed but ends up breaking into a grin when he catches what you assume to be a piece of chicken salad dotting the corner of your mouth.

"What am I gonna do with you," he mumbles, wiping it with a gentle thumb.

Your body warms with both embarrassment and affection, but you can't quite find a response even as your head clears for the first time in about two days. You really do need to start taking better care of yourself.

The undeniable feeling of being watched makes your neck prickle, and you break Mike's gaze to find Hange staring at both of you, a not-so-subtle smile making their mouth curl mischievously. You have a pretty good idea of what they're thinking, and you're heart starts beating a little faster at the thought of them possibly speaking it out loud, but before they get a chance, Mike's phone rings.

You catch a glimpse of the name displayed before he picks it up—Gelgar—recognize it and tease, "One of the doomsday preppers, right?"

Because no matter how much Mike denies it, just like he does now— "They're not doomsday preppers—" you know that his friends are a little odd. Extremely well prepared, but odd.

"Hey man, what's up?" He answers, stepping away from you. "Isn't it almost two there?"

You don't try to listen in, just look back to Hange and shake your head when their smile grows.

"Stop."

"What?" They giggle. "I'm not even doing anything!"

"You're thinking things, though."

"Well yeah, I'm always thinking things. How else would I have gotten this smart?" They flip their ponytail for emphasis and toss a wink your way, but Hange's voice gets oddly sincere when they tell you, "Seriously, though. You guys should get while the getting's good. I don't know why you haven't jumped each other's bones yet."

You splutter, look around frantically to make sure Mike isn't within earshot, and thank god, he's in the next room over.

"Hange!"

"I'm just saying! It's like watching Erwin and Levi from a few years ago. God, that was a nightmare."

"How dare you. I am nothing like—"

"Yeah, yeah. When do they get back in anyway?"

You both look to the TV that's still playing the live address, easily spotting your missing team members behind Secretary Pixis.

"Probably not 'til later tonight. Levi's gonna try to talk Erwin into getting a hotel, I bet, but he's gonna wanna come back to the lab and check everything before he goes to bed."

"How do you know he wants to come back?"

You show a sheepish grin, fishing the chips out of the paper sack Mike brought, then answer, "'Cause that’s what I’d wanna do."

It's late. Far too late to be at work, but being at home never feels right these days. It's too quiet, too still, too not the lab. The only time you genuinely enjoy being there is when friends are over for a movie or meal over the weekend. Other than that, you're not at all attached.

Not the way you are here.

Almost midnight, you move from table to table, working, organizing, just keeping busy. You're very awake, still jittery from the quake that shook the park at around three that day. It lasted for almost three minutes, splitting the ground dangerously close to Old Faithful, and the geyser hasn't gone off since which is troubling. If too many of the geothermal spots stop releasing pressure, the eruption will take place sooner than anticipated.

It's why you're here so late, pouring over the data, studying the numbers and possible effects.

You're not alone, though. Erwin is also shuffling around the lab, but he's focused on something else, a project of sorts.

"Can you come take a look at this?" He calls from the projection table, and you drop what you're doing to join him.

The model isn't lit up as a hologram, surprisingly. Instead, Erwin has paper blueprints laid, curling at the edges from being rolled up. It takes you a second to realize what you're looking at, but when it comes together, you inhale sharply.

It's a simple design, a square floorplan with a couple entrances. The only exit looks to lead upward, though, and it's easy to tell that means Erwin wants this to be underground. There are notes scribbled in the blank spaces, 4 meters down, bomb proof top, ventilation, generators, gasoline?, rations < 5yrs, medicine, vitamins, guns. The list goes on, handwriting sloppier and sloppier the more thoughts Erwin had at the time.

"You think this would be ready in a year?"

Erwin shrugs. "With the right construction team, yes. That one bunker designer…" Erwin snaps, trying to think of the name, but it doesn't come to him. "Whoever—He built ten shelters in two years."

You stick your hands in your back pockets as you lean over to look closer. It could just be your overworked brain, but it looks like a good design, something someone actually has a chance of surviving in.

Hearing your name makes you look up again. Erwin has you pinned with one of his serious blue gazes. "No one else will understand, so please keep this plan to yourself."

You nod but venture to ask, "You haven't told Levi?"

"No," he answers, mouth pulling downward. "It's… Going to be a fight."

"Understandably so. You're basically married to the volcano, though, Erwin."

"So are you."

His eyes are shining as your lips twist into a grimace. He's gotten to know you well over the years. You've always shared a certain bond over Yellowstone, one the other team members just don't have. To them, it's just a job, just science.

To you and Erwin, though, it's a religion. You're in love with the park, all its secrets and eccentricities. It's your home; it's where you belong.

"Assuming this does get built," Erwin starts, lifting a thick eyebrow in curiosity. "You would want to stay, right?"

"You mean, ride out a supereruption? Be the first to see the zone-one damage?"

Erwin doesn't answer, but he does smile, excitement dancing just below the surface of his stare.

You feel it too, the urge to throw caution to the wind, to take a chance that could very possibly get you both killed. The Kraffts flash through your mind again, their failed attempt at escape.

A breathless, "Fuck yeah," tumbles from your mouth before you can dwell on the consequences for too long.

It's time to either live it up or go down in ash and flames.

6 M O N T H S B E F O R E

Yellowstone is unrecognizable. The ground is mostly made up of large crevasses and smaller cracks, debris from fallen buildings left in piles with no one to clean them up.

The geysers are all inactive at this point, but steam is still rising from the springs, and the mudpots are still bubbling. It's the only thing that's keeping the volcano from erupting.

The ground shakes multiple times a day, the lab seismographs constantly picking up activity. The little ones don't faze you anymore. You and Mike secure the glass samples to make sure they don't break while Erwin and Levi basically hug their computers. Yours was damaged in the quake that prompted Hange and Moblit to leave—a 6.7 that caused Hange to fall into their desk, breaking their collarbone in the process. After getting Hange pain meds and a sling, the two of them were on a plane to D.C. that same night.

Every day is another risk taken. Now, it's just you, Erwin, Levi, and Mike.

The latter two spend most of their days dropping hints about leaving soon as well. Mike has already made plans to fly to Norway and join his not-doomsday prepper friends and brings it up often.

"You should come. See the tulip fields while they're still around."

"Gel and Nana have done a great job setting up the ranch. They wanna let as many people stay as they can."

"You'd really like them. They bicker like an old married couple, but they're good people."

Levi takes a different approach with Erwin, appeals to the other man's desire to help and protect.

"We really should head to the homeland security office. They don't know what they're dealing with."

"Dok is an idiot. They need a bigger brain over there for guidance or whatever."

"Your long-term plan will be better than anything those government fucks will come up with anyway."

Every time, you and Erwin gently wave them off with promises of "soon" and "just a little longer." Neither of you breathe a word about staying. Despite the fact that construction on the bunker has not started and you're running out of time, both of you are dead set on the plan: go down with the park.

You're found out before it can come to fruition, however.

The remaining team is sitting in the lab, busy with their own little projects, when Mike looks up suddenly, takes a deep breath, then says, "Earthquake," just as the seismogram starts going wild.

He pulls you from your chair quickly, dropping to the ground and bringing you with him to crawl under your desk. On your knees, your body curls in on itself and you lock your hands over the back of your neck as the floor beneath you starts to rumble violently.

You can hear Levi cursing from somewhere as the sound of glass shattering rings throughout the lab. You think another computer falls, models and books flying from shelves.

Mike huddles over you, one hand gripping the leg of the desk while the other protects your ribs. You want to tell him to shield himself, but you know there's no use. Besides, the weight and warmth is comforting even in the face of danger—his chest hot against your back, the epitome of a knight in shining armor.

It lasts for several minutes. The power cuts off, windows crack, doors swing open only to slam shut again. You know the lab is going to be an absolute wreck when it's over.

When the shaking finally settles, everyone crawls out of their hiding places. Levi warns, "Be ready for aftershocks," as if you don't know, and Erwin fumbles in his desk until he finds a flashlight.

The ray of light illuminates the damage. Just as you suspected, the place looks like a tornado blew through. Glass litters the floor along with the far-flung books and park models. Both Levi and Erwin's computers fell and disconnected, and your stomach drops as you think about all the potentially lost information.

"You okay?" Mike asks, pulling you up to your knees so he can look at your face.

"I'm fine," you tell him, his hands on your cheeks making you flush, so you distract yourself. "E, Levi, you guys okay?"

"Yes," Erwin answers first.

Levi shows his face, a deep frown making his brow furrow, as he looks at his desktop. "I'm pissed but uninjured."

The four of you spend the next couple of hours cleaning up what you can, pausing and taking cover when the aftershocks hit, then starting over as the lab sustains more and more damage.

Mike sweeps up the glass. Erwin focuses on getting the computers back on the desks safely then goes and checks the projection table. You and Levi collect the bigger items, setting books back on shelves.

You don't think about the mistake before it's too late, when Levi is already pulling out the blueprints that were hidden behind the stack of encyclopedias.

As he stills completely, you turn to look at him and find him staring down at the large, uncurled papers. Your instinct is to snatch them from his hands, but it's no use. He's already seen enough.

"What the fuck is this?" His voice comes out like poison as he immediately looks at Erwin.

The larger man glances at Levi, eyes trailing to what he's holding, then pales.

"Levi..."

"Is this a god damn bunker? Are you planning on staying in this hellscape?"

Erwin strides over to him and reaches for the prints, but Levi tugs them out of reach.

"Answer me," he spits. "Is that your plan?"

"I—" Erwin swallows thickly before answering, "Yes."

It's silent for a long time, and the more it drags on, the tighter Levi's lips get, gray eyes shiny with quiet rage.

This is what Erwin was trying to avoid, why he insisted on keeping the bunker a secret.

But while Levi is glaring at Erwin, you feel another gaze on you. Skin crawling, you chance a glance up at Mike, stomach churning when he looks away quickly and bites his lips. He knows. Somehow without anyone saying anything, Mike knows you’re planning to stay too.

Heavy breathing and the distant sound of rumbling earth is all that can be heard, followed by backup generators roaring to life and restoring the overhead lights.

"You too?" Mike finally speaks. “You wanna stay too?”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, unable to answer. He sounds so disappointed—defeated—and it makes you feel sick.

"Do you guys know," Levi growls, "How fucking insane that is? This is the dumbest, most reckless, selfish fucking thing you could do! And, I know it's all your thinking!" He drops the blueprints in favor of shoving Erwin roughly, making him stumble back.

"Hey," you step toward him, but the small man just turns to you and accuses, "And, you egged him on, yeah? Did you even think of us? How we would feel? Staying here is suicide!"

"I have a plan, Levi," Erwin says, raising both hands to his head and effectively disheveling his own hair. "If you just look at the plans. I know what we need to survive. I've done the math, I've studied the—"

"Jesus Christ, we're talking about an eight hundred degree pyroclastic flow! Tephra that will suffocate you. You really think being a few meters down during the eruption will be enough?" Levi is screaming now, his voice cracking, and you think you see tears at his waterline.

It makes the spaces behind your eyes burn, but it’s only partly out of guilt. The other emotion that’s welling up in you is anger, a betrayal you can barely wrap your head around, but it comes tumbling out anyway.

“Do you even know us? You think we can actually leave the park behind?” Your voice rises to match Levi’s, gains his acidic attention once again. “I don’t even understand how you can run away, after everything you’ve put into this place! How can you just—” You let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a cry as you raise your hands to your face and shove your palms to your eyes. “I get Mike because he doesn’t have anything fucking left here. He’s just been helping out—”

“You think I don’t have anything left here?” He asks quietly from beside you, and when you look at him with a watery stare, you find him wounded. His jaw slides forward as he sucks on his teeth, and fuck, his eyes are getting glossy too.

“See, this is exactly what I mean,” Levi gestures wildly at the two of you. “Mike and I have stayed because you guys won’t fucking leave, and now it comes out that you were never planning to. When were you gonna tell us? Would you have even given us enough time to get out?”

“Of course!” Erwin takes him by the shoulders, and Levi snarls up at him. “I was working up to it. I wasn’t ready to—to deal with this.”

“I can’t believe this. You really think a whole team of workers is gonna come out here to help build this? You wanna put their lives in jeopardy too?”

“We—”

“You haven’t even thought this through all the way! When did you come up with this? When you hadn’t slept or eaten in forty-eight hours? When your brain wasn’t fucking functioning at full capacity?”

Erwin stays quiet, and so do you because Levi has a point. Taking care of yourselves physically has not been high on either of your lists of priorities, and you’re sure your mental state has suffered for it. All the nights spent at the projection table, mapping out ideas, growing giddy over the idea of staying for the eruption. Was that just two people high off passion, becoming more and more unhinged with each passing day?

Quite possibly.

You expect the fury to be enough to push Levi away, that he’ll simply give up, drag Mike out with him, and leave you and Erwin to hunker down like you’d planned.

But, that is not the case.

Instead, he shoves a thin finger into Erwin’s chest, gritting out, “Pack your fucking bags so we can go to D.C. where they need you.”

Erwin takes a breath then slumps in defeat. Now, when faced with the obstacle that is his boyfriend, you figure he’s weighed the pros and cons and made a decision. Between his love for the park and his love for Levi, he’d rather salvage the latter.

Mike shifts next to you, grumbles out a low, “You too,” that makes the tears finally fall from your eyes. “I’ll take you on one last ride to the springs, but then we’re leaving.”

He stays true to his word, and you cry the entire time you’re in the chopper, headset smushed against one ear as you rest your head on the window and look down at the Grand Prismatic, the steam rising from it. It’s beginning to grow discolored with all the activity, but it’s more stunning now than it’s ever been.

Soon, it’ll be completely covered. All of it will. And, you could have been too, stuck underground for a couple of years only to be the first to step out into the pure destruction.

That’s not an option anymore, though, not with Mike looking as grave as he does, not with the way he shadows you in your apartment as you gather the necessities, like he thinks you’re going to bolt and run back to the lab, not when the two of you meet back up with a still-fuming Levi and a despondent Erwin to head to the airport.

The tickets are outrageously priced at such short notice, but that doesn’t stop Levi and Mike from passing their credit cards over.

“Two for Washington D.C.”

“And, two for Bergen, Norway.”

Boarding passes in hand, the four of you walk through the bustling airport together for as long as you can before you have to inevitably split up. Levi glares at you but still pulls you into a tight hug, grunts into your ear, “You’re so stupid,” before letting go and turning to Mike. “Keep her safe, boy scout. I’m trusting you.”

Mike nods, and both of them clasp hands as you turn to look at Erwin. Tears and pathetic sniffles return when you walk into his open arms, clinging to him and mumbling, “‘M sorry, ‘m sorry. I would’ve followed you.”

“I know.” He rubs your back and heaves a sigh. “I know you would have.”

He eventually disentangles you to hold you at arm’s length, wipes the moisture from your face with his thumbs, then shows a sad smile. “See you in a few years, yes?”

“Yeah.”

One more squeeze, and everyone turns away to walk to their respective gate. Mike’s hand splays across your back, warm, guiding you in the right direction, keeping you steady. He’s always kept your feet planted firmly on the ground. You figure, if there’s one person you’d like to experience the downfall of society with—above ground—it’s him.

S I X W E E K S B E F O R E

Norway is kind of incredible. It has a natural beauty that takes your breath away just like Yellowstone used to, but it’s vastly different. Everything is green, including the lights in the sky at night. You’re surrounded by rolling hills and mountains, and you just know it’ll be beautiful under thick layers of snow.

The once rustic ranch, now restored, is made up of several small houses and a farm full of cows and goats. It’s sad to think about the fate they will eventually meet (slaughter then stomachs), but you know it’s necessary to prepare for the coming years.

And, the owners have definitely prepared.

Gelgar and Nanaba are everything Mike described and more. Between taking care of the farm and setting up energy sources, they do their best to make you and the other arrivals feel at home. They’ve designed the ranch to house up to about thirty people, a commune of sorts (minus any cult-like vibes). Naturally, everyone pitches in and helps around the place. You find yourself cleaning a lot, but you don’t mind. It’s a nice, mindless task that keeps you from thinking too hard about everything you’ve left behind.

You also like to join Nana outside, help with the animals and enjoy the sunshine while you still can. Of course, this subjects you to endless teasing especially today when she catches you staring into the distance at Mike who's helping Gelgar fix a solar panel.

His shirt is starting to stick to his back from sweating, muscles straining under the damp cloth, and good lord, when did he get that broad? Sure, he's always been tall and fit, but working on the homestead has definitely made him more built. That along with the fact that his hair has gotten long enough to tie up in a bun has your mouth going a little dry.

"Like what you see?" Nanaba asks, accent thick, voice full of amusement.

You shoot her a look, face all scrunched up when you mumble, "Don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh?" She sticks her tongue out. "Don't be coy. I see the way you both look at each other."

"Tch."

"And, how both of you volunteer to cook with the other when it's your turn to. You move around each other like you know exactly where the other is. Two halves of a whole."

You roll your eyes. "We've just worked together for a while. We make a good team."

She's not wrong, though. Since coming to Norway, you and Mike have grown even closer. There was a period of time when you could hardly look at him, too guilty for trying to stay at the park, guilty for hurting him, but eventually the two of you fell back into your normal dynamic—joking, laughing, touching just a little too much, smiling when you think no one's looking. You even spent an afternoon together in a nearby field of flowers, just like he'd promised. With a picnic basket full of food, and a blanket to lay on, you'd admired the clouds overhead while enjoying the rustling grass surrounding you.

It's been your favorite day since coming here, had reminded you of the lunches you used to share on the mountain.

You're not brave enough to make any sort of move, though. Mike is just so good. There's a chance his affections are simply based in friendship, and that's something you're scared to ruin. He means too much to you.

"How long did you work together?"

"Like, four years, give or take a few months."

"And, you're still acting like nothing is there?" Nanaba tsks. "Ridiculous."

"How long did it take you and Gel to get together?" You ask, then quickly backtrack, "Not that that's what I want with Mike necessarily."

"Mhm," she smirks. "Gel and I did it backwards. Got pissed at a bar and fell into bed together. Then we started to get to know each other and found out we just worked."

Sounds about right, you think. The couple has an interesting back-and-forth, half bickering, half innuendo. You can always, always see the love in their eyes, though. That's what you want in life. That’s what you want with Mike. Even if you won't admit it out loud.

You turn your gaze back to the roof he and Gelgar are on just in time to see him making his way down the ladder. Once on the ground, he and the other man start striding over to you. Mike's face is red, sweat beading at his hairline, and Gelgar's pompadour is beginning to fall.

"Think we got it fixed up," Mike announces, lifting the bottom hem of his shirt to wipe his forehead.

You stare at his toned stomach for just a little too long, the lines of his hip bones leading into the waistband of his jeans.

Nanaba's words ring in your head again—fell into bed, fell into bed, fell into bed—and you fixate on the idea of you and Mike doing the same. To have him hovering over you, or maybe you over him, thighs on either side of those hips as his hands trail up your body—

You shake the thought from your head, letting your glazed eyes refocus on the men in front of you.

"Alright, I'm gonna grab a shower before dinner. Who's cooking tonight?"

“I believe it's Lynne and Henning," Nana answers.

Mike nods then heads toward the little house he's been living in, right next to yours, of course. He reaches out to let his hand brush yours as he passes, and it takes conscious effort not to grip onto one or two of his large fingers and follow him.

"God, that's painful to watch," Gelgar snorts.

Nana laughs and agrees, "I was just telling her the same thing."

"Oh, shut up. Ya' couple of meddlers."

A line forms every evening outside of the main house, the one Gelgar and Nanaba share. You and Mike stand together at the back, watching everyone in front of you. Some are families, some are couples, some are here alone. You figure, no matter their status, the ranch is a nice place to be—peaceful, home-y despite its size. So far, everyone gets along.

Only the kids complain about chores, about seven of them constantly running around together, but that’s to be expected, and honestly, you don’t mind picking up their slack. Life is about to get very difficult for them. They should get to be children for a little while longer.

Potato soup is poured into your bowl with a ladle, topped with shredded beef and green onions, then you and Mike retire back to your little cottage home to eat and watch TV. It stays on the same channel, world news, and there’s always a long segment that covers Yellowstone and what it’s doing.

It is not uncommon at all to look up from your food and see Erwin or Levi’s face on screen, speaking with experts, sometimes in interview-like settings.

Tonight, they’re covering a problem that’s been going on for some time, but everyone figured would resolve itself: some people will not leave the most dangerous zones, and it’s because they simply do not believe an eruption will take place.

Even with the evidence, the science backing it—even with actual federal authorities knocking on their doors and telling them to leave—there are many people who just want to stay put. It’s insane to you, makes your blood boil. Children have been taken from their homes to be placed in safer areas, which only causes the disbelievers to get angrier. They want to say “I told you so”, but that’s not going to happen.

What’s going to happen is getting burned alive in the flow that pours from the volcano. They will die a painful death, get buried under meters of fallout, ash, snow. There’ll be nothing to recover except for petrified, charred corpses.

Of course, the irony is not lost on you; you and Erwin were both willing to chance similar fates, but you still think the two of you would have been more prepared than these regular-Joes who think their front door is enough to stop a volcanic eruption.

“In the end, there’s no reasoning with people like this,” Erwin says on camera, a soft, sad smile playing at his lips. “When a person is so, uh… Dead set on staying, it will take an unstoppable force to move them.”

In your case, that unstoppable force had been Levi screaming at you while holding back tears.

