#like yeah the pan is heavy on its own but do you think she can SWING THAT? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ohlawsons · 1 year

Text

ever bittersweet, ch. 01 | dani/herald/ortega, 2495 words post-retribution recovery, ft. the trio trying to figure out if/how things can work

“So.”

The word is sharp, quick, a damning punctuation to its own statement. There’s no follow up from Julia, not right away — just a harrowing silence filled only by the quick, methodical strikes of a knife against a cutting board. Daniel, for his part, has done an admirable job of lounging on the sofa, flipping through channels on the tv, acting like this isn’t potentially the most awkward position he’s been in since… well, in a while — Dani’s still asleep in his bedroom, and Julia’s taken over the kitchen, and Daniel’s just trying not to suffocate under the weight of her care and concern for Dani.

Not that he minds. Quite the opposite, in fact, but it leaves him feeling a bit useless in his own home.

Still, he’d learned very quickly not to argue when Julia had shown up with an armful of groceries and declared she was cooking dinner for Dani. This is the third time this week alone, and he’s beginning to gather that sharing a meal like this means something more to Julia — or, at least, it does when it comes to Dani. She keeps telling him that they used to do this all the time, dinner at Ortega’s place, and she mentions Anathema a few times and Sentinel once, but the stories all revolve around Dani, all tinged with a warmth and familiarity and history that he knows he can’t match.

(She keeps saying it was easier to cook for them, before, but there’s an aftertaste of it was easier to love them, before, and Daniel pretends not to notice.)

“Sorry, did you say something, Julia?” He drags his focus from the screen, glancing back over one shoulder to where she’s still chopping vegetables in the kitchen; the question is meant as a mercy, a kindness, because he can tell there’s something heavy and uncomfortable meant to follow that one little ‘so,’ and this way she has an out if she decides she’s not ready to broach the topic.

“Yeah.” A pause as she scoops the diced onion into a pan, frowning down as it begins to sizzle. “Would you mind grabbing me a beer? I’ll restock you next time I drop by, promise.” She meets his eyes for what might be the first time all evening, flashing him an easy, charming grin before turning to wash her hands.

He’s happy to comply, and clicks the tv off before standing; it’s the least he can do, given that Julia won’t let him help out in his own kitchen — she doesn’t say it outright, but he can sense that it’s supposed to be Dani’s job, always has been — and it gives him a chance, too, to expend some of his anxious, nervous energy that’s been building, because even though Julia had chosen not to address whatever it is that’s hanging over her, Daniel doesn’t think that he’s quite safe from the topic. He hands one bottle over to Julia and takes a second for himself, taking a seat on one of the barstools.

He should’ve left the tv on; the only sound in the apartment is the sizzling of the pan and the audible beat of his own racing heart.

“So.”

And there’s that word again. Too quick. Too final. Too loud to pretend he hadn’t heard. “So…?”

Rather than answer, she takes a long, slow swig of her drink — steeling herself, maybe, and Daniel wishes he could tell what for — and sets it down a little too hard. Frowns. Stirs the onions. As the silence begins to drag on just long enough that it seems she might not actually say whatever she’s building up to, Julia plants both hands on the edge of the countertop and stares down at Daniel, curious and not unkind. Maybe a little sad. “So. You and Dani, that’s gotten pretty… serious?”

Ah.

This is a topic he’d known was bound to come up, eventually, given the history between Julia and Dani — the old history, from before, of rumors and stories pieced together from Julia and photos in the papers of Charge sweeping Sidestep off their feet as the dust settled after a battle, and the history that’s new and raw and a little bit broken, all sharp barbs and repeated arguments and shattered glances.

(The breakroom at HQ has seen Daniel walk in on one too many long lingering kisses between the two, and even with every hasty, flushed retreat, he can’t help but gather, slowly, that Julia holds them like she may never again get the chance, and Dani pulls away like her lips taste of regret. He ignores the way the kiss always lingers in his own mind, just a bit, but he can’t ignore the way it makes him a little sad for them both — the bonds between two people shouldn’t be laced with as much pain as they are love.)

But — serious? Between him and Dani? He doesn’t quite avoid Julia’s gaze as he considers all the things Dani’s shared with him, trusted with him, and considers, too, the careful, fragile way they’ve taken things one day at a time.

“I don’t know if that’s the right word,” he admits, honest, fingers tapping along the glass of his beer. Julia’s gone back to tending to the food, so he’s at least spared the weight of her gaze on him. “You know about… them, now—“ and he can’t bring himself to say Re-Gene, not now, not with the way Julia claims she’s okay with it even though hesitance and confusion still bleed so freely into her expression around Dani, “—and how it makes things a little complicated, with everything they’ve been through.”

