#a friend he left in the lurch when he was experiencing Being Human for the first time btw | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

s0ulm8s · 3 years

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boys like you (1.0)

✿ summary : alone and left in a mansion with nothing but your canvases and the dust slowly collecting on the window sills - a commission and a call from a childhood friend completely changes your life.

✿ genre : ot7 x f!reader, poly au, hybrid au, soulmate au, deer!seokjin, black panther!yoongi, great dane!hoseok, wolf!namjoon, calico cat!jimin, tiger!taehyung, bunny!jungkook

✿ warnings : mentions of death, maybe some mentions of assault, some fluff, reader is described as small (i.e smaller than jimin), slight age gap (reader is younger than jungkook)

✿ word count : 2.2K

✿ author’s note : i am inexperienced in hybrid aus, smut, and series so pls bare with me (not proofread yet)

✿ series masterlist! | 2.0

making yourself buckle down and work on the piece in front of you had proven to be more of a task than you had originally anticipated. the wide expanse of blank canvas you had stretched yourself 3 weeks ago, mocked you from the the sun room. it was only four days before you had to deliver your piece that you had really forced yourself to pick up a paint brush and do something useful.

the endless days spent alone in the vast building you now called home was doing a number on your psyche. the sheer loneliness seemed to eat away at not only your sanity but aided to your artist’s block - it was truly a gruesome cycle. locked away in an beautiful estate that you never asked for.

not only that, but working from home and having an all but nonexistent social life in a country you only permanently moved to a year prior was a fate worse than you had imagined.

you huffed, finally setting your small brush down on the easel, stepping back to assess your final draft. despite being so unmotivated and plum out of ideas, you were still proud of what you created - you had promised yourself long ago that you’d never sell a piece you abhorred, and you’d remained true to that promise thus far.

a blaring ring ripped you out of your critical trance trained on the landscape in front of you, startling you as your heartbeat quickened in pace.

“hello?” you answered, soft voice flowing through the other end as you anticipated the response from the unknown caller.

“yah! y/n! is that you?” the voice that responded was loud and excited, the baritone of it something you could never forget. a staple soundtrack from the summers you spent with your father in south korea.

“mingi? how’d you get my number?” you asked, a genuine smile flooding your face at the sound of his familiar laugh on the other end.

of course, the two of you had stayed in brief contact since meeting as children. but as you grew, you saw less of each other. three years ago he and his boyfriend, yunho, had successfully started their own rehabilitation and adoption center for hybrids. the first year was hard, but the business quickly gained popularity and as the creator - he’d been exceptionally busy since her permanent move to south korea. they had two permanent doctors on staff, kim hongjoong and park seonghwa, along with a 24 hour staff. the workers were really exceptional, but you had only ever met their core group when the business first started. which included: choi san, jung wooyoung, choi jongho, kang yeosang, the two doctors, and of course the two owners.

“you were commissioned by a friend of mine! which is actually why i wanted to reach out.” he answered happily as your breathing evened and heartbeat finally settled.

“it’s good to hear from you, really. what can i do for you?” you asked sweetly, and mingi only briefly thought about teasing you for your soft tone and giving nature.

“would you be able to come to the adoption wing today? i’m working here all day as we’ve some new hybrids ready to find a new home. maybe in about an hour? you could join me on my rounds and we could talk. i’d like to see you, anyways. i’ve missed you.” mingi spoke professionally, but his admission made tears prick at your eyes. he almost sounded like the sixteen year old boy who had stolen your first kiss when visiting your father that summer and the memory of when things were simpler stung in your chest. your cheeks flushed. mingi smiled at your silence, knowing he had flustered his best childhood friend. you narrowed your eyes briefly, as he had tried to convince you many times in the past to adopt a hybrid of your own - but you had declined, not entirely convinced that you could provide an exceptional life for another being. because even though your knowledge on hybrids wasn't nearly as advanced as mingi’s, you still knew the basics. they weren't just animals, they were human. and there was no guarantee there. there never was with humans. you hesitate.

“y-yes. i can come by, i’ve just got to swing by and deliver my painting beforehand.” you answered as you both agreed on the meeting the time. “oh, and mingi? i’ve missed you, too.” you said genuinely as he broke into a toothy smile. it had been ages since he’d seen you, and though he knew he could blame it on his work - he didn’t know how to face you after the death of your father. he couldn’t bring himself to be there for you, to see you so broken, and he had blamed himself for that everyday. it was a relief to hear you say it. you had always been so forgiving, sometimes to a fault.

after bidding your goodbyes to the tall boy on the other side of the phone, you quickly changed clothes into something not completely ruined by the muted pigments of your paint, loaded up in your small suv, and you were off.

the delivery of your piece went smoothly, no heckling or disapproving gazes from the wealthy couple, which made your trip to TWILIGHT that much faster. you pushed open the double doors connected to the building in the right wing, clearly labeled ADOPTION.

the smell of roses and lavender was strong in the reception area, the scent was welcoming and calming as you walked up to the front desk.

“y/n!” the dark haired boy behind the computer called, finally rolling away from behind the screen. kang yeosang. “it’s so good to see you!” he exclaimed, eyes scanning your face as he made his way around the counter and pulled you into a soft embrace.

“likewise, yeo! it’s been a while hasn't it?” you ask rhetorically as you stare up at his daunting height.

“mmm” he hummed with a nod, releasing you. “i'll let mingi know you’re here.” he called, returning to his place behind the sleek desk, paging mingi, and then proceeding to catch up with you.

the small conversation didn’t last long before a pair of heavy footsteps drug your gaze to the wide staircase, mingi barreling down them.

you braced yourself as the giant scooped you up into a bone crushing embrace, spinning your small frame around in a circle as he let out a happy laugh. your arms snaked around the man’s neck to secure your place and return the hug.

you giggled happily as mingi finally set you down in your original place, looking down at you excitedly. had he gotten taller? impossible. maybe you had shrunk?

after an exchange of excited greetings, mingi gestured to his clipboard before finally asking, “you ready?”

you nodded softly and followed close behind as he guided you down the halls of the adoption center. he gave you the rundown of their center, showing you the wide expanse of spotless rooms sealed in by plexiglass to show the hybrids ready to be rescued. he explained that most hybrids were separated by predator, prey, species, breed, etc. but many were grouped together with their respective packs. the rooms were quite lavish, but not very homey. but what could you expect from an adoption clinic? the point was to find homes.

you passed many show exhibits, watching intently at the small dogs or tall humans sitting in the rooms patiently, playing with one another or napping quietly. you cooed at a few.

“so i asked to see you because i’d love to have your art displayed in our business.” he propositioned, leading you into an empty room as the automatic doors opened and shut behind you. you nodded, heart lurching a bit as you recalled your artist’s block. you shook the thought away as you observed the room. it was large, littered with scattered pieces of nice furniture and random toys. “ideally, i’d love to have your pieces throughout the whole establishment but this is my main concern.” he finished, gesturing to the empty space on the large wall, the one you’re faced with when first entering.

“are you wanting a mural?” you ask, voice now stable and a bit louder.

“i'd like the piece to cover the majority of the wall, but i’d rather have it on canvas if that’s doable. in case it needs to be moved.” he explained as you nodded, taking in rough measurements of the space as mingi explained his vision for the space - effectively helping you circulate a few ideas on what you could create. you accepted his offer as he discussed payment and supplies with you, adding in an extra cost at the large measurement of the canvas you’d need custom made.

the air in the room grew a bit thick at the sound of a small beep, alerting the two of you to another door opening. your skin was now a bit hot and you suddenly became very aware of your surroundings. your fingers tingled a bit. usually a foreign feeling such as the one you were experiencing would send you into a panic, but it didn’t. if anything you felt quite calm as you looked on inquisitively at the distant thump coming toward the two of you.

“ah, it’s look like some of our hybrids are finished with their check ups.” mingi announced as you nodded lazily. he turned to you. “we usually send them into the lounge area for about an hour after routine check ups. helps them calm down.”

suddenly, you could pay no mind to mingi’s words as a black bunny rounded the corner, back foot slapping the tile exceptionally hard every so often as you smiled down at the creature happily. it stopped in it’s tracks as it’s gaze landed upon you, rearing up on it’s back legs, and tilting it’s head innocently as it examined you.

you knelt down to greet him, the bunny immediately approaching you and sniffing your hand before accepting you and nuzzling into you closer. mingi was taken aback as he observed the usually reserved and nervous rabbit.

“hello.” you cooed, stroking the bunny effortlessly, careful to avoid his ears and tail, briefly recalling how sensitive they could be. “what’s your name?” you asked as mingi coughed.

“this is jeongguk, he’s one of our younger hyrbrids. the youngest in his pack.” he told you as you picked the bunny up and set him into your small lap. mingi almost gasped at the interaction between you and the rabbit as you pet him happily.

your trance was interrupted at the light purr and brush of a small calico next to you. you instinctively reach out to pet him, as he rubbed into your hand. “and who might you be?”

“this is jimin, the two are in a pack.” mingi attempted to explain, trying to understand the absence of jimin’s usually protective behavior and unable to tell you the full story before you asked him something he was not expecting.

“and they’re ready to be adopted?” you asked softly, not even looking up at mingi as he stuttered. the idea of adopting a hybrid didn’t seem so far-fetched now at how taken you were with the two animals in your lap. you could handle the bunny and cat, without a doubt.

“y-yes but we only adopt out entire packs together and -”

“of course, i wouldn’t dream of separating them. is there anyway i could meet them properly, as soon as i possible i think -” you interrupt. starting to gush a bit, voice hushed and excitable.

mingi cut you off, “no, y/n. you aren’t listening. they aren’t just a pack of two.” he sighed, as your gaze finally met his. “in fact they aren’t just bunny and calico, they’re pack also includes that of a wolf, black panther, deer, great dane, and tiger... their pack has been hard to adopt out as it’s so rare for such a large mix of predators and prey... but they found each other and experienced a lot together... it was only inevitable. and we can’t separate them, we refuse to. and they won’t leave one another.” he finally finished explaining as your expression fell. you let out a breath. seven hybrids. all male. and three apex predators, at that. the thought of suddenly thrusting seven knew faces - seven new men - into your home was intimidating to say the least.

you looked down at the two animals in your lap, the bunny almost looked cresfallen. gauging your reaction as his big brown eyes stared at you expectantly. as if he knew you’d reject him. mingi continued rambling on about how many adopters had expressed interest in at least one of the pack but were never willing to bring in all seven. it hurt your heart as you watched on the bunny and calico.

the estate your father had left you was empty, though. begging to be occupied. you had more than enough room and were blessed with an untouched inheritance. maybe this is what you should use it for. you had always felt too guilty to spend it. but nothing seemed more right, which was a shocking realization to someone who never thought they’d adobt a hybrid.

“could i meet them? the seven of them? i’d at least want to give them a chance... truthfully, i dont think i can leave them behind.” you admitted softly, the bunny and cat both perked up, ears raised and twitching.

“of course. i can arrange a meeting and speak with them tonight... i’ll gather their files for you to take home tonight. can you make it back in again tomorrow?” mingi asked after a deafening pause of hesitation, mouth hanging agape before coming back into reality.

“i’ll be here.”

#bts fluff #bts #bts fanfic #hybrid #hybrid au #smut #bts smut #soulmate au #poly #poly bts #poly au #ot7 #bts ot7 #ot7 bts #bts drabble #bts imagines #bts icons #hybrid bts

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orange-plum · 3 years

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So I was commissioned by @andrastesassets to write about the scene in “Satan and Me” where Satan gives his wings away for Natalie, but from his POV. This was kinda a big turning point as a wake-up call in the series for him, as you’re probably aware if you’ve read past that point and seen him be more open with his feelings and such. Anyway, it was a fun little thing to explore (yes, this is canon thoughts of his). I never expected to be commissioned to explore deeper into a canon of my stories that hasn’t been put into words before with the images alone of the updates, but I’m def open to that in the future!

Without further ado, here you go.

The looming presence behind him paled in comparison to the disorienting lurch his stomach gave as he kneeled on the unwelcoming cement floor. Keeping his gaze down, concentrating on the little tremors of his arms holding him upright, Satan struggled to properly see through the fog of stress clouding his mind. Clouding his judgement.

Fuck, this wasn’t the right thing to do, was it? Was he being too hasty? Should he spring up and sprint out the door before he followed through with something he couldn’t come back from? This was definitely one of his more impulsive and reckless decisions he’d ever committed to. Nothing could truly be worth this kind of –

Satan’s hand twitched, starting to rise as nerves got the best of him, when a blur of orange and maroon hovered on the edge of his peripheral. For a brief moment, he found himself vaguely wondering what the smudge of color was in the expanse of drab brown walls and muted trim.

Reality came crashing against him like an unforgiving tide for what seemed like the tenth time this morning. Sweat gathered at the base of his neck and he swallowed.

Satan returned his palm flat against the cement, locking his joints and muscles into place so that he would not stand up. His stomach did another discombobulated lurch.

Right. This was for Natalie. Natalie, who had no right looking so gray, Father, she was like a corpse.

She is a corpse! His mind howled the confirmation at him, leaving his breaths shallow in his welling panic.

Yes, that was true. It had been true for hours now, yet, somehow, the complete depth of what that really entailed eluded him in his denial. How could she be dead when she had talked to him only moments ago? Human’s lives had always felt fleeting, but had any ever felt quite this temporary before?

Less than a year they had been together . . . How had she burrowed this deeply under his skin? When? Satan tried to conjure a memory to pinpoint the exact moment Natalie had become a constant in his life as he bore his back to Death and Pestilence. In the end, it was fruitless. Between his ears remained endless static.

The tension in the air was suffocating. His arms trembled, but he kept his jaw clenched.

He would give them no further satisfaction when taking the last bit of value he still possessed of his former self. They would not see him fall apart at their feet. That could come later, when left in the privacy of this cold, dreary room, where he could lick his wounds and recover in peace.

He was still Lucifer, the Morning Star and omen of destruction to all who opposed him, wings or not.

But, fuck . . . Father, he would prefer to keep his wings.

Somehow, boneless and lightheaded from the trauma of the morning, Satan noticed, with a small sense of intrigue, that his back actually felt heavier now that it was empty. How was that possible?

The long gashes where the trunks had been swiftly carved open spewed boiling trails of lava down his skin, soaking into the hem of his robe and pooling Great Lakes onto the floor. Energy had left in his limbs the moment the numbing kiss of Death’s blade breached his muscles.

On wobbling legs, Satan rose in his shock and joined Natalie at her side. He carefully reached toward her, gliding the tips of his fingers against her ashen cheek, almost afraid to touch, because she looked exactly the same. What the hell? She looked no different than when she had been splayed out like a weathered ragdoll amongst her bedsheets at sunrise, goddamnit.

Before he could garner enough strength to turn on his company and spew venom and vitriol from his lips, Satan froze. Warmth wafted over his fingers under her nose as he lowered his hand. Closer inspection revealed the gentle rise and fall of her chest. The nauseating cramping in his stomach abated so suddenly, he almost keeled over right then and there.

“Give it a few minutes,” Death commented over his shoulder, as if reading his mind. There was no longer a smile in his voice, his face a neutral mask as Satan glanced at him with gritted teeth, the sight of his former pride being folded up and collected like loose laundry too much to bear. “It takes a little while for a soul to acclimate into their body after death. I assure you, her color and liveliness will rekindle when she wakes up.”

Through the haze, Satan vaguely realized he must’ve been making some type of suspicious face when Death suddenly snorted and shook his head, his eyes gleaming. “For all we’ve been acquainted, Lucifer, you should know I’m not one to break my word. Give my regards to little Natalie when she rejoins the land of the living, won’t you. As always, it’s been a pleasure. I look forward to seeing you and your brother again when the time comes for your big day.”

With the room empty, peppered only with the soft sounds of Natalie’s breaths and the distant echoes of Death’s laughter down the desolate hallway, the elephant in the room was no longer avoidable. Satan slumped against a wall, transfixed by the rise and fall of the chest beside him. Even more so as the rosiness began to fill Natalie’s cheeks the longer she breathed life into her form.

His previous adrenaline had left him a hollow puppet, now that there was no longer the turbulent cocktail of anxiety and doubt weighing on his shoulders. Satan allowed himself to drift to the floor, lying beside the only person he had ever met who had compelled him to do something so utterly foolish. Jesus, her daredevil stunts to ground him at his lowest points seemed to have rubbed off on him, and likely not for the better.

Satan’s wounds throbbed at the edges, a constant reminder of the magnitude of what he had just done.

Don’t think about it, his mind lethargically reminded. What’s done is done, so don’t start regretting it now.

“Prophecy child, huh . . . ” Satan muttered, his arm leveraged under his head like a makeshift pillow. The light cascading through the windows almost seemed to light up Natalie’s hair in its luminescence. Amongst the carnage splattered around them from his sacrifice, she was ethereal and without blemish.

He had found out about the Child of Prophecy by chance, becoming enraged at the notion of being kept in the dark so late in the game. Natalie’s existence had changed from an everyday annoyance to one of unbearable burden.

She had the power to sway him? To sway his empire and everything he worked for? A being like that, who would steal his autonomy or cast him spellbound, was too dangerous to fraternize with. There was just too much on the line to risk throwing away for some goofy, loud-mouthed human without an ounce of self-preservation.

And so Satan had done the only logical thing he could think of at the time: He ran away, leaving her with that pitiful, crumpled face as he rejected her in that inconsequential Oregon town. The less time he spent with her, the better off he’d be.

Only . . . That had not played out as he’d hoped. Watching Natalie disappear over the side of a bridge had been like a bolt of electricity coursing through his body. That she would see him as the monster that he was, a grotesque monstrosity that even Michael had recoiled from, and attempt to help him, regardless? Well . . . Perhaps there was more to Natalie McAllister than he had originally considered. He’d cradled her close and winced while he repaid her kindness by accidentally boiling her alive.

Oregon was a wake-up call.

Natalie had piqued his curiosity, her smiling reassurance that she didn’t befriend monsters jumpstarting the heart in his chest that he had presumed stopped functioning centuries ago. Not only that, but he had no way of knowing he would soon find out that running toward the very man attacking her and her cowardly little friend, despite the blatant terror in her eyes, was only the tip of the iceberg.

“Oh,” Satan muttered, something foreign flooding into his chest, emotion catching in his throat as he stared at Natalie’s slumbering form.

Silencing Hell for him at the cost of her soul . . .

Calling him her guardian angel. Crying, not for fear of Hell, but for fear of being separated from his company . . .

As much as he wanted to deny it, the fondness in Natalie’s eyes as she smiled at him was undoubtedly genuine. She really did seem to look at him like he hung the stars above her head.

“I love you, Lucifer. I’m glad I got to meet someone like you.”

Satan trembled, unable to properly sort through the sensations overflowing from his chest as Natalie’s eyelashes began to flutter. Champagne bubbles tickled his stomach, and though not required to breathe to live, he felt so remarkably breathless at once.

So that’s what this is, Satan distantly thought, watching pale eyelashes finally parting to reveal a cognizant gaze, blinking against the trickle of sunlight warming her cheeks. When meeting Natalie’s eyes, he couldn’t keep the smile of relief from his face.

Satan understood that he had never experienced this before, but he somehow knew what to latch onto in his jumbled mind with unquestionable conviction.

I love her.

#satan and me #writing #its not technically but im going to tag it #fanfiction #writing commission #commission #andrastesassets

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sushiandstarlight · 4 years

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Lockdown Voicemails

Read this story on AO3

There was an extremely annoying sound blaring outside his cocoon of blankets. No matter how much he growled and hissed at it, the sound wouldn’t cease. In fact, it was only getting louder.