“Unfortunately for them, this force is the eruption, and they won’t be able to leave when that occurs.”

“Because they’ll be dead,” the reporter states more than asks.

Erwin nods and answers with a grim, “Yes. Yes, they will be.”

They’re not trying to be subtle, obviously hoping that this will get through to the stubborn masses, but you doubt it will. They’re living on borrowed time at this point. Any day could be their last.

Mike is quieter than usual as he eats, barely even looking at the television screen, and you have a feeling he’s thinking about how close you were to staying alongside those stupid assholes. It’s still a touchy subject, one both of you do your best to avoid. You’re mostly happy to be in Europe, spending your days with Mike and his friends and everyone else running around here.

But, there’s also a part of you, deep down inside, that aches, that misses the park, that still wants to be right in the middle of the destruction. Watching it blow from so far away is going to hurt. This massive monster you’ve fallen in love with over the years will never be the same, and your last good look at it was that tearful helicopter ride.

You’re not resentful toward Mike or Levi for dragging you out of the lab that day, but you are grieving in a sense.

The program ends with Erwin giving one last warning— “If you insist on staying, I’d advise bomb-proofing your home, stocking up on several years-worth of rations, and installing one hell of a ventilation system. Good luck.”

Mike clears his throat and stands, grabbing his empty bowl as well as yours, then heads into the kitchen to rinse them off.

Sighing, you follow him, lean against the counter a couple feet away as you think of something to say that won’t sound too forced.

“Hey,” you start.

Mike gives a low, “Hm?” as he holds the dishes under hot water, finally glancing over when you gently nudge him in the side.

“Thanks for…” You take a deep breath, pinned by light green eyes, then try again. “Thanks for bringing me here.” He blinks but doesn’t say anything, so you continue. “It’s really nice. And, I’ve bonded or whatever with Nana.”

“But, you miss the park,” he says.

You shrug. “I mean, yeah. That park was my life, but… Probably dying in it was not one of my brighter ideas.”

He snorts, shuts off the water, then turns to you. Craning your neck, you take in his face—really take it in—the few strands of hair that hang freely past his jawline, the way his beard, no longer stubble but not exactly thick, forms around his mouth and connects with his sideburns, his strong, slightly curved nose, how his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. He’s so painfully handsome, especially all shaggy and rugged, and it makes your heart beat too hard and too fast in your chest.

Mike dries his hands on a dish towel, looking down at them when he tells you, “I’m glad we were able to get you out of there. It’s not something I’ll ever feel bad about. Even if you hate me for it.”

“I don’t hate you,” you scoff. “Never could. You’re my best friend, Mike.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smile, then think of Nanaba earlier that day and laugh quietly.

“What?”

You wave a hand, shake your head. “Nothing, nothing, just… Nana has… Ideas, or something.”

There’s no need to elaborate. Mike understands what you’re trying to say. He inhales then breathes out it out in a chuckle as he posts up against the counter next to you. “Yeah, Gelgar does too.”

“Guess they don’t know us very well.”

A silence hangs between the two of you, one that would normally be comfortable but is now a little thick given the subject matter of your conversation.

You and Mike. Just earlier that day you had been thinking about how scared you are to ruin the friendship, but the more you imagine, the more you get lost in the fantasy…

“Or maybe…” You glance over to see Mike nibbling on his bottom lip, eyes fixed on the ground as he continues, “Maybe they know us better than we know ourselves.”

He raises his head, gaze locking with yours, and you stop breathing. Because that stare is so hesitant, searching for something inside of you as if you have the answer, but you’re just as scared and confused as he is. Over four years of friendship—of good, meaningful friendship—is that worth risking just because you’re both curious?

Or has it all been leading to this since the start? Since those first, short conversations, since the meals shared with one another, the affectionate gestures. Mike has always kept your head on straight, looked after you with even more care than he had with the park’s wildlife.

You thought it’d all been one-sided pining, that he was just glad to have someone who understood him a little better than everyone else because you do. You understand his passion for the planet, you understand all his little fixations. You appreciate every eccentricity like he appreciates all your neuroses.

“Maybe so…”

Two very large hands are on your face, tilting upward, and your lungs begin to burn as Mike strokes just under your eyes with the pads of his thumbs. He has to lean down quite a bit, pauses just over your lips to let out a tiny huff of surprise, disbelief, awe maybe, then closes the rest of the miniscule distance.

He is very warm and very firm against you—feels good, all the comfort of someone familiar but still so new. Your lips fit together perfectly, and at last, you’re able to breathe again, mouths moving in an experimental back and forth, feeling each other out until he runs the tip of his tongue along the seam of your lips. Gripping strong shoulders, you let the kiss deepen, opening your mouth for him, and Mike groans when he’s finally able to taste you.

Hands fall from your face, moving down, down, down, brushing your ribs, settling at your hips, but his fingers are long enough to curl and dig into the meat of your ass, making you gasp and press harder against him.

Rolling his pelvis into yours, you very quickly find yourself pinned between Mike’s body and the counter. Your grasp travels to the back of his neck, pulling him closer—you just need him closer—and he must feel it too because he hoists you up and sets you on the countertop, making room for himself between your legs.

You feel too hot and too desperate, but it’s good, a release that’s needed to happen for far too long. All manner of geothermal metaphors swim through your mind, spurting geysers and boiling mudpots, and it makes you giggle against him, biting down on his bottom lip and smiling around the flesh as he lets out another one of those rumbling, satisfied noises.

“What’re you laughin’ at?” Mike mumbles, and for some reason, it’s strange to hear his voice so close, so quiet, as you’re pressed together, breathing each other’s air. It’s intimate and different, but it’s right.

“I’m just…” Another little laugh, “Thinking about the volcano.”

“When are you not thinking about the volcano?” You have a feeling he’s rolling his eyes, but he still grins and kisses you again.

“It’s all dirty things if that helps.”

Mike nods slowly, lips trailing from your mouth toward your neck. “Helps some.”

You tilt your head to give him better access and let out a little whine when you feel him bite down on a patch of skin just beneath the notch of your jaw, wrap your legs around his waist and do your best to rock into him because good god, you want him.

Fingers tangling under his loosening bun, you tug him back to your mouth, slotting your lips against his and sliding your tongue between his teeth. He presses you closer with a hand on the small of your back, squeezing the air from your lungs so all you can breathe is him.

“Mm, Mike, Mike,” you pant, barely breaking away only for him to chase after. You laugh, push his chest at the same time you gently tug at his hair, and he backs away just enough for you to get a good look at his half-lidded eyes and spit-slicked lips.

Honestly, staring at him now, you can’t believe you made so long without ever making a pass at him. He’s gorgeous, built like a roman statue only larger, with sun-kissed skin and a startlingly light gaze that threatens to leave you boneless.

“D’you wanna, maybe…” You swallow and blink up at him, too many questions suddenly invading your mind—is it too early for sex? Will he think you’re easy? What if it doesn’t actually work out? But, you bite the bullet anyway and finish, “Go to the bedroom?”

Mike is silent for a few beats, leaving you to second guess yourself and brace for disappointment and embarrassment, but then he clicks his tongue and answers, “Uh, yeah. Yes, let’s do that,” in a voice a little higher than usual, and scoops you from the counter.

Every little house on the ranch is laid out the same, so it does not take him long to find your room. He sets you down at the threshold, and from there, it’s a flurry of discarded clothing and stumbling to the bed.

“How have we never done this before?” He huffs, crawling over you, leaving wet kisses in his wake.

You’ve still got an arm covering your bare chest, but Mike doesn’t seem self-conscious in the slightest which comes as a surprise considering how reserved he typically is. Not that he has anything worth hiding—not the thin layer of hair that dances over his barrel chest, not the ridiculously cut abdominals or sharp ‘V’ of his hips, and definitely not the thick cock bobbing against his stomach as he moves. You would be intimidated if you didn’t know him as well as you do, but you’re sure that he’ll be gentle with you. Mike may be many things, but careless is not one of them.

He reaches your mouth, kisses you so deeply it makes you dizzy, and as he does, he very slowly pulls your arm from your chest, leaving you vulnerable—free for the taking.

His touch is soft enough to tickle as he brushes over one of your nipples, making you exhale against him and arch your back like a silent plea for more. He traces around the bud, makes it pebble before carefully rolling it between two fingers.

Warmth spills into your gut, makes you squirm on the bed, and a moan makes its way from your throat as Mike gently tugs at the sensitive flesh. He lowers his head again, lavishing the same kind of attention on your other nipple with his mouth. He nibbles and licks and sucks, and you wriggle and whimper beneath him, one hand trailing down his body until you’re able to close your fingers around the head of his cock.

Mike grunts, thrusts into your hand a couple times, enough to make precum drool from his tip, but before he can get too carried away, he says just above a whisper, “Let me get you ready,” then moves to lay between your spread legs.

Sliding his arms under your thighs, he locks them into place, and you release a shaky breath, feeling his eyes taking you in for several seconds before licking up your slit once then pushing deeper.

“Oh, fu—”

Both your hands shoot downward, one gripping the messy bun at the back of his head as you shudder at the sensation of his beard against your pussy. You’re wet in seconds, core pulsing as Mike uses his tongue to slowly open you up, then pulls back to flick over your clit.

“Mike—Mike—”

He hums into you, shaking his head slowly back and forth, no doubt making a mess of his face and you. You don’t have anything to say, just feel your throat tightening like there are unspoken words that need to come out, but you can’t think straight, not when he’s doing what he’s doing, not when you feel the tips of his fingers reaching out to spread your lips.

He is thorough bordering on methodical, makes sure you’re at the point of full body shakes before he gives you a break, and then, when your breathing returns to a normal rate, he starts all over again. There is a tightness in your gut that builds and builds then dissipates every time he stops, and he must know because when you whine in frustration, Mike just grins and kisses the inside of your thighs.

The same pattern is repeated with his fingers, just one at first, massaging your walls perfectly, then a second that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. He rubs over the swelling tissue inside of you, seems to enjoy every little gasp and noise you make, including the unsatisfied one you let out when he pulls his fingers from you.

You can feel how damp the bedspread is underneath you, can see the evidence of your arousal on Mike’s face, and it makes you flush but doesn’t stop you from tugging him down for another messy kiss.

“You ready?” He asks, sounding just as breathless as you feel, and you nod furiously, bending your knees and planting your feet on the mattress so that you can lift your hips to his.

Mike chuckles, reaches down between the two of you to take hold of his length and taps your clit with his cockhead a couple times—simultaneously the most infuriating and most erotic thing you’ve ever experienced. Slowly, he lines himself up, just barely pushing forward, and when you bite your lip and squeeze your eyes shut, Mike tells you to, “Breathe, baby, open up for me.”

He already sounds wrecked, like he’s fighting the urge to just sheathe himself entirely, but he waits, giving you one inch at a time with periods of adjustment in between. You always sort of figured he was big, but this burning stretch is something you hadn’t imagined even in your lewdest of fantasies. You’re incredibly full, feel him in your gut and throat and everywhere, but it isn’t bad; it’s just a lot.

“Okay,” you stroke the forearm next to your head and nod. “Okay, you can start moving more.”

Mike’s brow creases. “You’re sure?”

“About as sure as I can be with a monster cock inside m-me—” Your laugh turns to a moan as Mike begins to pull out, eyes trained on your face for any sign of real discomfort, but your mouth just drops open, your own eyebrows raising at the feeling of his length hitting every one of your most sensitive spots.

“Holy…”

He pushes back in quickly, still mindful of what your body can take, and when all you do is cry his name and scratch down his back, Mike starts up a steady rhythm that has you seeing god.

That tightness is back, hotter than before, threatening to burn you up entirely as your cunt flutters and spasms and leaks around Mike’s length.

The sound of a hoarse groan makes you open your eyes, and you follow Mike’s line of vision to where you’re connected, see his cock sliding in and out of you, dripping slick and ringed in white cream toward the base. The sight makes you clench around him, and Mike swears under his breath then leans forward to gather you in his arms. Your head lolls back as he lifts you, sitting on his knees for just a second before falling onto his back and letting you drop onto him.

You choke, and Mike pants, but his hands are tight at your hips, moving you up and down his length like a sleeve. His pupils are blown wide when you look down at him, hair nearly entirely out of its tie, bottom row of teeth exposed as his jaw slides almost primally.

He looks completely lost in you, possessed as he fucks up into your pussy rougher than before. You bounce in his lap, whimpering his name with every thrust, growing in volume when you feel a finger press against your clit.

“You gonna come for me?” Mike grits out, rubbing a circle over the swollen bundle as his eyes flick from your chest to your face.

You nod, ignoring the burning in your thighs in favor of the sensation between your hips. “Yeah, I—I—Fuck, Mike—”

“Come on, baby, come on—wanted to see this for years, come all over my cock…”

You snap, legs shaking as your climax crashes through you. Your cunt pulses around Mike, coating him in more of your juices and making him groan and fuck you through it. You whine at the stimulation, swollen walls so sensitive yet taking everything he has to give you.

Every thrust to your g-spot makes you gush a little more, come a little longer, until all you can do is fall onto his chest and let him use you as he needs to. You leave marks on his pecs, bites and scratches, and Mike grunts at every one of them until he sits up and flips you once again.

“Where do you want me?”

“Anywhere, I don’t care, I don’t care,” you babble.

Mike inhales sharply then lets out a long groan as he pulls out and shoots his load onto your stomach. It’s warm and thick, some pooling in your belly button as Mike makes a trail down to your clit where he smears the last few drops. You twitch at the contact, hole clenching around nothing now, but you can already feel soreness settling into your muscles.

Mike gives you two little pecks on the mouth, then one last, longer kiss before rolling to lay on the mattress beside you, chest rising and falling with deep breaths.

This silence doesn’t bother you. It gives you time to come back to your senses, to reflect, to remember everything that was said which leads you to ask, “You meant that—about wanting this for years?”

Mike turns his head and smiles so sincerely it almost brings tears to your eyes.

“Well, yeah. Been in love with you pretty much since I started at the park.”

He says it so casually, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and maybe it is, but it still makes your breath catch.

“Seriously?” You turn to lay on your side, and Mike mimics the action, propping his head up with one hand while he lets the other settle on your waist.

He lifts an eyebrow and questions, “Is that so hard to believe?”

“No, I just… Thought it was one-sided on my end, I guess. Like, we were too good of friends.” Mike leans forward to gently headbutt you, and you snort to yourself, “Guess I was wrong.”

“We were both being stupid,” he mumbles. “But, we were also focused on other things, married to the job or whatever.”

Lifting your face makes him lift his, and you smile into another kiss, feeling happier and more balanced than you have in a very long time.

Without much more discussion, you and Mike get up to rinse off, sharing more soft touches under the spray of the shower before crawling into bed together. Falling asleep feels like coming home.

You don’t even mind the smug grin on Nanaba’s face when she sees you and Mike leave your house together in the morning, nor the teasing jabs Gelgar throws your way over lunch. You don’t know if anything is capable of knocking you out of your perfect, peaceful little world on this perfect, peaceful little homestead.

Except maybe a supereruption, of course.

E - D A Y

It happens right in the middle of the morning news. You and Mike are sipping on coffee, expecting the same report you’ve gotten every day— “Nothing yet, closely monitoring, blah blah”—but as the English news anchor tries to introduce the meteorologist, he stops, holds a hand to the speaker in his ear, then looks at the camera with wide yes.

“I’m—I’m getting news that the Yellowstone supervolcano has just begun to erupt, we’re cutting to the US address at Washington D.C. now—”

And just like that, Levi’s face is suddenly on screen, picking him up mid-sentence.

“... One vent open at the present time, but more will open shortly. Stay indoors, ration your food. This is what we’ve been preparing for.” He looks tired, and when you do the math, you understand why: seven AM in Norway is one AM in D.C., meaning Levi was probably woken up to make the announcement.

As always, you can make out Erwin’s figure behind him, hands clasped tight and shaking, and it isn’t until Mike puts a hand on your shoulder that you realize you are trembling right along with your old boss.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” he reassures you. “We’re gonna be okay here.”

You nod and let him pull you closer to him as both of you look back to the screen and listen to what your old colleagues have to say.

The news stays on for the rest of the day. At around ten, the second vent opens up. Then another. Then another. Levi keeps track, expression never betraying the fear he must be feeling, even when he delivers the message that a full ring around the caldera has opened up.

“Obviously, we can’t get in close enough to look, but we estimate at least two thousand four hundred and fifty cubic kilometers of eruptible magma will pour from the volcano. That’s the size of the eruption from around two million years ago, but it could be worse with the current number of vents…”

The journalists on site, usually so ready to ask questions and challenge Levi, are silent today, and you imagine they’re staring with eyes the size of saucers, not quite believing what they’re hearing because it’s happening. It’s finally happening.

You eat a quiet, solemn lunch at Nanaba and Gelgar’s, no one knowing what to say. You feel nauseous, stunned, not unlike losing a loved one. You’re able to forget the absolute destruction taking place in the states for a few minutes at a time, but it always comes back to you, punching you in the gut with the same, brute force every time.

The park. The lab. The forests. The towns. Cities, states, homes, lives, all wiped off the map.

Erwin takes Levi’s place as public speaker close to five, probably to let the other man get some sleep, and reports that the portable seismogram, still linked to the remaining seismographs located around the park, show that there are near continuous earthquakes taking place, “Which could either help should enough earth shift to block the magma chamber, or make things worse by disrupting it further.”

“E is not very good at keeping people’s hopes up,” you mutter, and Mike chuckles.

“Yeah, I see why he makes Levi do all the talking now.”

You both receive texts from the rest of the team, Levi’s coming at an appropriate time but the others reaching you at odd hours of the night when you’re nestled in Mike’s arms.

Neither of you sleep as reality sets in the rest of the way. That was it. The beginning of the end of everything you know. Everything is about to change.

You sniff, try to be as quiet as possible as the tears you’ve been holding back all day finally begin to fall, but Mike knows, feels your body stiffen as you curl into yourself.

He hugs you close to him but doesn’t say anything, just rests his cheek against yours and holds your hand.

There’s nothing anyone can say to make this better, no amount of optimism or determination that will make this any easier. Your home is covered in miles of pyroclastic flow, and as it hasn’t stopped yet, you know this is just the start. Soon, anything left alive will be suffocated by the tephra, people, animals, and vegetation alike. Though you won’t die where you are, everyone at the ranch will be feeling the effects soon enough.

Your mother calls from France where her and your dad decided to “vacation” for the next several years. She’s worked up about not being able to get through to you for almost an entire day, and even as you reassure her that you’re mostly fine, she hears the way your voice cracks and offers to fly to Norway.

“Mom, the airports are shut down by now,” you sigh. “We already talked about this. We can’t see each other for a while, but we’ll FaceTime until we can’t anymore.” Until the cell towers are knocked out, you don’t say.

“I just know my baby girl is hurting right now. I know how much you loved—”

“I know,” you cut her off, scared that hearing it from her mouth will just make you lose it again. “I know, but I’m okay here with Mike and everyone else.”

“You’re sure?” She sniffles, sounding a lot like you. “Cause your father and I will find a way to get to you if you need us.”

“I’m sure, Mom,” you tell her with a sad smile she can’t see. “Get some rest, okay?”

You share many calls like that, many ill-timed text messages until the eruption finally comes to an end six days later. The damage it’s done is incalculable—the entirety of the United states now covered in a cloud of ash that blocks out the sun.

It doesn’t reach you for a few days, but every time you go outside, Mike sniffs the air and mumbles something like, “Smells like sulfur,” or “It’s getting closer”, but after another week, the entire globe is covered.

1 M O N T H A F T E R

Everything is an estimation. Everyone knows that a massive amount of magma erupted, but they don’t know how much. Everyone knows that a large number of people have died, but they don’t know how many. There are too many mysteries, and it’s nowhere near safe enough to send search crews out.

Despite all the warnings, people are still trying to go outside—to see the ash, to review the damage, but even with cloth or medical grade masks, they’re breathing in the dangerous particles floating in the air, tiny minerals that turn to a cement-like substance in their lungs, and because of that, the death count is only rising.

News reports cut in and out, as do phone calls. Some texts never get sent or received, so all you truly have is your little home and Mike.

And, you cry, and you mourn, and you miss your friends and family—fuck, you don’t even know how you’ll survive so long without them—but you also revel in the fact that you’re safe. Not everyone can say that. The fact that you had almost willingly stayed in the most dangerous zone of the explosion is laughable now. There’s no way you and Erwin would have survived that, something he agrees with you on when you share a short phone call with him just to check how he and Levi are doing.

They’ll be staying at the Homeland Security compound for the forseeable future, but he assures you they’re well-prepared to brave the years-long gray storm.

Without any livestock to take care of, or mouths to feed other than yours and Mike’s, you find yourself with an abundance of free time. You still have power thanks to the solar panels and the couple of windmills set up around the ranch, but you don’t know how long that will last.

You both read a lot, do puzzles together, fall into bed both out of desire and just because there’s not much better to do.

And, that part of your apocalyptic life is kind of great. Mike is great. He takes care of you both in and out of the bedroom, is gentle with you until you tell him not to be, and then he’s more than happy to succumb to your needs. He’d invested in a frankly absurd amount of condoms before the eruption so he wouldn’t have to worry about pulling out every time, but every once in a while you want him like you had him the first time—desperate and passionate and completely raw.

That’s the feeling you’re experiencing tonight, staring at Mike from your place on the couch rather than at the book in your hands.