To his surprise, the words are met with a short, sharp laugh, and Julia looks up from the food just long enough to flash him a wry, fond smile. “You too, huh?”

“What do you mean?”

“Complicated.” She draws the word out, making exaggerated air quotes as she does. “Dani’s favorite word. It was complicated ten years ago, complicated last year…” She trails off, glancing towards the bedroom as she breathes out a few words in Spanish. “Sure is fucking complicated now.

“I’m sorry.” He doesn’t know what to say, and the apology is so reflexive, thoughtless; Julia’s words are soft and tired, not angry, but Daniel can’t tell if the “complication” in question refers to himself, or Dani’s past, or their injuries. He knows Julia’s smart, knows she’s long since put two and two together — he’d told her, outright, about the dinner date, and she’d been quick to pick up on the fact that he already knew about their tattoos, and that they’d had a spare change of clothes stashed away in his apartment — but they’ve both been so focused on taking care of Dani that he hasn’t been able to even guess at how Julia feels about it all.

He knows how he feels about it; in Dani’s place, he wouldn’t have hesitated to choose Julia over himself — and not in that quiet rage of self-deprecation that he sees so often in Dani, but out of an honest appreciation for Julia.

Julia, the woman currently standing in his kitchen, in a crisp white tank top that shows off her toned arms and wide shoulders. The woman giving him an amused, thoughtful look, lips pressed into a familiar grin, drawing out faint laugh lines as the smile grows.

(Had they been serious when they’d said they cared for both him and Ortega? When they’d said Ortega’s never been the jealous sort? When they’d said this was an option…?)

Daniel clears his throat. He knows he’s gone pink right up to the tips of his ears, and he also knows that Julia’s noticed.

“For what it’s worth,” she says, still looking far too pleased with herself, “I’m happy for you. Both of you.” The words are a little too soft, a little too warm, like she’s holding back regret and frustration and bitterness. “I’m just glad they’re alive,” she adds after a moment, and her voice is so genuine that something deep within Daniel aches; he can’t imagine losing Dani, not now, but to get them back from the dead after seven years and lose them to someone else’s arms? That’s—

That’s not a conversation he’s going to have without Dani.

“I think—“ and he’s not flustered, not expending a considerable amount of focus on keeping his ass on the barstool so he doesn’t hover, “—that we should talk. All three of us.”

Julia’s staring at him again, eyes narrowing in his direction even as the pan sizzles and pops on the stove in front of her. She’s clearly thinking, working through his words before she comes to some conclusion and gives him a slow nod. “Okay. After dinner,” she says, brandishing a spoon towards Daniel. “I’m not letting Dani weasel out of another meal. They need to eat.”

He smiles up at Julia, warm and bright and open — the kind of earnest expression that would merit an eye roll and a fond half-grin from Dani — because, complicated feelings aside, she still cares for Dani in a way that’s impossible to miss. Maybe she has the unfortunate habit of treating them like one of her crusades, sometimes, but in this, she’s always been easy to read — she loves them. That alone isn’t enough to fix things, to fix them, he knows that. But it’s still a good place to start.

“Thank you, Julia.”

“You’re welcome.” One eyebrow quirks upward, and she gives him an odd, curious look. “I know you’re doing your best, here, but I also know how Dani is. This—“ a pause as she gestures to the food, “—is for you as much as it is them.”

…oh.

“I… Thank you.” He fidgets, fingers tapping along his still-untouched drink. “I meant… they’re lucky to have you. To have had you for all that time.”

The smile she gives him is as warm and fond as anything he’s ever seen from Julia. “They’ll always have me. Even if…” She looks away, not quite frowning. The stove clicks off, and Daniel thinks the conversation is over until she turns the full force of her attention on him again. “What do you want here, Daniel? With—“ She gives a vague wave of her hand between the two of them.

That’s easy. “I want Dani to be happy.”

“Not what I asked.” She shakes her head, eyes turning hard like she’s trying to drive home some point. “Forget Dani, for a minute. What do you want?”

He frowns; his wants are secondary, here, but he knows that isn’t the answer Julia’s looking for. “What they said, about—“ he does the same as Julia had, making a brief gesture between himself and her, and he isn’t sure whose embarrassment it is that he’s sparing by not actually saying it aloud. “It’s… I’m not against it.”

That’s out in the open, now.