Crowley reached out and grasped his phone, swiping the alarm off without even looking. He drug his now-cold arm with the phone back into the warmth of the blankets and sighed. Maybe five more minutes. What was five more minutes after months of sleeping?

He gave up on it two minutes in, an antsiness spreading out into his limbs making them want to move and slither. He pulled the phone up in front of his face and blinked a few times to clear his vision only to startle and sit up, throwing the blankets back.

There were 24 missed calls, all from Aziraphale. His heart started racing, thinking something had gone horribly wrong while he slept. But, really, if it was something so bad surely Aziraphale would have popped over and woke him up, right? He jabbed the first voicemail:

“Ah, I see I did miss you. I had hoped, well... I had hoped to catch you before your nap,” and here Aziraphale’s voice waiver and lowered a bit, “It is just a nap, I hope. I hope you won’t be gone until July. Just... er, just call me back when you get up, I suppose? Okay.”

Crowley stared at the phone. So, Aziraphale had been okay on May 2nd. That was good. He tapped the second message:

“I guess you were telling the truth about your nap until July. That’s okay, really. I mean there’s not much to do, is there? I was enjoying my baking... The whole process and, of course, the tasting. I don’t know. It’s lost a bit of it’s shine, I’m afraid. I thought about leaving some of my cakes on the neighbor’s stoops. Not sure how well that would be received. Is that a thing humans do anymore? Unprecedented times, they keep saying,” there was a long pause where Crowley could hear him breathing, “I suppose that’s it then. I hope you’re resting well.”

He scrolled down a few voicemails and tapped the one from the last day of May.

“I spent some time reading human accounts of ‘ancient Rome’ today,” Aziraphale began without preamble; Crowley thought he sounded tired, “not all accurate, but they do a pretty good job for what information they have. Doesn’t quite capture the feel of the time. You can’t capture the feeling if you haven’t experienced a culture though, can you? Do you... do you remember the oysters? I thought they were divine, but I remember your face when you tried them.” There’s a soft chuckle and then, “I miss our dinners. Ordering in isn’t the same, even if I can get whatever I want these days.” There was another pause and then a click.

Crowley’s heart was doing a funny little sideways wobble. That was the end of May. He was a little afraid to click the next few messages. Maybe... maybe he shouldn’t have been so quick to leave Aziraphale behind just to skip a few months. He scrolled past a few more voicemails and tapped one for the middle of June. There was hardly a sound at first, but an occasional soft sigh or the creak of floorboards gave away that someone was there, pacing. Crowley held the phone closer.

“... the thing is, as you say... I miss you, Crowley. I don’t miss our dinners so much. I can order in what I like. I don’t miss the plays; I can ‘stream’ those. A lot of museums are putting so many interesting things on the internet for me to visit. I can have the majority of the world right here in my bookshop with me. Imagine, human ingenuity,” Crowley swears he can actually hear Aziraphale swallow hard over the phone, “But you’re over there sleeping and I miss your company. Which is silly, isn’t it? We’ve gone longer apart, I know...” there’s another near-silent pause before Aziraphale seems to collect himself, “Do give me a ring when you wake up, dear.”

Crowley rubbed his eyes with his free hand because they were itching from being closed for so long. It’s the brightness of the phone, that’s all. Still, his chest is aching solidly now. There were a couple more messages before the last one and he skips those, opting to listen to the one from two days ago.

“It’s- It’s nearly July now. I find myself a bit excited to hear from you. I hope you don’t hit the snooze,” the laugh that follows sounds hollow and a bit forced, “I wouldn’t blame you if you did, though. Especially if you check the news before your phone. Things are not... they’re not as far along as we’d hoped. I mean, the world is trying to open back up. Humans treat economies like living things, you know. Some of the sellers on the street have lost their shops. And, one of them got sick. She’s still in hospital. I would like to visit her... maybe help... but they aren’t allowing visitors due to the infectiousness of the virus...” there’s another one of those long, painful pauses that gnaws at Crowley’s chest before, “When you wake up you’re more than welcome to come here now. I should have... I should have let you pop over to begin with. It’s still hard to remember, sometimes... that there aren’t rules for us now. Not even human rules, really. You can drive as fast as you like in London. We can’t get sick. You can come here. I wish. I wish you’d come here. Call me when you’re up, won’t you?”

Crowley tossed his phone and the blankets aside, sliding to the edge of the bed and rubbing his face with both hands. Taking a nap had been a mistake. He should have insisted and tempted the angel into giving in. That’s what he always had done, wasn’t it? Spin words differently until something that had sounded impossible started to sound like something allowed. It was just that, after everything, he had wanted Aziraphale to invite him willingly. But, what had that stubbornness really accomplished? With a snap of his fingers he was clean and dressed. He grabbed a few of his things and a bottle of wine and headed for the Bentley.

Strangely, a knock at the door of the bookshop door yielded no answer. Crowley had seen plenty of humans out and about on the streets on his way here. Maybe the angel had gone out at last. Still, it was being advertised as a bad idea, so he didn’t think that was the case. He snapped open the door and crept inside, locking it again behind him. The bookshop was dark and still inside. He kept walking through the maze of books and the collected clutter of all the angel’s lifetimes.

He found Aziraphale in a pool of light in the back room. He was curled up at the end of the sofa where they’d spent so many nights talking and drinking. A blanket was draped over his lap and a book that had been in his hands was now on the floor. He was sleeping, unbelievably. Crowley had never seen him sleep before. But, here he was: asleep with his silly little glasses still on.

Crowley set the wine down on a side table and stooped down to pick up the book, closing it gently and setting in on the sofa beside Aziraphale. He didn’t stand back up, instead crouching there and observing his friend: his face was lax in sleep, all the fussy lines smoothed out. Crowley found he would rather have those lines back if it meant he could see his eyes. He reached out and gently shook the angel’s knee.

Aziraphale startled which made Crowley jump, losing his balance and pitching backwards to sit on the floor.

“Crowley!”

“Yes, it’s me!”

“Oh!” Aziraphale flustered, going about straightening his bow tie and his collar, “How did you... Did you really pop over here?”

“You were asleep.”

“Nonsense, I don’t sleep.”

“You rarely sleep.”

“I don’t sleep at all. You sleep. For months.” There was a hurt edge to his voice that cut where the voicemails had ached. He had. He had left him alone here for months.

“Okay, you weren’t asleep. I just snuck up on you. Very sneaky, me.” He was back up on his knees now, unsure what to do with his hands. He wanted to touch, but that hadn’t seemed so welcomed a moment before.

“That isn’t much better, is it?” Aziraphale was fiddling with the edges of he blanket in his lap, “Did you have a good nap?”

“Nothing to speak of, really, I was unconscious,” Crowley wanted to rest his hands on Aziraphale’s knees at least, some form of grounding connection, instead he tried to use words, “I’m sorry-”

“I do apologize-”

They shared a long look.

“I’m glad you didn’t oversleep,” Aziraphale swallowed glancing from Crowley’s eyes to his own lap, “It’s been a long couple of months...”

Crowley placed a hand on one knee and when that wasn’t met with more than a cautious gaze he grasped the other and gave it a squeeze.

“I would rather have been here. I’m glad to be here now, with you.”

“I’m relieved you’re here. I missed you terribly, Crowley.” Soft, impossibly warm hands covered his own and Crowley’s heart gave a lurch.

“Next time,” Crowley watched more lines cross the angel’s face, “if there is a next time, I mean. Next time I’ll set my phone so you can ring through.”

“Oh, would you?”

“Anything, Angel, if it’ll make you feel better.”

“Maybe next time- if there is a next time,” Aziraphale pulled back his hands and fussed with them in his lap, “Next time you could just sleep here. So I... So I know where you are.”

“I could do that, too,” Crowley’s voice sounded rough even to him. The distance between them, though scant, was still unnerving him. He stood slowly and sat beside Aziraphale, knee pressed against his thigh, “You sounded so sad on the phone. I should’ve been there to answer. I won’t make that mistake again, I promise.”

There was a pause.

“You believe me?”

“I do. You haven’t lied to me yet.”

Crowley felt his shoulder’s relax for the first time since he’d started listening to the messages on his phone.

“So, tell me: you’ve been here all this time wishing I was here, yeah? What would you like to do? I brought some wine! We could play some board games. Promise not to cheat... overly much.” Crowley smiled at him, hoping to draw a smile from the angel.

Aziraphale smiled a little and then a worried shadow crossed over his face.

“Whatever you want, I’m at your disposal: a fully charged demon.”

“I... you don’t have to, you know? It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Aziraphale was rambling on like Crowley usually did and that was unnerving to say the least, “Could I... well, could I hold you?”

Crowley’s brain fizzled to a stop.

“You can say no,” Aziraphale’s breaths were coming faster now and he was blinking rapidly, “you don’t have to.”

Crowley sat up and threw a knee over Aziraphale’s lap so he could settle into it.

“Oh.”

“Whatever you want. I meant it.” Crowley watched for a moment as Aziraphale took him in, drinking him in really. Then the angel was reaching for him and pulling him into a tight hug. Crowley snuggled closer to him, burying his face in the angel’s shoulder.

“You’re what I want,” one warm hand was on Crowley’s back while the other was stroking up into his hair, “I missed you and now I only want to know you’re here.”

“m’here,” Crowley murmured into the shoulder he was pressed into, arms looping around Aziraphale’s neck, “Not going anywhere.”

Aziraphale squeezed him again and Crowley felt the tension in the angel’s body drain out, taking his along with it.

#aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #good omens #good omens fic #ineffable husbands #good omens lockdown #star light-reads

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toloveawarlord · 4 years

Text

You can fdiny masterlist in my bio!

25 Days of Christmas Day 5

Pairing: Levi x F!MC

Prompt: “Stop stalling and kiss me.”

Tagging: @plumpblueberry @christmaswarlock @sakura-1819 @starry-starry-night24 @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @thewitchofbooks @ikemensengokufangirl @stardust-dreamer13 @gay-noodle-clan @nad-zeta

A/N: Fluffly Levi for the win! Honestly I’m so soft for him.

The demon wrung his hands together, breath hanging in the air of the chilliest night he’d experienced in an exorbitantly long time. His D.D.D. lit up with the group chat with his brothers, some encouraging messages and others teasing him endlessly. Levi stuffed it into his pocket, not able to handle the distraction.

There were so many humans coming in and out of the building that he couldn’t talk himself into going in. Many had tinted cheeks, but not from the cold. They smiled as they stumbled to their cars, guided by their less intoxicated friends.

Levi muttered to himself, giving a poor pep talk as he crossed the snowy street. It would be a waste if he spent the entire evening cowering only a few feet away from his destination. It took all his strength to enter the crowded building.

The ballroom glittered, decorated in brilliant hues of red, green, and gold. The large tree seated in the corner rivaled the height of the trees found in Devildom. He absently wondered how the humans had gotten the massive thing in here. Golden eyes scanned the room, hand tugging his tie that seemed much too tight.

He heard her before he saw her. That sweet, melodic laugh that he’d come to love so much. MC stood surrounded by her friends, engaging in conversation that brought a smile to her lips. The crimson dress dipped down into a sweetheart neckline. The hem and ends of the sleeves lined with white fur. A mixture of cute and sexy perfectly blended.

Their eyes met. The demon finding himself unable to move, enthralled in her every movement. Her features lit up. The whole room melted away. Levi nearly stumbled when the woman threw herself into his arms. “Levi! What are you doing here?”

“I-”

“I didn’t mean it as a bad thing! I’m just surprised! A good surprise-” MC stumbled over her words, in complete awe that he’d managed to come to the human world on Christmas Eve.

Levi hugged her tightly to his chest. He might explode with embarrassment if she could see how flushed he was, not expecting her to be so happy to see him. Part of him worried she’d be upset that he’d simply showed up. Surely, she could hear his heart thumping wildly in his chest. “Well-- I asked Lord Diavolo-- and-- and he agreed to let me visit.”

Her chin rested against his chest, an elated smile on her lips. “I’ll have to send him a thank you message.”

If he got any hotter, he would implode. It had been too long since she’d returned the human world. And although they texted and face-chatted, it paled in comparison to holding her, feeling her body against his. “I think you’re over selling this--”

“Nope. You being here is the best present ever. End of story.”

An older gentleman passing them as he left, nudged his elbow into Levi’s arm. A sly smirk crossed his wrinkly features as he pointed upward with his cane. “Ah, young love.” He scuttled off with a chuckle as both their gazes lifted upward.

Dangling from the frame was mistletoe. It swayed mockingly, like it was a child poking fun at them.

Golden eyes dropped back down to find MC gazing up at him expectantly. Her cheeks were bright red but she somehow managed to not look away. He cleared his throat, eyes flickering around to anywhere but her. “I- uh-- this party--it’s n-nice-”

Her fingers twisted into the lapel of his tux jacket, tugging hard to bring his face closer to hers. Their noses bumped. “Stop stalling and kiss me-” Her voice cracked, but the demand registered as she’d intended.

Shaky hands reached up to hold her face. His mind raced with anxiety. What if he messed up? There are so many people watching. But it quieted when he gazed into her eyes. He could lose himself completely. The reflection of love and affection soothed the demon’s racing nerves.

Levi pressed a soft kiss to her lips, testing out if he remembered how to kiss properly. But he shouldn’t have worried. They’d memorized each other, the curve of her lips etched into his very being. The sweet and tender melted into passionate and fiery, likely a little inappropriate for the location.

The cheering and whistling from her group of friends across the room broke them apart. MC turned to chastise them while Levi covered his heart with his hand, as if that could calm the rapid beating. He spied that the tips of her ears were a deep shade of red.

“Let’s go. I want-” MC bit down on her lip, peeking up at him from beneath her lashes. She laced her fingers with his and smiled when he gave a gentle squeeze. “I want to spend the rest of Christmas Eve with you. Alone.” She lifted up onto the balls of her feet and placed a peck on his lips.

His heart lurched his chest. How was one human so damn cute? The crisp winter air soothed his heated skin, but he tucked her under his arm as she shivered. Despite the cold, her smile never wavered as she repeated how happy she was that he’d come.

At this rate, he’d never return to the Devildom.

#obey me #obey me fanfiction #obey me leviathan #obey me!#obey me levi #25 days of christmas #2020 edition #levi is so sweet

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pi-cat000 · 3 years

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MSA time travel idea (part 42)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Vivi POV, 8, 9, 10, Lewis POV, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, Lance POV 18, 19, Lewis POV 2, 21 , 22, Vivi POV 2, 24, 25 Lewis POV 3, Mystery POV , Vivi POV 3, 29, Lewis POV 4, 31, ViVi POV 4 , 33, 34, Lewis POV 5, Mystery POV 2, Lewis POV 6, Vivi POV 5, Lewis POV 7 Vivi POV 6 Vivi POV 7

Part 43: here

...

(ARTHUR POV)

“Maybe, if you’d been even half of what he was, you wouldn’t have been possessed so damn easily. I mean, this kid put up more of a fight, and he’s pretty much a walking collection of neurosis,” the demon taunts.

“I said shut up!”

The demon, and by default, Arthur, narrows their eyes. Micky’s sudden appearance has thrown a wrench into its plans, drawing its full and undivided attention. Irritation curls around Arthur, replacing the previous sensations of smug satisfaction and amusement. The emotion is unpleasant, making Arthur’s mind crawl but it’s better than the sadistic joy he had been forced to endure as it was stabbing Lewis. For the first time since that disastrous meeting in the hospital’s car-park, Arthur finds himself completely free of surveillance. The demon’s attention is focused solely on Micky and the gun. The shift is so sudden and is Arthur so panicked, that he almost doesn’t recognise the opportunity.

Luckily-the only luck he’s had in a long while-he does recognise his opening. His one chance to make things right.

A desperate calm settles over him. Lightning flashes, illuminating the faint blue and purple of Vivi and Lewis’s clothes. Mystery glows ever brighter, casting a red tint on the concrete around him. Everything else is darker shades of grey, fading into black.

In his new state of calm, Arthur can envision how the next few seconds would play out. Micky would shoot. The demon would dodge. Even now, he can feel how his body is tensing, preparing to duck to the side. The demon is hyper-focus on the gun, watching Micky’s every muscle twitch. To dodge, the demon would have to already be moving even before the gun went off. It would need precise control and a split-second warning just before the shot. After the gun fired, Vivi would run forward to ‘save’ him, putting herself in danger. Then, Mystery would be forced to transform and save her. In the commotion, the demon would make their escape.

“Did you even go back to bury him, or did you just leave him there? What happened to all the ritual, funeral nonsense to send his soul on its merry way? How disrespectful.” The demon’s voice is full of malice, coloured with amusement, aiming to both harm and insult.

The gun clicks in Micky’s hand. Already, Arthur can feel himself tensing, preparing to move fast.

“Stop!” Vivi lurches upright and Mystery blocks her from jumping between them. “If you shoot, you’ll kill Arthur!”

This is okay. Arthur has already accepted that he might never see his friends again. The demon would run, take him away, and they would be safe. Mystery would pass along his apology and it would be fine. The only one to really suffer would be him and he thinks he can live with that. Is that true though?

“That fucking brat sent us to our deaths. He’s just as guilty.”

It wasn’t just him that would suffer was it? This thing would keep on killing. It would use his body to kill other people and maybe, one day, it would go after Lewis or Vivi again. The creature wanted Arthur specifically and he is aware enough to know that the demon has got some sort of plan involving his messed-up soul.

The body snatcher sniggers, “I’m sure Dan would be very unimpressed with how you're threatening this poor innocent human. I mean, if he weren’t a shish-kebab at the bottom of a cave.”

Micky yells, loud, animalistic, full of pain and rage. Arthur feels a pang of empathy for the man who had had the misfortune of running into him and being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just like Darrel.

In that fraction of a second before the gun goes off, his body, under the direction of the demon, lunches to the right. Everything slows, time crawling by. Arthur can already see Mystery leaping, his dog form rapidly expanding. Vivi is also running towards him, face white with fear.

His way out was suddenly blindingly clear.

With all his remaining will power, throws himself to the left. He slams into the mental barrier separating him from his body. Similar to when he’d first tried this in the van, the demon falters ever so briefly, its attention refocusing onto him and away from Micky. For a fraction of a second, in between heartbeats, the demon’s movements slow. Unlike when he had tried this before, there is no time for the demon to react.

“ARTHUR!”

The shout rings in his ears alongside the loud CRACK of a shotgun discharging.

A sudden weight smacks him in the chest and he stumbles back. This time, Arthur’s sense of fear is mixed in with his own cold vindication. In a moment of role reversal, it is Arthur feeling spiteful and the demon experiencing surprise.

“You little shit,” He feels himself spit the words out, angry, even as new wetness clogs his throat and the metallic taste of blood floods his mouth. Time accelerates again. Arthur hits the pavement and doesn’t even care that his head cracks on the hard surface. All bodily sensation is fuzzy now. Any pain one would expect to feel after getting shot is dulled. Surprise quickly turns to anger. The demon is almost brittle with furry, its full attention bearing down on him from all angles, pressing in. Suffocating.

“Shit. Shit. Shit…Bleeding…that’s a lot of blood. Need to control the bleeding.” Arthur focuses on Vivi’s face which materialises above him. For the first time since his possession, Arthur managers to move of his own violation, taking a hash breath. The process is an immense struggle and he’s not sure if it’s because of the demon or blood loss.

“Vi…” His tong feels heavy and foreign, the words he tries to say are garbled by the blood coming up through his throat. He doesn’t get more than a syllable out before the control is wrestled away.

‘You think this is over?’ The voice echoes in his head, low and threatening.

“Shh. Don’t speak. Everything will be okay. I don’t think its hit anything important. Just lie still.” Her expression is a mix of horror and worry. Regret quickly roles over his vindication because the last thing he wants is for Vivi to have to watch her friend bleed out and die.