You see him smile before he actually looks at you, but when he does, he has a glint in his eyes you’ve gotten very familiar with over the last month.

“Need something, baby?”

You bite your lip to keep from grinning too bashfully and glance back down at the open pages on your lap. “Nuh uh.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm,” you nod.

“Really?” Mike puts down the wildlife magazine he’s perusing and leans closer to you. “’Cause it looks like you might want something.”

You cross your legs, flip a page you haven’t even read, and shake your head.

It’s a dumb game you’ve both started to play, who can hold out the longest. Of course, the longest record is one you both hold—four years and some odd months—but other than that, you usually make it two or three days at most.

But it’s hard with him walking around looking like he does, and for someone so quiet, Mike is mischievous and handsy, knowing just how to rile you up only to walk away and leave you to whatever you were doing before. He whispers in your ear, he grabs your ass, sometimes he’ll just stand right behind you in the kitchen and inhale, trace his nose up your neck so that you shiver and break out in goosebumps, then mumble a shameless, “You smell nice.”

He’s troublingly good at driving you crazy, and you realize this is why it took you so long to actually get together. You can’t imagine being this wound up and wanton in the lab with everyone there to see.

“You know,” Mike speaks again. You look at him from the corner of your eyes as he leans back against the cushions and nonchalantly kicks an ankle over his thigh. “A lot of people are dying. Like, thousands. Millions.”

Frowning, you nod. “Uh, yeah. Worldwide disaster taking place.”

“Yeah, it’s a shame,” he adds. His lips twitch upward for a second before he purses them, waiting for another couple seconds then stating, “Should probably start thinking about… Efforts to repopulate.”

Eyes widening, you tilt your head to the side in disbelief, a short, incredulous laugh bubbling from your throat.

“You should be ashamed of yourself, Mike Zacharias!”

Reaching behind you, you grab a throw pillow and launch it at him. Mike shields himself easily, choking and chuckling as he tries to defend himself, “I’m just—saying! It’s something to keep in mind!”

“Trying to guilt me into sex—” You smack his forearms with the pillow again, “As if I’m not already easy for you—" smack, smack, “—by bringing up all the people dying out there. What is the matter with you?”

He gets a hold of the pillow and rips it from your hands then hugs it to his chest and stares at you with that uncharacteristically devious look. “Is it working?”

You scoff at him, gently kick at his thigh in one last act of defiance before responding, “I mean, kinda.”

And, that’s all he needs to hear before he’s throwing himself at you, pinning you to the couch even as you giggle and squirm, ridding you of the comfortable clothes you have on so that he can kiss and lick every part of you he can reach. He acts like he’s hungry for you, and you have to use all your strength to shove him off of you just so that you can work his pants off and return the favor.

Mike is all grunts and curses as you work him over with your tongue, a hand on the back of your head heavy but not pressuring. He trembles as you take him deeper, his tip hitting the back of your throat and sliding just a little further.

It always hurts your jaw, leaves it sore for a full twenty-four hours at least, but the way his jaw drops and his hands ball into fists make it worth it.

You use one hand to stroke what your mouth can’t reach, the other settling between your own thighs to get you to where you need to be, and only when Mike is panting and you’re dripping slick into your curled palm do you pull off of him.

He helps you into his lap, lets you take your time sliding down his length, because even after as much practice as you’ve had, it hasn’t exactly gotten easier. He’s still massive, and you still have to will yourself to relax around him, but once your muscles have loosened enough, you begin to rock your hips.

Mike lets you use him like that for a few minutes, knows he’s at the perfect angle to rub over your g-spot, so he just watches and leans forward to place teasing kisses around your open mouth.

“Feel good, baby?” His voice drips like honey as he grips onto you to aid in your movement.

Nodding, you dig your nails into his shoulders, then shift to start moving up and down his length. Mike takes it as his cue to take over completely, strong enough to lift and drop you as he pleases, and you both fall into a frenzy of motion, desperate to get off, to get each other off, to share that euphoria.

“Do you actually want to?” You ask in a daze.

Mike cracks his eyes open to ask, “What?” and slows down enough to give you enough breathing room to speak. “Do I wanna what?”

Making lazy air quotes with your fingers, you mimic his deep voice, “Repopulate,” then elaborate, “Have kids. Do you want that?”

Everything stops. Your hips still, as do Mike’s, and he stares at you, the lusty haze of his gaze clearing as he processes what you’re asking.

Feeling completely exposed, you try to rationalize, “I know, I know, we’ve only been doing this for, like, a month, and it’s kind of a terrible time to actually bring new life into the world, but if I’m gonna do it with anyone—”

Mike fists both hands in the hair at the back of your head, pulls you to him to smash your lips together. When he starts bouncing you again, your muffled moan is still loud in the small living room, and Mike’s voice comes out somewhere between desperate and destroyed when he tells you, “Yeah, I want kids. Want you to have my kids.”

“Okay,” you breathe, matching his rhythm, then again, “Okay.”

A switch seems to flip in Mike’s head. You watch and experience him devolve into someone—something—primal. He fucks you like he never has before, long hair hanging in his face, lip caught between his teeth as he groans around it, pistoning into you quick and rough.

“You want it?” He growls, pausing to suck a mark at the swell of your breast. “You want me to come in this pussy?”

Your heart stutters, jaw dropping slightly because Mike isn’t a vulgar man, never has been, but now, the way he’s looking up at you with wild eyes, you know all he needs is the right push, and he’ll lose it completely.

“Yeah, fuck, want you to fill me up, please,” you whine.

Your world tilts as he tosses you long ways on the couch, sliding back into you with ease and demanding, “Touch yourself.”

You grin slyly, “What, don’t have the focus?”

“Not really,” he admits, flicking sweaty hair from his eyes.

Two of your fingers find your clit, massaging it the way you always do when you’re desperate for an orgasm. It makes you clamp tighter around Mike, and you tell him again—beg for him— “Please, baby, want you so bad.”

He comes quicker than usual, shooting line after line deep inside of you until it starts dripping out around his cock.

He can’t stay inside you for long, unable to take the way you keep clenching and twitching from your own ministrations, so Mike pulls out and shimmies down your body so that his face is just above your cunt. At first, he just stares (like always), admiring your swollen folds and how messy you are, but soon he pushes a finger into you, attaching his mouth to your clit shortly after.

It doesn’t take you long. The thought of him fingerfucking his cum further into you paired with the actual sensation of it sends you over the edge within a few minutes, and the two of you are left sweaty and panting, too drunk off each other to really think about the gravity of what you’ve just done but enjoying it all the same.

The feeling eventually returns to your legs, some of the fog in your brain dissipating as you run your hand through Mike’s hair, and when you find that you can, you voice, “Can we even handle a kid? Or like… Can a kid handle the world as it is?”

“Kids are weirdly resilient,” Mike speaks, face pressed against your stomach so that you can feel the vibrations. “And, maybe there’ll eventually be a race of super babies or something—have enhanced lungs to deal with ash. Darkvision and shit.”

You snort and shake your head. “Dummy.”

He retaliates by blowing a raspberry just above your belly-button, grins lopsidedly when you squeal.

“But really, our kids’ll be fine. Volcanologist for a mom and an Eagle Scout for a dad? Doesn’t get much better than that.”

“Oh my god, you were actually in Boy Scouts? Does Levi know?”

Mike makes a little ‘pft’ sound and shoots you an unimpressed look. “Of course not. Like, I’d ever let that tiny, tiny man be right about anything.”

Your laugh is so deep and genuine, it makes your whole body shake. Mike raises his head to keep it from bouncing so much, but you can feel him staring for the duration of your giggle fit. Even through squinted, teary eyes, you can see his gaze is full of adoration, and you figure having two parents who love each other as much as the two of you do will at least make the hard life ahead of you a little easier for a child.

4 Y E A R S A F T E R

Heavy snow falls outside, adding to the thick layers on the ground and clouding the window you’re staring out of. The carrier is nicely heated, ensuring you and its other two occupants stay toasty as you keep eye out for incoming headlights.

“Think that’s them,” Mike says, and you swivel to look out his driver’s side window to see two dull beams of light growing brighter and brighter.

“Don’t know who else it would be,” you joke. “No one else is dumb enough to come back to this place.”

The only sign of your husband raising his eyebrows is the way his hat shifts slightly. “You’re right about that.”

Cinching fur-lined hoods tighter, you both slide out of the tram, boots crunching on ice and snow when you land on the ground. Mike circles to your side, opens the back door, then unbuckles and collects what looks to be a bundle of jackets in his arms. Two light eyes peer out between a beanie and a face mask, gloved hands reaching out and grabbing for you.

“You want Mama?” Mike coos before passing your son to you.

You settle him on your hip, rub his shielded nose with yours, hoping your body heat will help keep him warm out here.

It’s been winter for… Years, now, the ash from the eruption having behaved exactly as you thought it would, blocking out the sun, and sending the planet hurtling into another ice age. It was something not everyone was prepared for—the intense cold, the food and water shortage, the isolation, but you were lucky. You had everything you needed.

The other snow vehicle stops a ways off, lights left on as two figures jump out, recognizable even when completely covered up. One is nearly as tall as Mike, the other considerably smaller even up close.

Pulling his mask down, Erwin shows a brilliant smile as he stops in front of you and Mike, and Levi immediately protests— “Oi, cover your mouth, old man! You need it for more than just talking shit.”

Mike laughs, but still reprimands the other man with a pointed, “Levi,” and a nod toward the little boy you’re holding.

“Fuck—I mean…” Levi takes in a deep breath then apologizes over the whistling wind and falling snow, “Sorry, Huck.”

Bouncing him on your hip, you peer at your son and prompt, “Huckleberry, you remember Levi and Erwin from the computer?”

Though your team has seen him many times on Zoom and FaceTime, this is first time Huck is meeting any of them in the flesh.

Your son looks between them for a while, quiet as he sizes up both of the men, then he reaches out for Levi the same way he had for you just moments before. Levi makes a dissatisfied noise but still takes him from you, and once Huck is passed off, you shuffle to Erwin and wrap your arms around him, breathing into his chest and warming your face.

Your boss squeezes you tightly, mutters a low, “I know, I missed you too.”

It isn’t enough to drown out Levi’s sing-song baby voice, and both you and Erwin glance over to find him with his forehead pressed to Huck’s as he teases, “Can’t believe your parents named you after a volcanic eruption. That was pretty dumb, right?”

Mike glides over, places one hand on Huck’s head and the other on Levi’s, then sighs. “Please don’t criticize my wife’s terrible taste in nam—”

“Hey! You agreed to it,” you shout, taking the little boy back from Levi and glaring at both the smiling men. “Better shut up before you give him a complex. He can understand things, you know. He’s three.”

“Huckleberry Pine Zacharias,” Levi scoffs. “I cannot stand you guys.”

“I think it’s a great name,” Erwin interjects, lightly tapping Huck’s nose under his mask.

“Well, you have shit taste, too.”

“Obviously, if I married a little gremlin like you,” Erwin drawls easily, leaning into the punch that Levi throws into his arm.

“Anyway, we’re here for a reason, right? Other than freezing our asses off?”

“Yeah,” Mike nods, kicking at the snow on the ground like it’ll make a difference.

All of you know that buried beneath all the white is dried pyroclast, but under that…

Is what remains of Yellowstone.

“How do we even go about rebuilding?” Mike is the first to ask.

Erwin stares at his own feet, face scrunched up in thought for a while before looking back up and stating, “From the bottom. Everything starts with a good foundation.”

Levi just scoffs, but you and Mike lock eyes and share a hidden grin.

You take Huck back from Levi, leaning in for a side hug as you do, then suggest to everyone, “Well, then, now that we’ve seen a little of what we’re working with, we should head back to the shelter and start making a plan.”

“Yeah,” Levi agrees. “Gotta start getting ready for the next eruption due in seven hundred thousand years, right?”

“Right.”

After splitting back up into the two separate carriers, Mike follows closely behind the other in order to make it to their newly built bunker without getting lost. It’s perpetually dark from the never ending snow and cloud coverage, hazardous even with the vehicle’s tracks, but you can’t find it in yourself to be scared. Not now, not when life finally feels to be returning to something close to normal.

#aot x reader #aot fanfic #attack on titan fanfic #mike zacharias x reader #snk fanfic #the smut pile collab

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localcactushugger · 3 years

Text

Is anyone else amazed that Hawks was only "undercover" with the Leauge for 6 months at the most.

Not only that, one and a half of those 6 months were spent just trying to gain enough trust to infiltrate.

I know it seems like much longer since Hawks made his Manga debut 2 years ago. But he had such a short amount of time on this mission. Hawks was introduced in the manga with his role being the "double agent". We literally have not seen Hawks outside of his "spy" role. Even when he is interacting with other characters outside of the Leauge, his "mission" is still happening in the background.

It seems Hawks made contact with Dabi right before the Hero Billboard chart, this is when he starts trying to infiltrate. His interaction with Dabi in the warehouse begins immediately after Endeavors fight with High-End:

During this time, Dabi is testing out a High-End Nomu for doctor Ujiko. Which means by the time Endeavor fights High-End, the My Villain Academia arc is already happening. Hawks is assumed to be one of the "members" Dabi is trying to recruit:

The Leauge has already made contact with doctor Ujiko, and the Doctor sends Dabi to test his High-End Nomu out on Endeavor (even though Dabi didn't know it would be Endeavor) while the rest of the Leauge battle Machia. At the time, Dabi still doesn't trust Hawks at all and he keeps the hero at arms length. While Dabi and Hawks are sharing ominous phone calls, the Leauge is hauling ass and it take's Shigiraki a month and a half to finally beat Machia. (The MLA is "defeated" too):

After a month and a half of phone calls (while the Leauge gets their asses handed to them by Machia in the background) Hawks is finally allowed into the Leauge when the battle of Dekia City is finally over. Dabi let's him in because Hawks "kills" Best Jeanist.

But there's a problem. By the time Hawks is let in, The Leagues numbers have drastically increased. They have an army at their side, multiple High-End nomu, and are now called the MLA:

Hawks blames himself, saying that he was "too late". That so many civilians would be alive now if he had been faster. He couldn't round up the Leauge when they were a small group, and now they have an army. A powerful one:

He's in too deep now. And you can see the stress on his face. I bet he never expected to be part of an army. He was simply tasked to round up the Leauge members while they were a small group, but the MLA was completely unexpected. Still, he decides to improvise and do the best he can with the shitty cards he's been dealt. It's not like he has another option at this point.

So he slips a coded message to Endeavor ASAP. Basically saying "yo, in four months shits about to go down. Ttyl I'll keep you posted lol". He can't tell the guy in person now, because to make things harder, he has camera's on his wings. (and even though he's being watched by camera's, he also gets followed by guards at the mansion):

After Hawks relays the massge, he stroles around the mansion with his bodyguard and heads towards the cafeteria. With a little eavesdropping (courtesy of his feathers) he also finds out that the Leauges plan is to "Destroy Everything" in four months:

After he relays the massage to Endeavor, he listens to the Leauges plans of destruction as his thoughts run a thousand M.P.H.

Because now "capture the Leauge" has turned into "Holy shit I now only have 4 months to take down a full fledged terrorist organization/army from the inside-out by myself while I'm being monitored 24/7 with absolutely no privacy & also a full time job as a hero + a public image to maintain. And I can only contact my fellow pro's about this mission through code because if the villains find out I'm a double agent I could be killed and Japan could be destroyed. Also some heros have even joined the MLA so who on my own side can I trust? Only a select specific few for now I guess."

If you thought things couldn't get worse your wrong.

Because around 2 months before the raid Hawks' heart (that wants to be free & has a genuine desire to help people) takes shit a bit too far when it makes him get attached to a certain powerful villain.

Hawks quckily finds out that Twice is easily the second most powerful villain in the Leauge after Shigiraki. He's an S ranked villain and he'll kick your ass with the power of friendship anyday. He's a great guy, but him and the Leauge are still planning on doing horrible things within the next 2 months. Twice is going along with it because he wants to stick by his friends, which y'know, is a cool motive. But considering that fact that the people Hawks is trying to protect ALSO have friends, and family's, this makes shit difficult and sends Hawks on some major guilt trips. (I would show all the panels of Hawks sadly smiling as Twice calls him a "good guy", but alas- Tumblr has informed me that I've reached my 10 image per post limit)

And tbh who wouldn't feel bad about suddenly getting attached to such a golden retriever of a man and then realizing you'll have to double-cross him at some point! I'm not surprised Hawks would feel this way, especially considering the fact that he never wanted to take on this mission in the first place.

Hawks is very much a people person, and he HATES lying even when he has no other option. This is a man who got "shivers up his spine" when he had to put on a serious face while handing Endeavor a book with coded messages inside. He literally felt icky and thought "this is low even for me" just because he had to use a deadly expression so that Endeavor would get the gist.

And when the Commission made their "proposal" about this mission, Hawks' first reaction was to call them out on their B.S. for asking him to put civilian lives at risk. He even admitted that he was feeling bad about sending Tokoyami away while talking to Deku, Shoto, and Bakugo. Hawks felt guilty about not being able to spend more time with his student, but considering that things with the MLA were starting to get riskier, and that Hawks literally handed Endeavor a book with a coded message inside about an uprising 2 seconds later, I can see why he wouldn't want to risk Tokoyami being around him. The fact that the camera's on Hawks' wings caught his interactions with Endeavor & the students also makes the creep‐factor worse. The MLA saw everything AND talked about it in a meeting later. Continuing to train with Tokoyami would put him at risk.

I love the complexity of Hawks' character, he's incredibly intelligent, logical, and intuitive. But at the same time throughout this entire mission his heart is constantly battling with his mind. Even when he knows he has to grit his teeth and do something shifty, his heart never fails to put up a fight with his logistics. Honestly it's been a pattern for a while that Hawks' sympathy always "Trips him up" in some way, so idk why I didn't see it coming around to bite him in the ass later.

(Tbh it's hard for me to see Hawks as a this super "Morally Gray" person that the fandom likes to paint him as because of a mission that he only spent 6 months on. I personally, kinda see Hawks as a "good person" who works for a "morally gray" agency. But that's a whole different meta)

Basically, Hawks getting attached to Twice wasn't a surprise. But considering how powerful Twice was, along with his role in the League's destructive plans (He was a lieutenant in one of the MLA's "Units") the discourse going on in Hawks' mind makes sense. By this point Hawks has already figured out all of the MLA's "Units" along with the three "bosses" that support the lieutenants of those "Units". It's noted that those "bosses" are extremely powerful and can match the strength of the heros as well. It took Hawks an entire month just to figure out all of the "Units" members. (I would show the panels explaining all of this but I'm at my photo limit)

All of these members were tasked to follow their lieutenants and bosses, and the plan was to attack all of Japans major cities at the same time. Once the cities were destroyed and chaos had set in, Redestro and feel good inc. Would distribute support items to the remaining citizens in the name of "self-defense". It would create a country full of discourse and destruction where Redestro and Feel good inc. Would rule from the shadows. But Shigiraki would be the main leader. He would become "king" and sit upon a "throne of rubble". (At least this was the MLA's plan, Shigiraki himself just kinda wants to destroy everything. But I suppose this would make things easier for him to do that.)

needless to say, the stakes have been upped excessively. But it took Hawks an entire month to gather this info.

This post is honestly just me marveling at what an M.V.P Hawks is

My guy literally only had 4 months to take down an entire terrorist organization for the inside-out. AND he was being monitored during that entire time. He figured out the MLA's intentions within the first month of being there. And it took him another full month to go into detail and figure out all the members, bosses, and lieutenants, for each of their "Units". Hawks even went as far as to immerse himself in the MLA's ideology, and he had in-depth discussions with the MLA's members. HELL HE EVEN FAKED HIS CO-WORKERS DEATH JUST TO GET IN.

AND HE PRETTY MUCH IMPROVISED ALL OF THIS SHIT!!! The original plan was to capture the Leauge when they were a small group! But by the time Hawks managed to infiltrate, The Leauge already had an army! They were a full-blown organization! And Hawks just kinda rolled with it??? He just kinda bullshitted his way through??

Like, "okay I'm now apart of an army I guess. The Leauge is now an entire organization and they're planning on destroying Japan in March. Let's see how this goes. I'll just have to make this work"???

LIKE HOW THE FUCK IS HE NOT DEAD! WHAT A FUCKING MADLAD

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elsa-writes · 3 years

Text

Alfie Solomons x Reader: Beauty and the Beast

Part 1

Authors note: this is my first time writing for Peaky Blinders, and my first time writing a fic in a while, so please feel free to bully me for my inaccuracies! also I might change the title later cuz idk what else to title this. Enjoy!

—-

Polly pretended to disapprove of you and Arthur’s shenanigans. Reality was, she knew with you around, Arthur couldn’t get into too much trouble. True, it was not the most respectable of hobbies for a lady, to be playing cards and hanging around bars every Friday night. However, Arthur couldn’t be getting any whores pregnant when he had to watch over his young cousin. And he’d make sure you’d stay out of trouble, too. Tommy had a similar line of thinking. Although with this latest scheme, you weren’t sure you had his full support.

“Are you sure this is the best idea?”

“I think,” Arthur paused for a beat, stroking his mustache. “It will go smoothly. You want to prove yourself, that you can function in this line of business, this is it.”

“And what did Tommy say about it?” You questioned. He’d sent Arthur in his place for a meeting with Mr Solomons. You were sitting in the car outside of the distill- bakery. Arthur insisted that you come along to this meeting. Camden Town was a bit nicer than Birmingham-though not by much.