Julia’s quiet just long enough for the silence to grow awkward. “Me neither.” She looks up, and the smile she gives Daniel is more genuine, carries more weight than he’s used to. “Dani, they’re… they’ve never been what I’d call cheerful, but they never used to be so angry.” A shaky breath. Shaky laugh. Shaking hand that she runs through her hair. “Guess I know why, now. But that goes away when they’re with you. They’re more like they used to be.” She takes a slow sip of her beer, and it seems to ground her somewhat and her voice is steady again when she speaks. “I can’t seem to stop fighting with them.”

Daniel thinks back to all the arguments he’d had with Dani; all the times they’d yelled and snapped and tried to throw his words and kindness back in his face. And he’d let them. How do you convince someone they don’t need to be angry at the whole world? When they have enough built up anger that they could lash out at the whole world?

He doesn’t think he’s quite figured it out yet, so he settles for a neutral, “They’re going through a lot.”

“Yeah.” Silence again — heavier, but less awkward — until Julia seems to collect herself with a deep breath and turns back to Daniel with a more familiar grin. “Hey, there’s the media angle to think of, too, you know.”

“The what?”

“The media,” she repeats with an exaggerated shrug, as if it should be obvious. “They’ll love it. I look good on camera, you look good on camera, we’re both very popular with the fans… Let’s face it, with the way things have been going lately, we’re a match made in PR heaven.”

True. But he’s not sure if she means to say it would be only for the cameras. Not sure if it bothers him. He knows how this works, after all, knows that the “relationship” he was supposed to have had with Angie was more about keeping the gossip columns sated and filled with easy, innocent things. It’s just a misdirect — play the happy couple and smile for the camera, and pay no attention to anything going on behind the scenes.

Especially now, as Julia had said; Shrike has been a looming threat to the Rangers for… what, close to a year now? Toying with them, tearing at the Rangers’ reputation, making a mockery of the government, and doing it all while preening and strutting for the cameras. It makes his job that much more important, adds a weight to his role as the picture perfect face of the Rangers — because while he and the rest of the team can train and plan and work to take down Shrike, it’s Daniel’s job alone to make sure the public perception of the team doesn’t suffer too much.

He can’t deny that it would be a much easier beast to wrangle with Julia at his side, in whatever capacity that ends up being. And…

“It would be safer for Dani, too,” he adds, the words slow and thoughtful. A misdirect of his own. No reason for the press to start searching for answers on Herald’s all-too-public love life when he has Charge on his arm. He knows Dani’s careful, but they’ve already spent years hiding from the cameras when they were Sidestep — he doesn’t want them to have to go through that again.

“As safe as things can get for them.” There’s something dark and heavy about the way Julia speaks, a cold determination and furious concern bleeding into the words.

If Daniel had any concerns that Julia’s reservations about the Special Directive would get in the way of things, they’re gone — it goes unspoken that she won’t let anything happen to Dani, not if she can help it.

That’s good. Common ground. One steady, unshakable truth that they can share between them.

It’s a start.

(And that does it — he’s hovering.)

#fhr #julia ortega #fhr herald #chargestep #flystep #sidestep #dani gutierrez tag #brooke writes things #fic: dani #ch 2 will be posted next week

7 notes · View notes

unfortunatelysage · 2 years

Text

All Smoke and Mirrors- 7

last

first

Margot can’t say her appetite is back, but she can say she feels more comfortable eating knowing that she’s not a part of breakfast.

“Finished?” The giant asks, eyeing her empty plate- well, lid.

“Yes,” she responds. “Thank you again.”

He doesn’t reply this time, just using one hand to grab her lid and place on his empty plate and the other to grab her.

“Don’t touch me with your hands,” he remarks, standing.

Though she’s trying to adjust to the idea that he won’t squeeze her like a stress ball whenever he grabs her, she still flinches when his hand swoops toward her. It would be much nicer of him to ask before handling her, but expecting niceties out of Rico is such an absurd concept, it’s comical.

Comical enough for Margot to try (and fail) to stifle her laugh when he apologized to her. Saying “sorry” for not having the appropriate utensils, but not for threatening to eat her however many times. She’d be insane not to laugh.

He places the plates in the sink on top of a pan, and turns on the faucet. “You first,” he says, holding his hand out for her to rinse her hands. She does so, shaking the water off and wiping the excess on her pants.

Setting her down on the counter next to the sink, Rico rinses his hands too. He uses his wrist to shut the faucet off, and flicks his wet fingers toward Margot, flinging handful-sized water droplets at her.

She flinches at the water before opening her eyes, staring up to a smirking Rico, drying his hands with a towel.

“Couldn’t resist.”

Margot wipes off her face and quips, “I think it’s interesting how even physics change over here. The waterdrops are adjusted for your size.”