His vision blurs. A purple outline appears alongside Vivi. It’s Lewis, equally, if not more panic-stricken. He can feel to demon’s attention re-centre, staring Lewis right in the eye.

“What’s…up. You…goin…watch him die …with me?” The demon jerks, trying to grab a hold of Lewis’s bear unprotected hands.

‘You can’t have Lewis.’

Arthur slams his full mental weight into malicious presence, pushing it to one side, cutting it off mid-sentence. As his body weakens so does its control. They’re both weak now.

‘Sharing is caring.’ Is sneered. A wave of malicious intent chips away at his control, paralysing rational thought with uncontained fear. Arthur feels his hand lift under the demon’s renewed power, reaching weakly for Lewis, beckoning.

“Lew…is.” Arthur tries to speak and warn his friend off.

‘Don’t do it.’ He can’t get the words out, his control failing. It is like being back in the cave, unable to stop the unimaginably terrible from happening. His vision distorts, made worse by the night around them. He can barely see the conflict waring across his friend’s face. His arm is numb. He and Lewis are standing on a ledge overlooking a steep drop…green is pooling at the edges of his vision. It doesn’t matter that they are both weak, the demon’s got him beat in the willpower department. Too many past mistakes occupy his thoughts, distracting him.

Lewis’s hand hovers then closes around his, drawing his focus. The hand is warm almost comforting.

NO.

He claws at the demon, ripping and tearing at anything he can reach, trying to drag it down with him. A patronising laugh bounces around and there is the sensation of something rushing to escape. Arthur scratches and grasps but it is hard to hold onto something that hardly exists. The result is an exercise in futility like he’s trying to dig his nails into loose shale.

‘Nice try but you’re a few centuries too inexperienced to hold me down.’ The demon slips away, leaving him to sink downwards, alone. ‘Try not to die while I’m out would you. I would hate for all this drama to be for nothing,’ Arthur can still feel the echo of rage and malevolence underlining its final amused jab as it fades from his consciousness. The demon is angry. He knows it is going to do its level best to hurt Lewis. There is nothing he can do to stop it. And, suddenly, Arthur is alone in his own mind.

“Why?” He coughs, wishing he could shake an answer out of Lewis. ‘Why did you do that Lewis?’ The last he sees of Lewis is a green discolouration creeping up the other’s arm. Lewis stumbles away, swallowed by the night.

Vivi’s shocked face fades to nothing a second later. Then there is only darkness. No demon, just himself and all his mistakes. No snarky running commentary on how screwed up and pathetic he was. No weird dissonance as he experienced two sets of emotional responses. He is just Arthur existing alone. He should feel relieved. This should be a triumph.

It's not...

It’s dark and he’s falling, slamming into a stone spike. Two sets of memories blur together, becoming one extended nightmare. Two failed timelines are laid before him in a spread of damning evidence against his very existence.

Lewis is dead…then alive, grinning, eyes flashing bright green as he looks down on him, “Once in a millennia chance and you managed to screw it up.” There is fire rising around him, growing increasingly not, framing Lewis’s human visage. “This is your fault.”

He coughs, gripping the spike piercing up through his chest.

“How many can say they’ve had a second chance? None. That’s how many?” Lewis growls and the flames become unbearably hot till even the air itself hurts. “Face it. I just wasn’t that important to you.” Arthur should just stop trying to fight and let the fire burn away all that was left of him.

It’s what he deserves.

“So that’s it.” The female voice cuts through the crackle of the fire, “You’re just going to give up?"

The stone around him shifts, colours mutating from purple and green to a gleaming, blue-tinted ice. Gone is the stone spike, the cliff, and the cave, to be replaced by an empty snow-filled field. He is no longer in pain. He is kneeling, half-buried in snow, surrounded be an empty silver-grey landscape.

“What about your promise to answer my questions. You’re going to leave everyone behind wondering what the heck happened?” Lewis and his fire disappear, replaced with cold air and a familiar voice. He squints up at the blurry Vivi-shaped outline but can’t make out her face. The word around him is too blindingly bright to make out any details.

“I can’t…” he pleads, “I’ve made so many mistakes.”

“So what. That’s never stopped you before.”

He drops his gaze, ignoring the the rustle of fabric as a person knelt in front of him.

“We all make mistakes.” Her voice is soft.

“I don’t know what to do?”

If there’s one thing the demon has taught him it was that things could always get worse.

“It’ll be okay Arthur. Just explain what happened. I’ll understand.”

He looks up, desperately searching for the face of a familiar older Vivi.

“I miss you.” He doesn’t care that he is angsting over what was probably a figment of his imagination. The shadow of a Vivi he’d left behind in a future that would never happen.

“Silly, I never left.”

The white space above him splinters, shattering like glass, falling on him like flakes of snow.

His next breath is heavy like he is struggling against some immense weight. It is nothing like being on the cliff, struggling to breathe against the heat and having it cut with frigid cold, this is real. The sensation of forcing his lungs to expand and take in the dry air is almost too real. A dull ache settles over him and he can’t tell if it is coming from his body or somewhere deep in his chest. Everything feels floaty and unreal and he struggles to pull together a coherent thought. Arthur wills his eyes to open, almost afraid to try and have this illusion of control snatched away.

Light eclipses the dark. The imprint of spikes, fire and ice, fade into a nightmare. He stares up at a familiar off-white ceiling. A pattern of square panels, broken by two overhead lights, one of which is switched off, meaning the room in only half lit. The faint smell of anaesthetic and bleach lingers in the air. Absently, he recognises the hospital ceiling. The dejavu is painful.

Slowly, almost too afraid to try, he turns his head, scanning for his arm. There is a needle disappearing into his skin just above his wrist which is connected to a machine beeping a faint rhythmic pattern. It is his flesh and blood arm. This is his original arm, meaning this is the other timeline. The one he had just royally screwed up. His fingers twitch when he wills them to move, jerking inwards to grasp at nothing. This is the timeline where his Uncle is dead, and Lewis is probably off somewhere killing people under the demon’s control. An unbearable sadness descends upon him. He takes solace in the melancholy, welcoming it, wrapping it around himself like a familiar blanket. Maybe, if he waited long enough, the demon would return, and he would be able to save Lewis. Arthur doubts it, he has nothing of value to trade aside from himself and Lewis is ten times more valuable than him. It was pointless. Maybe he hadn’t learnt his lesson about wanting things. Maybe he will just lie here forever, wasting away.

Maybe that didn’t sound so bad.

“Arthur.” The surprised voice cuts into him, slicing apart his thoughts.

He blinks, twitching to glance to the side, focus shifting past the empty hospital chair placed next to his bed and towards the doorway. Vivi. She is standing in the entrance. Her clothes are wrinkled, speckled with dirt, and she has smudges across her face that look a bit like wood ash. Her eyes are wild with open surprise.

Her surprise becomes relief, mixed with conflicting joy and apprehension.

“You’re awake.” She speaks slowly, voice halting.

“V…” His throat is far too dry to speak so the word comes out as a wheeze.

Whatever misgivings had Vivi frozen in the doorway, they don’t hold her for long and she is across the room in a flash of blue. The next thing he knows her weight is resting across his shoulder and chest, gripping onto him. There is a brief flash of purely physical pain as she bumps the wad of bandages he only just notices are covering the upper half of his torso, wrapping his collar bone. Her face is awkwardly pressed against his opposite shoulder.

When his vision blurs, he panics, momentarily thinking he was losing his control. However, he quickly recognises it as a different sort of loss of control. A normal loss of control. There is water pooling in his eyes, running down his face. He’s crying, making breathing hard.

“You idiot.” Vivi’s voice is unsteady now, full of hurt, “You colossal idiot.”

“I'm…sor…” He swallows, coughing out the apology “…ry” He doesn’t know what exactly he’s apologising for but he’s made so many mistakes that it’s the only thing he can think to say.

“I thought you were going to die.”

Sluggishly, Arthur tries to raise a hand, the one without a needle sticking into it, to hold onto the fabric of her jacket. His muscles feel a bit like jelly, spasming occasionally, as his mind re-associates mental commands with movement. He realises with a pang of grief that she is wearing Lewis’s jacket. What happened to Lewis? He tries to speak, to explain, to ask questions, but his throat is still too dry. After attempting this a few more times he gives up and allows himself the small comfort of being able to hug Vivi again.

NOTE: Happy Holidays!! Have an update as a gift :) Hope everyone is safe and wish you all good luck transitioning into the new year. Thank you for another years worth of support of this fic, it means a lot.

Part 43: here

#MSA #mystery skulls animated #arthur kingsmen #Vivi Yukino #angst #angst overload #depression #Suicidal Thoughts #tw suicide #descriptions of violence #fic is sad and angsty what else is new #hopefuly the worse is over...hopefuly...#arthur and vivi angst stuff #arthur and vivi friendship #time travel au #fanfiction

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makaylajadewrites · 3 years

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Maybe

Read on AO3

so I wrote some trash that I wanted to share with everyone else experiencing sad boy hours. its pretty ambiguous but it’s intended to be Reid and Morgan - take it how you will.

tws: implied sex, angst, unrequited love

word count: 737

“Have you ever considered us?” He asked one night, sprawled on his back in a bed that was not his own, his alabaster skin contrasting against the black sheets. His partner turned to him, an amused expression on his face, disbelief in his dark eyes. He should have known.

“The only thing I considered was going for another round,” his nameless companion said in response, and maybe he broke a little, but he wasn’t for sure, and he had never been so uncertain of anything in all his life. These nights of senseless sex and intoxication simply could not continue, else he would only lose more of himself along the way.

“Ah,” he had said, mindless in the way his bedmate kissed along his shoulder and up the expanse of his neck. He should be used to this by now, the feeling of only being wanted by another human being when it was convenient for them and then being abandoned as soon as they realized he couldn’t live up to their expectations. How to change this was a mystery, because it had been like that all his life, and strangely enough, he didn’t know if he wanted to change it. At least now, he was wanted occasionally. “I think I can do that.”

And while it often felt normal to spend a night with a familiar stranger, who only wanted the same thing as before, it was eating him up inside, tearing the flesh from bone until he was a walking corpse of his former self. His muscles atrophied from the crippling pressure of being valuable to someone.

He was in love with a man who would never consider him as anything more than a friend, companion, colleague, coworker. They were doomed from the start, and maybe he should have kept his heart in check and avoided feeling those emotions that had devastated his entire life. Love was not for him, familial or otherwise. It would always leave, eventually, because as he watched his mother fade over the years, he knew that her love for him was fading too. She hardly ever recognized him anymore, and to see a look of confusion on his mother’s face when she was confronted with her own son was enough to break him maybe.

“Does it feel good?” His partner asked from somewhere above him, and he responded positively, just to keep the sensations going. It didn't feel good, in fact, because he felt nothing at all, but the numbness was the greatest feeling in the entire world. In this little fantasy he had created, he was happy and content with his life and there was nothing he would change. He was in love, and the love was returned by the very object of his desire.

So instead of a nameless partner, his companion had an identity that was ever so carefully crafted by a calamitous universe. He didn’t believe in fate, but he was certain that his beloved was created with every ounce of perfection ever imagined, and nothing could change his mind on the matter. He was a broken man in love with a perfect one, and the odds of anything ever coming from that were so microscopically small that he went ahead and considered it null.

“Are you close?” Was asked, and he forced himself to give the response his partner wanted from him, like he was expecting from him. The emptiness inside was swallowing him whole, and he was for certain that by the end of this, there wouldn’t be any of him left. The sense of wetness built in his eyes and he was crying before he realized it. His nameless companion must have assumed it was his doing, and he just muttered something that was neither fulfilling or worthwhile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Pretty Boy,” his beloved said in his departure.

He was left alone eventually, reminded of how good of a partner he was, and he wondered if he would be left feeling like this always. His heart lurched in his chest at the very thought of him loving him in return, and while he wished so badly to be good enough, it was a hopeless lament.

So he cried, clutching the black sheets around him as a replacement for his beloved’s arms which would never hold his body in a true embrace. And when faced with that realization, he maybe broke to pieces.

#moreid #criminal minds #angst #whoopsies #sad boy hours

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missmonsters2 · 4 years

Text

About You || Part VI

Gif by: giuliacommissions (please check her out if you’d like to commission her for gifs and other work 💞)

PAIRING: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader/OFC

Summary: Wanda had never known loss like she has until she lost Pietro. It’s debilitating. She can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t even leave her house. Life is fading fast, and she’s not sure if she even wants to hang on. Enter you, a stranger that reconnects her to the daily things that makes life beautiful.

Warnings: Deals with loss & grief and the spectrum of emotions and depression that comes with it. Please note there is no glorification in any of this. Loss, grief, and depression are nothing beautiful. Also, please don’t hesitate or reach out for help if you are in a dark place. Love you, lovelies 💘

Genre: Angst & Romance

NOTE: We are making HEADWAY

PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV || PART V

PART VI of X

Count: 1500

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"So, it's been almost two months."

Wanda's eyes traveled to Steve for a slight second before she looked away.

"Yeah," she answers shortly.

"You're eating again. I mean, you won't eat dinner without her like a child, but you're eating," Steve points out as he washes the vegetables and starts cutting them.

Wanda pushes around the various spices laid out on the table, knocking some of them over before picking them back up again.

"I just happen to be hungry when she's eating too."

But Wanda knew she would rather starve than eat dinner without you.

Steve looked at his friend, smiling as he looked back down to finish cutting the vegetables.

"At least now, I know you'll keep her around."

"Why do you say that?" Wanda asks absentmindedly.

"Because you've been staring at the clock for her this entire time."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You come in with Natasha, Clint, and Bucky in a flurry, grocery bags falling onto the ground as you heave a sigh.

"Sorry we're late. Someone," You squint at Clint, "Wouldn't let us leave until he compared all prices for the desserts."

"I saved us 5 dollars!" Clint indignantly replied.

Wanda's home becomes lively with everyone running around in the house with Tony being the final person to arrive with wine. There was laughter as Natasha almost burned the house down, and squealing as Clint tried to throw random things in the dishes before the two were kicked out the kitchen, and only Steve and Bucky left to cook.

It would've been much faster to have you help, but no one wanted to disturb you from your significant position in this household.

You saw how the second you enter through the door, Wanda's eyes fluttering with relief as she relaxed. You walked over to her and pulled her into a hug as you rubbed soothing circles on her back.

"I'm here," you reassured her because Wanda was someone who needed it constantly because she was scared constantly.

You stroke her head, fingers running through her hair as Wanda relaxes in her hold and whispers in your ear.

"I couldn't stop watching the clock."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The rest of the gang walks home together, slowly reaching the point where they'll split ways.

"They're totally going to date," Clint says, holding the leftover containers in his hands.

"You think so?" Natasha asks. The night was pleasant. It's been a while since so many people were over at Wanda's place. Her home is starting to feel a little warmer, and that makes Natasha happy.

"Oh, yeah," Clint grins. He had been teasing Wanda about how she would wait for you to put her plate together and wait for you to start eating before she did. Of course, he stopped when he saw Wanda flush red in her cheeks and ears.

"Did you see the way Wanda looked at her the moment she came in?" Clint laughs.

Steve smiled, strolling leisurely along with the group as he looked at the ground.

"You should've seen the way she waited."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wanda liked that you went with the flow. Because even though Wanda would catch you staring at her with questioning eyes, you never said anything.

Perhaps it was selfish of Wanda to let you exist in limbo, even if you seemed to exist well in there.

She could tell your eyes were asking what it was Wanda wanted from you.

What did she want you to be for her?

But Wanda didn't know how to answer.

Because they weren't friends. Friends probably don't sleep together every night, wrapped up in each other's limbs in the morning. But they weren't...dating.

Wanda didn't know what she wanted if she were quite honest.

And so, Wanda didn't respond to your questioning eyes.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It was warm.

A little too warm.

Wanda opened her eyes to find you pressed against her side in bed. Lying there, she thought about how much nicer it was to sleep together on the bed than on the couch.

Although, Wanda conceded that the couch did allow her to squish closer to you.

Wanda turned slowly, her legs still tangled as she lay on her folded arm on the pillow to look at you. She stared at the lashes of your closed eyes, down to the bridge of your nose, and even your slightly parted lips as you breathed in and out puffs of air.

And for a moment, Wanda swallowed, trying to distance herself from your touch, but you pulled her closed until your lips were pressed against her collarbone. Goosebumps erupted all over herself, a quiet thudding in her heart getting faster.

There were so many things Wanda could've done. She could get out of bed, she could've woken you up, she could've done anything, but Wanda didn't.

Like a small flame being lit within her chest, there was a small whisper of a confession inside herself.

Wanda wanted to be closer to you.

She was ready to risk the possibility of losing again.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"I've got to head to work today, there are some problems. I'll see you later!"

You ran out the door, not even bothering to wait to hear Wanda reply as you were well aware of the fact she never bid goodbyes.

Wanda stared at the clock from the couch. Work was about 8 hours, and she sighed impatiently and forlornly. You would make it back for dinner, Wanda told herself to settle the discomfort in her.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Seriously, Wanda, just give it a try!"

Wanda rolled her eyes without looking at her brother.

"Why?" Wanda asked as she stroked her paintbrush across her canvas.

"Because I'm actually concerned you're going to die alone. I saw you looking at the cats when we passed by the shelter the other day. You can't get a cat...alone," Pietro leaned against the wall, admiring his sister's work.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Wanda squints at her brother momentarily before returning to her work.

"Trying your hand at watercolor, finally?" Pietro asks as he comes up behind his sister.

"Yeah, I'm not sure why you like it, though," Wanda sighs, "I can see all the lines I drew underneath. It doesn't look perfect at all."

Pietro looks at his sister's hand to see a mess of colors all over her hands and fingers.

"Exactly," he says, looking at the pencil lines on the canvas, "it's truly a work of art."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It was dark.

Much past dinner time.

In fact, it's been 10 hours and 32 minutes.

Wanda could not sit still. She couldn't eat or sleep.

She was experiencing an array of emotions that went from confusion, worry, anger, back to worry, and again to anger.

Why were you so late?

Why didn't you call?

You said you would see her later.

But then Wanda would agonize because later was so vague. There's no time stamp on that.

Was work just longer than you expected, or were you hurt?

Wanda groaned in frustration, slamming herself back on the couch as she leaned her head back, facing the ceiling with her hands over her face.

The helplessness she felt grew with each tick of the clock.

She looked again and groaned.

10 hours and 43 minutes.

And Wanda was all too aware that you made her feel too human.

The doorknob jiggled, and Wanda shot up.

"Hey, did you eat--"

"Where were you?"

You stood there, having just shut the door and keys still in your hand as you faced Wanda down the hall. Wanda has had plenty of time to stew in her anger, and with her lack of control lately, she was going to make sure you felt all of it.

"Why didn't you call?"

"I had an emergency patient--"

Your explanation is cut short, Wanda not even bothering to hear it as she lurched forward to pull you into her arms.

"I'm sorry you keep looking at me and holding back your questions. I'm sorry I left you in limbo, but I don't know what I want from you," Wanda says in the crook of your neck. The words are rushed, and Wanda is holding onto you tightly with silent pleas.

Your arms are half-lifted in shock, but you slowly wrap your arms around Wanda in return. She was warm, such a wonderful quality that you adored.

You pull back, looking at Wanda briefly. You knew that Wanda was petrified. The fabric of your jacket rubbed between her fingers anxiously, and her eyes would flicker with bursts of emotions.

It was fear that Wanda constantly felt, and you know she would never make the first move. So, you moved closer, pressing your lips to hers, her bottom lip quivering as your tongue ran against it before drawing it in again between your lips.

You pull back, just slightly as you whisper against her lips, "You can want anything you want from me. It's okay if you want my time, my attention, and all my affections."