“You know Tommy, he’s, well, you know,” he blustered. In the back seat, Billy coughed.

So Tommy was not aware of this arrangement. “Right.” But you were not going to NOT go in.

You’d bumped into Mr Solomons once. He’d been leaving after having a conversation with Tommy. You scampered away before he could say anything to you. Not out of fear of him; you ran away because you were afraid Tommy would know you’d been eavesdropping. Though Mr Solomons had made a reputation for himself, from what you’d overheard, he sounded like a bit of a clown.

“Are you coming or are you going to stay in the car like a baby?”

“I’m not a baby,” you protested and stepped out into the cold air. “Finn is a baby.”

“Yeah, and I didn’t invite him for a reason.” Arthur punctuated the sentence with a slam of the automobile door.

You adjusted your outfit, making sure you looked proper and professional. “Let’s get this over with.”

A man awaited you by the door and led you inside the distillery. It was dark, and damp. The odor of rum-er, bread, permeated the air. The smell made you light headed. Your shoes echoed on the cement, the loudest sound in the room.

As you descended into the labyrinth, a man appeared from behind a corner. Mr. Solomons himself.

His hat cast an ominous shadow over his face- definitely planned for theatrical effect.

He did not react to your presence. If he recognized you he gave no sign. “Welcome, welcome! You must be Arthur!”

“Mr. Solomons,” Arthur greeted, offering a hand.

“I’ve head so much about you,” Mr. Solomons said. The amusement in his voice was evident. He wasn’t taller than your cousin, but he was stockier and way more intimidating. Billy stood on the opposite side of you, wary of the large man.

Arthur replied, “Shalom.”

You cringed. Mr. Solomons gaze flickered to one of his men behind Arthur.

“Let me just say, Shalom,” Arthur repeated, painfully serious. You felt ill. If it were a less tense situation you would have smacked him over the head.

Solomons tilted his head just enough for you to get a glimpse of the look of incredulity on his face.

“Shalom!” He said. “So glad you could join us for this most joyous of celebrations! And I see you’ve brought friends for the occasion.” Solomons nodded in your direction. You’d been instructed by Arthur to not speak too much or get involved. The same went for Billy.

Arthur shifted on his feet. “This is my cousin, and my associate. Shall we discuss business?”

“Cousin, eh? From the sounds of it, there’s a new Shelby every fucking week.” Mr Solomons chuckled. “Come along, come along.”

He lead you into a room with a table in the center. Something was off. Perhaps it was the comment Arthur had made. It had surely offended them. The Solomons men hadn’t even looked at you. Not that you wanted to be looked at. It was unusual, though. They weren’t even looking at each other.

Something else in the room caught your attention; a goat tied to the leg of the table. It bleated sadly at you. You resisted the urge to pet it.

Mr Solomons circled the table and gestured. You took note of the pipe in his hand that also seemed to function as a cane. “Take a seat, why don’t you?”

Arthur hesitated, both you and Billy watching him before making a move.

He took the chair on the end. Some of the Solomons boys were standing behind the three of you in a perfect line. Another one took a chair next to Mr Solomons, still not looking at you.

Mr Solomons himself remained standing, studying Billy like he was the most fascinating thing on the planet. “And you’ll be...”

“Billy,” Billy said.

Mr. Solomons focused his attention on you. “Shelby?”

“(Y/n),” was your answer as you sat down at the table. There were plates and cups arranged before you. You kept your hands in your lap, careful not to touch anything.

“(Y/n)...You know, out there in the sand, out there in the desert where me forefathers come from... started out as a little speck...”

“Is everything alright?” Billy leaned over to whisper to Arthur. One of the men lurking around had shut the door behind you while Mr. Solomons rambled on. Arthur tried to dismiss Billy’s concerns with a wave.

“Billy, don’t worry mate, yeah, if you want you can leave. If you need to go to the little boys room or something you can leave.” Mr. Solomons interrupted, sounding a little too much like a school teacher.

“He’s alright, he’s alright,” Arthur grinned, rubbing Billy’s shoulder. “Billy boy.”

Your stomach churned. Something was wrong. This was not the kind of conversation that Tommy and Mr Solomons had had the day you eavesdropped. This was not the simple meeting you were promised.

“You want to stay?” Mr Solomons asked Billy; staring at him so intensely you had to look away.

“I’ll stay.”

“You stay there, then, treacle.” Mr Solomons grimaced, and his voice suddenly became much louder. “So! The pharaoh! Have you heard of him?”

Without thinking, you nodded, and he pointed in acknowledgement at you.

“He kept my people, the Jewish people, in slavery for thousands of years.”

“Persecuted, right,” Arthur interjected, pleased with himself for making this astute observation. Mr Solomons eyes lit up with amusement.

“He did, he persecuted my race. killing the innocent, right. So this feast that we’re having here , is basically the day what when the Jewish angels decided the evil fucking Egyptians had pushed their fucking luck!”

“Right,” Arthur added.

“It’s part of our tradition to do this, for in order to make it good with god to kill a king.”

Oh fuck. You glanced towards your cousin. By the look on his innocent smiling face he had not come to the conclusion you had. Okay, keep it cool. From the rumors you knew Mr Solomons was an intelligent man who spoke in idiotic riddles. You could have been misreading things. Sabini could be the pharaoh in the story.

“Right,” Arthur said again. What was Tommy doing at this moment?

“That is the ritual of the sacrifice of the pass over goat.” Mr Solomons said.

Everyone at the table turned to look at the bleating creature.

Arthur looked ill. “A goat?”

Mr Solomons gestured to it. “Yeah, we’re gonna sacrifice it. Tonight. That’s part of the reason why we have to shut the doors as well.”

You wished Arthur had let you keep a gun. You were a sitting duck. Every muscle in your body tensed, ready for the action. No, Tommy wasn’t the pharaoh.

“But this year we thought we’d give the fucking goat a name!” He grinned.

“You named it.”

“We fucking did.”

You averted your eyes as a man put a knife to the goats neck. “Arthur?”

“You named the fucking goat.” He shifted in his chair. It seemed as if he was catching on.

“Evil fucking Egyptian pharaoh-“

“The fucking-“

“And you know what we called it?”

“What’d you call it?”

Your hands balled into fists.

“Tommy Shelby,” Mr Solomons answered with a hint of triumph.

As the blood of the goat spilled on the ground you dropped to the floor. Chaos ensued; a gunshot fired so loud your ears rang. It took a few seconds for your hearing to return. Arthur was screaming. You looked up to see poor Billy slumped in his chair, covered in blood, not moving. You brought your knees to your chest and covered your head to avoid any potential stray bullets. Three of the men had to restrain Arthur, who thrashed and cursed.

Heavy footsteps approached. You scooted back further under the safety of the table. Trying to help him would be useless; you were outnumbered and they had guns.

Arthur went quiet, his freckled face pale.

The back of Mr. Solomons came into view.

“That’s that. So, and the evil Egyptian scum was finally cleansed by the blood of the Passover goat. Mate.”

You covered your moth with a hand.

He kissed Arthur’s cheek twice. “That’s for Sabini.”

Then he promptly bashed Arthur over the head. Funnily enough, it brought back memories of all the times you’d seen Arthur do the same thing to someone else. The urge to laugh overwhelmed you.

Mr Solomons dropped into a squat and placed the gun he’d shot Billy with into Arthur’s hand.

While he was in this position he noticed you under the table.

“Ah, hello there,” he grunted, eyes looking you up and down.

You wanted to swear, or grab the gun from Arthur’s limp hand, or do something very impressive.

He stared at you, waiting for a reply.

“Hi,” you sputtered out. “Is he dead?”

“Oh, nah, that would ruin the fun. You were not supposed to be here tonight.”

“I know.”

“Right. What the fuck am I going to do with you?”

“Let me go?” You suggested. It was worth a try.

He scratched his beard, lost in thought. “Cute, but I think not. That wouldn’t exactly wrap things up nicely, would it?”

A heavy pause lingered in the air. You pulled your knees in even closer, in an instinctual effort to protect yourself.

“Ok. Well! Lads, why don’t you take our guest upstairs?”

“Excuse me? No, no way.”

One of the men grabbed your arm, yanking you to your feet.

“Hey!” You struggled to get your arm free.

Mr Solomons stood up and turned away from you.

“You’re gonna kidnap me and you can’t even look me in the face! Fucking coward!” You shoved the man off but slipped in the blood on the floor, letting him get the advantage.

Another grabbed your other arm and despite your best efforts you couldn’t elbow him off. The near tumble had discombobulated you.

Mr Solomons glanced over his shoulder, as cool as a cucumber. “My good friends the London police are here if you’d prefer to go with them.”

The shock of what he’d said made you forget to fight. “Wait, what?” He didn’t have police on his payroll. Oh, Sabini did, how could you forget?

“Get the fuck off me!” You screamed.

The two men dragged you out the same moment as the doors flung open. A group of police stormed the room.

“Fucking animal came in here with a gun and he shot him in the face!” Mr. Solomons gestured with his cane, ignoring your pleas for help. “And my lads restrained him. Look at him! He’s dead! Is he dead! He’s fucking dead!” His false astonished voice followed you down the hall.

You fought back with all your effort.

“Stop fucking fighting, you’re lucky he didn’t shoot you too!” One of them said.

“Oh, how kind! How generous! Please be sure to thank him for me! Arthur! Arthur!” You didn’t know why you were screaming for him. They were carting him off to jail. Fuck. Would Tommy know? How long would it take for him to find out? “Bastards!”

Going upstairs was the worst part; you managed to slither out of their grip and ran up a few steps before tripping onto your face. They at least had the decency to not laugh.

The upstairs appeared to be some sort of flat. The two assholes threw you into the closest room, probably out of desperation to be free of you.

“What are you going to do with me?” You demanded, although you were scared of the answer.

They exchanged glances. They had let you free but blocked the door.

“Well, we’re not sure. He didn’t really give us instructions.” One said.

“I could give you some instructions. How about you go shove a-“ the threat was enough. Without rhyme or reason you charged at them like a bull.

Before you could spring your attack, they slipped out, locking the door behind themselves.

Slamming your fists on the door, you swore at them, every word imaginable.

Once you exhausted yourself you switched gears. Taking in the room; you noticed a bed shoved against a wall, a large, messy desk, and a small window. The style of the room was at least ten years out of date, and was covered in what looked like ten years of dust. This must be where Mr Solomons slept. For someone who had money he didn’t live like it.

You moved to the one window in the room. Here was a potential escape route. Except for the crowd of men huddled outside smoking. They wore aprons, like the others you saw. There was no way you could get past all of them.

But you could once they left. The only issue was making sure nothing happened to you in between then and now.

Who knew what upsetting plans he had for you? He fucking shot Billy. He could have shot you. Maybe the only reason he did it was because the police were nearby. He could be on his way up here at this very moment.

You needed to block the door. Anything to stall for time.

There was a coat rack in the corner that you used. The large cabinet full of decorative China plates looked easy to push; after a few tense moments of pushing you abandoned it and went for the desk. You investigated your work. The door could still be opened a few inches. Anything more than that would be blocked.

It should be enough. It didn’t feel like it. You were becoming aware of the heavy, dull ache in your muscles. Your ribs hurt from you dropped to the floor and bruises had begun to appear on your arms. You sat down on the creaky bed. If you were trapped in here, you might as well enjoy the “comforts” of this place.

A few hours passed. It had to be the next day already. Your thoughts were with Arthur, wondering if he’d woken up from the bashing yet. And Tommy, if he knew you were being held hostage. He was smart. He’d get you out of this. Unless he’d finally had enough of your antics and disowned you. No, no. Polly, John and Ada wouldn’t let that happen. You were spiraling and tired but too paranoid to sleep. Laying back on the bed, your eyes closed as you strained to listen for any sound. Why in the ever loving fuck had you let Arthur do this? When had he ever done anything smart?

Someone knocked at the door.

“Fuck off.” You said, a conditioned response from years of your cousins barging in on you.

Mr Solomons huffed. “Yes, yes. Listen. I’m not going to shoot you-well, I might if you get on my nerves- I have actually come to the conclusion that you may be quite useful to me.”

You sat up. “What?”

Mr Solomons opened the door, and to your relief, it got stuck on the desk. “Moving my fucking desk around?”

“I doubt I’m any use to you,” you said in your bravest voice. “Tommy will be looking for me. And he will want revenge for your betrayal with Sabini.”

He jiggled the door again. It didn’t budge. “Yeah, exactly. Revenge and all that. And I know he’s fond of you- you were at his house that day- so if I have you, right, as leverage, he’ll be less likely to put a fucking bullet in my head.”

“Did you really put Arthur in prison?”

“Yes, and I’ve just gotten word that Michael...Gray, is it, he’s been locked up too. So Tommy is probably a bit busy at the moment.”

Michael? That was probably a lie. A bluff. Polly would be in shambles.

“So are you going stay in there forever or are you going to come out?” Not taunting. Curious.

“I’ll stay in here.”

“You can come out, I’m not going to fucking hurt ya-“

“I saw you shoot Billy in the fucking head! And nearly kill Arthur!” You barked and flung the nearest object you could find, an empty bottle, at the door.

He cursed and shut the door before the bottle could slam into his head. “Didn’t you listen to a fucking word I said? Tommy Shelby would really come after me then.”

“Fuck the fuck off!” Another bottle flew through the air for good measure. This time the liquid contents splattered on the papers on the desk.

“Fucking hell,” he growled. “Stay in there as long as you want then, yeah?”

Your voice wavered. “He’s gonna come for me! And you’ll be sorry when he does!”

#peaky fucking blinders #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons imagine #arthur shelby #Tommy Shelby

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teawaffles · 3 years

Text

The Conspiratorial Bullet: Chapter 7, Part 1

T/N: For the first time, a chapter will have three parts ( ; ω ; ) This is one very long scene..!

TW for this chapter // Mention of death, blood

If there were a hole in the ground, he would dive right into it.

——Is that what one would call this state of mind?

That was what Kevin Curtis thought as he nervously wandered the forest alone.

After they’d bid farewell to Albert, for a while, he and the elderly nobleman Andy had continued walking on with no destination in mind. Then they ran into a couple of nobles from the opposing team, and somehow started shooting at one another; before he knew it, for some reason, he had found himself all alone.

When the fighting started, Kevin had panicked and knocked into Andy. He’d then dropped his revolver somewhere, and descended into an even greater panic. Kevin crawled on the ground to search for it after that, and just as he’d finally found his own gun, the next thing he knew, he was both lost and alone. For about a minute, Kevin had hugged his knees as he fell into despair, such was the height of his misery.

“But it’s a good thing this card was here.”

Kevin spoke to himself, brushing his fingers over the card that had been tied to the revolver. Without it, he wouldn’t have had the confidence to say that the gun he had picked up was his own. On the card, the number 8 was clearly written.

“But what should I do now……?”

He kept going “But, but” over and over as he swayed, repeatedly turning his head to look around him. Even though the forest wasn’t very large, perhaps it was the strangeness of his surroundings that heightened his unease, for it had begun to seem oddly complex and bizarre.

In times like this, if he were here——

The figure of that man rose to his mind: his business partner, Helena’s father, and his best friend.

In contrast to the timid Kevin, he had an endlessly bright and cheerful personality. There were times when Kevin had thought that cheeriness bothersome, but the man was optimistic, and loved a challenge, which meshed well with his own pessimistic and cautious nature. The store they’d opened and run together had been a success, so much so it had grown into an enormous department store.

Why did he just disappear? Kevin knew it was useless to think about it now, but even so, he still couldn’t help but feel that way.

They’d known one another for ten years, yet Kevin hadn’t noticed him being particularly troubled. Their business was progressing smoothly, and it didn’t seem as though he was having problems at home. After Helena had been born, his wife had fallen ill and passed away, but Kevin was certain that he and Helena had come to terms with her passing for a long time now.

Even so, perhaps there was something else that no one knew about, which had been gnawing away at him for some time. Then, why hadn’t he noticed anything? Kevin had asked himself this question many times over as he was interviewed by the Yard.

Of course, there was the line of thought that no one was to blame, and he’d been abducted by someone. In an industry where resentment was common, perhaps there were some people who would resort to such extreme measures — and Kevin had been too careless to anticipate it. Whether he wanted to or not, that incident came to mind. That was why…….

Unconsciously, Kevin’s eyes began to search for the girl he had taken in.

That was why he would at least protect Helena — that was the duty Kevin had taken upon himself. Even after her beloved father had gone missing, Helena had never once lost her outspoken spontaneity, nor shown the slightest sign of grief, and he was staunchly determined to protect that resolute spirit of hers.

“Hm?”

Unexpectedly, his train of thought had been interrupted. Speak of the devil perhaps, or maybe his thoughts alone managed to influence reality. As Kevin stumbled through the forest, before his eyes appeared a lone girl with her back turned to him.

——Was that Helena? From her hairstyle and clothes, it did appear so. Strangely, she was sitting in the tall grass, her back hunched as she hugged her knees. She appeared to be staring intently at something before her, without showing any sign of having noticed Kevin behind her.

He pondered. Now, he and Helena were on opposing teams. Moreover, this girl, who seemed to be Helena, had exposed her back to him, leaving herself full of openings……. In this situation, what was the right thing to do?

If he were to play the part of a kind and generous father, he could call out to her, and let her shoot him on purpose. But he was quite certain that Helena, prideful as she was, would want a serious battle; if she knew he deliberately let her get away, it was inevitable that she would throw a big fuss about it no matter what good intentions he had.

In that case, should he fire on her right now? But then he was worried he might upset her, and just as all sorts of concerns whirled around Kevin’s head, someone thumped a hand on his back.

“………!”

Kevin had almost let out a yelp, but he frantically clapped a hand over his mouth as he spun around. There, he saw Andy Krueger, whom he’d lost sight of in the battle earlier.

The man placed an index finger over his mouth, signalling Kevin to stay quiet, and walked up beside him.

“That’s Helena-kun, isn’t it?”

Andy sounded fairly certain on that, and Kevin lowered his voice as he spoke.

“I just happened to come up behind her, and now I’m not sure if I should shoot.”

Andy gave him a wry smile.

“That’s quite like you. But even though it’s just for fun, you shouldn’t bring parental affection into a fight. Go on, get her before she runs away.”

“A-Alright.”

He had thought of Andy as a compassionate person, but it seemed he also had this surprisingly severe side to him. At the elderly nobleman’s rapid insistence, Kevin was on edge as he aimed his gun at the girl.

“Come on, quickly now,” Andy pressed.

There was no space for objection. Without thinking straight, Kevin pulled the trigger.

——Bang. A sound like a crack resounded through the air.

The recoil was stronger than expected, and Kevin fell on his bottom. Half stunned, he felt a little out of sync: perhaps it was because he was a complete amateur with a firearm.

However, that shot had felt subtly different from the previous times he’d fired his gun. The sense of incongruity that had arisen when he fired the shot, as well as a mysterious unease, both hit him simultaneously. Getting to his feet, Kevin looked at the girl in fear.

The girl lay curled up quietly on the ground. On her back was a huge splash of colour. But it wasn’t the hue of some artificial paint — rather, it was an ominously bright red.

“……Huh?”

That sinister red blotch gradually bloomed across the girl’s back. As he looked on, Kevin tilted his head in a comical motion.

It was the first time he had hit his target: to think, the colour would be as realistic as that. Moreover, the girl had yet to move a muscle. Maybe she was diligently pretending to be dead.

Kevin’s thoughts couldn’t catch up with the reality happening right before his eyes. As he stared ahead in a daze, beside him, the elderly nobleman spoke up in horror.

“Kevin-kun……. Was that, a live bullet?”

At that word, Kevin came back to himself. He looked at his revolver: both his hands were trembling abnormally. No way. Just now—— did he fire a real gun?

“Why? This is a toy, isn’t……”

“Give it here.”

Andy snatched the revolver from his hands. The card with the number 8 fluttered in the air. That’s right. Wasn’t it precisely that card which proved definitively that the gun was the one he’d been given? But even that little hope had been so easily crushed.

After briefly inspecting the gun, Andy gazed at him, wide-eyed.

“This is the real thing. You’ve just shot and killed her.”

His tone was emphatic, as if he were pronouncing judgement upon him. Kevin’s mind was a complete blank, but Andy shook his shoulders and immediately jerked him back to reality.

“You’ve done something terrible now, Kevin-kun! To think, you’ve killed your own child!”

“N—No…… I was just, playing a game—”

“That excuse won’t hold up! You’ve committed murder!”

As Andy shook him over and over, the word “murder” echoed in Kevin’s mind. Certainly, it was as the old man said. No matter what reasons he had, it was an unquestionable, irreversible fact that he had killed someone.

Andy went on volubly at a rapid clip.

“This is bad. If you go on like this, it’ll be your end. A murder conviction will strip you of your wealth, your name — everything. But you’re lucky that I’m the one who witnessed it. First off, let’s hide the body somewhere inconspicuous. Then we’ll make it seem as though Helena simply disappeared, and you can hide away in a foreign country. Once the furore dies down, you can come back; until then, leave the plans for your new store with me.”

“N-Now hold on just a minute!”

Even as he was overwhelmed by the force of Andy’s arguments, Kevin somehow managed to interrupt his proposal.

“We don’t know for sure whether she’s dead. If we give her first aid right away, she might still be saved. And what did you mean about leaving my plans for the store with you? What does the management of my store have to do with you?”