“Yeah…” Rico trails off. “Pretty interesting.” He barely lets the silence linger before saying, “Alright, I’ve got to shower and get ready for the day. You can… uh…”

“Can I be set on the floor? I’ll be able to move around and you can smell me, so you won’t risk stepping on me or anything,” Margot replies, silently praying he also doesn’t want her to get stepped on.

“Nice try,” he immediately retorts. “How dumb do you think I am?”

Margot bites her tongue, knowing her honest opinion wouldn’t end well.

“Just stay here for now. I’ll be done within twenty minutes,” he starts to turn away, before pointing at her. “I’ll be pissed if you’re not still on this counter when I get back.”

“Wait,” she remarks, and he stops to look at her again. “When you’re done, can I get ready too? I don’t know the last time I showered. I’ll be quick. Promise.”

He narrows his eyes, but it feels more in thought than in anger. “Fine,” he lands on an answer. “Humans are filthy enough as is. Might as well try and clean yourself up.”

“Thank you,” she replies, relieved despite the offense.

He doesn’t respond, heading to the room over. Margot feels her shoulders relax once he’s out of sight.

Looking around at the immense kitchen is intimidating, but Margot figures it’s no worse than every other part of the home. Or its owner.

Suddenly, a vibration catches her off guard- different to the vibrations of footsteps she’s still growing accustomed to. Looking behind her, Margot’s eyes widen.

Rico left his phone on the counter.

Immediately, tremors sound through her body in excitement. She can call someone! She can call for help! She can…

Wait. Not a chance. If this is a giant’s phone, it can’t have service connection to human lines, can it?

She decides to walk over to the phone anyway to see the notification. It’s from someone called Marcus.

Schedule cleared up early, I’m good whenever

Oh no, is another giant coming here? He has to be as viscous as Rico described them to be. Maybe he’ll leave and she’ll stay here. Whatever keeps her away from more of them.

But… a mischievous thought crosses her mind. Have they talked about humans over text before? Her specifically? Maybe she’ll know what he really thinks of her kind without having to ask.

The phone seems to work almost exactly like her own- well, before it vanished. It’s far too heavy to flip over and look at the model, but she’d probably be safe to assume it’s a giant brand she’s never heard of.

Swiping up, there’s a password prompt. She slams her fist on each of the buttons- the screen doesn’t register her fingers alone.

1234

Try again.

4321

The home screen pops up. Unsurprising.

She immediately goes to messages, feeling her time running out. With a swipe down of her hand, the search bar comes up.

Human

Only two results. One from Marcus, about a year ago.

Some sense of humanity you got there lmao

A puzzled look crosses her face. Why would he need a sense of humanity? What’s even the giant equivalent?

The second one is from an unsaved number.

A Message From the Department of Health and Human Services…

A whole department for humans? How often do giants see any? She taps it.

A Message From the Department of Health and Human Services asks you to fill out an anonymous survey regarding you and those you live with…

All just filler. Where’s the mention of humans outside of this?

She slaps around on the screen, going back to the messages with Marcus.

Marcus: Some sense of humanity you got there lmao

Rico: Haha whatever I don’t need to be a saint to have any

The messages only confuse her more. Rico wouldn’t need to worry about keeping humanity, unless…

Her stomach drops. No. He can’t be.

The physics. The location. Everything is the same. Everything is.… he…

At the worst possible time, she feels the counter shaking again. Not from the phone this time.

Margot quickly backspaces and swipes out of the app, reaching to the power button and pressing into it to turn the phone off. She dives back to the place she was sitting before, idly pulling at a loose string on her shirt in a show of acting natural.

Rico walks into the room, prompting Margot to look up innocently and ask, “All set?”

“Just about,” he replies, reaching over her to grab his device while pushing his wet hair back with the fingers of his free hand. “Forgot this,” he holds up his phone.

He absentmindedly wipes the screen on his shirt, removing any evidence of her hands touching it. It takes all of Margot’s energy to not crack a smile of relief.

Opening the phone, he cocks an eyebrow at first, making Margot’s throat tighten. He quickly brushes it off, however. “I’m hanging out with a friend today. You’ll stay here. Don’t need anyone knowing I’ve got a human hanging around me.”

Her eyes narrow slightly at the word human, but not enough for Rico to notice.

“When are you going?” she asks.

“Soon as you’re set. So be quick.” He grabs at her again, wrinkled fingertips much more discomforting than his typical smooth skin.

Carrying her to the bathroom, he turns on the bottom faucet of the shower, letting a small stream flow. “This is the best I’ve got. Washcloth right here once you’re done. Or towel. Whatever.”