PART VII

#mm: my fics #series: about you #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x OFC #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #scarlet witch x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch imagine #avengers reader insert #avengers au #avengers imagine #marvel reader insert #Modern Avengers AU

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laur-rants · 3 years

Text

Fic Update: Blood Wolf

Chapter 5

Fandom: Dishonored Ship: Daud and the Whalers, some Daud/Outsider on the side

Rated: Mature to Explicit, Strong Violence and Gore Ahead!!

Synopsis: Werewolf!AU :: Daud-Centric Prequel to Wolfbann. Origin Story, pre-canon. Centers on how Daud turned, and his subsequent marking by the Outsider and his formulation of the Whalers.

Notes: Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. Daud goes back to where it began, spurred to action by the Outsider’s words.

AO3 link

Previous :: First :: Next

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Dunwall

Month of Songs, 1820

He was running. He was running, throwing his surging body forward, every step pounding into the ground with the force of a full stampede. The scent of blood, of fear, was heavy in his nose; it drove his senses to a pinpoint, beckoning him onward. Weariness fled from him as his skin was shed, scars blazing and teeth shining with a manic light. He breathed and his body breathed with him, contracting and expanding, growing with every filled lung. He gulped air like a whale before the plunge; muscles rippled, launching, claws ready to rend, to tear, to savor.

He was a killer; he was born for this. His prey was fully unaware; fur flew and bone crushed and his jaws longed for the warmth of blood, the tender tear of flesh rending between his teeth. A limb was shorn from its body easily and his long nose plunged into the cavity left behind, rooting for soft, vulnerable organs. He closed his eyes and worshiped the entrails he found within. He was drunk on it, drowning in the life-giving red water, offering reverence to both god and devoured flesh. Somewhere far away, a whale keened; he bellowed his own song, body rippling with the sound as it morphed into a roar, then a scream. His voice dripped with Void but still the whales cried and burned; he could feel their dying songs reverberating in his ears, his whole body resonating with the call.

------

Daud lurched forward, gasping for air, returning to the surface of his dreams. His body was slick with sweat and smoke and his nose burned with the smell of burning oil. Whalesong mixed in his ears with another unearthly sound, a keening note that he realized, belatedly, was a sundering howl ripped from his own throat. He fell from the bed, all too aware of his teeth clashing, his claws ripping, his body shaking from an exertion he didn't know it was experiencing until now.

He tried to still his panicking mind but his body spasmed of its own accord, as if trying desperately to break free of it's human-shaped prison. He fought for lucidity against the instinctive desire to shift into something else. He bit down on his tongue, rolling it through too-long teeth, and clenched his left hand so painfully it bled. He tasted iron on his lips and gasped out, trying not to fall apart at the literal seams.

Human, human, you're still human , he reminded himself, trying desperately to convince whatever shift was happening to reverse itself. A dark part of his mind snarled back, telling him he was only lying to himself, that humanity was now beyond him--but he snuffed it out, shaking his head as the world swam with void and smoke. He clenched his fist even tighter; he snarled and his scars smoldered like they would sear his face right off, but he finally got his body to settle. Claws melted away, fur and ears and snout left on a non-existent breeze. His chest exhaled; with it, the beast succumbed, returning to rest in the coil of his ribcage. His limbs shook, his body was slick with sweat. He wanted to be sick.

When he pounded his fist into the flooring, the wood creaked, splinters biting into his skin.

A week. He'd had this Mark for a bloody week and still, everyday was a fight. A fight against a body that didn't want to be confined to skin, with claws that itched to grow, with teeth that begged to be bared. The Mark on his hand and the whispers of the Void that were supposed to help him maintain this mess seemed only to encourage the beast of him. His dreams were vivid bloodbaths coaxing the monster to burst from his skin. The Outsider had wondered how long Daud could control the beast; Daud wondered if he even had control to begin with.

His hand seized and he shook it, flexed it, then concentrated. His breathing returned to normal, his shivering stopped. He willed those claws to grow long and deadly before whispering them away again. He watched as the inky black fur broke apart and turned to ash, as if the fur wasn't made of hair, but actual voidstone, muttering secrets even as it dissipated away. Daud frowned, sat back on his legs, and closed his eyes.

This time, he felt for the Void. He searched for it with purpose, his hand the part of him that was allowed to plunge across the barrier. The chill was bone deep, the pain of it followed by a tingling pressure that begged him to stop-- but he found it. The tendril of magic he was searching for. He tugged on it like a spider testing its web, following the vibrations towards its intended goal.

Daud kept his eyes closed until he felt the cold burn up his arm, filling him with magic. When he opened his eyes, the world's colors were muted but her secrets lay bare; people far below him either still slept or paced paths around their beds. Scent trails wafted in front of him, the smells of whales, of oil, of burnt skin traveling through his apartment. When he blinked again his normal color vision returned, the murmur in his ear fled from him, and his mark faded from a bright screaming white back down to a faded black.

He drew breath and heavy air filled his lungs; a cold hand materialized on his scarred cheek and he stilled, blinking, until a smirking figure appeared before him fully. He swallowed, still very aware of his position on the floor, and lifted his gaze to meet endless black.

"My, learning something new today?" the Outsider asked calmly, stroking a thumb across Daud's cheek. The sensation of the touch across his scars sent a shivering jolt all the way down to his feet and he gasped at the sensation. He tried to regain composure, tried to scowl at the god.

"It's not like I've been given many instructions," Daud complained. "So I've had to learn to take what I can get when I find it."

"You have been quite busy seeking out my shrines," the Outsider noted. "But they are easier to listen for than to see. This new power will help you hear their songs. Once your ears hear it, you will know. And you will be drawn to them."

Thin fingers moved from his face to his hair, carding through the loose black strands and Daud's eyes slid closed, his body entranced under the touch. It was soothing and suffocating; he let himself be set adrift, the current pulling him where it wished. The Outsider smiled.

"A mother from Pandyssia, and the bastard father she murdered on her way to Serkonos. She was called a witch, people thought she worshipped me. But she didn't; you knew it was all slander. You didn't even believe I really existed." He drew his hand away and Daud whined, unbidden. Free of the trance, he stood up; the Outsider floated above the flooring, his shadow immeasurable.

"Why believe in a god that didn't pay attention to us, or the suffering of others? It was pointless."

"And yet, here I am. In truth, I'm glad you weren't devout. Would have made it so much less interesting to approach you." The Outsider turned away, though Daud felt as if his hungry dead eyes were still watching his every move.

"Tell me, Daud, did you ever hear the fables of whale-wolves in your youth?"

Daud blinked. "My mother mentioned them under a different name. Wolfbanner, those cursed as wolves. It was fanciful, like anything from Pandyssia. I didn't pay it much mind as I aged, when I had other things to worry about."

"Like murdering your abusive captors," the Outsider supplied. He turned back to Daud, studying him. "Not your first kill, and not your last." He disappeared, reappearing at Daud's side, facing the opposite direction. A hand hovered over Daud's arm, the sensation of promised contact prickling against his skin.

"You are by far the most bloodthirsty of my Marked, the first in a long time."

There was a sadness there, but also an interest, a hunger. Daud leaned away a little, trying to meet the Outsider's eye.

"How many have you Marked?"

"There are a few in every age. You are one of six, all scattered in the Isles. The last time I marked someone, you were still a babe in Serkonos. The last time one of my Marked died, it was here, under this very city, just over a year ago." His face fell serious, a terrible gaze that chilled Daud to the bone.

"The one Fink found," Daud surmised, and the Outsider's form flickered dangerously. He chose to dissipate, forming again to sit on Daud's bed, a foot resting over the opposite knee.

"My whale-wolves are not the playthings of men. They are individuals who make their own lives, their own paths, their own choices. According to legend, the original were whales that left the water to walk on land; they possessed humans, and their form changed to suit their bodies and their environment. It was not so easy on the humans; they eventually lost their minds to the whale's overwhelming presence, ravaging their villages and infecting their others, and were ultimately killed." The Outsider looked away, his gaze far off.

"But that was thousands of years ago, when whales were more powerful. My Mark gives humans a fighting chance, but it also changes them forever. You are now more than you ever were before, Daud."

"I was quite fine being human, you know," Daud snarled. "I didn't want to become some furred whale that walks on land." The Outsider gave him a sad look.

"Unfortunately, few get to choose this path. Those who have the option of choice are rarer and more powerful than you could ever imagine. You could have been one but…" the Outsider flicked over to him again, his hands and eyes fixated on the scars marring his face. Daud inhaled sharply, not expecting the touch.

"But you were attacked before that choice could be offered to you. I'm sorry. So please, do not take what I've given you to waste."

The god's voice was barely a whisper, but so loud within his ears, like rushing water. He turned toward the Outsider, unbidden. That slender face smiled.

"What would you see me do, then?" He asked, eyes dark and entranced again.

"Return to where you started," the Outsider offered. "And keep your friends close. You will need them, soon."

And then, just like that, Daud was alone again. He shivered, his body alight in a very different sense, limbs tingling with phantom pain. He breathed, trying to ease his mind, but it was no use. He settled instead for a cold shower but all it did was remind him of those icy hands, the rush of water in the Void, and the whales that kept crying from their death row in the slaughterhouses.

------

Rulfio was early to his meeting with Daud by approximately ten minutes and 45 seconds.

Apparently, so was Daud.

This wasn't completely unlike the other assassin, if Rulfio was being honest. What was unlike Daud, however, was his vulnerable position-- sitting against the chimney, his arms resting on his knees, his mouth nervously rolling a new cig. Daud didn't even look at Rulfio as he cleared the roof, swinging his legs over the edge before straightening up.

There was no mask, this time. A welcome return to normalcy -- until, of course, Daud turned his head towards Rulfio. Without thinking, Rulfio's eyes shot over to Daud's scars and he stilled. His beard pulled into a frown and he crossed his arms; Daud sighed. The younger assassin didn't stand up, just kept sitting there, too open and languid.

"Do I even want to know the trouble you've been into since the last time I saw you?" The words were rough but held no venom; Daud responded by looking down and away, the shadow of a smile twitching on his lips as he pulled at his cigarette. The smoke billowed up as he breathed out.

"Maybe not. If I had the option of not knowing, I would take it, to be honest."

There was something ruined there in those words that gave Rulfio a pause. He unfolded his arms, instead opting to set his hands into pockets.

"Well, did you get it done, then? It's been near two weeks."

Daud nodded. He then dug into the bandolier at his chest and pulled out a small pouch. He tossed it to Rulfio, who caught it easily. He noted the red velvet of the purse's fabric, opened it to gold coins, and laughed.

"Steal everything but the bathtub?"

"I burned the house. The whole family is dead. Except, well…"

Rulfio tossed the bag up, catching it easily as it fell. "Well?"

Daud sighed. He shot Rulfio a look. "There was a kid."

Of course there was. "And where's the kid now?"

"In the hands of a physician. She was hurt, but she'll live."

"Have you been stalking her?"

Daud's expression went deadly sharp. Rulfio blinked; a dark emotion hung in those edges that he had never seen on Daud's face before. But then it passed and Daud just grimaced, puffing on the cigarette in his mouth.

"I've been trying not to. I don't need to interfere with a kid who's life I ruined."

"And yet you pulled her from a burning building after killing her parents."

"I wasn't gonna let her die, Rulf."

Fair enough. He tossed the coin purse again, finding the clinking pleasant in his ear. "Did that physician fix your face up too?"

"No, that was…" his hand clenched, as if his wrist hurt. "It healed on its own."

Rulfio knew a lie when he heard one. He laughed, waving at a bug hovering too near his ear. "Daud you're a better liar than that. If you have a secret, you can just keep it, you know." Interestingly, Daud's jaw worked; the fly in his ear grew more insistent. Rulfio wasn't the twitchy type --having a steady hand and low jumpiness made him great at his job-- but when he swatted and nothing flew from his hand, he turned his head, looking around. The air was empty, but the sensation tickling at his nerves remained. He scowled, and then caught Daud watching him curiously.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Dunno," Rulfio confessed. "Thought it was a fly, or a mosquito. But there's nothing there."

Immediately the twinge on his nerves receded, but Daud remained far too impassive. Rulfio squinted at him, folding his arms in again.

It took a few ticks, but Daud finally twitched, his fingers moving back to his cigarette.

"What did you do?" Rulfio asked, like he was talking to a petulant child. Daud exhaled, the sound roughened with smoke.

"I need your help," he said, skirting the question. "It's not a contract, it's a… personal favor." His head tilted, his eyes softened. "I don't really have anyone else I can ask to come with me on this one."

Rulfio considered. If you asked him, he wasn't the superstitious type, but something wasn't right. Daud was acting strange. Void, how long did Rulfio think him dead? Long enough to come to terms with the fact that his partner was well and truly gone. Then he just reappeared, with that haunting face and those seeping, infected wounds, and things changed. To be honest, Rulfio isn't even sure if Daud was still real, or some phantom sent to haunt him.

"Sure, I'll help you out, Daud. I've owed you for a while, anyway." He settled down on the roof next to the scarred man, nudging his boot amicably. "What do you need to see to?"

Daud sighed, weary. He ran a hand over his hair.

"It's the Hound Pits. I have to go back there, look around. Something doesn't add up, like I missed something the first time around. I don't want to get my information crossed, but some of the papers I found in Fink's place allude to... unpleasant practices. " Daud pulled the papers he recovered and easily handed them to Rulfio. He took the proffered articles, smoothing his beard as he read. That insistence itched at the back of his skull, ringing like tinnitus.

Eyebrows up, Rulfio simply said aloud "do you mind?" while his eyes skimmed over the words, and was mildly surprised when the sensation obliged, backing off. The ache it left behind was dull, and Ruflio gave Daud a very pointed look.

Daud, to his credit, tried to remain neutral. Rulfio sniffed. Daud blinked innocently.

"Are you using some kind of magic on me, Daud?"

"Don't start with me, Rulf."

"Look I know you said your mom was from Pandyssia but--"

"Just read the damn articles," Daud growled out, "and maybe then I'll tell you."

Rulfio went back to the papers, smirking, but the smile fled as something dark settled into his chest. He read it, then read it again. He swallowed heavily and when he handed the papers back, he found his steady hand shaking.

"Jerome," he managed, "it says he changed? And that they were looking for assassins to…" he cast a nervous glance at Daud, who was watching him very carefully. Rulfio's gaze flicked to those gastly scars, the lines dragging over his face and across his jugular, and he could feel the sweat beading on his own forehead.

"What the fuck happened under the Hound Pits, Daud?"

Daud didn't blink, his expression dark.

"It's easier to show than tell on this one, Rulf."

------

The trip to the Hound Pits Pub took longer than Daud wanted it to. After a week, he was used to these powers taking him farther and faster than his own legs could, to the point where walking was an overt annoyance. However, he couldn't trust to show his powers to Rulfio, not yet, not until his fellow assassin fully understood why. So, by simple flesh and steel they both traversed the rooftops, knowing the routes through Dunwall better than anyone. Blessedly, Rulfio asked no questions on the way, letting Daud take the lead and direct Rulfio where they needed to go.

As they neared the establishment they settled down, carefully perching on a nearby apartment roof and simply observing. It was late afternoon, which meant the pub was getting ready for dinner and a long night of pleasantries. Someone in an upstairs apartment aired out some dirty laundry, getting spooked when she caught them lounging out of the corner of her eye. Daud grimaced, motioning to Rulfio; they hopped down after that, mingling with the streetside crowd.

"Go on inside," Daud suggested, as they eyeballed the front door of the Pub. "See if you can't distract the staff for a while. I'm going to scout around for where we need to go."

"And how will I know you're ready for me?"

Daud worried his cheek and resisted the urge to push his thoughts towards Rulfio. It was an addictive side effect, one he didn't totally understand or have control over, but he knew Rulfio's mind now, had a bead on it, and it would be so easy to…

"I'll come in and grab a drink myself," he supplied, pushing down the ache to reconnect to Rulfio's mind. "I'll grab a whiskey if I'm ready to go, a wine if not. How does that sound?"

Rulfio nodded, good with the plan, and Daud relaxed. He nodded, then eased back against the wall, pulling out a cigarette to light. He lounged casually, wearing a loose shirt over his bandolier to conceal the majority of his weapons and equipment. He waited until Rulfio disappeared, nursing his cigarette between his lips.

Then, he pulled the spent butt from his mouth, flicked it to the floor, and disappeared.

He transversed through the Void, his body leaping to a new location, again and again, effortlessly. He had been practicing with the power, honing the feel of it over the last week, his confidence growing with each successful jump. He allowed the power to flow through him now, breathing in the ash it left behind, feeling his chest swell with unspoken exhalation. He circled the Pub, gathered a loose key from an upper room, and disappeared briefly into the sewers connected to the establishment.

There, he let himself take a breath. His hand itched with long claws, his black gloves melting into oily fur. Daud looked around and sniffed; the sewers still stank, but not of death. Perhaps the rats or the hagfish got to last month's massacre, tearing apart any remains. He carefully traversed the tunnels, found the door he had used when he was first here, and unlocked it with the stolen key.

Then, as silently as a spectre, he slipped into the main body of the Hound Pits Pub.

The place was bustling, the smell and sounds of the brewery and its customers hitting him full force. He staggered for a moment, nose curling, before making his way to the broad chested Tyvian. He knocked on the counter and Rulfio glanced at him, but said nothing else.

"Can I get a whiskey?" Daud asked gruffly. "Dunwall's finest." The barkeep nodded, sauntering off to get the drink. Next to him, Rulfio shifted.

"There is a door to the sewers in the--" he whispered, but just then, the rabble rose up, drowning his words. He glanced at Rulfio, who shook his head. Of course, he hadn't heard him.

Daud huffed. And, without thinking, he shut his mouth tight and reached his mind out to Rulfio's.

"Adjacent brewery has a door to the sewers in the back. It's unlocked. No guards. I'll meet you there."

Daud could feel Rulfio's mind flickering through confusion, realization, shock, and-- the emotions flashed by so fast Daud's head felt heavy but he drummed on the counter and cleared his throat. As the barkeep brought his drink and he dropped his pay, he chanced a glance at Rulfio.

His partner's face was a wall. He was looking at Daud, his eyes unblinking, and Daud could sense the disbelief. He frowned; he needed to get Rulfio moving, damnit.

"Is there a problem, sir?" Daud growled, lifting a dangerous lip. Across the weak connection he felt confusion, then understanding. Rulfio cleared his throat, then shook his head.

"No sir, just thought I recognized you from somewhere."

"With these scars? I doubt it. Now back off."

Rulfio nodded and behind them, someone laughed. Daud turned away and nursed the whiskey; when he looked back, Rulfio was gone.

He dropped a tip, downed the rest of his glass, then exited the way he entered.

When Daud next met up with his fellow assassin in the sewers, Rulfio was livid. He grabbed Daud by his too-loose shirt, shaking him roughly, and snarled in Daud's face.

"What black magic was that? Where is the bone charm? Who gave it to you? Damn it all, Daud!"

Daud let himself be handled before carefully prying Rulfio's fingers off his shirt. He then pulled the shirt off, storing it near the door, and then checked his equipment and adjusted his hood.

"It's not a bone charm, Rulfio," Daud said, hating how strained his voice sounded. It was easier to count his bolts and darts than look at the dark, angry eyes of his partner in crime. "It's just how I am now, Rulf."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" There was the sound of a blade unsheathing, and Daud started, not expecting the weapon now pointed on him. Not Rulfio. His stomach dropped with the realization that somewhere along the way, he'd made a deadly mistake. He whirled towards his partner, putting his hands up.

"Rulfio, wait--"

The tip of Rulfio's dao blade pressed into his stomach, silencing him. Daud's mouth snapped shut and he shook his head, unmoving.