Kevin’s points were valid, but Andy refused to listen.

“Look at her! She hasn’t twitched at all: of course she’s dead! And it’s the same with the store! You’re a murder suspect, while I, a noble, am clearly more trustworthy, so it would be obviously more effective if I were to operate it——”

“——You’re getting a little ahead of yourself, Lord Andy.”

As if he’d been possessed by something, Andy was just making an impassioned speech when a refreshing voice cut him off.

Kevin looked up, and caught sight of a man standing behind Andy.

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori #english translation #the girl who sees rainbows

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rhysismydaddy · 3 years

Text

An Artful Revenge pt. 3 (Feysand)

Part of the Damnation Series.

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2

~Feyre~

I spend three days figuring out what to do with the phone number.

On Day 1, I decided I’d text, not call. It was the cowardly thing to do, but the thought of him answering the phone and putting me on the spot made me want to run and hide.

Day 2 had been plain ole procrastination. I’d gone to the museum on the hope he’d be there, but like he’d said, that really was a horrible way of communicating.

Day 3, I decided, was the day of reckoning. I’d text him today.

Shit, did billionaires even text?

Maybe I should send a properly-formatted memo instead.

And what should I even write? Hey seemed too casual. Hi, maybe? How’s your day going? Wanna make out?

Gods, I’m bad at this.

After another two hours of staring at a blank screen, I send: Dinner tonight?

Then, because I realize I’m a fucking idiot: It’s Feyre, btw.

I throw my phone across the room in embarrassment, and put my head in my hands like that’ll unsend the message, then jump the couch like a hurdle when I hear a ding.

And promptly frown when I read: If you’re going to ask me out, you have to call me like an adult.

I can practically hear his the smile in his voice, and I grit my teeth in annoyance.

But I call him anyway.

“Look who grew up,” he says in lieu of hello, voice gravelly and amused.

“Oh, shut up. Do you want to buy me dinner or not?”

He laughs at that, the sound making my lips twitch. “I would love to buy you dinner. But only because I can’t bear the thought of you eating Ramen for the third time this week.”

Narrowing my eyes and glancing around like a fugitive, I try to figure out how the hell he knows I’ve been surviving on reheated, soggy noodles for the past week.

I don’t have the chance to ask before he declares, “I’ll pick you up at six. Oh, and check your doorstep.”

The line clicks dead ominously, and I glance suspiciously at my front door.

Tiptoeing over, I peek outside, eyes going wide when I see a package leaning against the brick side of the building.

How long has that been here? I got the mail yesterday, so it had to come today, but... how did he know I’d call today? Is he Batman or something?

I grab the package, roll my eyes at the big red bow on top, and put it on the counter. Then I pick it back up and shake it like that’ll tell me what he’s up to.

But the curiosity starts to kill me, and I rip into the pretty packaging like a feral animal, unable to wait another second. A shiny black box is inside, and I flip the top open, eyebrows flying up when I look inside.

The dress is blood red and looks fitted and beautiful. But that isn’t what surprises me. It the thin, lacy underwear with a note attached. A note that reads, in Rhysand’s slashy, distinct handwriting, These are optional.

The feminist in me flares, and I decide right then and there to make him eat those words.

When six o’clock comes around, I’m prepped and ready for battle.

My hair is done, my makeup pristine, and the dress is hugging every curve and propping my boobs up to sit nicely on my chest. I don’t typically give myself compliments, but I look damn good. And more than that, I feel good.

I also don’t typically wear bold makeup, but I’ve thrown that rule out the window.

My lips match the dress, a dark, ruby red that makes my skin look pale in comparison. I’m complete shit at eyeliner, but I put enough mascara on to frame my eyes and make the blue pop against the red of my lips and dress.

I look like a mix between a pinup girl and a vampire, basically.

Knowing how punctual he is, as soon as the clock on my phone reads 7:00, I swing the door open and smile broadly.

Rhysand pauses, fist halfway to where the door was, and uses a long moment to take me in. His eyes linger on my lips, the exposed cleavage, the sweep of my hips. His mouth drops open slightly, but before he can speak, I step out and lock the door behind me.

“The problem with your chauvinistic little plan to tell me what to wear, Rhysand,” I tell him, slipping the lace he’d gifted me into his pants pocket and accidently feeling him up, “Is that now you know I’m not wearing any underwear.”

“It was a flawed plan, I admit.” He swallows, eyes narrowing on my hips like he can sense if I’m telling the truth. “But the important thing is to not stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reasons for existing.”

I roll my eyes. “Quoting Einstein now to make yourself feel smart?”

He smiles at that. “Stop calling me on my shit, Feyre. Let’s go.”

I take his hand, happy with myself for winning this round, and let him pull me down the street. He stops in front of a dark, speedy looking car. “Beefcakes busy tonight?”

He gives me a strange look, then laughs loudly. “His name is Rolando.”

Still chuckling, he opens the door for me before walking around to his side. The car’s low to the ground and dark inside, and it makes a loud, rumbling sound when he turns it on.

He grins, almost like he can’t help it, and I laugh. “Boys and their toys.”

Rhysand pulls out of the spot smoothly, driving slowly because of the traffic. He reaches over and puts a hand on my thigh, just below the hem of the dress.

It’s warm and wonderful and casual enough to not mean anything, but I’ve made it my goal tonight to make him cry like a baby, so I swat it away. “Don’t even start.”

“Start what?”

I look over at him and smile sweetly. “Trying to seduce me.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I link our fingers together and rest them on the center consol. “Where are we going?”

“New York.”

My mouth drops open. “Um, what? That’s like a twelve hour drive.”

“We’re not driving.”

I gesture around us with my free hand. “Yes, we are.”

“You are such a little smartass tonight. We are currently driving, but we aren’t driving to New York. And before you ask, the answer is yes.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “To what question?”

“If it’s my plane.”

I drop his hand and throw both of mine up in frustration. “Okay what gives? Did you stick a chip in my head or something?”

He smiles, pulling onto the interstate smoothly. Even though it’s not as crowded, he still drives slower than I’d expected when I saw the car. “Your face is very easy to read.”

“It is not,” I argue, my face instantly finding insult with that statement.

“Yes, it is. I’ll prove it to you. Tell me two truths and a lie, and I bet I can guess which one is the lie.”

“What’s the bet?”

He takes his eyes off the road to give me a very male look. I narrow my eyes, picking up on the innuendo in his gaze, and he laughs.

“And if I win?” I ask, taking in his profile while he drives and trying not to sigh at how handsome he is. Such a nice jawline.

“I’ll answer three of the questions you’re dying to ask.”

Oh, he knows me too well for this. His smile grows because he knows I’m a fish gladly swallowing the hook, but still asks, “Do we have a deal?”

“Deal.”

I take a few minutes to think of facts about myself.

“I had a pet goat when I was little, my best friend’s a lesbian, and I think Mick Jagger is sexy.”

They’re the three most random things I could think of, things he’d have absolutely no way of knowing.

But the damn bastard still says immediately, “Your best friend isn’t a lesbian.”

My mouth drops open because technically, she’s bi, and I make a strangled sound of disbelief that makes him grin. “I told you. You’re a bad liar. Shame, I could tell you really wanted to ask those questions.”

“I hate you,” I tell him, beyond annoyed myself.

He pulls off the highway and turns, leading us out to a dusky private airfield I--shockingly--never knew was behind the airport. Rhysand slows to a stop and looks over at me, then leans slowly to press his lips to mine.

It’s warm and sweet and soft, but I feel it all the way to my toes.

He ruins the moment by murmuring, “I’ll take my reward later, by the way.”

I shove him over to his side of the car and climb out, then realize I don’t know where to go. We’re surrounded by expensive looking planes, one of which is obviously owned by the billionaire trying to get in my pants, but I don’t know which one.

I glance back over my shoulder at him, and he smirks and points at the one to our right.

“Are you seriously taking me to New York?”

I kind of thought he’d been joking, but he nods. “My favorite restaurant is there.”

“You're ridiculous.”

“More like hungry,” he argues, holding out a hand to gesture up the open steps leading in the plane.

I stay where I am, casting a curious glance up the stairs. It looks nice and shiny in there, but no matter how nice and shiny, it’s basically a steel death trap.

Even though I can feel his eyes on me and desperately want to hide this fact about myself, I can’t step up.

And because he’s an observant little asshole, he notices. “You’re afraid to fly.”

“Um, well, not afraid-”

“You’ve never flown before.”

I nod, blushing from embarrassment. I mean, it’s obvious he flies all the time if he has his own plane, and I’m small town enough to have never even been in one.

“Don’t be embarrassed. My first time flying was three years ago, Feyre.”

My face must look doubtful, because he nods. “I’m serious. I never saw the point until a business rivalry made me feel inadequate. I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable. We can go somewhere else.”

He’s sweet to offer, but... I want to go. I’ve never been to New York, and when am I going to get an offer like this again?

“I’m... uh... are you sure about this thing?” I reach out and grab the handle of the stairs, shaking it to see if it’ll fall off or something.

“Yes.”

There’s no argument, no doubt in his voice. And I know it’s irrational, but-

Strong arms wrap around my waist and heft me up, and I yelp as Rhysand flings me over his shoulder and my head comes very close to his ass. “What are you doing?”

“Kidnapping you. You obviously want to go, and I’d hate to miss the reservations.”

“Rhysand, wait, hold on a second.” He ignores me entirely and walks up the stairs and inside the plane, even stopping to shake hands with the pilot. I’m dropped in a plush chair, and before I can object, a seatbelt is around my waist.

“See?” He gestures around. “Like a living room.”

“In the sky!”

He shrugs like that’s an irrelevant detail, looking back over his shoulder and gesturing again to the pilot. I peek around him to see the door seal closed, then the gentle-looking man disappears in the control room.

“He’s the one flying this thing?” I mean, he looked competent enough, but...

I start freaking out.

Rhysand slips his jacket off, throwing it over the back of a seat before sliding into it, gentle grace and luxury lining his every movement. His eyes roam over me slowly, and I can tell he’s about to try and distract me before he even says, “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks,” I pant back, gripping the arms of the seat with white knuckles.

Plan A having failed, he swiftly moves onto B. “Are you really not wearing underwear?”

B, I have to admit, does a decent job of momentarily distracting me from my inevitable death. “I thought you said I’m easy to read.”

He smirks. “Tell me anyway. I won the bet, remember?”

“I remember you never specified the terms, so-”

I cut myself off as the plane starts rolling, and if I had half a mind to care, I’d worry my painted nails are about to bust through the soft leather of his chair.

I feel like fucking throwing up or stabbing him or running far away or crying.

Rhysand, on the other hand, looks completely relaxed, sprawled casually in the seat across from me.

The plane makes a slow turn, then pauses. Apprehension sweeps over me, and I groan and look at the ceiling.

“Allow me to rectify that horrible mistake. My prize is... a kiss.”

Despite the nausea, I raise a brow and looks at him suspiciously. “You want to kiss me? That’s it?”

“Mmhm. Right now. Close your eyes.”

“But the plane-”

He shrugs and waves a hand. “Just close your eyes, love.”

I shut up and close my eyes, slightly pursing my lips and waiting patiently. I hear a shuffle, feel the warmth of his body come close to mine. My breath draws shallow in anticipation, goosebumps appearing on my arms.

There’s another pause, and I’m about to open my eyes to see where he went, but then the plane attempts to break the sound barrier and takes off, and I’m thrown back against the seat.

At the same time, I feel a kiss on the inside of my knee.

My eyes fly open to find Rhysand kneeling in front of me, hands bracketing my thighs. I open my mouth to say something, but he growls, “Close. Your. Eyes.”

The frank demand in his voice gives me no option, and as soon as I do, he kisses my thigh again in reward.

“Now spread your legs.”

The plane goes faster and faster. “Rhysand...”

He sighs, a long-suffering sound that makes me giggle as I once again do what he wants. I mean, really, why was I even hesitating?

It’s obvious what he’s doing, and even though it’s not safe in the slightest, I’m well on board with the idea.

His hands move to my knees, then glide up, pushing the tight hem of the dress up. He’s pressing open-mouth kisses to my thighs as he goes, and then his hands slide up another inch, and my lack of undergarments are revealed.

“Fuck, Feyre,” he says, like my going commando was my idea, not his.

I’m about to point that out when he leans forward and put his mouth on me. At the same time the plane lifts off the ground.

I’m torn between panic and ecstasy. The combination makes me light headed, and a rush of adrenaline hits my system, making me gasp.

I try to sit up straighter in the seat, but he’s holding my hips in a death grip and pulls them the other way. I slide down, thighs falling further open. He slips his shoulders under them, completely in control of the situation, and all I can do is grip his hair and enjoy the ride.

His mouth is insistent and confident against me and makes me finally stop thinking about dying in a fiery plane crash.

He slides a hand up my thigh, somehow able to hold me still with just one, then presses a finger inside me. I groan and pull on his hair, squirming underneath his grip, but it’s useless.

Rhysand holds tight, his strong hands preventing me from moving, as he devours me completely. I make a helpless sound, but he doesn’t take mercy.

I think, instead of the crash, I’ll die from this instead.

I think I’ll just burn and burn and burn from the fire he’s ignited in my blood.

His name slips past my lips, and he pauses, then becomes even more demanding. I’m being adored, worshipped, eaten like a ice cream sundae.

Another finger slips inside me as his mouth sucks softly, and I come with a cry, practically strangling him with my thighs.

He keeps moving, kissing me softly, until my thighs go limp and I fall back into the seat with a huff.

He leans back on his heels, hands braced on my thighs, and runs his tongue across his lower lip in a way that makes me almost come again. Realization of what he just did courses through me, and I blush, well aware that my lady bits are still on display.

“Flying isn’t so bad after all.”

Rhysand laughs, pressing one last kiss to my knee before gently pulling my dress back into place. Then he sits back in his seat, crosses his legs, and looks me over slowly.

“Well, that was definitely a faulty plan, because now I don’t even want to go to dinner.”

“No?”

“No.”

The heat in his gaze sends a thrill through me, because suddenly, I don’t even care about New York. I want him to land this plane and take me home and give me a repeat of what just happened.

But now it’s abundantly clear that if I went home with him, I wouldn’t walk out with my sanity. So, once again a coward, I deflect. “Well, too bad. I’m hungry.”

He says something I can’t quite hear, the way he looks at me tells me not to ask.

“How long is the flight?”

He checks his watch. “About another half hour.” My mind wanders to very... creative ways we could fill that time, and I blush again. “I’m curious to know what you’re thinking about over there.”

His smile says he knows, so I look him over like he often does me and say softly, “I’m thinking about returning the favor.”

His eyes flare, his mind easily following mine, but he maintains his composure. “A half hour isn’t nearly enough time if we start going down that road.”

It takes me more than a second to figure out how to breathe again. “How much time would we need?”

“Days.”

Oh, holy hell.

I’m about to tell him to keep us in the air that long, but he winks and looks away, then presses a button on a remote I hadn’t noticed he was holding. A classy looking woman in a red skirt and matching blouse comes out of the cockpit, wheeling an ice bucket and holding two glasses.

“Good evening,” she says quietly, looking at me kindly but avoiding eye contact with Rhysand entirely as she pours us both champagne. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

Then she’s gone.

I’m about to sip from my glass, but he reaches out and switches his with mine.

Immediately, I steal my original glass back. “I’m not getting poisoned because you pissed her off.”

“What makes you think I pissed her off?”

“She couldn’t even look at you.”

His lips twitch. “I know you’ll find this strange, but some people find me intimidating.”

I scoff, a very ladylike sound, and take a gulp of the champagne. Noticing he still hasn’t drank any of his, I take his glass and sip from it with a raised brow. “Are you going to let me die alone?”

He rolls his eyes and calls me a smartass but drinks from his glass anyway.

“Why are you always so sure someone’s trying to kill you, anyway?”

There’s a long pause, and he seems to be debating if he’s actually going to tell me before he responds, “I have a lot of enemies, Feyre.”

He sounds so unusually serious, like he’s just told me something important.

“I don’t,” I tell him with a sigh, suddenly irritated with my normal life. “I think I’ve grown a bit boring, actually. No one hates me, and I never even have to worry about being poisoned.”

Rhysand chuckles and gives me a strange look. “You’re not boring. And never worrying about being murdered isn’t a terrible thing.”

“I’m boring. I can’t even lie properly.”

“That,” he laughs, “I can’t argue with.”

“New game: I say something, and you guess if it’s a lie. No betting this time.”

He sighs but nods and gives me a get on with it gesture.

Keeping my face completely neutral and making sure my fingers aren’t twitching or any other obvious give away, I say, “I have two sisters.”

“True.”

I narrow my eyes, but take a deep breath and keep my cool. “I tried to learn Italian last summer.”

“Also true, but I’m willing to bet it went poorly.”

A laugh escapes me at that. “It was horrible. I’m complete shit at the accent.” I try to think of other facts about myself and come up short. Gods, I really am boring, aren’t I?

“I’ve never been in love.”

His eyes scan my face. “That’s a lie.”

“It is,” I confirm, looking at his chin and wondering why I even said that in the first place.

He ducks to catch my gaze. “Your ex?”

We’re getting into dangerous territory--even I know you don’t discuss your ex-boyfriend this early in the game--but he doesn’t seem upset or stressed or jealous. He looks... curious. So I shrug and nod.

“What happened?”

Taking another large gulp of champagne, I say, “He wanted to get married, I didn’t. I loved him, but... he was older and wanted something I just wasn’t ready to give him. And then he moved, and I got over it.”

Rhysand’s silent for a beat, a muscle in his jaw twitching, then nods like he understands. “Older, huh? You have a type.”

I laugh at the thought of the two of them being anything alike. “You couldn’t look more different from my ex. And you refused to actually tell me how old you are. ”

He sighs. “I’m seven years older than you.”

Quick math has never been my strong suit, but I figure it out eventually, my mouth dropping open when I do. “You’re twenty-eight?”

He nods in confirmation, and I proceed to lose my mind.

“Just twenty-eight? As in two eight, twenty-eight?”

Another nod, along with a very strange look.

I realize I’m acting just a little bizarre, so I shake my head to clear it and say, “You’re... very impressive, Rhysand.”

When I’m twenty-eight, I’ll probably be just another starving artist, looking for a museum to hire me as a curator and begging people to buy my paintings. I’ll be broke and will have developed an allergy to Ramen from how much I’ll be eating it.

I definitely won’t be a gazillionaire with a private art collection and enough real estate to own half the city of Chicago.

He shrugs uncomfortably, like my bewilderment isn’t deserved, and I can’t resist the temptation to tease him. “You also suck at taking compliments.”

“Yes,” he admits. “But so do you.”

“What? No, I don’t.”

He smiles and braces his elbows on his knees and immediately proceeds to prove me wrong. “You’re far more impressive than me. You’re gorgeous and talented and have a way of looking at the world that makes me feel like I haven’t lived a day of my life properly.”

I blush furiously and look at the ceiling of our death trap, wildly uncomfortable all of a sudden. “You’ve proved your point.”

Rhysand laughs, then glances at his watch. “We should be on the ground soon.”

Almost like he spoke it into being, the plane dips and a mechanical whirring sound meets my ears. Is that supposed to happen? “Oh, fucking hell, you’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

“You did try to poison me.”

I give him a nasty look and mutter, “So fucking ridiculous, flying to another city for dinner. Next time, we’re going to Taco Bell.”

He rolls his eyes at my antics, unbuckling and moving to sit next to me. His hand slides into mine, warm and comforting, and I grab onto it like child child running from the boogeyman. His thumb runs over the back of my hand, and I sigh, leaning to put my head on his shoulder.

“Thanks for the dress,” I finally say, remembering my manners.

“It looks good on you. Like I said, I have excellent taste.”

I smile. “I’m waiting on dinner to confirm or deny that.”

Suddenly, there’s a large sound and a bump, then I’m leaning forward as the plane comes screeching to a halt. I press my eyes shut and squeeze the shit out of his hand, but he just keeps running his thumb along my skin, silently comforting me.

The plane comes to an eventual stop, and I peek open my eyes to see him grinning down at me. “Welcome to New York, Feyre darling.”

A week after our soiree to the Big Apple, I decide I have a problem.

I like Rhysand way too much to have only known him three weeks.

He’s all I fucking think about.

Which, I guess, isn’t a problem. Being swept off your feet is every little girl’s dream. But it’s getting harder and harder to resist sleeping with him.

I’ve been wined and dined and given searing kisses that make my toes curl, not to mention the whole incident on the airplane, but we haven’t actually had sex. Honestly, I thought I’d cave on the way back from New York, but I ended up passing out in a food coma before the plane even took off, my head nestled in the happy spot between his shoulder and neck.

I definitely want to sleep with him, so much so it makes my eyes cross just thinking about it, but it just scares me how much I like him.

And I know sleeping with him would just make me like him more.

I need a breather, need to get my distance and keep my head or whatever the saying is. I need to calm the fuck down, basically.

So I, being a mature adult, decide to avoid him.

I make it five days.

Five days of missed calls and intentionally unseen smoke signals.

Then he apparently decides to stoop to my level and figure out how to text, because five days after the most extravagant dinner date of my life, my phone dings.

If you ignore one more of my calls, I’m going to buy Dancers in Blue and light it on fire.

I spend exactly eighty-three seconds debating if he’s serious. I mean... surely not, right? I know he’s richer than sin, but he wouldn’t just burn fifty million dollars.