“How will you know when I’m done?” she asks.

“Scream or something. Just make sure you’re clothed.” He sets the folded blue washcloth in front of the shower and stands up, closing the door. The ground reduces in its quaking as he stomps further away.

Though they’re loud as ever, his footsteps don’t feel quite as impactful anymore.

#g/t #giant/tiny #g/t community #g/t writing #ocs: margot and rico

4 notes · View notes

hojungwrites · 3 months

Text

Interview with Chinese American Poet, Chen Chen, on being a representative Asian American voice in poetry

HL: Thank you so much for meeting with me! I know in another interview that you said you’re working on saying no, so I’m super grateful that you’re making time for me today. One fun icebreaker question I like to start with is, where did your parents meet?

CC: I don’t know! I should ask them. My parents are both from Southern China—I’m from the city called Xiamen. My mom grew up in the country, and my dad is from the city. So I know that.

HL: Mine met on a ski trip. My mom kept falling so my dad kept having to hold her hand.

CC: Oh my god that’s adorable.

HL: Alright I am just going to go in and start with the heavy questions about race. Do you remember the first moment that you realized you were Asian, and how did this affect your image of yourself?

CC: I grew up feeling a pretty firm sense that I was Chinese because that’s really how my parents identified and would always talk to me in those terms. I saw myself as a Chinese immigrant or a child of immigrants. I was born in China and then came to the States when I was very young. I was about four. So I had that sense of my self, that’s how I saw myself. But the term Asian? It took a while for me to feel like that was descriptive for me because it just seemed so big. It wasn’t until college that I started to think more about identifying in that way—particularly as an Asian American. It’s a term that has its own particular political and cultural history, and I learned a lot more about that in college. Before that, I didn’t know what it meant to call myself Asian American, so that changed things for me.

Just in terms of any racial awareness, I’d say from a pretty young age I was aware of that difference, aware of how different people, non-Asian people, saw me as Asian. I had an awareness of that very early on, but in terms of, you know, just the word, the terminology, it wasn’t until college.

HL: What specifically changed in college?

CC: I became interested in learning about the history of Asian Americans versus Asian people in the United States because I realized that I didn’t know that much. I was also becoming friends with other Asian American students on my campus, and on other campuses, and they were talking about the identity as this pan-ethnic one—you can be East Asian, you can be South Asian, you can be West Asian—and the idea of this political coalition community that could form with this term this umbrella term. So I became interested in learning more about the history of that.

I was becoming interested in seeking out other Asian American writers, particularly poets, because I realized that I hadn’t read that many before. You know that they weren’t taught as much in high school. There are some, but usually they’re fiction, and so I had to seek out a lot of the poetry on my own, too. I remember reading Rose by Li-Young Lee, his first book, in high school at the suggestion of an encouraging English teacher sophomore year. She recommended that I check out Li-Young Lee’s work. I remember looking at the back cover and seeing his author photo on there and being moved—Oh, here is a Chinese American, someone who likes me and is doing this poetry thing. Doing it his own way.

HL: Yeah it’s always the English teachers in high school.

CC: They just get it.

HL: Do you have any unique struggles as an Asian American, and is it amplified by your queer and immigrant identity?

CC: I think so many of us have struggled with this, this kind of invisibility, and in a lot of areas of culture and politics. So I feel I can understand why representation is such a big issue for many Asian Americans. I do think it’s not the only issue, or it doesn’t have to be the primary one. But yeah, I’d say, especially as a queer Asian American with this immigrant experience, that I have very rarely seen this kind of experience depicted anywhere. I feel motivated to depict my own experiences in my writing because of the lack because there’s been such a huge lack.

HL: I went to the library and I specifically asked for Asian American authors, and the librarian could only name Amy Tan and no one else. It was frustrating for me.

CC: It feels like we’re always fighting for that recognition. Other non-Asian people are always behind, either catching up or they have static knowledge about Asian American literature. It just stops developing at a certain point—after they’ve read one author, or two, maybe, and then that’s it. It can be frustrating to see that because there’s such a wealth of literature that I think people are missing out on.

HL: We only read boring old dead white men in high school and college.

CC: So many people just did not move on. I want people to be more curious and also take the initiative to educate themselves because I just think it’s so exciting and enriching what’s happening in Asian American literature.

HL: Do you feel like you feel stuck in your identity as an Asian American poet? For example, I remember when I was reading Cathy Park Hong’s Minor Feelings, a collection of essays, she talked about how she felt like no one would take her seriously as an Asian poet.