"What were you doing in my head then? Are you like Jerome? In the note, how it said he could invade thoughts… is that what you're like now? Are you even Daud anymore?"

Daud licked his lips. He chose his words carefully; he really didn't think Rulfio wanted to see what would happen if he tried to spill his guts here and now. Daud didn't really want to see what would happen, either.

"Rulfio, I swear to you, I have not been body snatched, I'm not some weird animated corpse. I just need you to trust me--"

"Trust you, when you were coming in my head and talking to me? I didn't give you permission for that, Daud!"

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help it," he whispered lowly, his voice echoing against the water and the walls. Rulfio had no response to that, but the blade didn't move. Carefully Daud moved to take off his left glove. "I just want to show you, so that you don't make a terrible mistake, right here, right now."

"And why's that? You some witch now?" The sword pushed into his stomach.

"No, Rulfio-- fuck! I'm a Wolfbanner, I'm a cursed fucking whale-wolf!"

The silence at the declaration hung heavy between them. Rulfio then laughed, singular, in disbelief.

"Yeah, right. Those are just old wive's tales, Daud. There's…" but he trailed off, the look on Daud's face stony. Rulfio's eyes flicked to the scars. His hand shook.

"Let me show you, Rulfio." He tugged at his glove. Rulfio shook his head, but didn't take his eyes off the motion. "Just please, don't gut me, that's all I ask."

The glove slid off. The Outsider's Mark gleamed. In a swarm of ash, black claws grew.

The sword clattered loudly to the floor.

Daud's jaw clenched tight, working as Rulfio stared, fascinated at the action. Worry crept in, and Daud took a step back for distance.

"I didn't want this, Rulf, but I'm not lying, and by some god-given power, I haven't gone completely insane. I didn't think--I'm not here to-- I thought I could trust you with this because I hate lying to you, Rulf."

"And the mind tricks? What is that?"

"I…" Daud clammed up, and had the audacity to feel ashamed. "I don't know. I just realized that I could reach out to someone else's head, read their emotions, talk to them. I'm still learning this shit and I'm sorry, Rulfio. You couldn't hear me and I just acted without--"

The thwip was near silent. Daud didn't catch it soon enough; the punch in his leg caused him to buckle and grunt. He looked down; the bolt stuck from his thigh at an odd angle, but the blood poured from it all the same. He groaned again as the pain burned down his leg and up his spine.

"Rulfio, what the fuck--"

But it wasn't Rulfio. Daud's second stood, watching agape as a second bolt hit his right arm, in the bicep. Daud growled in annoyance, the sound guttural in his ears. He could feel his teeth growing heavy and he gnashed them together as he pulled the first bolt out of his leg with his free hand.

"Rulfio," Daud rasped, feeling his mark burning and begging to be used. He dodged; another bolt whizzed past his head. "I swear, if you're in on this--" He didn't mean to sound so rough and angry but someone was shooting at him and he'd been too distracted to notice. But Rulfio just shook his head, his face pale. He reached for his sword but another bolt nearly struck his hand and he pulled back, cursing.

It was enough to make Daud's blood boil over. His fist clenched; with a snarl he was rushing forward, ignoring the pain in his limbs. There was an exclamation, but he was already too far to make out the words. Ugly claws sprouted as the world greyed; a body to his left lit up and he sneered, teeth sharp. The individual was slim, hooded; they realized how close Daud suddenly was and they stumbled back, surprised. Or perhaps, terrified.

It didn't matter. Daud's fist clenched and he pounced; another bolt whizzed past him, the shot going wide as Daud collided with his assailant. He pulled his blade out immediately, pulling it to the throat of--

Daud cursed and the person under him shuddered from where his hand lay clasped around her throat. Because now he knew it was a she; the long brown hair tied back in her hood and those sharp blue eyes were sign enough. He sighed out a growl, keeping his blade on her neck.

"Jordan. You better have a good explanation for this." He heard a yelp from Rulfio in the distance, the call of his name. Jordan sneered and Daud was suddenly very aware of the steady drip of blood from the bolt still in his arm.

"Daud, what the shit was all that-- Jordan?!" Rulfio finally moved over to them, wet from the sewers, and he looked at her, equally baffled. He looked at Daud, then Jordan, and his face went severe. "Oh, you didn't… Seriously , Jordan?" He sounded like he was chiding a child which, to be honest, wouldn't be far off the mark. Jordan was even younger than Daud, fresh into her second decade, and sometimes her recklessness preceded her.

Jordan, for her part, at least knew better than to struggle against Daud's grip. Her eyes darted to Rulfio, then back to Daud; she put her hands up, swearing.

"Okay, okay, shit, you caught me. Now let me up you assholes."

"Not until you explain what you were thinking, shooting me in the fucking sewer," Daud growled out, his teeth grinding together in anger.

"There's… there's a hit on you, Daud."

It was Rulfio who responded. He sounded defeated, almost ashamed. Daud swore, nearly dropping his blade as he turned to Rulfio, livid.

"There's a hit on me and you didn't tell me? Since when?"

"It's that prick, Brimsley," Jordan supplied. "Said he was threatened by you, that you killed someone else and he wanted you gone. It's good pay, you know," she twitched, her eyes darting between the other two assassins. "15,000 coin, Daud. I thought it'd be easy enough, but he didn't say you were a heretic too."

"I'm not a heret--" he cut his own words off with a groan, finally pushing Jordan away in anger. His claws left no marks, for which he was grateful. She rubbed at her neck anyway, trying to ease the pain away, checking for blood. "Whatever. Fuck Brimsley. I'll kill him myself and collect my own bounty." With an annoyed grunt, he pulled the bolt from his arm, letting it clatter to the floor, unphased by the blood weeping from the wound.

"Does that even hurt?" Jordan asked, stupefied.

"Like a bloodfly sting," he responded. Jordan blanched.

"Yeah okay, fuck Brimsley, you're a scary man, Daud. 15,000 isn't even close enough to be worth it. 20,000 maybe. But Outsider's ass, you really ate two bolts like it was nothing."

"Yeah, well, at least you didn't try to kill me," he said, and his mind remembered that grey wolf's-- Jerome, his name was Jerome, he reminded himself, sickened--split neck, stitching itself back together. "There's a good chance it wouldn't have worked."

"I wager not," she said, her wide, nervous eyes trailing the scars on his face. "So what, you a fuckin' witch now? Give your soul to the Void so you can't ever die?"

"He's a whale-wolf now, Jordan." Rulfio said gruffly. Daud spared him a glance; Rulfio was watching him carefully, but there was no skepticism in his gaze. Daud savored the small amount of vindication that brought him, before turning towards Jordan's laughter.

"Yeah, right. Those are just fiction, Rulf. I know you love your conspiracy theories, but seriously? A whale-wolf? I'm supposed to just believe that?"

Rulfio flushed, the grip on his blade tightening with the creak of leather. "Did you not see what Daud just did? He disappeared and then reappeared like it was nothing. He's even Marked--or tattoo'd, depending on how you see it."

"Don't need to be a giant beast to use magic, Rulfio."

"Oh? You think those witches you see at night aren't also beasts too? You think Granny Rags isn't more than just an old crone?"

"You ever see Granny look like a giant monster? No? I didn't think so! But she still brews those concoctions and talks to rats and leaves carved bones lying about!"

"Just because you ain't seen it doesn't mean it's not true," Rulfio defended.

"Shut the fuck up, both of you," Daud finally snarled, his whole body bristling. Jordan and Rulfio both stilled, acquiesced, though Jordan's eyes still darted skeptically between them. "Rulfio isn't wrong, Jordan… I got attacked. In these very sewers, even. It's not something I really enjoy, but--

"Show me, then," Jordan bit out, stubbornness taking over as she steadied her crossbow at Daud, "or I'll turn you over to the Overseers. I bet they'll give me more coin for a marked heretic than Brimsley will for your head."

Daud sighed, aggravated. "You can't be serious."

"And if I am?" She tilted her head. "What, you suddenly shy or something, Daud?"

He snarled, the sound rumbling out from deep in his chest. Jordan faltered and Rulfio stepped back; around them, the air grew heavy. He stuck out his left hand; still gloveless, he clenched it and it burned, the smoke and ash giving away to fur and muscle. Jordan's eyes went wide and she lowered the crossbow as Daud's scars glowed hot, the smoke revealing fur and ears. His teeth clashed together as they lengthened in his jaws and became something other than human. Rulfio cursed, Jordan held a silent scream. His bones cracked unpleasantly but he willed the rest of his body to stay put, despite the heaving of his chest and creeping fur down his back. He felt his wounds steam away, the flesh knitting back together with his partial transformation.

Jordan gaped like a fish. Clearly, neither of them had expected -- this . Daud could hardly blame them. He sneered, his lip curling up, hating the looks on their faces. He let go of his magic; immediately, the fur dissipated, melting away like fog over water.

Nobody said anything. Daud could feel the anger rising in his chest and his left hand itched.

"Any other stupid questions?" He rasped out, his voice ruined after the transformation. Jordan just shook her head, the crossbow falling from her hands.

She ran.

Daud caught her before she took more than two steps. Rulfio's hand flew to his blade, anticipating a fight.

"And where do you think you're going?"

"I'm not sticking around so you can kill me like that!"

"Daud frowned. "I'm not going to kill you." His mouth twisted up into a nasty smile. "Unless you're off to snitch, that is. Then I might reconsider."

"Like anyone would believe me anyway!" She shrieked, her voice cracking up an octave. Then, she relaxed, though the sweat on her brow lingered. "What are you going to do with me then?"

Daud blinked, then looked at Rulfio, who shrugged.

"I think you'll just have to come along for the ride, now," he sneered, putting his blade back on his hip. "You followed us down here, after all. Aren't you curious as to why we're here under a dirty old dog fighting pub?"

Jordan looked skeptical, but Daud knew her curiosity would win out in the end. Her fingers twitched, and she licked her lips.

"It got to do with that hit you took for Brimsley?"

"The very one that fucked me up and almost killed me? Yes."

"Fine. Just don't kill me and leave me a mummy for someone to find in 200 years, alright? I got a lotta living still to do."

"We aren't going to kill you, girl," Rulfio sighed out, exasperated. That seemed to convince her; she wiggled out of Daud's limp grip and wiped herself off.

"Alright then. Where to, wolfman?"

Daud sighed and rolled his eyes; he was already regretting the decision to bring anyone along. But the Outsider had told him to keep his friends close, and maybe this was why.

"Give me a moment," he muttered, then waved his left hand again, burning through more magic. The Void laid bare the secrets of the world and in his ears, a faint ringing began. He frowned; the sound was like a tuning fork, resonating in his chest and limbs. It tugged him down, deeper under the tunnels, to where the dog fighting amphitheatre was. As his vision returned to normal, he started moving, motioning to the others.

"It's this way. Come on."

#dishonored #daud #the outsider #whalers #werewolf au #wolfssegner #blood wolf #long post #rulfio #jordan #fic #my fic #fanfic #my fanfic #not much rambling in the tags on this one #just struggled with this one a bit #a lot of dialog to juggle #both myself and daud are exhausted by jordan

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jaepies · 3 years

Text

𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙤𝙢 - attack on titan

*contains spoilers of s4

reader!imagine

word count : 1,456

┍━━━━━━━✿━━━━━━━┑

you descended towards the mayhem of marley. flames were roaring, having no mercy on anyone as they licked anything they were able to get their hands on. if this was something of a movie, you would have stood there astonished at the scene playing out in front of you. truly it was a place where war had rampaged. eren’s titan stood in the middle of it like he was the puppeteer and the minuscule humans below him were his pawns, only able to move at his tyrant will.

no, he wasn't a tyrant.

he was eren, right?

eren wouldn’t want to inflict such pain onto others like this. the titan who savagely had just eaten willy tybur minutes before was merely a ghost of the boy who you had grown up with. this monster lacked the passion and empathy that used to reside inside humanity’s hope.

buildings were crashing down as you desperately manoeuvred yourself around the unfamiliar surroundings. even the air which you breathed in felt so different from across the ocean. it had been 4 years since the discovery of a world outside the island yet just being in marley gave you the same feeling of disbelief that you had experienced all those years ago.

except you couldn’t help but be entangled by the ropes of guilt.

all this destruction, all this anguish

each scream which rang out in the night sky,

was all caused by you and your comrades. with each thunder spear that you unleashed came with a haunting flashback to when bertholdt the colossal titan and the armoured titan reminded your people of the fear and destruction that laid beyond the walls.

chills crawled up your spine just thinking about it. the havoc that ensued that day was the exact same as the disarray underneath your feet. dead bodies crushed by the weight of fallen debris, you shut your eyes visualising the despair that will befall the corpses’ families. never able to get closure nor will they ever get the chance to say goodbye.

children were under those collapsed walls. their lives cinched from them before they could really begin. you felt as though you were an outsider looking into something you were not a part of. there was a sensation of detachment from reality as the ongoing battle scene became blurry around you. the realisation that you were the trigger for all of this was an agonizing punch to the stomach.

a sudden hand on your back forced you back into consciousness. it was connie - his face wearing a pronounced look of worry however the steel touch of his fingers held a separate message of its own.

‘follow the plan and make it out alive,’

solemnly, you trailed after the bald man onto one of the last standing roofs in the district, leaving all sins committed behind. still, there was a bitterness that laced the atmosphere; stifling your comrades' ability to talk

or maybe no one had the correct words to say.

there was so much that could be done, you had the advantage of power here. you were superior ones for once. these people ‘started it’ first as childish as that sounds. so why did you all feel so awful? standing on the rooftop gave you such height yet it felt as though you were falling into a pit of disgust and shame.

somehow, it was better when humanity’s only enemy at the time was the titans. there was an element of simplicity in knowing who the ‘bad guys and good guys’ were. the saying of ‘curiosity killed the cat’ seemed fitting and whilst you all were not dead yet, you couldn’t help but think everyone had gone too far. the greed of information led to the erasure of the line of distinction.

out of nowhere, more characters joined the narrative, more lives were put on the line which meant there was more to lose. the fiery passion which once encapsulated the faces of your friends was blown out by the coldness of knowledge. historia became another cog in this greater machine with no regards to her wishes, no one even stopped to entertain armin’s idea of communication.

this wasn’t the scout’s plan in the first place. if only time ran more slowly rather than propelling forward, lurching at the next tragedy about to occur. it was frustrating how no one could formulate an alternative to whatever you were doing, there had to be another, more constructive way to solve this issue. you were taught growing up that violence was and will never be the issue.

only a fool would draw a sword in the face of danger and a person with at least a morsel of integrity will bare all their vulnerability and use that as their weapon of choice.

the discomfort of the blades caught up to you. your hands drenched in a clammy sensation as weariness crept its way into your head. these weapons were your lifeline - a medium to plough your way through to the temporary camp of safety. each arduous day in the training corps was spent soaring through forests with the odm gear - you should be used to the feeling by now.

another building came crumbling down as eren boundlessly shattered the body of the town. confined by nothing and no one. was this was the freedom that he was always seeking? or was he just a lost boy hopelessly grasping at a mirage?

you couldn’t help but convince yourself that there had to be a conclusion for all this. every story has an ending whether it be a dismal one where the main character dies or a path where the protagonist encounters a happier alternative. a finale is a finale all the same. the flow of pages eventually come to an end as you move onto the next enticing book.

the ever-evolving idea of freedom made it ever so difficult to anticipate the finish line. just when everyone thinks they can see it on the horizon, more hurdles are placed in front of them, forcing all the runners to continue despite having been pushed past exhaustion a few laps ago.

you and your friends share the same desire of wanting to see how this all ends. the wish for all of this to be over someday is what keep you all going. constantly being fed that if you do your part in the narrative then all the pieces will fall into place. this is what drives you to seize the nearest machine of war and put two men into a long-lasting sleep.

guilt came trickling back - both of its arms threatening to envelope itself around your delicate neck, poised and ready to pull you down a pit that kept spiralling. but you kept meticulously moving forward.

all the clocks had been destroyed in the chaos nonetheless the incessant ticking taxed away in your mind. each tick hurried you further away from your morals. each tick painted your hands a deeper shade of crimson. each tick made more fall victim to the squabbles of humanity.

an explosion was released in the distance and the disruption of the ocean could be felt under your numb feet. the ships upturned against their will before even being given a chance to breathe. the sheer force of armin overwhelming liberio more than it already had been.

he strolled through the port so carelessly as if he was walking through the meadow during the springtime. sardonically, his steps drowned out the yelps of agony coming from the sailors swimming for the last time. you were grateful. your mind had reached the limits of its allotted space that held screams which would keep you tossing and turning at night.

the bristly feeling of a ladder came tumbling down onto you. peering into the ink of the sky, the recent discovery of the aeroplane came gliding in. the bite of its draft nipped at your skin as you began to ascend. the material of the rope rubbed your hands raw from gripping tightly.

fighting against the unwavering twisting and turning, the sight of the entrance gifts your body with a slight feeling of relief. you had survived another round of trying to live.

the embers of fire continued to rage on, proceeding to devour the remains of what you had left. you mused at how picturesque the landscape looked. it had to be a crime that such an abomination could be so alluring. the distance concealed any evidence of the bodies so all that could be seen was the fallen architecture. it reminded everyone of what they had accomplished as you flew away from marley and one step closer to freedom.

there had to be another way.

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bitterlikesweets · 3 years

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Love Bites Ch 13

This is the thirteenth chapter of a modern/vampire AU ereri fanfic. You can also read it on Ao3. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13

There's sunlight trying to peek through Eren's curtains. A sliver of light that crosses the room and lands in a corner by the door. When was the last time Eren woke up to sunlight? When was the last time he went to sleep before dawn?

He slowly sits up in bed. His fingers are pale—not Levi pale, but pale for him—and stiff. The joints crack when they curl into fists. They ache. Eren's aching. And he's so, so cold.

Green eyes blink down at semi-pale hands for a long moment. His fists just curl and uncurl while Eren’s mind rewinds. He fell into his bed and practically passed out. Before that, he stumbled into his apartment, not even bothering to lock the door behind him. Further back, he remembers driving erratically through the streets and being surprised no cops pulled him over. And before even that, he was at Levi’s place and—

“Eren, I’m in love with you.”

Eren can’t breathe.

Levi—Levi said that to him. Levi said that to him and Eren ran.

No. No. Eren needs to go back and fix this right now. He-he can’t—he can’t let Levi keep thinking—

Can’t let Levi keep thinking… what? If Levi ran after Eren confessed, Eren would think the man didn’t love him back, didn’t feel anything close to it. And Eren… Eren…

What does he feel?

Something close to it, definitely. No, Eren would be certain of his feelings if it weren’t for this vampire bullshit. Because he knows what love feels like, and he feels like he knows it better every day he spends with Levi. But…

But he doesn’t know enough about vampires to know that this isn’t some trick his body is playing on him. Can blood cause attraction to the human it came from? Does his mind, his heart care for Levi, or is his body hooked on Levi’s taste? If vampire feelings can make his body feel like it’s made out of rocks, then why can’t it—

Wait.

Why does Eren feel like a corpse now, if he hasn’t in all the other months since he became a vampire? He thought Levi was rejecting him, and then it all happened at once. His thoughts spiraled, he started internally cursing his existence as an undead monster—

And then his body reacted.

Eren drops his head into his hands, trying to think back. The last time he nearly bit Levi, he was thinking about his feelings, about how much he cared about Levi. He was thinking about how he might be in love. Then, his fangs were at Levi’s neck.

What about the first time? What were they doing?

It was the first time they held each other, the first time they were that close. Eren was admiring Levi up close, and Levi was saying all these sweet things, and then he was leaning into Levi’s neck, trying to bite without thinking.

Eren squeezes his eyes shut.