Right?

Rational thought and self preservation be damned, I pick up the phone when it starts to ring.

“That, Rhysand, was emotional manipulation.”

“Yes, it was.” He’s shameless. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not.” I don’t know why I bother lying, since I’m apparently such shit at it, but I do. “I’ve been busy.”

Yes, very busy with watching nine movies in the past four days.

“With...?”

Inspiration dawns. “My senior project.”

“Oh, really?” A nervous sweat breaks out across my back at the knowing tone of his voice, and I begin to doubt my genius. “What’s the subject?”

“Uh, well-”

“Now that we’ve reestablished you’re a horrible liar, tell me what’s really going on.”

If he were here, I’d strangle him.

Or maybe kiss him.

“I need a few days,” I mutter, upset with myself for being an open book.

“Why?”

His simple question makes me think he doesn’t want space. Is he as into me as I am to him? Is that even possible?

“Because I like you,” I say honestly, having learned my lesson about lying.

Rhysand’s quiet for a long moment, then he chuckles. “I see the issue.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. Answer the door.”

What? “There’s no one at the door.”

At least there shouldn’t be, because I didn’t invite anyone over.

“Incorrect.”

Eyes already narrowed, I stomp over and fling the door open, practically ripping it off its hinges in my frustration. He’s leaning against the brick stoop, looking sexier than socks on a rooster in a midnight blue shirt and black slacks, smiling at me.

“You are not allowed to avoid me just because you like me,” he states, brushing past me without invitation.

“What do you think you’re doing here?”

He kisses my brow. “I like you, too.”

“Okay, but-”

“And I have cake.” He holds up a clear box, allowing me a glimpse of the fluffy chocolate deliciousness inside.

It’s almost annoying how well he knows me, because chocolate cake is my vice.

I try to think of another protest that won’t que him in to why I’m actually scared, but he cuts me off because of course, he already knows. “I won’t touch you, I promise. Even if you ask.”

My lips twitch. “Even if I ask?”

“Even if you beg,” he states with confidence, strolling into the kitchen like he owns the place. He looks around, face not giving a single detail away as he takes in everything.

Thankfully, I’m not a slob, so the place isn’t dirty, but it’s definitely not a penthouse apartment.

It’s a tiny old townhouse, barely big enough to even be called that. The water is lukewarm, never hot, and I had to just take the smoke detector out of the ceiling so it would stop beeping.

It’s part of my scholarship, and compared to where most college students live, it’s a dream, so I don’t complain.

His eyes roam over half-done canvases and art supplies, pictures of my sisters, random shit I don’t have the heart to throw away.

I sigh and bump him aside with a hip so I can grab two forks, then motion for him to follow me. We head into the living room, and I flop onto the couch dramatically, then motion for him to hand me the cake.

Sitting next to me with far more class, he flips open the lid and hands me a fork. “Chocolate mousse.”

“I’m going to be three hundred pounds if you keep feeding me,” I warn as I take a bite, not at all concerned with that possibility.

“I think you’ll be fine.”

I grab the remote and flip through movies, eventually sighing in defeat and putting on Scarface.

“Seriously?” he asks around a mouthful of cake, fighting a smile.

“It’s my favorite movie, and nothing good’s on anyway.”

He looks at me like I’m the most amusing thing he’s ever come across, but settles down and flings an arm around me. Fighting the urge to tell him this breaks his whole ‘no touching’ rule, I snuggle into his side.

Maybe it’s the cake, or the fact that I’m horrible at staying awake through a movie past eight o’clock, but I drift off to sleep, my face pressed into his chest.

~Rhysand~

I finish the movie--fucking Scarface--even though she fell asleep a while ago.

She’s soft and warm against me, body relaxed into mine without an ounce of hesitation.

She tried to hide it, but I know why she didn’t want to see me.

She’s falling for me.

Which, technically, is the plan.

Technically, everything is going great.

Except she’s fucking worming her way into my heart too. Which is so goddamn annoying, it makes me want to strangle her. Or maybe kiss her.

Being with her is... a wonderful kind of torture.

She’s beautiful and charming and doesn’t look at me with an ounce of fear in her bright blue eyes, but it’s also like holding up a mirror that shows me the worst parts of myself.

I hear her laugh and am reminded of the last time I laughed and loved freely. I see her beautiful soul and compare it to the bleakness of my own.

I look at her blind innocence and force myself to not care that I’ll be the one who robs her of it.

Maybe that’s why I finish the movie. I give myself two hours to sit here and enjoy her company, two hours where she doesn’t hate me or curse the day I was born.

But then the credits role, and I have to pull my head our of my ass and get on with it, no matter how much I don’t want to.

Moving slowly so she doesn’t stir, I lift her into my arms. She wraps her arms around my neck, fingers playing in the hair at my nape, and sighs happily.

I wish she wouldn’t do shit like that.

I wish she was heartless and cruel and cold.

I make my way up the creaky stairs to her room, then put her on the unmade bed, the covers horribly messy around her. The moonlight coming through the open window illuminates her skin and allows me to see how vulnerable she looks.

She’s in tiny little shorts that shouldn’t be legal, and a thin white shirt that does absolutely nothing to hide what’s underneath. Her hair’s a mess around her, her lips are parted, and there’s a calm, peaceful look on her face.

It’s perfect.

It’s horrible.

Taking a deep breath and running a hand through my hair, I tell myself not to care.

But as I take out my phone and snap a picture, my hands still shake.

And as I type the message I’ve been mentally drafting for years, I feel like I’m going to be sick.

But as much as I hate myself for it, a feeling of victory shoots through me as I hit send. Revenge, it seems, really is sweet.

And I’m just getting started.

___________________________________________

Part 4

@perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @elorcan-trash @januarystears @emikadreams @alpha-omegas @joyceortiz13 @sapphic-beauty @meowsekai @ahappyhistorianreader @courtofjurdan @acalypsot @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @shinya-hiiragi @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @bamchickawowow @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

#feysand #feysand fanfiction #feyre archeron #feyre x rhys #rhysand #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acomaf #acowar #acofas #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury

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shadeswift99 · 3 years

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Team ZIT Ghostbusters AU!

Discord ideas. Of course they’re discord ideas. (paraphrased from a Discord discussion)

- Zedaph is the one who started the ghostbusting crew. Impulse is the one who went along with it because his normal job is boring and he's had haunt-y experiences before that he wants to confirm were real. Tango is the guy who didn't believe at all but they dragged him along because he's the only one with a car

- Tango keeps somehow missing any and all real ghost encounters (”Come on man, you HAD to have seen that!” “I was in the bathroom!”)

- The few ghost encounters he actually has. he still manages to excuse as something else for a really long time (”Jerk in a costume” “Weather balloon” “Firework show gone wrong” “Hallucination” “Water reflection”, etc.)

- He eventually has to admit that ghosts are real, but he keeps up the bit with the others because he thinks it’s funny

- the others start to wonder why he’s so dedicated to convincing them that ghosts aren’t real in spite of their very real encounters. They start to wonder if Tango himself is a ghost

- He is not. Hilarity ensues

- Zed and Impulse start setting ghost traps around the office, but the ever-oblivious Tango keeps accidentally avoiding them. Zed and Impulse then activate them themselves while looking for flaws in the design.

- About two thirds of their calls are just old people who are freaked out and kinda lonely, they're good at reassuring them and "thoroughly checking" for any “ghosts” to put them at ease

- Beetlejhost was one of these calls, it was supposed to be nothing! They were convinced it was nothing! And it was nothing, until Tango and Impulse went into the hall for their customary "check" and got insulted up and down by a nerd-looking guy in a striped suit.They like to think they let him come with them, but really, he just wouldn't leave. He is Weirdly resistant to all their ghostbusting measures

- Eventually they just stop trying to get rid of him

- Zed and impulse eventually ask him if Tango is a ghost, he gives an incredibly cryptic answer that those two interpret as a yes

- The eventual confrontation about Tango's theoretical ghost-ness starts out ridiculous, but gets more serious. Impulse and Zedaph start listing the reasons why they think he's a ghost - he's weirdly insistent that ghosts aren't real, he hasn't told them anything about his life, they never really see him arrive or leave from the office...eventually Tango kind of snaps and shouts at them that he's not a ghost! He just doesn't have many other places to go, okay? They don't bring it up again

- However. There are a few weird things around the office that they cite as evidence that Tango can't explain. He didn't open that door that they always leave closed. He couldn't have boiled water in the kettle that's been broken for six months. He isn't the reason why their reflection in every mirror is wearing a different facial expression than they are.

- They would suspect the Beetlejhost, but the strangeness started long before he got there

- They bought the office for cheap because nobody else would buy it. The story is that the landlord was murdered there a decade ago, and he still hasn't left the place, making sure all of the new tenants are treating it well and punishing them if they don't. The three didn't really put much stock in that. It's a myth, right? Urban legend. Happens all the time. Surely the ripped and slightly bloodied vest they found in the attic has a perfectly reasonable and natural explanation.

- Honestly, their resident ghost buddies (both known and unknown) are probably the only reason they haven’t been attacked by ghosts in their own office yet. As annoying as they can be, they make pretty good protection from incorporeal intruders.

- “Ghosts try to fuck with them and are met with a ripped dude and a nerd in a suit, both looking quite angry”

- They only really realize that the Beetlejhost isn't the only ghostly officemate when large amounts of their post-mission pizza start disappearing

- Impulse starts "accidentally" leaving things out just to see what happens to them. He leaves out a Rubix cube to see if it's solved by the morning. It isn't, but it has been thrown out the window.

- Skizz has never had to learn how to physically appear before. He's never really wanted to. The living world kind of screwed him over, so he doesn't feel like he owes them anything other than ominously lurking just beyond the mortal plane. However, to these people, he kind of thinks he might want to make himself known. They seem...okay. Ish. Maybe. No promises.

- Maybe at first, he just talks (suddenly, in the middle of the night, in a way that just about gives Impulse a heart attack of course)

- Eventually, the Beetlejhost teaches him how to make himself visible. (Of course he knew Skizz was there the whole time)

- He still mostly keeps to himself - not used to being friendly yet - but when he does choose to show up to team game night, an extra bit of company is always welcome. (plus it's someone to keep the Beetlejhost from cheating by phasing through the table and looking at the cards)

- Beetlejhost comes with them on missions, but Skizz is more or less bound to the building

- The Beetlejhost usually just sings and/or laughs at them, but he's gotten them out of a good few tight spots on occasion with Ghost Negotiations. After all, he doesn’t really want them to get hurt

- As distant and mischievous as Skizz can be, really, he doesn't want them to get hurt either. They take good care of the building and they're the first real friends he's had in 15 years so why would he want them gone? So, he does his part to help them whenever he can

- One time one of the more dangerous ghosts decided that possessing Impulse was a good idea. They subdued him and took him back to the office to figure out what to do with him, but they didn't have to. Skizz basically just yelled at the ghost until it left.

- Speaking of possessed, Tango has a strange talent for coming under the control of ghostly forces. Usually it’s pretty easy to get the ghost to leave, though, so it’s okay - and hey, at least it left him with some nifty red eyes!

- And yes, Tango does get possessed when he still thinks ghosts aren’t real. And no, that does not convince him.

- He has to wear sunglasses sometimes so they don’t get kicked out of places, but he usually just lets the eyes show and becomes the most badass person in the Walmart

- Zedaph and Tango try to ask Skizz how he died sometimes. It’s a bit of a touchy subject, but of course he chooses humour instead of just saying that. Zed and Tango continue to insist that “saw your mom’s face and died from shock and horror” isn’t a valid death explaination

- Skizz doesn’t want to talk about his death because he was killed by someone he trusted. A "friend" did something bad and wanted to use Skizz's place to hide from the cops, but Skizz didn't agree and didn't want that on his hands. He tried to convince the friend that if he turned himself in he would get a lighter sentence, but the friend killed him in anger. Notice how I said earlier that the crew are the first real friends he's had in 15 years, but he's only been dead for 10

- Skizz isn't really interested in getting that person caught, he just wants to make sure nobody uses his place for bad stuff after he died. That’s his unfinished business.

- Of course, the crew sometimes gets called in to take care of things that are not, in fact, ghosts, to varying results. One time a guy (whose name might have been Mumbo) called them in to ghost-vacuum his living roommate (who might be called Grian) who was just being annoying. They didn’t, of course, but only because Impulse said it would be wrong. Their other roommate (Iskall) gave them a tip and apologized for his idiot besties

- While they didn't vacuum Grian, Zed and Tango are still curious about what happens if they vacuum a living person

- Tango now has to figure out how to delicately and calmly phrase "Skizz please help oh god Zed's soul is stuck in the vacuum cleaner"

Please feel free to send me questions, I am enjoying this way more than I should be :)

#hermitblr #tangotek #impulsesv #Zedaph #Skizzleman #team ZIT #team ZITS #ehehehehehe AU go brr #shade rambles #Hermitcraft

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makeste · 3 years

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BnHA Chapter 304: The Council of OFA

Previously on BnHA: Hawks and Best Jeanist were all, “what up Todofam, we are here to apply for the positions of ‘son #4’ and ‘weird uncle’, respectively,” and then proceeded to insert themselves into the family drama without waiting for an answer. Hawks briefed Endeavor on the nation’s current status of “totally fucked”, promised to help him sort that out, and then asked him about OFA. Endeavor was all, “oh do you mean One For All, the mysterious thing that my intern Deku was apparently being targeted for?” and then we cut away, presumably before Endeavor could clarify that it never occurred to him to follow up on that, and Hawks was all “no of course not, why would it occur to anyone other than me to follow up on any of this super weird and ominously important shit.” Anyway so meanwhile Bakugou was all “LET ME SCREAM AT DEKU UNTIL HE WAKES UP” and the other kids were all “NO”, and then the chapter ended with All Might being all “I wonder what the vestige!me is currently chatting with Deku about.”

Today on BnHA: Deku drops in on the Vestiges, who are all “sup Deku, how do you like our fancy chairs.” OFA II and III are all “if you need us we’ll just be standing here silently in the corner pretending to be invisible and sparking endless discourse with our mere existence.” OFA IV is all “and now I will explain to you in a very convoluted way that you being quirkless was actually a good thing, since it means that you are probably not going to suddenly drop dead at the age of twenty. But also you’re probably going to be the last user of OFA for that very same reason.” Deku is all “that is wild. I’m just gonna stand here and stare at my hand.” Nana is all “so now that that’s settled could you please do me a small favor and kill my grandson for me”, because having just one topic to discourse about this week WASN’T ENOUGH, apparently. Thanks so much Horikoshi.

(ETA: okay so just a note before I start, this week’s RHA translation was a huge mess, so I followed up this chapter by reading a couple of other translations. the main one I’m using for reference is the one by @hanashimas, whose weekly posts I highly recommend. anyway so you’ll see a couple of ETAs in this post in places where the initial translation was off.)

how many layers of bandages did they wrap this poor kid’s fucking hand in omg

jesus Deku. are you holding onto a bouquet of flowers under that thing?? or a tennis racket??

omg yes, finally

is he reading these names off a teleprompter lol. and if so, what has Jeanist ever done to slight you, Deku? “god bless Kacchan and Aizawa-sensei and Todoroki-kun and everyone else in the whole wide world... except for Best Jeanist. fuck that guy.” actually this joke would be funnier if half of tumblr didn’t legit feel that way lol but anyway

OH MY GOD

I NEED TO HAVE A TALK TOO. ABOUT, OH, EVERYTHING

I got immediate KHR vibes from ALL OF THIS. this is seriously such a Vongola aesthetic. “let’s use the luxuriously cushioned chairs with the seat backs that are ten feet high, and arrange all of the handsome ghost people in a big circle” like come on

that said there are also some slight LoTR vibes as well. “bring forth the ring, Deku”

I like how Six is sitting there with his feet drawn up all casual, but with his arms inexplicably sticking STRAIGHT OUT IN FRONT OF HIM and dangling over his knees like he’s doing some sort of zombie walk

apparently the Fourth wasn’t a big fan of shoes huh

interesting that All Might is the only one who’s still faint/indistinct, and and that Two and Three are fully visible

(ETA: the rest of my speculation about Two and Three has been moved into a separate post, the better to focus on the shit that’s actually happening in this chapter lol.)

and lastly, interesting that all of them are talking now, except for All Might (and I guess the Second and Third as well). to the best of my knowledge Deku hasn’t unlocked the Sixth’s quirk yet, so I guess the quirks don’t really have anything to do with it

oh and it looks like Deku’s mouth is still covered. I guess that’s convenient for the vestiges since we all know it’s hard to stop Deku once he gets going. but on the other hand it’s very inconvenient for people like me who wanted to see some interaction. alas

so First says that OFA’s power has grown a lot in the last four months (i.e. since Deku unlocked Blackwhip), and now the vestiges can communicate with each other as well as Deku

so even when Deku’s not around they can all just chill with each other. this is such a weird thing to me lol. like it’s cool, don’t get me wrong, but it’s also strange as hell to know that you’ve got eight other people hanging out in your head spying on everything you do and having conversations with each other about it. it would be like if Dark Shadow had someone to hang out with other than Tokoyami. good thing you weren’t triplets, Tokoyami

First says that it’s become easier for the vestiges to interact with Deku ever since TomurAFO barged into the OFA Domain back at Jakku. huh

(ETA: apparently this is because AFO forcibly pulled out OFA’s power when he was trying to steal the quirk, so I guess that makes sense.)

okay thank you Banjou for addressing this concern which I initially brought up as a joke, but which was apparently real enough for you to reassure Deku about

“don’t worry, even though we’re awake and hanging out inside of you at all times, we’re definitely not secretly watching and making fun of every single thing you do” hmmmmm

(ETA: “not that you could do anything about it even if we were, since you’re probably going to be the last OFA holder ever!” I don’t trust anything this asshole says lmao.)

OH SHIT??

YESSS DEKU now you can hold them accountable for all of their bullshit! because I do not doubt that there will be bullshit lol but let’s see how that goes

oh damn

well okay then. you didn’t have to stand up and walk over to him and loom all threateningly like that but okay sir

this guy has kind of a Kimimaro vibe to him. remember? that bone-growing guy from Naruto? except I’m pretty sure he had eyebrows. and wasn’t twenty feet tall. speaking of which, that explains the chairs

why are you wearing only 3/5ths of a shirt

lol what

someone’s gonna have to explain this to me. is he just redundant or something lol, or is he strangely poetical or what

(ETA: apparently HE’S MAKING A PUN omg. I immediately gained +10 love for him lol. also it flows a lot better in Japanese. this is one of the things Caleb is usually good at, so we’ll see what he does with the wordplay.)

omg the hermit theory is true!!

“I’M NOT WEIRD, IT’S SOCIETY WHICH IS WEIRD.” lol whatever you say buddy. also love how Banjou tried to give him a big hearty slap on the back but Hermit Boy was not having it lmao

IS HE TRYING TO CAPTURE HIM WITH BLACKWHIP

AND ACTUALLY, NO, SIR, AS A MATTER OF FACT, WE ARE NOT AWARE. SO SPILL!!

?!!?

okay my first response was LOL ARE YOU SERIOUS, THAT’S THE BIG SECRET!? -- and then it hit me what the significance of “died from old age... AT AGE FORTY” meant. at which point it was like “!!!!!” and then “OH, SHIT”

(ETA: there’s also an Iida joke here somewhere but I’m just too tired to make it.)

oh my god oh my god

did he somehow get a copy of the coroner’s report or something? like how does he even know that he died from “old age” as opposed to any number of other natural causes? ??

but anyway. so this is the quirk singularity coming into play then I guess. but then how come All Might is still alive and ticking?

(ETA: so this is one example of where this week’s translation is a mess lol. apparently the Fourth explains here that he didn’t know what the fuck he died from until All Might researched it. and it turns out there actually was an autopsy lol so there you go.)

so Fourth says he held OFA for eighteen years, and since he knew he would never be strong enough to defeat AFO on his own he basically just spent all his time punching rocks in the woods and training to power the quirk up

oh shit

is he implying that his body literally fell apart?? like that’s how he got the scars on his face? -- IS THAT WHAT KEEPS HAPPENING TO TOMURA, THEN. oh shit

DUDE

so you’re telling me that this quirk actively shortens the lifespan of anyone who uses it?? and my little boy here has had it now for a year already?? fuck me, I have immediately have a TON of thoughts about all this but let me save it until he’s done with his explanation

THANK YOU, DEKU

right?? how come All Might didn’t die then. even after he got injured. please don’t tell me he actually is dying still and is just being slow about it because I SWEAR TO GOD

what does this mean??

so what you’re trying to say is you all have NO FUCKING IDEA how long Deku’s gonna be able to hold this quirk before he SUDDENLY DROPS DEAD?! five generations ago this dude was able to hold it for eighteen years, and then four generations later All Might was able to hold it for thirty-odd years or so, and now Deku has it and you all have no clue which way it’s gonna go? actually this makes it sound like it really wasn’t OFA that killed the Fourth at all and you guys are just really bad at forming hypotheses. but since you’re making a big plot point out of it I guess it must be true

and don’t think I didn’t notice the part where you said you didn’t have OFA very long and then “died while fighting”, Firsto. I want to hear more about that. specifically who you passed the quirk onto before your death

and yes, if we are agreeing that OFA was the cause of the Fourth’s death, then the conclusion on this next page is the natural one to draw

so that’s a bit of a relief then, because Deku is quirkless too. so it means he won’t be able to hold OFA forever (and will probably have to find another quirkless person to pass it on to), but at least he won’t be randomly dying out of the blue next Tuesday or something

oh my god now he’s talking about OFA and AFO and user consciousnesses and all sorts of good theory stuff but it’s so much exposition. you’re really gonna make me read all this lol

wait what. why would All Might being quirkless have anything to do with the presence of his vestige in OFA Outer Space Party Land

but Deku is also quirkless and he’s clearly visible and chatting with you guys. so what gives. like how much of this is verified fact and how much of it is you guys just shrugging and making stuff up lol

SERIOUSLY, GUYS

BUT DEKU IS ALSO -- you know what, never mind sob. none of this shit makes any sense but whatever

(ETA: seriously, this all seems like an awful lot of speculation on their part. for Deku’s sake I sure hope they’re right.)