CC: I do think that some of that has changed in recent years. I feel very lucky to have come up as a poet when I did because there was already a lot more going on in editing and publishing. There were a lot more books by Asian American poets, fiction writers, and non-fiction writers. Just in the last ten years, there’s been an explosion. It’s been great to see that. I didn’t feel as much pressure when my book came out. I didn’t feel like I needed to speak to the Asian American or Chinese American experience in a particular way, which I feel very fortunate about.

In the past, I think there was a lot more pressure. I mean tokenizing still happens, but I think there was a lot more of that. And so there was the sense that to call yourself an Asian American writer can only mean one thing, that you have to represent a whole culture, a whole experience, in a simplified way and a palatable way, mainly for a white mainstream audience. I think that pressure has lessened, to some degree over the years, so I feel fortunate about that.

And also just for me, I feel like identity is just so expansive and so complicated. I feel like I’m continuing to learn. I don’t feel like I can definitively say that being Asian American means X, Y, and Z. Because for me it changes too, at different points in my life, my relationship to that term. On thinking of myself as an Asian American writer, I embrace that label. I don’t find it restrictive really, because there are so many different styles and approaches and subject matter that you could call Asian American literature.

HL: One thing I have been dying to ask you about because I identify with it so much in your debut collection, you talk a lot about your fraught romantic relationships with white boys. I remember in elementary school when I would have a crush on the white boys in the class, I would just automatically assume he wouldn’t like me. I think I’m cute, but I’m not white, so I just automatically assumed he wouldn’t like me. I wanted to ask about how we don’t meet Eurocentric beauty standards. How did that influence your self-image?

CC: I think I internalized a lot of racism, because of that very issue—feeling like I wasn’t up to those beauty standards, those Eurocentric beauty standards, and being socialized to seek the attention of white men. So many of us are socially conditioned to do that in this culture. It’s taken me a long time to examine that, and I think I’m still processing it and examining it and unlearning certain things. Writing has been a way to process those experiences and those emotions. And, yeah, I feel especially in recent years, I’ve become a lot more self-loving. A lot more just embracing as well, of being Asian.

I used to be very self-conscious and embarrassed about how I looked in photographs and I would beat myself up about it, feeling like I’m not attractive or I’m not good-looking in the standard ways. But I love taking selfies. I love posing in photos. I realized that in the past, I used to always make a funny face sort or strike a funny pose in photos. That was my way of getting around my discomfort. But I was looking back on it, and I realized that I was also trying to make other people comfortable. I was overcompensating for this anxiety and this insecurity that I had. And so now, I mean I still love doing funny things in photos, but I feel a lot more comfortable now just taking a regular picture and just looking like myself in photos. That’s taken a long time, to become more comfortable in my own skin.

HL: I think I also used to do the same thing actually, like I would purposely try to make myself look bad in photos so that no one else could be like, oh, that’s not a good photo.

CC: You kind of sabotage it. Or you try to change the tone of it in a way so that it can’t be disappointing because it’s already funny or weird.

HL: One more poetry question! As a poet, you tend to capitalize on really striking emotional moments in your life. Your poem, “Race to the Tree,” was very emotional for me to read. Is there any cost to tapping into this vulnerability? Are you ever afraid to release a poem into the world?

CC: Yeah, I do get nervous. I remember before this book was published, the first full-length book, I published these two chapbooks—much shorter collections—and the first one set the car on fire. It’s extremely autobiographical, personal poems, a lot about my family, a lot about being an immigrant, and a lot about sexuality. An earlier version of that poem that you just mentioned, “Race To The Tree,” is in that chapbook. I remember getting the galleys for that chapbook—the physical copy that the publisher sends you. It’s not the finished book yet, so it didn’t have the cover on it, but it was bound. Holding it in my hands for the first time, I vividly remember freaking out. Both in a good way, I was super excited, but also I was super nervous at the same time. It hit me that, oh, this is gonna go into the world. It’s still a small publication—this is a chapbook from this tiny press, but still, it just suddenly felt very real.

I had a similar feeling with the first book, although by that point I’d gotten used to it a bit. It takes some practice. In writing, I often tell my students this can be a really good sign. If you do feel scared about what you’re writing about or how you’re writing about it, it can be a good sign that you’re tapping into something complicated, not neatly resolved. It’s still this messy set of emotions that’s brought up for you. So, because of all that, usually, it leads to some good writing. But at the same time, I advise people to take care of themselves as well. Don’t push it if you’re not ready to, but if it feels urgent to you to go there, just allow yourself to do it in a certain way where it doesn’t harm you, ultimately, to be writing about those difficult subjects.