It was never his body causing his mind to react. It wasn’t the vampire instincts bleeding into his thoughts. It was his feelings causing his body to react. It was the vampire reacting to human feelings inside him. When he wanted Levi, his body tried to mark Levi, to take him. When Eren felt disgusting, when he was acutely aware of his undead constitution, his body brought it into focus.

Eren hisses a sigh through his hands.

“I should’ve just fucking asked.”

Eren raises his head out of his hands, his eyes darting around the room for his phone. He needs to call or text or do something to clear things up. Levi is the last person that deserves to be left in the lurch like this. He needs to fix things, to tell Levi the truth.

He finds his phone on the floor by his bed, and he’s about to hurry and call before he notices he already has a couple of text messages from Levi.

...From about six hours ago.

Eren scrambles to unlock his phone, already preparing a series of apology response texts in his mind, because Levi is probably angry. There’s no way he isn’t angry—

‘Sorry. I overstepped last night. Forget I said anything.’

Eren’s stomach twists. No, no.

‘You seem to be doing alright with larger amounts of blood. We can go back to once a week like we originally planned.’

No, no, no, no please—

‘I’ll ask Erwin to train you to fight. He’s experienced. You’ll learn quickly.’

No, no! Fuck, fuck, fuck—

‘Sorry. Again. Never wanted to make you uncomfortable.’

Eren is out of his bed and halfway across the room. When the sliver of light peeking through his curtains burns his exposed skin, he simply throws on a hat and a jacket before marching out the door.

~ ~ ~

“Huh? Eren, what’re you doing here? Today’s not your day.”

Eren pauses halfway through the doorway to Kuchel’s Kitchen. Furlan and Isabel are both staring at him, wide-eyed. Eren opens his mouth but words abandon him. He came here impulsively. Furlan’s right, it’s not his day, even if Levi hadn’t just texted him to switch to once a week. After all, they just met up yesterday…

Wait.

“And anyway, it’s still bright out," Furlan continues. "Though I guess that’s why you’re dressed like it’s the middle of winter.”

Eren’s eyes flicker between Furlan and Isabel, who are still eyeing him as they drop off orders and pick up dirty plates. They’re not angry? They’re not angry.

Levi didn’t tell them. Did he tell anyone? Is he just stewing somewhere by himself in his misery?

Maybe he just wants to forget all about the incident yesterday, about his feelings, about Eren. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to think about it, at least for a day. In which case, Eren shouldn’t have come. He should’ve waited a day. But he really wants to fix things. But what if Levi doesn’t want to fix things? Fuck, he should’ve thought for a second that the man might have just wanted a moment to breathe—

Would Eren have wanted a moment to breathe or would he have wanted Levi to immediately come running? Fuck, but it’s not like it matters what Eren thinks because he’s not Levi; he doesn’t know what Levi would want—

“Here, Petra’s off today, but I’ll just call him for you anyway,” Isabel says.

Furlan nods at her and focuses on his work again. Eren’s eyes are glued to her, his mind still whirling as he attempts to process what Isabel said. Then she turns, her hands cupped around her mouth, and Eren knows she’s about to call Levi’s name, so he practically lunges at her, covering her mouth with his hands.

And now everyone in the restaurant is staring. The customers are looking up from their steaming dinners and Isabel is squirming, trying to escape his hold. Furlan's looking at him again with a skeptical eyebrow raised. Eren is just grateful that there’s no window or opening between the kitchen and the dining area.

“Sorry,” Eren says, and his voice sounds so loud in his ears. He throws a panicked look in the direction of the door to the kitchen, but nobody appears. “I just—We need to—Can I talk to you?”

She pries his hands away from her mouth, looking at him curiously.

“Okay,” she says slowly. “We can go to the break room—”

“No!” Eren exclaims and now he really is too loud. He glances worriedly over at the kitchen again. “Can we talk outside?”

“You’re acting super weird,” Isabel says, narrowing her green eyes at him, “but sure.”

Eren practically drags Isabel behind him and doesn’t take a full breath until they’re safely outside. He sinks to the floor into a low crouch, his long legs tucking against his chest, one hand dragging slowly across his face and the other hanging limply by his side, his fingertips brushing the sidewalk.

“Eren,” Isabel says, “are you okay?”

“I don’t know. No. I—ugh, fuck.”

He buries his face into his knees. Isabel crouches down in front of him, rocking slightly on the balls of her feet.

“Levi seems off today too,” Isabel says, and the words strike a needle through Eren’s chest. “What happened?”

He peeks over at Isabel over his knees.

“He didn’t tell you anything about yesterday?”

“Levi’s not exactly a talk-about-his-feelings sort of guy, so no.”

Eren squeezes his eyes shut and drops his head onto his knees again. Levi doesn’t talk about his feelings, even to his close friends, but he did yesterday for Eren. He risked something, and Eren ran away—

“Look,” Isabel says, poking the top of Eren’s head. “Why don’t you just tell me what happened? Did Levi do something?”

“No!” Eren exclaims, his head snapping up. “Levi, didn’t—It was me. I… I fucked it up. I fucked everything up.”

“Fucked it up, how?”

Eren’s lips press into a frown and he averts his gaze. Levi really didn’t tell them? Should he be the one saying it if Levi doesn’t want them to know?

Isabel sighs.

“I guess I’d better go ask him myself,” Isabel starts, getting to her feet, and Eren’s eyes grow wide.

“Wait, I’ll tell you, okay?!”

He really needs her advice on what to do before Levi finds out that he’s here.

Isabel grins and drops back into a crouch in front of Eren. Eren sighs, averting his gaze again.

“So, uh, yesterday… Levi kinda…” Eren clears his throat. “He confessed.”

“Confessed?”

“Yeah, you know... Romantically.”

When Isabel gasps, Eren looks over at her with a frown. She grabs him by the shoulders, looking up at him with her eyes shining.

“Levi did? Our Levi? Levi in the kitchen right now? Vampire hunter Levi?”

“What other Levi would I be talking about?” Eren asks.

“Oh my God,” Isabel says, releasing Eren’s shoulders to clasp her hands over her mouth. “And what’d you say?”

Eren flinches.

“See, that’s the thing. I… I didn’t say anything.”

“...Huh?”

Eren squeezes his eyes shut.

“I didn’t say anything. I ran. I ran away.”

Eren’s shoulders tense, and he braces for something, anything. She can yell at him or hit him. He definitely deserves it—

“Ohhh,” Isabel says. “Okay, that makes sense.”

Eren’s eyes pop open.

“I—what?”

“Oh, not the part about you running away,” Isabel says with a dismissive wave of her hand. “That was stupid. You’re literally stupid.”

Eren’s shoulders sag.

“I… Yeah, that’s fair.”

“But that does clear up a lot of stuff that happened today.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mm… Well, the local grouch was in a bit of a mood today. Plates may have been broken, customers yelled at…” Isabel lets out a sigh, rocking backwards on the balls of her feet until she nearly loses her balance. “I should’ve known it had something to do with you.”

Eren drops his head onto his knees again. He fucked things up yesterday, ruined Levi’s day today… And now he just showed up here without warning, and he still hasn’t gone in to apologize because he wanted to stop and get some advice first—

Eren blinks and glances over at Isabel, who’s just watching him.

“Hey,” he says. “You’re not… mad that I did that to Levi?”

“Mad?” she repeats. “Well, I guess I would be, if you weren’t already here to apologize.”

Isabel narrows her eyes at him.

“That is what you’re here for, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, of course! Actually, what I really wanted to ask you is—”

Isabel heaves a loud sigh over Eren’s words, and he stops, pressing his lips into a small frown.

“Man, it was great to see him like that again though. God, I would love to have the aura that Levi has. Just a look, and bam! People trembling at my feet. Reminds me of when I first met him.”

Eren raises his head a little more at that statement, and Isabel’s eyes are practically shining when he meets her gaze.

“You want to know, don’t you?” she whispers, wiggling red eyebrows at Eren. “It’s the story of a lifetime.”

Isabel jumps to her feet, and Eren leans back a little, thoroughly confused by her sudden change in subject. But when he sees her grin, her fingers held up in a little square in front of her eyes like a pretend camera, he finds it a bit hard to interrupt.

“It was ten years ago,” she says, pacing back and forth in front of Eren, her voice low, dramatic, as if she’s narrating a movie. “Little Isabel sits in the corner of the room, her vampire captors still asleep in their beds. Then bang! It’s Furlan, throwing the door open. And Big Bro Levi with a crossbow!”

She makes a gun with her fingers and pulls back an imaginary crossbow string. She's squinting with one eye closed, going “Pow! Pow!” every time she pretends to shoot. She aims a shot over Eren’s head, then behind herself, and even at the door to the restaurant. Eren shakes his head at her, but he’s smiling.

“The vampires are down!” she exclaims, throwing her hands in the air. “But to be safe, Furlan and Levi throw all the curtains open, and the sun makes the vampires start sizzling like a couple of fried eggs.”

Her cheeks puff out and her lips pucker as she tries to make the sizzling sound effects, and Eren laughs, relaxing a little. He drops his crouch lower so that he can sit on the floor, his focus completely on Isabel.

“And then Levi goes up to little Isabel and says…” She pauses with a hand over her chest, clears her throat, and when she speaks again, she’s lowered her pitch to a gravelly tone that immediately has Eren laughing again. “Fear not, small child, for I have arrived to save the day.”

As if inviting Eren into her little show, she bends down, reaching a hand down to him, and Eren is grinning, reaching out to grasp the hand of this pretend “Big Bro Levi,” and—

“What kind of fucking nonsense are you spreading now?”

The illusion shatters and Eren flinches, looking up at Levi. He’s standing in front of the door with his arms crossed over his chest, scowling. For a moment, gray eyes flicker down to Eren, and he opens his mouth to speak. As soon as Eren does, Levi’s gaze shifts to Isabel, and Eren’s mouth falls shut again.

“I was just telling Eren about the day we first met, since you were taking too long,” Isabel says with a grin.

“First, that’s not how it went—”

“That’s how I remember it!”

“Second,” Levi says firmly, “you should be working instead of wasting your time here. I don’t pay you to act like a child.”

“Come on, you should know how I am by now.” Isabel winks at Levi. “When I see something vulnerable hurting, I’ve gotta save it, you know?”

Levi just scoffs.

“And which one of us is that vulnerable thing?”

“Hmm, I wonder…” Isabel walks around Levi to go through the door into the restaurant.

Just before she enters, she looks over at Eren one last time and mouths, good luck. Then the door closes behind her, and it’s just Levi, Eren, and their silence.

Eren clears his throat, and it’s loud. Too loud. Everything feels too loud. His breathing, his clothes rustling as he gets to his feet and stands beside Levi. The sounds of his shoe scuffing the concrete as he fidgets. It’s all so loud.

And Levi is so, so quiet.

“Um—”

“The sun just set.”

Eren blinks.

“What?”

“The sun just set,” Levi says again. “You can take all that off.”

Eren looks up at the darkening sky and then down at himself. He nods in thanks at Levi—not that Levi can see, he’s still not looking at Eren—and peels off all his extra layers. Gloves come off first, then the bucket hat. Then the face mask. The jacket goes next. He balls up all the smaller items and then wraps them in the jacket before tucking the whole bundle under his arm.

Levi’s like a statue. He hasn’t moved.

Eren clears his throat again.

“Uh, Levi?”

Levi’s gaze sliding over to him is the only response he gets.

“Look, I, um… I really… I mean, I’m really, really sorry about… about yesterday.”

Eren’s tongue is large and clumsy in his mouth. He’s struggling to get the words around it. His throat feels tight.

“...You’re sorry,” Levi says after a moment.

“Y-yeah. I—especially because I ran—no, um, especially because of how I feel. Because, uh, I—”

Eren clears his throat again. He tugs at the collar of his shirt. It’s hot. He should’ve practiced or something beforehand. This is… He doesn’t know how he wanted this to go down, but he’s certainly not happy that it’s happening like this.

Levi’s looking away again.

Eren’s hands clench into fists at his sides.

“Levi, the truth is—”

“Eren.”

Eren stops. Levi’s looking even farther away from him now.

“Don’t say it just because I did.” Levi’s voice is cold, harsh. “I don’t need that kind of pity.”

“What? No, Levi, that’s not—”

“I don’t know why you came today,” Levi says, “but I’ve got work to do.”

Eren’s just staring as Levi turns towards the door again. He’s just watching because saying it is so much harder than he expected it to be and even if he does manage it he doesn’t know how he’ll get Levi to believe him, and—no, Levi, please don’t open the door, don’t go!

“The truth is that I don’t know if I love you!” Eren exclaims, and Levi pauses, his hand still on the door handle.

Eren sucks in a shaky breath.

“The truth is that I don’t know what I feel about you. Because I feel a lot of things, all kinds of things, all at once.”

Levi is slowly turning back to face him. Eren takes a step closer.

“The second we met, I felt something when I looked at you. And honestly, my dumb ass was pretty sure it was fear.”

“Eren—”

“And I don’t know when I stopped being nervous around you, but I do know that I look for you when I’m nervous now. I reach for you, I try to grab hold of you. I’m not scared anymore, Levi. Being near you gets rid of my fear. I mean, yeah, sometimes I get anxious, but it’s only because I’m so desperate to keep you with me. I don’t want to mess anything up—”

“Eren—”

“And you—you’re just—you’re there for me, and you say all these things that drive me crazy, and it’s like I’m always, always thinking of you even when I shouldn’t be. I want to impress you, I want you to think of me just as much as I think of you, and fuck, I haven’t even talked about how hot you are yet.”

“Eren, seriously—”

“What I’m trying to say is that if all these things I’m feeling about you are love, then I love you, Levi.”

Eren sucks in air, almost certain that he expended everything in his lungs. Then he looks over at Levi again, who’s just staring at him, gray eyes widened.

“Sorry,” Eren says, “you were going to say something?”

Levi’s mouth falls open and then snaps shut. Then, he just marches straight over to Eren, and for a second, Eren thinks that Levi’s going to beat him up or shove him or something—

Levi grabs Eren by the collar of his shirt and yanks him down.

“You drive me fucking insane,” Levi snaps.

“Wha—after all I said, that’s what you decide to—”

“Eren, shut the fuck up.” Levi tugs him lower, closer. Their noses are brushing. “And if this isn’t what you want then fucking bite me.”

“Wha—”

Eren’s complaints die in his throat when pale lips meet his.

#ereri #ereri fanfic #riren #riren fanfic #ereri riren #fanfiction

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katiebug445 · 4 years

Text

Love Confession

@twoboys-onesoul

Jean stared at Armin as the morning sun shone bright behind him, illuminating every shade of blue in his eyes, and his stomach twisted anxiously, knowing the look on his face. He had an idea. And from the looks of it, a pretty big one. It made him nervous, if he were honest. Armin’s ideas, while they always ended up working in the end, were always such a gamble - mainly to the blonde himself. But, he’d been really lucky with everything else he’d come up with that day, so maybe… this wouldn’t be so bad.

“I… have a plan.” Armin said, his voice shaking, though with a rare edge of confidence that Jean always loved to see come from him.

He smiled up at him fondly, relieved for that huge brain of his, as he always was in times like this. “Now you figure it out, idiot? You had me thinking it was over for us.”

The good feeling died off, though, when Jean heard what exactly the plan was. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like Eren, and even more importantly Armin, putting himself at risk like that. It put them right in the line of danger, without any backup aside from each other, and while he knew he needed to trust them to look out for each other, he worried.

He worried that something would go wrong, that Eren wouldn’t be careful enough to bring Armin back with him, that Bertholdt would get the better of them somehow, and that would be it. Humanity’s last expedition to win back their territory would fail just like that. Especially since Captain Levi had his hands full elsewhere.

Too lost in his thoughts and caught up in his worry, Jean didn’t hear the last bit of what Armin said before he was off, relaying the plan to Eren again. As he watched, just out of earshot, something inside of him lurched, and Jean was hit with a fear that this would be the last time he ever saw the boy he’d held the softest spot in his heart for since the day they met.

He couldn’t hear anything that was being said, but he was watching closely as Armin’s lips moved, could almost be sure of every place where his voice dipped and shook as he waited for Eren’s answer. Jean almost hoped that he would disagree, to tell Armin they couldn’t do that and think of something else, but that hope was quickly shot down when he saw the head of Eren’s titan nod, and his stomach dropped even more.

Before he knew what was happening, Eren was getting up, towering over the rest of them, and Armin was holding on tight so he didn’t fall. With a lumbering step, they were off, and panic overtook everything else in Jean’s body as he watched them heading for the wall, and an urge to go after them hit him that was too strong to ignore. “Armin!” He screamed, leaping off the roof he was standing on, and quickly began to fly after them as fast as his body would take him.

“Armin!” He yelled again, hooking his anchor into Eren’s shoulder, terrified out of his mind over what he was about to say. “Listen, I really need to tell you something before you go.” He said, desperation clear in his voice. “It’s… really important.”

Armin turned to look at him, meeting his eyes with that soul-searching gaze that was often reserved for him, and if Jean didn’t know any better, he swore he was able to read his mind. Jean’s stomach twisted up and he could feel heat rushing to his cheeks under the weight of that stare, and he was the one to break it off first.

“What is it?” Armin asked him eventually.

“Can we, uh, take a minute? I don’t… really want to say this in front of Jaeger…”

Armin shot a quick look back at Eren and chewed on the inside of his cheek while he thought. Jean’s heart raced in his chest as he waited for the answer. The blonde seemed to be conflicted about it, and eventually he sighed and turned back to Jean. “We really need to go.” He explained. “Can we talk about this later on?” “What? No - I really need to talk to you-”

“And I need to hurry.” Armin reasoned. “The sooner we get to Bertholdt, the sooner we’ll be back. Just tell me then.” He bit down on the inside of his cheek again, trying his best to keep the smile on his face so Jean didn’t see the reality of his plan. He had a good idea of what it was he had to say, given how flustered he’d looked when he’d shown up, and as badly as Armin wanted to hear him say it, he couldn’t handle it. He needed to stay focused. He couldn’t have something like his heart getting in the way.

Jean wanted to argue. He wanted to get mad and demand that Armin listen to him, because he wanted to make sure he got to say what was on his heart, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t bring himself to get angry at him right then, when everything was resting so heavily on his shoulders. Instead, Jean just sucked in a sharp breath through his nose and shot him a serious look. “Fine. But you better come back, then!” He told him. “I really need to talk to you.”

“We’ll be back before you know it.” Armin promised, swallowing quickly, hoping Jean took it as a sign of nerves rather than him fighting back his emotions. He couldn’t break here. He couldn’t risk messing up right then, or lose his resolve. The future of humanity depended on him, on what he was planning to do.

Jean stood at his post in front of Reiner, trying his best to keep an eye on him, but unable to stop himself from glancing over to where the Colossal Titan was making its way toward where the others were waiting. He knew he couldn’t stand there and watch all day, not when he had a job to focus on, but he couldn’t shut out the voice that was telling him to go after them.

Focus, Jean! He told himself, turning back to Hanji and Mikasa pulled what bit was left of Reiner from his titan, and tried not to grimace as his limbs were cut off. Part of him still felt wrong doing this, that small piece of him that still wanted to believe Reiner and Bertholdt really were their friends, but he did everything he could to push that down, knowing that it wasn’t true.

The others were saying something, but he couldn’t hear what due to the thoughts screaming too loud in his head. Was Armin okay? Were things going alright for the others? His eyes flickered up to where the Colossal Titan was standing, and for a brief second, he was sure that he’d seen a flash of blonde hair amidst the steam emanating from the titan.

You’re seeing things, he tried to reason with himself, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Something felt very, very wrong with this whole thing, but he couldn’t place exactly what it was. Still, though, something about it was making him panic in a way that was different than what he and the others had been experiencing since the night before.