FSSKDJFLSKLKJLKJL ALL MIGHT IS FIFTY-FIVE?!

lol that’s a full ten years past my closest estimate, wow. but this pretty much confirms his age now at last! or at least confirms it within a couple of years, because we know All Might and Nana met when he was in middle school, and he presumably had the quirk by the time he took the U.A. entrance exam. so yeah. gonna go with fifty-five

so they think that because All Might was quirkless, OFA was better able to adapt to his body and became his true quirk, as opposed to being an extra quirk that stacked on top of the one he already had and overwhelmed him. ties in back to the whole “AFO used to bend people to his will by forcing quirks on them” thing, as well as the “Noumus are all mindless because of the strain of having multiple quirks”

Two and Three are really ruining the serious vibe of this scene here lol

they look like they’re doing the counting for hide and seek

and is this Deku talking now? I was about to get mad at First for implying that quirkless people are somehow freaks, as opposed to “normal” people jdslk

so in other words, don’t go giving it to your best friend all casually for shits and giggles, Deku. even if it would make a really cool climax for a movie. well shit. maybe that’s why they were so quick to nope back into Deku’s body afterward

so First says that because quirkless people are becoming rarer and rarer, the fact that All Might just happened to stumble upon Deku is “nothing short of a miracle.” which, yeah, that was definitely a stroke of luck there. being quirkless saved his life. but being quirkless is also part of why he was chosen in the first place, and we’ve always known that much

“in other words, kiddo...”

looks like there was some hurried clone stamp usage going on here lol. but props to RHA as always for putting this scan out so fast, especially given how exposition-heavy this week’s chapter has been

“anyways, that was the main topic” ARE YOU SERIOUS. there are like ten other topics imma need you all to get to here, people

(ETA: seems like this is a mistranslation; the line should actually read something more along the lines of “and now for the main topic.”)

FFFFFFFFF

“ENJOY YOUR CLIFFHANGER THIS WEEK.” dskfalkjlkjwlgkjl you really went and dumped this discourse on us yet again. fucking...

(ETA: forgot to mention, but as several people mentioned, this seems to be another mistranslation -- rather than asking Deku to kill Tomura as though it’s doing her a personal favor, Nana is asking “will you be able to do it.” in other words more of an “are you capable of doing it” type of thing. which is a very reasonable question to ask given that Deku is, well, Deku.)

anyways, and the answer is obviously going to be “no” of course. this isn’t going to end any differently than when the previous Avatars all told Aang to kill Ozai. but I guess it means we’re in for a fun conversation next week

so Nana looks pretty grim here though (nothing at all like the person who once taught All Might the importance of saving people with a smile), and I’m wondering if this means she believes that her grandson is already beyond saving. as in killing him would be a mercy, as opposed to him continuing to live with AFO bending his mind and body to his will. except if that is the case, I think she’s underestimating Tomura’s own will. and definitely underestimating Deku’s will to save

and also, just... I’m so fucking sick of AFO screwing the Shimura family over, honestly. this is exactly what he wanted. well fuck you, guy. you don’t get to have what you want. go out there and save Tomura, Deku. for his sake and for Nana’s. give them some hope. do your thing, boy. can’t wait for your big speech all about it next chapter lol

#bnha 304 #midoriya izuku #all might #ofa prime #ofa iv #idk what his name is I forgot it already lol #the actual forty-year-old man #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #ofa the first

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specsforwoo · 3 years

Text

Son of Lachesis | Demigod!Jung Jaehyun

Parent Deity: Lachesis (Goddes of the String of Life; the Second Fate)

Allegiance: Hades

Dark Humor was a thing

He probably picked it up from his dad

His dad was this super successful thriller author

So they had this huge penthouse in New York but Jaehyun was your normal edgy emo teenager

He claimed to hate his life, hate his family, hate his friends

But like, his dad wasn’t bothered by it???

At first Jaehyun thought it was because his dad just didn’t care about him

But then he started to realize that his dad was the same way

He would rather disparage himself in the name of humor than anything else

It was more of a coping technique but oh well

And for some reason, Jaehyun’s senior year of highschool, he moved to Korea

Still doesn’t know why tbh

Something about his dad telling him that it was safer for their family to be closer together

But like his family only comprised of himself and his dad

And his beagle Chu-Chu but that’s it

As far as he knew, he didn’t have any family in Korea

But surprisingly, he fit in well

His last year of high school went by quickly

And soon he was accepted into the medical examiner’s program @ KAIST

What?

He felt more comfortable around cadavers than live humans

It wasn’t weird he just had hella social anxiety

He had a real gift for it too

He could just look at a body and be able to tell how they died

He was oddly able to tell how long ago they died too

He was actually starting to get creeped out by it

So he started talking to the only person he could ever confide in

His dad

It was a long weekend off of uni

And the Friday before he got into a huge argument with his toxicology professor about the substance that one man ingested that led to his death

His professor swore it was Croton tiglium

And he doesn’t know why but something in his gut was screaming that the diagnosis was wrong

So what did he do?

He stole the toxicology report to review it

And he barged into his professor’s office claiming it was actually Daphne mezereum

What scared him the most was that he could swear the man who was lying helplessly on the table was the one who told him what the poison was

So back to his dad’s apartment

Jaehyun was in tears explaining what had been going on to his dad

And sure his dad was the one to lighten up any room he could

But his dad just laughed

And for the first time he actually felt like he was going crazy

He thought that if anyone would be able to help him understand it would be his dad

I mean what was that Ph.D in psychology hanging on the wall for then

But his dad placed a hand on his shoulder and talked to him very calmly.

I think it’s time that you met your mother.

Sniffing, he looked up

I thought she had been dead since I was a baby.

Sorta…

How can someone be ‘sorta’ dead?

She’s more like… undead?

Suddenly a gray smoke started swarming around his feet.

And a young woman, dressed in black with a rose in her hair appeared behind his dad

Jaehyun almost screamed

Dear, Many people are in need to relief so why are you calling me up?

She spoke and her voice was as light of as the mist swirling around her feet

She looked up and made eye contact with Jaehyun

Dear, you know how dangerous it is for them to meet their other parents… why is he here?

She didn’t break eye contact with Jaehyun as she spoke to his father

It’s time he knew. Maybe Taeyong or Yuta could help him? They’ve been through this before.

The anxiety and stress was piling up on Jaehyun until he couldn’t stand it anymore

Knew what? Who is this? Why is our apartment filling with smoke? What have Taeyong and Yuta been through before?

You are a demigod Jaehyun. The woman spoke up, inching closer to his side.

My son, the son of Lacheses.

Lacheses…. The goddess of the string of fate.

I’m the son of a death goddess.

He burst out laughing

He couldn’t tell if it was from shock or denial

Everything made sense

His ominous ability to tell how people died

How long they would live for

So you are telling me Taeyong and Yuta are demigods too?

He looked between his mother and father

Yes, sons of Themis and Bia, respectively of course.

So that summer Jaehyun ended up going to camp with Taeyong

He didn’t feel that comfortable in the Hades cabin, and ended up rooming with Sicheng in the Achelios cabin instead

He also tended to help out with medical care when super dangerous competitions were taking place

If he remembered correctly, Sicheng asked him to because your weird ass ability to tell how long people have to live comes in handy so I can override it.

He said it with all smile on his face too, like people thought Jae was creepy

He is still actively attending uni, still the top student is his toxicology class, despite his prof throwing the hardest cases his way

HE EVEN GOT AN INTERNSHIP AT THE POLICE STATION YAY JAEHYUN

But camp is his life now

He never knew what he would have done if he didn’t have the support system that he did because of it

Yuta is his best friend

Partly because they are apparently first cousins

But also because they just mesh really well together

Whenever Yuta is fighting or practicing

He is there to makes sure to call game before anyone gets fatally injured

It actually got close one time

But other than that

His life is really normal

He eats out a lot

He studies a lot less than he should

He has made lasting friendships

And he has the hugest crush in the world that he refuses to reveal

hey , you

Just tell me! You know I can keep a secret from the hyungs!

Cue Jisung pestering him as they run the track at camp

How do I know that?

Taeyong still hasn’t found out that Chenle and I sneak out every Saturday to go to the arcade and that we were the ones who broke his cat mug.

Good Point.

Sooooo?

Still not telling.

Honestly though, not like it wasn’t obvious enough

Sometimes he wonders if everyone is oblivious to him staring at the back of your head while you run rounds for Sicheng

Or how his eyes follow your figure when he spots you in a crowd

Dude has it bad

And might be a little possessive too

He saw Taeil hug you once and he refused to talk to Taeil for a week

Until Kun saw what was going on and forced them to make up

But you

Girl you might have an even bigger crush

Who knew volunteering was so fun when you got to see Jaehyun every day

Highkey only Renjun knows that you both like each other

What? Renjun knows E V E R Y T H I N G

At least he is like ‘passively’ helping Jaehyun score a date with you

And by ‘passively’ I mean he straight up walked over to you and asked you if you would want to grab dinner with Jaehyun on Thursday, something about studying for toxicology finals

And by ‘passively’ I also mean him straight up telling Jaehyun that you were going to be a the hole in the wall diner on 53rd street a 7 o’clock and if he didn’t show up he was going to kick his ass

So you both showed up

You with study materials

And him with flowers

Johnny told him that flowers were always the way to go

And Jaehyun was beyond embarrassed and confused when you looked up and saw him standing there in a button down shirt that definitely wasn’t his holding a bouquet of flowers

And you were sitting there in sweatpants and your glasses falling down the bridge of your nose

So he did what he does best

Laugh it off

Oh, these are to thank you for helping me study.

Of course, you didn’t have to get me anything though.

In his head he is sitting there cussing Renjun out while also trying to create that empathy link with Yuta so he could tell Yuta to go beat his ass

But he brushed it off and starts studying with you

Only after ordering pecan pie and hot chocolate

Because everyone needs snacks for studying

Right

But you suddenly looked up and stared him straight in the eyes

Why do you even need my help? Aren’t you like top of this class, and IDK you can talk to dead people? Just ask them what happened.

Jaehyun is back to being embarrassed and this time he can’t laugh it off

Well– ummm— you see– Renjun— I—-

Oh for Zeus’ sake can’t you just say that little twerp set us up on a date?

Well… yeah, yeah he did.

YoU — umm— you can leave if you want, I understand if you don’t like me

Why would I leave. And you shouldn’t understand because you are a great guy, of course I like you.

You gave off a cheeky smile before stealing a bite of his pie

Y’all started off really casually

Like a group date here and there, nothing alone

Something in Jaehyun told him it wasn’t going to get serious unless he made the first move

Your father was probably to blame

Zeus was known for being a little aloof when it came to love

But Jaehyun

God Jaehyun had no guts whatsoever

Not until his best friend from New York came to town

Jameson had come to visit over his own spring break, claiming he wanted to see why Korea was so special and “Jeff” as he knew him, never returned to the US

And Jaehyun had taken you with him to the airport, better than dragging along Jeno or Jungwoo, who for some reason was terrified of planes themselves, and Yuta was out of town for a competition and Johnny was still passed out from last night’s party

And when Jameson stepped off the plane, he came barrelling towards Jaehyun, screaming JEFFFFFFERRRRRYYYYY as loud as he could and tackled him into a hug.

After that he began speaking in English a mile a minute

To say you were a deer caught in the headlights was an understatement

Jaehyun obviously wasn’t fazed, he was able to talk back to Jameson at the same speed, not even stuttering

So you felt kinda lost, shrinking away from the boistering boys, opting instead to starting rolling his friend’s luggage to the car

Jaehyun caught wind of your suddenly shy personality and cut off his friend to instead walk over to you

In a much calmer voice, and this time in a language you were actually able to understand, Jaehyun asked if you wanted to be introduced to his friend

You nodded and Jaehyun grabbed your wrist before shutting the trunk of the car.

Pulling you back over, Jaehyun spoke in English again

You could barely make out something along the lines of This is my friend, Y/N, daughter of Zeus.

You gave a small wave and bowed, hoping he wouldn’t speak to you directly, prompting you to speak in your broken tongue.

Just a friend, or something more? Jameson smirked at Jaehyun before looking back over at you

A friend that you can’t have. You couldn’t really understand what Jaehyun said but you could tell that whatever was said, he wasn’t happy about his friend’s comment.

After that you all got into the car where Jaehyun made you sit in the front seat, holding your wrist the entire time, in obvious view of Jameson

Things died down for a while and it went back to the usual

You were still on the track team (more like Pegasus Racing team but whatever)

And Jae came to cheer you on at every game

And Jae was still top of his classes @ KAIST

And you came to cheer him up when the workload got to much for him

But it STILL wasn’t serious

So one night

Specifically, Jameson’s last night in Korea

Everyone decided to head out to Hongdae to go club hopping (pls tell me you people know what club hopping is)

And you were all having fun, dancing, most were also drinking, especially Jameson

Jaehyun somehow ended up being DD after a brutal battle of scissors, paper, rock

So he was sitting there on the side lines, nursing straight tonic water watching everyone else get shit-faced drunk

You weren’t any better to be honest

Jameson started having a habit of trying to get you alone or get you to dance with him

So you thought that if you had to deal with that all night you had to have a couple shots in your system.

PSA TIME PEOPLE!!!!!! PSA!!!!! If someone in your group keeps trying to get you alone or get you to dance with them, both men and women, DO NOT I repeat DO NOT resort to drinking to deal with it. If they don’t get the hint by you avoiding them, tell them straight to their face that you don’t want to be with them. If they still don’t get the hint, seriously consider just leaving wherever you are. Under no circumstances is it okay for them do that. PSA OVER!!!!

Jaehyun had been watching you try to avoid Jameson from the bar all night and after Jameson came up behind you and grabbed your waist he was done

The vision of fully sober, properly pissed off, ready to throw punches Jaehyun was not a pretty sight

Thankfully, at the moment he had enough self-control in his system to not deck his friend straight in the throat

He instead opted to grab your wrist, much more forcefully than last time, and drag you out the back door of the club into the alley way

Then, much more gently, backed you into the wall of the club

He was so close that you could feel his breath on your forehead

Muttering to himself in English, you couldn’t understand what he was saying

Suddenly he looked down and his eyes kept snapping from yours to your lips

I’m probably going to do something I regret right now

Poor you couldn’t even understand him because of him still speaking in English

Next thing you know he was kissing you, pushing you up further against the wall, wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer

After he let go, worry flashed across his face, like he finally realized something

Oh my god, did that bastard hurt you?

He started checking your arms and wrists, even running his hands along your waist to make sure there wasn’t bruising there

For once, Jaehyun actually had the guts

He ended up calling everyone rides, and left early with you so he could take you out on an ‘official first date’

To an ice cream shoppe

Mind you average temps in Korea during, let’s say March is still around 28 degrees Fahrenheit @ night

He realized his mistake after seeing you sit there in the booth, shivering as you picked up your ice cream

So he quickly shrugged off his jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders and grabbing your hands in his to warm them up

First date was still a success in his mind

And all the dates there after

Renjun takes full credit for your relationship, but so does Sicheng, they actually fight about this

Jameson actually isn’t in Jaehyun’s life anymore

And Jaehyun is madly in love with you

Proposes after he graduates, in front of all of his friends, @ the stupid little hole-in-the-wall diner that he claims was his first real date with you

While they all scream JEFFFERRRRYYYY in the background.

really tho, Yuta has it on tape, along with Doyoung forced feeding Jaehyun wine, and him sleep talking about your first official date, all of which he plays at your guy’s wedding

Good luck having all of these idiots as brother in laws :::)))))

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theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin · 3 years

Note

Hi! Anon form HP's classmates ask. After reading the Lavender, Parvati, Dean, and Seamus, I forgot to ask you these: Cedric (I don't think you did him), Cho (pretty sure you didn't do her), and Marietta (even though we barely see anything of her). Oh and also Colin if you can. If it's too long just do the first two. Thanks, and have a good and safe day! =)

Well, I have to confess, these will probably be a lot more boring than you’re expecting. I do tend to have opinions on arbitrary Harry Potter characters, but there’s also a lot of NPCs that, well, I really don’t think about them much. They’re kids, they go to school, seem nice enough, the end.

Not all my opinions are made of spice.

But, with that, let’s begin.

Cedric Diggory

Really not much to say on him.

Seems like a nice enough guy, I appreciated that he was a Hufflepuff so we got to see at least someone from that house that was a really cool dude, the house division also helped explain why we’d seen and heard so little about him (I think he gets a brief mention as being Seeker for Hufflepuff in Prisoner of Azkaban).

For me, what stands out about him is mostly the tragedy. Here was this young man, in the prime of his life, with his whole future ahead of him who senselessly dies.

Had he not accompanied Harry, he would have lived, and it was pure unfortunate luck that he did. And then it’s over so quickly, just a demand of “kill the spare” and he’s dead. That’s it, it’s all over.

And then his death is made a mockery of, overwritten, then willfully forgotten by society.

He’s used as evidence by Harry and Dumbledore for Voldemort’s return, his murder is pinned on Harry by the government, and by the time the government admits to what happened they’ve moved on to bigger problems.

We only really see the mourning of Cedric from his father and later Cho. Harry’s messed up about it, but it was more from witnessing the event, he didn’t really know Cedric that well as a person. In fact, he feels very awkward and put out when it becomes clear that, a few months later, Cho is not handling her boyfriend having been murdered by a dead man very well.

And that’s what strikes me about him, just how easily he’s forgotten, and how sad it all is.

Cedric might be the reddest of red shirts in Harry Potter.

Cho Chang

I wish more had been done with Cho.

I know, I know, we get a lot of Cho.

But we get Cho in the context of Harry’s first romance, his crush that later sets him up for Harry/Ginny (JKR is fond of using other pairings to set up her main pairing, we see this also with Ron/Lavender). They give it a whirl, Harry finally gets what he wants, and it turns out to not really be his thing.

Cho is too girly, enjoys things like Madame Puddifoots, and is clearly still hung up on Cedric. The whole thing ends very awkwardly and we get a Harry who’s ready to move on to Ginny by book six.

That said, that’s what I like about Cho. She has this great boyfriend who she really liked, he dies horrifically and tragically, and she’s left trying to sort through the aftermath. She ends up clinging to Harry as he is a) Harry Potter and essentially Jesus b) the only witness to what happened to Cedric. To her, I imagine, she and Harry share this unbreakable bond after fourth year. She was closest to Cedric in the school, the only one who truly seems to want to mourn him, and Harry watched Cedric die.

Cho lives in this world where Cedric’s death has been made a political issue. That his dying seems not to have mattered, indeed, is barely discussed so much as the manner in which he died. People are constantly fighting whether a deranged Harry did it, Voldemort came back, and Cedric gets forgotten somewhere in the middle.

And Cho tries to move on, she tries to embrace the fight against Voldemort, prepare herself to defend her nation and help fight against the man who murdered Cedric, but it just doesn’t work out. Because ultimately, they’re a bunch of kids in a room practicing the patronus. And even in the DA, despite acknowledging that Voldemort’s back, it’s still never about Cedric. It’s all about Voldemort and what’s coming, Cedric, oh yeah, poor guy, what a tragedy, the first casualty of war.

So, mostly I just feel very bad for Cho, and wish we could have seen more of her to see what the effect death has on people. We have Harry’s reaction to Sirius’ death but... in a weird way he actually gets over that kind of quickly. This isn’t the post for it, but to me Harry was always more upset by the loss of what Sirius represented than Sirius himself.

Marietta Edgecombe

Marietta does not deserve the hate she gets. Sure, she decided to leave the DA and snitched. But you know what, they’re fifteen year olds in a boarding school, and the DA while stupid was also kind of terrifying.

I mean, you suddenly find yourself in a group called “Dumbledore’s Army”, which is actively preparing itself for “fighting against the dark lord” and possibly “against those who deny his return”. The club has all these rules about secrecy, which at first seem reasonable as it’s against the rules, but then start sounding pretty scary. It sounds like you just signed up to launch a coup against the ministry on Albus Dumbledore’s behest. Had I been in DA,I like to imagine at some point I’d start thinking “what the actual fuck?”

More than that, Marietta’s family is on the line. Her mother works for the ministry. Her mother could be fired or perhaps even persecuted if this got out. Shit starts getting very real for Marietta.

So, Marietta leaves and snitches, and then she gets stitches.

Hermione gleefully scars and deforms her, something Marietta will carry with her for the rest of her life. I mean, can you imagine if Hermione had said, “Oh, by the way, if you rat us out I will personally murder you. Just kidding, but I will cut up your face, snitch” that anyone would react well? Which is probably why Hermione just stuck to an ominous vague warning instead. The true noble members, after all, would never think of leaving.