HL: When I write I want to tap into old relationships that ended badly, but I don’t want to annihilate people along the way. Do your parents ever get upset that you mention very intimate moments with them in your poems?

CC: They haven’t really mentioned anything. I think it does bother them sometimes, but I feel like especially at this point they get that I am my own person. I’m an adult now. I’m saying making my own choices. But I guess I always try to make it clear, too, that I’m trying to tell my own piece of the story. You know, like they’re often in the story that I’m writing about, but it’s my personal, subjective experience of it. I try to always focus on what has been my experience of our relationship—my relationship with them, rather than other aspects of their lives which I don’t feel I have as much access to. That’s where the focus is, and I hope that they understand that.

HL: Wow I learned so much about you and your writing, and it was very cool. Thank you! Can we take a selfie?

CC: For sure!

HL: I’ve been telling my friends about it, and they’re like: “Oh my gosh that’s so cool you get to interview Chen Chen.” How should we pose? What should we do?

CC: Let’s do one serious and one more playful. So let’s do the serious one first.

HL: Okay what should we do for playful?

CC: (Displays peace sign.)

HL: Thank you Chen! CC: Thank you for your questions! It was so nice to talk. HL: Do you have any parting words of wisdom? What’s your secret sauce to life? CC: Sleep. Take naps if you feel like it. Eat good snacks. I feel like I’m turning into my mom a bit, because now what I want to tell everybody and tell myself, remind myself, is that you have to take care of your body, before you can do other things—to make sure that you’re eating well, getting enough rest. Because I used to not take that so seriously, but now I feel like it’s really important. HL: Now that I’ve reached my mid-twenties, I feel like I can’t get away with stuff that I used to in the past. CC: Yeah, I think it’s you just feel better all-around when you’re not trying to push through things all the time, and you’re making time to take care of yourself. HL: Alright, so take naps and eat good food. Well, I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day! CC: Thank you! Yeah! It was great to talk. HL: Ah I don’t know how to end this. CC: Yeah on Zoom it’s always kind of funny. Alright, see you!

#chen chen #poetry #asian american poetry #asian american literature #interview

0 notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

One Night🌙11

Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, angry Andy, hormones, awkward dinner, y’all know what it be.

This is dark!Andy Barber and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: One night changes your entire life.

for @kittykatlow‘s 200 Follower Celebration

Note: Okay, here’s an update.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You wore a black dress, barely loose enough to fit over your bump as the hem floated high in the front. Your forehead beaded with sweat as you took out the heavy glass pan from the oven and puffed. You set it down and removed the lid as steam clouded out. You heard your father’s voice from the living room and Andy’s baritone response.

The night was smooth so far. Your father was particularly impressed by the autographed baseballs on the mantle but never outspoken, the conversation didn’t stray much from sports or cars. Your mother’s posture and expression betrayed her discomfort but she masked it with a cordial tone. You were thankful for it as you didn’t need to deal with her attitude and Andy’s at once. You were too hormonal and tired for that.

You began to take down plates from the cupboard and your mother’s voice sounded from behind you. She neared and reached up next to you as she grabbed the next plate before you could. She stacked the four of them neatly and grasped them in her knobby hands.

“You’re too pregnant for that,” she said, “you grab the silverware.”

You gave a small smile and turned to open the drawer as she left you. You took out the utensils and followed her into the dining room. You set the table and she returned to the kitchen. You came after her and she used a dishcloth to lift the hot pan.

“Get the door, will ya?” she said as she angled around carefully.

She passed you as you held open the swinging door and she set the pan down on the mat in the middle of the table. She inhaled deeply and glanced over at you.

“Stuffed peppers?” she asked.

“Your recipe,” you said, “I’ve been craving them.”

“Next time, let me make them,” she smiled, “you still don’t know the special ingredient.”

“I’ll figure it out one day,” you rubbed your lower back.

“Sit,” she pulled out a chair, “I’ll go get the men.”

You neared her and leaned on the back of the chair, “mom,” you said quietly.

“I’m trying,” she said grimly, “I’m just… not happy yet.”

You nodded and hung your head, “yeah, you don’t have to be, but thank you.”

“I don’t like that man,” she hissed, “a wife in the hospital and he’s knocking up a stranger--”

“Mom,” you warned her, “please.”

“I know, I know,” she shook her head, “but you’re my daughter and he’s… I don’t know, who knows what really happened to the wife.”

You gave her a look and she pursed her lips. She retreated and you sat down heavily and cupped your cheeks. All you had to do was get through dinner. Then you could say you were tired and hide in your room.