Something was happening. There was an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, and his heart was racing, and he felt like part of him was being ripped away. Jean gasped, feeling a heavy weight hitting him square in the chest, pressing down on his lungs and cutting off his air for a second. The others looked over at him worriedly, but Jean had no idea what to tell them, if it was possible to reassure them that he was really okay or not.

“Hanji, I-”

Jean was cut off by a sound so faint, he wasn’t sure if he was really hearing it at first. Jean turned back towards where he was sure the noise was coming from, his eyes wide and his heart feeling constrict painfully. He knew that scream. He knew exactly the person it was coming from, and what it meant, and there was nothing he could do to fix it. Jean’s legs wobbled under him and he could do nothing but stare, nothing but watch as one of his worst nightmares came true.

This had to be a mistake.

Jean stared at the charred body in front of him, unable to believe it. There was no way this was Armin. There was no way. It was a mistake. Eren had made a mistake. Armin was - he was somewhere else, trying to help out some of the others, that was all. They’d just talked a half hour ago, and Jean hadn’t told him yet. He still had to tell him the truth.

Eren and Mikasa were both screaming somewhere around him, but he could barely hear it. Armin was fine, he was off somewhere else being a hero, he was fine, he was fine, this was a mistake, he was -

“That’s Armin!” Eren screamed at Captain Levi.

“Jean,”

He couldn’t respond. He couldn’t do much of anything except go look for him. He had to find him before something happened.

“Jean!”

Jean finally looked up from the body to see Connie beside him, Sasha on his back and unconscious, looking desperate. “We need to go. Hanji needs us to keep an eye on Reiner, and I need to take care of her.” He said, gesturing to Sasha.

Jean could feel himself nodding, but his eyes had drifted back to the body once again. What about Armin? He needed to take care of him. Armin had always done such a good job of keeping him safe, he’d always been the first one to protect him, he needed to… he couldn’t just leave him.

He couldn’t leave him.

Jean took a step forward, and then another, and another, wanting to go to Armin, to tell him the truth before it was too late, he needed him to know. He raised his foot to take one more step when a hand caught his arm and squeezed tight.

“We need to get out of here.” It was Connie, and the tone of his voice sounded about as good as Jean felt. “We don’t want the commander to come after one of us instead.”

Jean’s eyes filled with tears as he shot one more look to what remained of Armin, his breath caught in his throat and threatening to suffocate him, and let Connie lead him away.

Jean turned his head away as the titan made its way to the roof where Bertholdt was laying helpless, knowing this had to happen but not wanting to see it, either. He squeezed his eyes shut as their former friend began to scream, bile rising in his throat as they became desperate.

He made himself count to ten, and by the time he reached eight, it was silent. He could hear the steam beginning to hiss from the body as it stilled, and when he lifted his head again, he saw the familiar form of Armin sticking up from the back of the titan.

“Oh my god,” He breathed, already on his feet and going after him before he knew what he was doing, and in just another couple seconds, he was on the back of the titan, his arms around Armin’s shoulders and pulling him out. Tears were clouding his vision, but he didn’t care. Armin was alive, and that was all that mattered. “You idiot!” He cried. “You had this planned from the beginning, didn’t you? You never planned on walking away from that!” Armin’s arm was stuck to the titan, and Jean pulled hard, trying his best to free him without hurting him. It dawned on him, then, why Armin had insisted that they talk later - because he didn’t plan on there being a later. He hadn’t wanted to be talked out of what he had in mind, because it would have made him pause and think. Jean couldn’t decide if that made things better or worse.

“Do you have any idea how bad you scared me?” Jean scolded, unsure if Armin could even hear him or not. “I still have to tell you something, you know. Why would you do that? Why would you go off like that knowing you weren’t coming back without letting me talk? It was important, asshole!”

The others were making their way over, now, and part of Jean wanted to tell them to go away, so they could have another moment to themselves, but he knew that wasn’t fair. He knew he needed to be quick, to tell Armin what he needed to say, before anyone overheard him. “I wanted to tell you that I love you.”

Mikasa was the first to reach them, sobbing in relief that Armin was really okay, and, very reluctantly, Jean let Armin go so the others could have a second with him, and before too long, the others were all there, and he was being pushed a little out of the way, but that was fine. As long as Armin was alright, that was fine.

“We need to get him out of here.” That was Eren, who was already lifting Armin up onto his back.

A wave of jealousy crashed over Jean and he stepped forward, hand outstretched, and looked over at them pleadingly. “I can take him.” He said softly, looking back at Armin, wanting to hold him, to feel his heart beating against his back as an assurance that things really were okay. “Please?”

Eren looked up at him with a hard look in his eye, but he was too tired to fight, way too tired. He reluctantly handed Armin back to Jean, and he paused for just a moment as he waited to feel his heartbeat, or his breath against the back of his neck. Armin’s cheek was warm against his shoulder, much unlike he feared it would be, and once he had his assurance, Jean did his best to blink the tears from his eyes before anyone saw.

He followed behind the others as they made their way up to where Sasha was already being looked after, and gingerly set him down on the bedroll beside her before taking a seat in front of both of them, wanting nothing more than to just stay there until they woke up, and he and Armin could talk properly.

The mission, for all intents and purposes, had been a success. Shiganshina had been reclaimed, but at the cost of entirely too many lives, of which included over half of the Scouts - both new recruits and old, Vice Captain Moblit Berner, Commander Erwin Smith, and what bit remained of the survivors’ innocence. But the real victory, at least in the heart of a boy from Trost, was that the greatest soldier among all of them, the real hero of humanity, managed to make it out alive.

Against all odds, Armin had made it out of the battle alive, and with a bit of insight into the enemy and what they had waiting for them despite making the ultimate sacrifice, and that was more than enough to be considered a win to Jean.

#jearmin #jearmin week 2020 #katie's writing

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txtdiaries · 4 years

Text

Void - Chapter One

SUMMARY | Amidst your world shattering to pieces, the boy you met long ago manages to fit everything back together again. Also - zombies. Lots and lots of zombies.

PAIRING | Yeonjun X Reader feat. TXT

CATEGORY | apocalypse au, end of the world, survival, angst, romance, enemies to lovers, slow burn, etc.

WORD COUNT | 3.1k

WARNINGS | dark content, lots of swearing, some mentions of slightly gore-y topics, weapon possession, etc.

SONG REC | Massacre, The New American Dream - Palaye Royale

PLAYLIST | void playlist

Preview / Chapter One / Chapter Two

It was hard for the boys to remember their old lives - a time before the world burned, before the bodies around them stopped looking like humans and more like rotting flesh - to imagine the memories they shared, the places they had seen, or even the things they had done together. It was hard, yes, but it wasn’t impossible.

Therein lies the problem.

It was hard for them to not be reminiscent of the past, to not be swayed by the memories of their old lives. And it is what haunted them everyday, constantly dragging them down when the only thing they had to do was keep moving.

Sometimes life has a funny way of reminding you that you can’t always get what you want.

12 hours down.

The younger boys in the car were starting to get impatient. Not only because the ride was painstakingly long, but because they were in charge of directions, and not one could read a map to save their lives.

“How much longer?” The youngest asks, picking at his nails in boredom.

“Yeah, where even are we?” The boy near him chimes in, peeking expectedly over the seat at the eldest, who’s now driving.

“Utah?” The blonde smashed in between the two of them asks, looking at the other boy in the passenger’s seat. He opens his mouth to answer, but Yeonjun cuts him off swiftly.

“Idaho,” He corrects him. “Don’t you know how to read a map?”

“He’s too young for them, the only map he’s ever read is Google Maps.” Soobin jokes from beside Yeonjun, legs kicked up onto the dashboard as he sits in the passenger seat.

Everyone but Beomgyu laughs, and then the second youngest next to him is speaking up. “Jun, why did we head North and not East to begin with?”

“Because, child,” Yeonjun says wistfully, “Idaho’s filled with forests, Utah and Arizona have lots of flat land. We’ll have lots of cover here to sleep and make our way East, it’s just easier this way.”

The car is silent as the rest of the boys ponder this, and then one of the youngest speaks up.

“Who made you the boss?” Taehyun grumbles, turning towards the window again.

“He’s the oldest.” Soobin replies, reclining his chair back so he can get comfortable, “He’s also the one driving, so I wouldn’t complain too much.”

The small talk quiets down as the younger boys all decide to sleep, and the second eldest opts for gazing at the green scenery passing by just outside the jeep. It’s not long before soft snores can be heard throughout the car, and the only two left awake are the oldest boys.

When the quietness becomes deafening, only then does Soobin speak.

“Know where you’re goin’ Jun?” He still faces the window. His voice is low - soft.

“A gas station, hopefully. We’re running on a quarter of a tank and if we don’t fill up soon we won’t make it far.”

Soobin breaths out a bitter laugh, and then shakes his head. “That’s not what I meant.”

Yeonjun’s gaze flicks over to his friend, but their eyes don’t meet. He looks back to the winding road and his grip on the wheel loosens just slightly, his shoulders slouching as well. He knows what he means, he just doesn’t really want to talk about it.

“Just East, Bin. You know there was talk of help there. Groups - they could help us.”

Soobin’s already nodding, because he’s heard this speech dozens of times now. Go East, get help. It was his mantra, the thing that kept him going everyday. Problem was, he wasn’t so sure it was possible.

“So what are we gonna do after that, hm?”

Yeonjun shrugs easily, “We’re taking it one day at a time.”

And then it goes quiet, both boys’ minds reeling with their own thoughts and worries.

Soobin is the one to break the silence again.

“I just wanna go home.” He says, voice wavering just slightly, “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

Yeonjun understands where he’s coming from, and it hurts to see his best friend so miserable.

“We’ll get home. All of us, it’ll be okay.”

Soobin almost laughs, because he knows the truth.

He knows it won’t be okay. It won’t be okay because they’re trapped in some jeep in some state, in a country that isn’t theirs, and the chances of them even finding help are slim to none, let alone getting back home.

Soobin stays quiet.

The drive continues.

“We’re here, you all know the drill.” Yeonjun speaks to the rest of the boys after he finally steers the faded jeep off the freeway and into the parking lot of an abandoned, torn apart gas station just off I-84 a few hours later. Mumbles of agreement sound through the car as seatbelts unclasp, and the boys all prepare themselves for the work that lies ahead.

“I’ll check around the back for any gallons of gas,” Yeonjun explains as he eases on the brake, easily pushing the gear shift into park before unlatching his own seat belt, “Soobin, check for cash. The rest of you, find any food or supplies you can. And for fucks sake, try to stay together this time, got it?”

Yeonjun was used to this - being the one to give orders to the younger boys while simultaneously trying to swallow his own anxiety. He liked to say it got easier as time went on, but it didn’t. It never did.

“Everyone got their weapons?” Soobin asks, giving the younger ones in the back a side glance. They all nod.

The boys all have unique weapons in their possession, but they all have become proficient in using them, as they had no saying in the matter at all.

The youngest - who was, in a way, the least experienced - has a weapon that is as safe as possible for him to use, but can also be used to protect him. A metal mace, designed for clubbing, which he keeps tucked into one of his belt loops, and has aided him since he first discovered it. It hasn’t failed him yet.

The next eldest - skilled, but still clumsy at times - has a weapon much like the prior boys, just with more accessories. The head of his mace contains a spiked, metal ball, meant for piercing in one of the most painful ways possible. He’s used it many times. It’s his favorite.

The newly turned adult - finally getting the hang of this whole apocalypse thing - has a weapon different to the other boys, but still efficient. An axe, sharpened so thoroughly it could slice off a finger in the blink of an eye. He’s lost count of how many zombies he has taken out with it, but he’s proud of himself and his weapon. He’s getting better.

The second eldest - who doesn’t have to use his weapon, or rather, weapons, if he doesn't have to - is as skilled, if even more, than the rest of the younger boys. His weapons: two machetes, kept on him at all times, both slung in their holders at his waist, hidden almost completely by the clothes he wears, but able to be taken out in a moments notice. They haven’t failed him, ever. He knows they never will.

The oldest boy of the group - the newfound leader of them all - has a simple weapon. An aluminum bat, used for baseball or softball, but does a pretty damn good job at blowing zombie skull out as well. The boy has always been confident in his weapon, but more importantly, in himself. He knows he’d be fine with or without it.

“Okay,” Soobin speaks, “Ten minutes, tops. If anyone sees anything, do not keep it to yourself. Kill what you can, leave what you can’t. Don’t take any chances-”

“We got it, Bin.” The youngest replies, trying to ease the black-haired boys’ anxiety. He sighs and then nods, motioning towards the gas station.

“Okay. Let’s go then.”

The boys all pile out of the car, and the fun begins.

They split up, all moving quickly and silently to where they need to be. The three younger boys all stay together, making their way inside to look for food and supplies. The second eldest goes straight for the register inside as well, grabbing a stray crowbar from it’s place leaning against the wall on his way, just so it’ll be easier for him.

The oldest, however, splits off. He heads around the building towards the back, searching for any gas he can find.

“What kind of food are we looking for, Binnie?” The youngest asks once inside the store, rummaging through shelves of boxed snacks and packages of junk food, giving him a momentary glance before searching around again.

“Stuff that’ll last. And please don’t get shitty junk this time, Kai. We don’t need snacks that will slow us down, we need food. A little is okay, but try to get a variety, alright?” The boy speaks, biting on his lower lip as he wedges the crow bar into the register, bending his arms at an angle so he can drive it down and into the compartment. He takes a deep breath before lurching the bar forward with all of the strength he can, the metal groaning underneath it. In a second, the register pops open, and he stumbles forward a bit to make up for the momentum of it all.

“Anything?” Beomgyu asks as he stuffs his backpack with water bottles, looking at the eldest in the room.

“Not much, but it’s something.” Soobin replies, bending his arm back behind his head to keep the crowbar handy in his backpack, sorting through the money in the register after. The boy hums and continues on, moving to help the rest with supplies. The hardest part is almost done. All they have to do now is collect and fill up. And then they will be on their way.

Or else, they would have been, if the blue-haired boy wasn’t having so much trouble finding any gas.

Yeonjun swears under his breath momentarily as he searches the back for anything, sifting through empty containers and wood, trying to find just one gallon. Hell, he’d take half a gallon. Anything to get them to the next stop.

The sun is beating down on the boy, and he stands up straight after a few minutes of searching, sighing in frustration as he does so. He wishes it wasn’t this hard sometimes. He wishes it wasn’t like this sometimes.

Something in his peripheral flashes, and he turns his head to the right towards the corner of the building. His heart rate suddenly picks up as he sees it, finally. A gallon - filled to the very top with gas. Yeonjun could cry right then. It was like heaven on fucking earth seeing it.

The gravel beneath his worn, black dr. marten boots scrapes as he jogs over to the gallon, and he thinks he’s home free, that is until he actually reaches for the gallon.

In the blind of an eye, Yeonjun is suddenly pinned against the brick wall of the gas station, a knife to his throat and an arm bent across his chest, keeping him from moving at all.

His heart drops quicker than it ever has in his life, and he curses himself for being so stupid. And then, after a moment, he realizes what he’s looking at. And this shocks him even more than his own stupidity.

A girl, knife gripped with whitening knuckles and adorned in what he hates to admit is a really sexy outfit, stands before him. Gaze dark and lips curled into a scowl, staring up at him dangerously.

Yeonjun feels like he could cry again. But this time, not out of joy - only pure shock.

“Who are you?” The girl asks him bitterly, voice higher than he thought it would be.

Yeonjun stares dumbly at the girl, vocal cords apparently not working anymore as he hyper focuses on the sharp metal pressing against his adam’s apple. She lets out a sharp sigh before adding more pressure, making Yeonjun’s eyes widen as he lifts his arm up to grip her wrist. His arms - and to be completely honest, everything else - are a lot longer than hers, so he can reach easily. The girl doesn’t ease up, and Yeonjun struggles to let out a choked gasp.

“I said,” The girl repeats, “who the fuck are you?”

Yeonjun hates that he notices how she has a slight lisp, or how nice her teeth are, or even how pretty the light freckles dotting the bridge of her nose are, but he does. After all, he hasn’t been in the presence of a member of the opposite sex for months (un-zombified, he should clarify) and it doesn’t help that she is attractive. So, so attractive.

“Yeonjun.” The boy manages to pant out. This seems to please the girl just the slightest, and she lets off the pressure a bit, letting him breathe finally.

“Why are you here?” She questions him again. He coughs internally, realizing that she really does ask a lot of questions.

“Gas.” Is all he can say around coughs before he lets go of her wrist. The girl lets out a dry chuckle, void of all humor as her eyes flash to the gallon near her feet. She’s glaring at him in no time.

“Yeah, looks like it. Problem is, you were about to steal my gas.” She replies, letting out another deep sigh before her eyes flash with an emotion he can’t decipher.

“Are you here alone?”

Oh fuck, Yeonjun thinks.

He keeps his lips pressed in a tight line as she studies his reaction. Her eyes blow wide as she realizes he isn't, and then she’s yanking his arm away from her to walk him towards the entrance of the station, knife still pressed firmly to his throat.

Yeonjun weighs the options in his head momentarily.

On one hand, he is clearly stronger than the girl - that much he can tell by the way her hand grips his arm shakily, as if using all the force she can muster.

On the other hand, he doesn’t want to be shanked to death by a blood stained knife sharper than Beomgyu’s axe, so he figures it is best to just go along with what she wants. If she was going to kill him, she would have done it by now. That’s something he learned awhile ago.

“Tell whoever it is you’re with to give me everything you both have, and I won’t kill you.” She says harshly, jabbing her knee into the back of his leg momentarily to make him move faster, not realizing he was in a group. Truthfully, Yeonjun has no clue what to do, but he knows he’ll figure it out soon. And if he can’t, someone else will.

Once the girl rounds the corner and steps him up to the entrance, he sees the rest of the boys sorting through food for the trip ahead. He feels his lungs deflate with defeat then, feeling like the shittiest leader on the planet.

He prays the girl doesn’t kill them.

She’s back to kneeing him painfully in the back of the leg, and he clears his throat awkwardly, trying to get their attention.

“We found cash,” Soobin explains as he hears his best friend’s sound, still keeping his eyes trained on the packages in his hands, “Not much, but it’s something. Did you find any-?”

Once his eyes flick up to his friend, he stops talking. His hands drop the food in his grasp and he visibly pales. The younger boys look up as well, all reacting in similar ways. It is silent for a few moments, the only noise being Yeonjun’s ragged breathing, before his friend moves.

Soobin doesn’t waste any time before sliding his machetes out from their holders, the metal sounding sharply through the air as he twirls them in his palms to grip them properly. He steps forward towards the two just outside the exit, gaze dark. Yeonjun has never seen him look so intimidating.

Yeonjun gives his friend a worried look before the tallest lunges forward, already shouting as he takes long strides toward the two.

“WAIT!” Yeonjun screams suddenly, voice thick with fear as the girl behind him yanks him away from Soobin, shielding herself completely with him as the knife presses dangerously hard against his skin.

“Fucking wait!” Yeonjun pants, eyes squeezing shut as he grips onto the girls wrist again, nails digging into her skin as Soobin stands just inches away. His weapons are raised up, ready to slice into what would now be Yeonjun’s ribs if he proceeded.

“Nobody move!” The girl finally speaks up, eyeing Soobin from over Yeonjun’s shoulder, breath hot against his ear. He tries to ignore the small affect her breath on his skin has, and focus on the main problem at hand.

“Come any closer and I will not hesitate to slit his throat.” The girl says, voice visibly shaking as she does so. Yeonjun is still panting.

“Take whatever you want,” Soobin growls, “Just don’t hurt him.”