So yeah, given Hermione, actually given all of it (including Harry’s complete lack of sympathy for Marietta being branded when Cho tries to bring up her situation) the DA absolutely should have been shut down. My god, it was spiraling out of control, and given Harry and Hermione could have honestly gotten to the point where they took out hits on, oh I don’t know, Draco Malfoy.

You laugh, but I’m serious, they would totally do that.

Colin Creevy

It’s very bold of JKR to assume I care at all about Colin.

Colin’s one of the typical HP NPCs, quirky enough to be memorable, gives us a nice muggleborn student, weird kid but around enough that we remember him.

Then he dies in the Battle of Hogwarts, where many of our main characters survive, and I’m supposed to be absolutely devastated. COLIN IS DEAD, FRED IS DEAD, THE WORLD IS SO SAD.

We barely know Colin, his dying is just there to wrack up the red shirt numbers and make the last book of Harry Potter feel more like an actual war with actual consequences.

Sad that he died, but certainly not a tear jerking moment for me.

#ask #anon

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fenristheorem · 3 years

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Lance finding out that Gardienne killed herself? After a while of her being in the HQ again, he has fallen in love with her. She just couldn't bear those seven years, having lost that many people and being here just to save this world by suffering.

He wanted to tell her he loved her, he knocked her door, he worried bc no one answered, and he finds her hanged up.

I know this is really specific, it's just kind of my OC ending😅😅 anyway, I'd understand if you weren't comfortable with this.

So I’m going to talk about the boundaries of what I write for a moment, starting by saying that I will write this BUT I won’t write detailed suicide scenes due to the sensitive nature of it.

This ask isn’t asking for a detailed scene, it’s asking for the effects the decision has on Lance, and because it’s asking for the long-term effects and not a scenario I’m just fine with writing this.

Thank you for asking this, Anon, genuinely. Being this specific was probably what gave me the push to write this in the end because I know you were looking for the reaction and not the actual scene. This is a good example of a post that walks along the lines of what I will and won’t write so anyone requesting future asks with a similar subject gets a better idea of what to ask.

Also, I apologize for how long this took to write. This ask was, unfortunately, the one that spent the most time eaten in my drafts folder so I couldn’t work on it until about a week ago. Fortunately that gave me a lot of time to think over how to best write this, so I think this’ll be appropriately written considering the subject.

*Warning / Note: This post contains heavy depressive themes and suicidal mentions, as evident by the ask and what I wrote above. I’m aware that this is a very sensitive subject and I intend to treat it with appropriate seriousness. This is not a happy post, please only read this if you know this won’t lead you down a dark path. To me, writing is another form of art, meant to express and draw out emotions from the audience, so I won’t subside the intensity of my writing even with this being a sensitive subject. I don’t intend to drive anyone to harm themselves, but I do intend to write with the intensity that I always do because this is my artform; so please prepare for heavy themes or don’t read if you’re not comfortable with this. On a side note: I care about everyone, I really do, so please take care of yourselves. If you’re feeling depressive or suicidal, talk to someone, please. There is always someone who cares about you.

Technically Guardienne's death may have a major adverse effect on Eldarya due to her link with the crystal, but for the sake of this ask I'll ignore any possible effects like that.

~Under the cut~

Lance’s reaction to Guardienne’s suicide:

Lance had seen a lot of terrible things in life and had done many terrible things in his life, but this reached a new type of fucked up for him. Not because it's truly disturbing - although it is deeply disturbing - but because it fucked him up even more in a way that he neither thought could be possible nor that he could bear.

He’s convinced that he’s cursed; everything that’s happened to him has been his fault. He started the war within Eldarya, destroyed so many faeries’ lives, killed his own brother, and now the woman he loved is dead because of him as well. Sure, he wasn’t the one to tie the rope around her neck, but there are signs for these sorts of things. Was he truly that blind that he couldn’t see that she was in pain? Did he ever truly love her if he couldn’t see the pain? Would she have done anything differently if he wasn’t there to constantly remind her of everything that was lost?

Lance believes he deserves this. He’s caused so much pain and agony for everyone, it only makes sense that he should be the one in pain now. Lance won’t try to fight the agony he’s in, he’ll let himself drown in it for nights on end to wake up - or not even sleep to begin with - feeling exhausted, reckless, irritated and - overall - worthless. He’s sure to emerge from his room in the morning without the slightest hint that he’s been sobbing quietly with the feeling of a dagger twisting itself over and over within his chest all night, and he’ll refuse to answer any questions about if he’s alright after the recent events. He was the one to find her after all; it would make sense that he was hit the hardest...

In the daytime he’ll be rough and withholding, keeping the Obsidian guard in a tight hold to reflect how he needs to hold himself tightly to keep from falling apart. It’s one thing for him feel and express emotions, but this feeling is an entirely different thing; this is something that should not be released into Eldarya. He realizes it and knows that this feeling - something that he recognizes all too well from his past - threatens to destroy everything that he worked so hard to gain in the past seven years.

Mathieu will notice Lance’s change in temperament immediately, and being the kind man he is he’ll want to be there for the dragon, but Lance won’t be looking for comfort; he’ll be looking for something that will change the past and take back everything that happened. But that’s impossible - he knows that - and so he’ll be stuck in a state of limbo, deemed to mourn for his unknown, unrealized love until... something happens to change him.

Ice cold fear will wash over him some days as he recognizes the familiar feeling that haunted him in the past, and while he’ll be aching to reach out to lean on someone for support - afraid of this feeling overwhelming him again - he’ll feel that he can’t lean on anyone. He doesn’t deserve that support at this point after all he’s done, and there’s so many others who are busy grieving; the guard needs him to be strong now. However, on occasion - when he has a clear mind - he’ll grieve gently with someone who’s somewhat close to him, sharing kind memories of Guardienne and gently advising them to spend time around friends if his co-worker feels it’s needed. He’ll never completely break in front of anyone though, he can’t bring himself to.

However, Lance falls apart immediately when he’s alone, sometimes even lingering in the conference room for a few minutes after a meeting to allow himself the private time alone to recollect himself. Grief will randomly hit him throughout the day, constricting his throat, burning his chest, and glassing over his eyes - and every time he’ll excuse himself from his company to isolate himself until he regains control again. This, of course, is taken into notice by a few others around the guard, and slowly there’ll be people who realize that Lance is not fine.

This becomes a further issue over time as his grief slowly turns into anger and disgust, and this is when that familiar, ominous feeling from his past really rears it’s ugly face. He should have seen something. Was he really that terrible to her that she felt she couldn’t trust him? Was everyone really that blind to not see her hurting?

Lance finds that he begins to choose to isolate himself, mentally and physically. He’ll leave the guards members alone that have stated they need time off, but he won’t be very forgiving with those who have chosen to continue their work but seem to be slacking. His mentality is that if you can’t handle continuing on, then don’t offer your service as it’ll become a hindrance, and this quickly becomes a major issue.

Huang Hua - knowing how important Guardienne was to Eldarya, and the guard especially - has let it be known that if anyone needs a break from their responsibilities, then it’ll be allowed, but she will stress that those who feel they can continue to function please try to do so, and be lenient and take on a few responsibilities that aren’t usually asked of them if they feel they can. She can read other’s auras and sense intentions and emotions of sorts, so she can generally get a good read on how someone is doing, but she can’t consistently do that with everyone, so while she’ll use this ability when necessary to enforce that someone take a break so they don’t fall apart, not every unstable case is known to her. This is the main reason why she slightly overlooks Lance for a while. When he first found Guardienne, he panicked immediately, rushing her to Ewelein and not even truly believing her death until many days after the event. Huang Hua - having sensed his shock and panic blocking out any other emotions - let it go for a few days; everyone goes through their own grieving process, some immediately and some not until many years afterwards. There was nothing that anyone could do for him until Guardienne’s death hit him fully. However, she also knew from her abilities that Lance was in love with her, or at very least had a deep liking for Guardienne, so the instant a few members of the guard come to her expressing serious concerns regarding Lance’s recent aggression and distance, Huang Hua knows immediately that it needs to be dealt with. This grief was an unknown factor in Lance’s new life - but his past with this type of grief shows clearly that this can really fuck him up - so it needed to be discussed, otherwise he risks spiraling back into the same place he was seven years ago.

She’ll approach him when he’s alone, or if they’re in a relatively public space she’ll take him somewhere private, sensing all the while the breathtakingly painful feeling of agony, anger and distress that’s clouding his mentality. It was just the same as when he was Ashkore, how did he not yet break? He’ll refuse to follow her if he knows she wants to talk about his emotions - ironic since he’s always been open to sharing his perspective and thoughts - so she’ll just tell him that she needs to talk to him in private regarding a few anonymous tips from some guards members if he happens to ask why.

Being alone with an unstable, emotionally distraught dragon with a history of violence while under heavy states of grief does unsettle her a bit, but she knows the outcome of this will be much worse if he truly feels isolated. He’s not going to reach out for help by himself - he doesn’t know how to, nor does he probably want to - so she needs to be the one to reach out to him and help him stabilize himself before another situation like Valkyon’s death occurrs.

She’ll consider first talking alone with him in his room - where he’d likely feel most comfortable - but considering he’d likely be defensive, that could then translate into aggression in his own territory, and that may lead her to being forced out of his room for her own safety. Lance has certainly changed in temperament, but heavy grieving emotions can blind someone, so there’s really no promising that nothing... destructive may happen, no matter how much he’s changed in patience.

She then considers talking with him in the conference room, but there isn’t a whole lot of privacy there. The conference room is more for business, rather than personal, private, emotional conversations. The last thing Lance needed in this moment was for his emotions to be treated even slightly like a business confrontation and not as an important part of his being. Frankly, even on a day where he’s feeling just fine he would never accept anyone’s emotions to be treated like a business issue, so the last thing she wanted was to imply that by bringing him into a room that could do just that.

Huang Hua then thinks over the idea of talking to him in her room; it would likely be safer, after all. He probably won’t become territorial or aggressive as it’s not his territory, and it’ll be a gentle reminder that she’s happy to welcome him into her personal life to help comfort him (therefore defeating the concern that it could seem like a business confrontation), but since it’s her territory he might emotionally shut himself down. It can be uncomfortable to fall apart in someone else’s room, especially knowing they’re higher ranking and could be interrupted at any moment to deal with something else...

Then she wonders if she should bring him outside of the guard to speak with him - somewhere that’s private and on neutral ground. That way they’d both be in strange territory and may not be interrupted, and if they are they’d receive prior warning by noticing that someone was walking their way.

Of course, Huang Hua then realizes that - no matter how much she’d like to think that she understands what would make Lance most comfortable - she truly doesn’t know what would help him best, but she can be there to provide support at very least, regardless of where they are. At the end of the day, Lance would probably know where he’d feel most comfortable, so when she approaches him to talk, saying that it’s an important but private conversation, she’ll ask him where he would rather talk. He’ll be slightly hostile, especially when he picks up on the fact that she’s going out of her way to word things carefully and prioritize his comfort, but he’ll decide to talk somewhere private outside the guard, where no one is around.

And that’s how Huang Hua finds herself in the middle of the open plains, far away from the guard to talk to a dragon who might as well be stabbing himself with his own dagger with how he’s been allowing himself to feel as of late. She’ll start off gently, telling him the recent concerns of a few anonymous guard’s members and Lance will stand a few feet away and listen coldly with a blank expression until she suggests that he take a few days off. He’ll debate things with her then, and it’ll escalate slowly until Lance is clearly distressed but still unmoving in his decision to remain active, and Huang Hua will know then that she can’t be gentle anymore...

“Lance, take a few days off, for your sake.”

“No.” His tone is harsh and cold as he snaps at her. “The guard needs me, there’s so much I need to do - so much I need to repay-” He didn’t mean to let that last statement slip - after all, his actions certainly couldn’t be made up for, right? - but emotions can be a powerful thing, can’t they?

“You won’t be able to do any of that if you’re destroying everything you’ve helped rebuild in the process.” Lance is pacing, keeping his eyes trained to the ground. Huang Hua - despite her anxiousness at the dragon being so stubborn on decisions made under heavy negative emotions - tries to keep a comforting, open atmosphere to avoid furthering any issues. “You know the pain you’ve cast upon on others, you’ve felt that same sort of pain now and you need to take time to be able to recover from that.”

“I can’t take time, it’s not something I can just accept! Everyone I’ve hurt before never had time to accept the situation before I made it worse, but they still pushed forward! There’s no reason for me to have it any easier!”

“And where would we be if we treated you the same way you used to treat the world? Would we be any better than how you used to be?”

Lance stops pacing but his eyes remain on the ground, his throat constricting as his thoughts run rampant. Would they be the same as how he used to be if they allowed him to keep running himself this way? He’s done terrible things, but he’s spent many years trying to keep that from happening again. Certainly he’s an asset to the guard now, so would it be cruel of them to ignore his distress? Or would it be justified payback for everything he’s done?

“Lance, you’ve done wonderful things the past seven years, and we want you to continue that and I know you want to continue that as well. Take some time off so you can do that without destroying yourself or your environment. Don’t ignore your pain like it’s nothing - it’s not nothing, and you have the resources to deal with it in a better way now. Use those resources, Lance, it’ll help you work your way through this.” Huang Hua’s tone is gentle and soft as she pleads with him, hoping that her blunt words will reach his common sense.

He tries to argue this, stuttering the beginning of sentences to try and disprove her point, grasping for any reason as to why his pain is invalid. However, Lance finds that there’s no sound argument against Huang Hua’s words, and constricting panic, horror, and then heavy tides of grief will hit him as he realizes that he is, in fact, dragging himself into his own downfall. He is his own worst enemy, once again.

In any manner, this is all his fault - his past actions, Guardienne’s distress of what’s changed that lead to her death, his emotional isolation, and disruption of the guard is all because he doesn’t know how to deal with himself and his abyss of emotions. How did this happen to him? He was never the type of person to deny and hide away his emotions, so how is it he ended up caging himself like this when under personal grief? Is it because the situation is so personal to him that he has a hard time allowing himself to seek comfort in others who likely couldn’t understand?

Lance will fall apart at this, closing his eyes and turning towards the ground to keep himself together, but falling apart all the same as grief overwhelms him one final time in a push that throws him over the edge. He’ll clench his fist and bow his head, bringing it over his mouth as he desperately tries to steady his breathing, to no avail as tears find their way from his eyes and his chest heaves in quieted sobs.

Huang Hua will lurch forward to comfort him, but stops as Lance whirls around to step back and snap at her - he didn’t want comfort, he wanted her back!

“Where were you for her!? Why didn’t anyone else see her pain!?” His eyes are tragedy and desperation underneath the weakened cold anger of ice blue, a faint few tears streaking down his face as his voice - thunderous and howling - cracks and breaks alongside his crumbling rage. If he couldn’t have fixed this, then someone else could have - why didn’t anyone fix this!?

“You know it’s not morally correct to monitor everyone’s private emotions all the time. What kind of leader would I be if I didn’t allow my people their privacy?” Huang Hua stills and clasps her hands together at her waist, understanding Lance’s outward anger. However, she realized his statement signaled something else as well; Lance could no longer fight why he should allow himself to grieve, so he was desperately clinging onto some semblance of needing to be distant by turning it to be someone’s fault - someone that he could hate. “You are right in a way; of the many people who knew her, someone might have been able to catch how torn up she felt, but people who wish to hide their pain, or spend so long hiding their pain that it becomes a part of who they are, learn how to hide their pain in ways too complex for others to realize. And, Lance, if she didn’t want anyone to know about her grief, there wouldn’t have been much that I could have done anyways.”

“You could have helped her!” The dragon’s voice was weakening as he spoke, distant anger being replaced by a cold, hollow emptiness as he realized the truth in Huang Hua’s words.

“Only if she was ready for that help. You can’t force someone to accept help, you can only wait for them to allow themselves to be helped.”

“She wouldn’t want me to find relief during this time...” He looked away toward the ground and hung his head, blinking rapidly as he began to heave for breath. There must be a reason why he shouldn’t be allowed to feel this way .

“Do you think she would have wanted everything good you did - whether she knows what you did or not - to be destroyed because of your grief for her?” Lance’s eyes squinted closed and he tilted his head a bit further away from the phoenix. It seemed as though every reminder of everything good he’s done continues to leave him with a hollow chest. “I think if she witnessed firsthand everything you’ve done the past seven years she would have thought very differently about you now than what she did when first having woken up from the crystal.”

Lance turns to face his back towards her, resting a palm on his forehead before brushing his fingers back through his hair as a tremble rolls through him. He could feel pressure rising from his throat as he bared his teeth in an agonized snarl before parting his mouth to silently gasp for air. His head tilted back to look at the sky, only for a few tears to fall from his eyes when he releases a shaky breath.

“Lance, your situation with her was very unique - no one else could begin to understand exactly what you’re feeling from your history with her. Take some time so you can understand it - and fix, or do, or feel whatever you need to - so you can carry forward knowing yourself better.”

He wanted to fight her statement, but his moral compass argued with his resistance on this as well. If anything, of whatever terrible things came as a result of her death, there should be some good sought from it as well. What’s the point of accepting a tragedy if not to learn something from it as well, even if it’s something quiet that no one else knows you learned?

For the first time in a long while - if not ever - Lance allows himself to break and be comforted. He lets himself embrace the burning, stinging pain that rises in his chest as he turns his head back to the ground and collapses on his knees. Huang Hua immediately reacts and is by his side in moments, on her knees and laying a gentle hand on his shoulder as she leans against him slightly. Sobs escape his throat as his body tenses and curls forward slightly, bracing a hand on the ground to steady himself as tremulous waves of emotions - any and all emotions that could possibly be named - wash over him and leave him gasping for air.

“I miss her, too.” Huang Hua’s voice shakes now as she leans further against the dragon, bringing her arms as far around him as she can while her head rests against his shoulder, away from the spines on his pauldrons. Lance brings his other hand up and tightly grasps the forearm reaching across his chest.

Huang Hua had spent so much time trying to help others through this that she had completely forgotten to make sure she was alright as well, and seeing Lance - the man she least expected to be torn apart by this situation - completely break and fall apart before her eyes reminded her of the true depth of their loss. They didn’t just lose Eldarya’s savior, they had lost a friend, a great warrior, one of the last angels, someone who was pure at heart and wasn’t afraid to face the darkness of life without so much as a blink of hesitation. They had lost someone who gave everything for the world, and suffered because of it.

Minutes merged until they were unsure of how long they spent in the fields, but in time both of them calmed down. Lance - now able to think clearer on the subject - began to reflect on the situation.

“This wasn’t her fault... the blame is on all of us, for not having seen anything... but she must have known that someone would have been there for her if they knew how much she was hurting...” He murmured this quietly, waves of shame washing over him again as he realized he was perhaps pinning some of the blame on Guardienne. Was there really anyone to blame here? She must have known that someone would have been there for her if she sought help, but it’s not right for others to pry into the personal life of another if the intrusion is unwelcomed, and who was to say she wanted help in the first place? Had she given up? Would anyone have been able to stop her to begin with? Who was to blame, if there was anyone?

“There’s nothing we can do now except honor her and move forward.” Huang Hua whispered back with a shaky voice and Lance faintly nodded his head. There were many things that worked together to lead to this happening, and in between there also were moments where something could have helped deter it, both by her doing and by others. At the root core, everyone and anyone could have helped stop this in some way, even if it was by giving her a small passing smile that could have helped remind her that there is good and hope in the world, but there’s also no guarantee that anyone could have stopped it. Regardless, this is how things happened. They can’t change the past, but they can move forward with her in mind and learn from this.

Lance - despite his heavy grief and complex emotions on everything - begins to soften himself to the situation. He’s not the only one grieving. His situation may have been the most complicated, but he’s still in the same boat as everyone else. He doesn’t feel the need to sob alongside the others anymore, but he does find that whenever the group he’s in begins to fall apart into wailing, he’ll bow his head and won’t hide the obvious pain that he’s in at the reminder of his lost love. His feelings for Guardienne will be kept quiet, and he won’t openly say how he felt about her - it could still be seen as wrong in the opinion of some people for him to have fallen in love with the same woman he hurt so much, especially knowing her pain is what led to her death - but he won’t deny the truth of his feelings to those who caught on somehow. Lance will find that he’ll slowly begin to mend after this death, many months after of course, but it’ll happen, and in some ways this will help him move past his brother’s death as well. After all, in the end both Guardienne and Valkyon came to accept their final moments in life before allowing Lance’s past actions to bring about their end, and although one chose to die to help mend him and the other chose to die to help relieve herself, the root issue of the situation that led to their death was still very similar. He’ll have a hard time allowing himself to move past the fact that his actions played a major part in both deaths, but he realizes in time that that’s what happens when someone has a violent past. It’ll haunt for many years, and the effects of it can never be reversed, but in the end this only inspires him to work harder to provide a better world. Maybe he can’t erase what he did, but he can make sure it doesn’t happen again and work to provide Eldarya with as much good as he can provide now.

Without a doubt Guardienne’s death hits him hard, but he’ll be sure to come back twice as strong from this.

I hope you like this, Anon! I feel Guardienne’s suicide would definitely hit Lance hard and remind him subtly of Valkyon’s death, but I don’t see Lance being held down by this for too long. He’d heavily grieve for her for a good while before he eventually finds himself standing on two feet again and powering his way through life, if not for his own sake then for the sake of others, both alive and dead.

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