“Give me everything you have.” She replies. “Everything.”

Soobin sighs and his eyes glance behind him for a second, looking at the rest of the boys frozen in place.

“We don’t have much. Just a little bit of cash and some food and water. That’s it.”

The girl scoffs and Yeonjun feels her knife lighten up just slightly. He doesn’t hesitate to act quickly.

Yeonjun twists out of her grip in a flash, and has the girl pinned to the ground in an instant. Her cheek is against the concrete and her arms are bent back behind her, knife abandoned on the ground. An angry groan leaves her lips as she kicks her legs, and Yeonjun knows if looks could kill, they would all be dead.

“Now that that’s sorted.” Yeonjun groans, motioning for Soobin to grab her knife. The taller boy snatches it up off the ground before walking forward and pressing the heel of his boot against the girl’s lower back. She lets out a moan in pain before glaring up at him.

“I swear to god I’ll kill you.” She seethes, breathing shakily.

“Sure sweetheart,” Soobin rolls his eyes, giving Yeonjun a grin, “But it looks like we’re in charge now. And the question I wanna know is. . .”

Soobin pauses, lips inching up into a smirk now. Yeonjun mirrors his expression.

“Just who do you think you are?”

A/N: PLS ignore any mistakes there may be - it’s 1 am and I haven’t proof read, lol. Enjoy!!!

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hiagainyou · 4 years

Text

ღNice To Meet Ya!ღ

Bee was excited, at first, she always dreamed about traveling to Japan, and here she was!

Well, she was a little bit more than excited really. She still felt like she was walking on cloud nine when she stepped off the plane and into the terminal, her backpack nestled lightly on her shoulders as she went to go find her luggage.

What she wasn’t expecting was a rush of overwhelming anxiety to hit her out of nowhere.

It happened as she sat down at a nearby bench, clinging to her luggage with a vice-like grip as she idly looked at the sights around her as well as doing a little bit of people watching to past the time.

She was alone.

She had no family here.

No one to relate to.

She hadn’t even considered the obvious language barrier between her and everyone else.

Completely and utterly independent, if you could call it that.

She didn’t know why she hadn’t considered it before. Granted, winning a lottery to go to one of the best hero schools would have anyone distracted until they landed.

Or was that just her?

She fiddled with the afro-puffs in her hair, fluffing them out nervously as she waited for her guide to come and get her.

What if they never came?

Did they know what she looked like?

What if she flunked out of UA? What would she do then?

Her quirk wasn’t anything special, not for fighting anyways, but she could see herself as a rescue hero of sorts.

Or maybe a walking talking light bulb was more like it?

She pulled out her phone and scrolled through it mindlessly once she drew her pattern to unlock it.

Should she call her dad?

Lament to him about her increasing anxiety about being 6,778 miles, thanks Google, from home and how this was stupid or how she was probably gonna either drop out or flunk?

That didn’t sound too bad actually, it sounded like a normal conversation they would have.

Before she could tap on the green call button, she heard her name being called.

She lurched her head up, looking side to side nervously.

Was she imagining it? Oh God, was she hallucinating?

Could nerves do that to you?

“Hi, are you Bee?”

Maybe staring blankly at the person who addressed you by name like you couldn’t wrap your head around basic human interactions wasn’t the best response. But, Bee wasn’t the brightest person in the room.

Well, not metaphorically.

“Oh yeah, I’m so sorry! My brain froze the moment you called my name. I thought I imagined it at first. No one ever gets it on the first go.”

The kind smile the woman gave all but melted her into a formless heap on the floor.

“I know how you feel. When I first traveled here, a representative of my new agency had come to greet me, and my expression was the same as the one you just gave me.”

The woman laughed to herself. It fell from her lips like notes from a soft piano solo, delicately accompanying her gentle frame.

“So, you’re a Hero?”

“Oh, yes! I didn’t even introduce myself, how rude of me.” The woman cupped Bee's small hands in her warm, slightly bigger ones, the smile etched on her face never faltering for even a second. “My name is Bellamy Reigns, I work as the support hero Flo here in Japan, it’s nice to meet you.”

Their handshake was brief but firm, she only hoped to God that her hands weren’t as "clammy" as they usually were.

She couldn’t help how warm she always was.

“Are these all your belongings? I know you just got here, you’re probably going through some stages of jetlag but I can help you with that, right now we need to drop your stuff off at your new apartment and get you to your first day at UA.”

Bellamy clasped her luggage and made a beeline for the entrance of the airport, Bee trying desperately to keep pace with her and also avoid bumping into the people passing by her.

“Oh, this is sooo exciting! You’ll love it here, I promise! Ah, you remind me of when I was your age, so ready to be on my own and face the world. Only to call her parents in a panic because she didn’t know her right from her left she was so nervous!”

Bellamy gave her an encouraging smile when she met her gaze as she glanced over her shoulder, receiving a timid smile in return.

“Flo, so nice of you to join us, what happened this time?”

A woman with cocoa brown skin, thunder cloud grey hair, and pumpkin orange hues dressed in simple business attire stared holes through the pair as they approached UA’s front gate.

An hour behind schedule.

“I was getting her settled into her new apartment and we lost track of time, that and our cab here was late.”

The woman’s stare got heavier.

“All I hear is excuses Reigns, why didn’t you drive your car here instead? You drove it to the airport, didn’t you?”

“You know I don’t have the car right now Ami- “

“And so, you still didn’t plan accordingly?”

She began to tap her foot in annoyance.

“You have to take more responsibility with your job Reigns, I’m honestly surprised they haven’t fired you yet.”

“It wasn’t her fault, if anything, I’m the one that distracted her with all my hero-worship. And so what if we were late? You’re acting like the world was gonna end if we didn’t get here on time. You don’t have to be so rude about it.”

Bee huffed at the woman, crossing her arms to mock her pose.

The icy glare the woman gave her in return almost made her heart flatline. All the confidence she had mustered drained from her like emptying bathwater, causing her to slink behind Bellamy pitifully.

“Her tie isn’t even on correctly.”

“She wanted a bow tie.”

“And you let her? Bellamy, you’re an adult, start acting like one.”

“Having a bow tie isn’t a big de- “

The woman brought her hand up to silence Bellamy, Bee catching the way the air around them became so tense it was almost suffocating.

“We’ll discuss this later, she’s late and you have a class to teach. Dump her onto Weylyn and get moving.”

Bellamy sighed through her nose before giving the girl beside her a warm smile.

“Come on sunshine, you have a class to catch.”

They walked into the bustling halls to be greeted by two girls standing idly by the lockers.

One had long, flowy sea-green hair that cascaded down her slim body and stopped an inch shy of touching the floor. The deep color complimenting her round sepia brown face and bringing attention to her gleaming sunset orange eyes.

The girl to the right of her stood rigid and emotionless, posed like a dutiful guard ready to attack at any moment. Her thick, bushy bark colored mane silhouetted her intimidating frame as two soft brown ears jutted from the sides of her diamond-shaped face. Her deep forest green eyes boring into Bee's chestnut brown ones seemingly in anger.

The girl with the green hair was the first to approach them, her face brightening as she swung her arms up in a welcoming gesture.

“Hello! You must be Bee, right? It’s so nice to have finally met you! I’m Arlo Weylyn by the way and I’ll be your guide until you get settled into UA.”

Arlo brought her into a tight hug before pulling back to meet her gaze, her hands resting comfortably on her shoulders.

“Oh yeah, that’s me! And yeah, it’s really nice to have met you too Arlo and...?”

Bee tilted her head to look at Arlo’s silent companion who stared back at her with disinterest before focusing on the woman behind her.

“Oh, this is Selah. She's been dubbed my shadow as of late but, don’t worry about her. She means well, I promise. Oh! Mrs. Flo, I couldn’t help but notice that Downer was seeming, well down, for lack of better words, did something happen?”

Bellamy perked up at the sound of her name, her warm smile settling back on her face again.

“Amias is fine Arlo, don’t worry about it, okay? Could you get sunshine here to her class, please? She’s already late, and I wouldn’t want her to miss out on any more important lessons.”

Arlo nodded as she ushered the girl toward her first-year class, which was thankfully English as of right now.

On the way to the classroom the trio, more like just Bee and Arlo, had made idle conversation about where they were from. Arlo being born and raised in Colchester England, and how their quirks worked.

“So, your quirk allows you to glow?”

“Yeah. It’s pretty boring, I guess.”

“No, it isn’t! Any quirk can be amazing if you put effort into reaching its full potential.”

“Whatever boats you float.”

Bee fiddled with the straps of her backpack as she looked up, catching the gaze of smiling blue eyes.

Her stomach did cartwheels as she forgot how to walk, almost tripping over her feet and getting up close and personal with the floor.

Her stomach dropped into the Earth’s core as the owner of the blue eyes came closer, smile rivaling the sun with how bright it was.

To be honest, he was probably rivaling her with how bright she must have been glowing. She just really hoped she wasn’t blinding anyone.

He stopped in front of her and began to speak excitedly. His words zipping past her face like an arrow from an experienced archer.

With all these people speaking English, she had completely forgotten about the blaring problem of a language barrier. Looking at Arlo almost pathetically for help.

They had talked back and forth for a while as she stood there confused. Arlo gesturing to Bee periodically and the guy smiling even wider, if that were possible, with every word that fell from Arlo’s glossy lips.

“Bee, this is Togata Mirio. He’s really happy to meet you, he says, and is hoping you two become friends.”

Bee stared at the boy standing in front of her, noting how his soft blue eyes and blonde hair kinda reminded her of Lucas from Smash Brothers.

Holding back a laugh, she brought her hand up to shake his, putting on her best smile for him.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Mirio!”

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tinydooms · 4 years

Note

#30 (“There are souls that you feel to lean forward to, like a sun-filled window”) for Rick/Evy?

#30 “There are souls that you feel to lean forward to, like a sun-filled window”

The Western Desert, October 1922

An hour out from Hamunaptra, night had finally fallen over the Western Desert. Rick sat on his camel, rocking gently back and forth with each step, the girl he loved snug and warm in his arms.

Holding Evelyn Carnahan to him, hugging and kissing and being kissed by her, felt like the best thing that had ever happened to Rick. And it just kept getting better. For the last little while they had shared quiet kisses, lips meeting and clinging with wonder and affection or brushing each other’s faces and brows and hair. There was a wonderful moment when Evie pressed her lips to the hollow in Rick’s collarbones, tasting the smooth skin there, a sensation that gave him a delicious full-body shiver. Evie looked up at him with amusement in her glowing eyes.

“All right?” she whispered.

“Yes,” Rick said, bending his head to kiss her again. “You’re perfect.”

Evie grinned at him, her face crinkling up in pleasure, and squeezed him a little. “Good.”

She tucked her head into Rick’s shoulder, idly stroking his arm. It was wonderful to be so entwined, arms around each other. Evie was so soft in his arms, so cozy and comfortable. Rick dropped a kiss on the top of her head and felt her smile. This really was just the nicest feeling. The camel’s gate rocked them together, soothing them both after the chaos of the past few days. Little by little Evie stilled, hooking her thumb into the turn of his sleeve, and after a while Rick felt her go heavy as she fell asleep.

Rick took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and rested his cheek against Evelyn’s dear head. He had read stories where the hero had cradled his beloved to him like this, but had never really believed it would happen to him. Before the War, maybe, but since then he had seen and experienced and participated in the absolute worst that humanity had to offer, and there had been no place for love or romance in it. And afterwards...Rick pushed the memory of Afterwards away, not wanting to dwell on how lost and hopeless he had been. Focus on the present. Focus on this remarkable gift. Rick was no stranger to physical pleasure, but this was something different. He burned everywhere Evie touched him, where her arm rested around his waist, her hand on his hip, the fingers of her other hand tracing patterns into his forearm, and yet there was something different in this pleasure than the other times he had been with women. This was permanent. He wanted to take Evie to bed, sure, but he also wanted to go places with her, to listen while she explained the past to him, to watch her dig things up out of the dirt. From the way she held him, looked at him, Evie wanted that, too. She was safe and alive despite everything, and she loved him, and Rick didn’t want to ever let her go. She was a bright shining light; she warmed his soul. He shifted the reins to one hand and reached up to cradle Evie’s head, letting his eyes close in relief. He had been so afraid that he would lose her.

A camel’s snort jolted Rick out of his reverie. Jonathan had brought his mount alongside them and was fussing with a blanket roll strapped to one of his saddlebags.

“Here,” he said, “take this. Is Evie asleep?”

“Yeah,” Rick said, taking the proffered blanket, a little embarrassed. “Has been for a while.”

Jonathan didn’t seem at all phased. “Good, she needs it, poor kid. Here, I’ll hold your reins.”

Rick handed them over and shook out the blanket, shifting to wrap it around Evie’s bare shoulders. The temperature was falling fast; at least he and Jonathan had long sleeves to offer a minimum of protection against the nighttime cold. Evie’s sweater was long gone. She did not wake as Rick snugged the blanket around her, but mumbled a little before subsiding again against his chest. Rick smiled, resisting the urge to brush his lips against her hair, and took his reins back from Jonathan. He wondered what the other man thought of it all, if he would say anything. But when Jonathan did speak, it wasn’t about Evie.

“How long, do you think, until we reach the little oasis?”

Rick looked around at the moonlit landscape. They had come a good way along the trail, but he had only been paying partial attention to it.

“Uh, four or five miles, I’d say,” he said. “An hour, tops. You holding up okay?”

“Oh, yes, I’m fine. A bit sore and sleepy, but I’ve had worse.”

“Yeah, me, too.”

Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, Rick was beginning to feel the after effects of battle. He hurt all over his body, and his throat was sore where Imhotep had choked him. He reached up to touch it, his fingers meeting the last of the rope burn from when he had been hanged. Rick swallowed. It could all have ended so badly. He drew in another deep breath, feeling his chest expand and release. He was alive. They were alive.

“Thank you,” Jonathan said abruptly. “For all this. For saving my sister. Couldn’t have done it without you, old chap.”

“You’re welcome,” Rick said, giving him a small smile. “Thanks for having my back.”

“Well, I’ve never left a partner in the lurch yet,” Jonathan said with a shrug. “I’m no hero, but I’m not that bad.”

“Heroes only exist in fiction,” Rick said. “The rest of us just do what needs to be done, even when we’re shit scared. Besides, I couldn’t live with myself if Evelyn had been killed.”

“No, I’d gathered that.” Jonathan chuckled. “You’ve been making calf eyes at her almost from the beginning.”

Rick felt himself reddening. “Am I that obvious?”

“Oh, Evie’s just as bad. Ardeth Bey thought the two of you were married.”

“He did?”

It came out a squawk; Evie stirred in his arms and Rick struggled to contain his laughter. He couldn’t help it; they were alive, and he was so happy. Jonathan, too, was chuckling. It was the sort of laughter between friends, the giddy delight of having survived an impossible situation. Rick knew that when they returned to Cairo all sorts of conversations were going to have to take place, but for now he was content to just be here with Evie, with Jonathan. They rode on in silence, Jonathan dozing in his saddle, until they reached the little oasis and dismounted for the night.

A second wind restored all of them then, as Rick found that the saddlebags were not loaded with the expected camping gear and supplies, but rather the wealth of Hamunaptra, and Evie learned about that scarab that had burrowed into Jonathan’s arm. Rick looked over their food supplies as she fussed over her brother, feeling kind of guilty. He had completely forgotten about the scarab incident in all of the tumult that had followed. The wound looked awful, purple puckers all the way up Jonathan’s arm and a neat stab where Rick had dug the thing out. He shivered.

“Are you all right?” Evie asked, looking him over. “Have you got any awful injuries that you haven’t told me about?”

“No, ma’am,” Rick said.

“Are you sure? Because if I find that you’re hiding any manageable hurts from me because of manly pride, I’ll-”

Rick held his hands up. “I’ve only got bruises.”

It wasn’t quite true; he was pretty sure he’d cracked a rib or two, but he wasn’t about to let Evie strip him to the waist. They weren’t there yet. Instead, he focused on dinner, dividing up their meager supplies, cutting up the stale bread and spearing it on sticks to toast over the fire. They could have some of the jerky now, and an apple each. In the morning they’d finish the bread, and there were date palms at the other end of the pond, so they wouldn’t starve, but it would be a long, hungry day until they reached the cultivation and villages to barter with.

“We’ll manage,” Evie said, turning her stick to toast the bread evenly. “As long as we have water, anyway.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Rick said.

“It’ll be nice to be back properly,” Evie said, settling back with her toast and apple. “Do you think the house was damaged in the firestorm?”

“I’d be surprised if it wasn’t,” Jonathan replied. “We’ll call up Daoud as soon as we get back to the fort and check.”

“I hope they’re all right,” Evie said. “You know how Fatima hates thunder and lightning. She was probably terrified.”

“Well, we won’t tell them that we had anything to do with, what?” Jonathan shook his head. “I don’t think they need to know that we’ve been conjuring afreets.”

Rick looked from one to the other. “Who’re Daoud and Fatima?”

“Our reis and housekeeper,” Jonathan replied. “They’ve been with us forever; Daoud was Father’s foreman, and then he had to retire from that because of an injury, so Father asked him to manage the household instead. Fatima’s his wife.”

“So you’ve known them your whole lives?”

Evie and Jonathan nodded.

“Our parents had rather a magpie approach to family,” Evie said. “Father and Daoud knew each other as young men and considered each other brothers, and Fatima and Mum were dear friends. Simple, really.”

Rick grinned. The magpie approach seemed to run in the family. “Where’s your house at?”

“In Zamalek, on Gezira Island,” Evie said.

Rick blinked. “I know where Zamalek is. Swanky place.”

Evie and Jonathan glanced at each other. Rick felt a sudden worry.

“I mean, it’s not Garden City…” he trailed off, uncertain. He knew Zamalek to be a nice, safe, quiet place; it was where the nice restaurants and the opera house were.

“It’s an old house,” Evie said, her voice hesitant. “It’s been getting a badly-needed new roof. It’s not fancy. But I think you’ll like it. It has a little courtyard and plenty of space.”

“‘Course you’ll want to let your own people know you’re alright,” Jonathan added. “You mustn’t let us monopolize you.”

“I, uh--” Rick rubbed the back of his head. This was going to be awkward no matter how he went at it. “I don’t have anyone. Any people. I mean, I don’t have a family or anything. It’s just been me since I was thirteen. My mom died and she was my only family, so...”

They stared at him. Embarrassed, Rick poked at the fire with his stick, avoiding their eyes.

“How old are you, Rick?” Jonathan asked. His voice sounded funny, kind of soft.

“I’m twenty-eight.”

“So you’ve been all alone for fifteen years?” Evie’s voice was soft, too, and horrified.

“Yeah. I mean I had friends in the army, but I guess...yeah.”

For a moment there was silence only broken by the crackling fire. Rick stabbed at it, memories of the orphanage beginning to swim in the back of his mind.

“That’s...that’s awful,” Evie said. “I’m so sorry, Rick.”

Rick stabbed at the fire again; these were not memories he wanted to dredge up.

“It isn’t fun,” he said, trying for a light tone. “Anyway, when we get back to Cairo, I...I’d like to stay.” He swallowed and looked at Evie. “With you. If that’s all right.”

She met his eyes and Rick could see that he understood what he meant. She began to smile.

“I think that sounds wonderful,” she said, reaching to take his hand.

“Plenty of room for you,” Jonathan added. “Happy to have you.”

Rick looked from one to the other and back to Evie. Warmth filled him like he had stepped into a sunlit room. A magpie family, wasn’t that how they had described themselves? And now they had collected him, too. Rick squeezed Evie’s hand and kissed her fingers, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. He could stay. She wanted him to stay with her. It was going to be alright.

#The Mummy #my fanfics #prompts #asks

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