You heard her voice in the next room and the impending footsteps before they appeared in the doorway. Your mother and father sat across from you and Andy took the seat to your right. You waited awkwardly and he cleared his throat.

“Well, sweetheart, aren’t you going to serve the guests?” he intoned.

“I can do it,” your mother offered, “don’t make her work any harder than she needs to. Not in her condition.”

You were slightly taken aback by her effort but you didn’t miss how the corner of her lip twitched as she eyed Andy. She didn’t like and didn’t trust him. You couldn’t say you did either and almost for the first time in your life, you felt a kindred connection to your mother.

She stood and scooped a pepper carefully onto each plate with a generous spoonful of sauce from the bottom of the dish. She set them back carefully before each diner and returned to her chair and sat. She smiled, a forced smile, and shifted her chair closer.

“So, you have some time but… once the baby’s here, I’m sure you’ll be back to work,” you mother began, your father always content to hide in his food, “me and your dad talked, we could watch the kid once and a while--”

“She’s not going back to work,” Andy interjected, “especially not at the diner.”

“Oh,” your mother’s lips pressed together in a firm line, “she isn’t?”

“Maybe after a year?” you began as you glance at Andy, “once I get the hand of things--”

“No,” Andy said, “you’re staying home with her.”

“I guess we haven’t decided,” you offered calmly, embarrassed by Andy’s attitude, “as you said, we still have time and we’re figuring stuff out.”

“Once the kiddo’s in school, you’ll have the time to get a job,” your dad offered, “that’s what your ma did. She kept on a few hours here and there when you were real small but once you hit kindergarten, she was back to full shifts.”

“We’ll talk,” Andy threw a hand up and grabbed his fork with his other, “it’s really not your business. It’s ours.”

“Andy,” you chided, “they’re just curious--”

“And where were they for the last couple months?” he snarled, “they weren’t so curious then.”

“Alright, calm down,” you hissed, “sorry, mom, dad--”

“Don’t apologise for me,” he snipped, “they should be apologising to you. That’s why I welcomed them into my home.”

“What?” you gulped, “Andy, they don’t need to--”

“No, no, my child is gonna have at least one set of grandparents and if it’s going to be them, they’re going to respect you and me,” Andy insisted, “so they can apologise or they can leave without dessert.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you uttered.

“Don’t you tell me how to act,” he cut into the pepper, “so…” he looked across the table at your parents, “she made this delicious meal and I think she deserves at least a little appreciation from the two of you.”

You dad looked angry for once in his life as your mother’s lips curled in mortification. You gave them both a shameful look and shook your head just slightly. You mouthed an apology as Andy huffed and tapped impatiently on the table.

“We’re sorry, honey,” your mother began, “we overreacted. Just like I said earlier, I was surprised.”

“Sorry,” your dad forced out as he glared at Andy, “you know I always love and support you, no matter what.”

“Thank you,” you said softly, “now,” you touched Andy’s arm gently, “we can move on. It’s all good.”

“Mhmm,” he grumbled as he leaned forward to take a bike, “we can… but this doesn’t happen again.”

You wanted to shrink down and hide under the table. The tension that rose was palpable and threatened to choke you. You had false hope in the beginning that this might feel normal, that you might end the night with a new standing between you and your mother.

You knew then that Andy’s goal had never been to bring you back together, it was only to gain another degree of control. He made it clear that no one could help you, not even your own parents.

🌙

You were almost thankful for the sink full of dishes. It kept you distracted and gave you a reason not to sit and stew with Andy. Your parents left shortly after you cut the cherry pie and you cleaned up as they bid their farewells. You were completely humiliated by Andy’s hubristic demands but you didn’t dare argue with him. Especially not in front of guests.

You scrubbed the dishes as your stomach pressed to the wet counter and placed each in the drying rack. Andy came in as you pulled the drain and you took the dish cloth from its hook.

“Here, I’ll dry,” he offered.

You stared at him and wiped the water from your hands and gave him the cloth. He went to the rack and opened a cupboard. You took out a container and began to pack up the leftovers from the pan and wrapped the top of the pie. The silence made every clink and clank louder as you moved around the kitchen.

You shut the fridge and sensed him behind you. You flinched as his hands settled on your hip and you gripped pressed your palm against the cool metal. He pulled you back against him and slid his hands around your bump as he hummed.

“Did I tell you this dress looks wonderful?” his fingers brushed the dishwater along the front.

“Andy,” you grasped his wrists, “what are you doing?”

He rocked you as one hand grazed beneath your bump and his fingers dangled over your vee. He bent and inhaled the scent of your scalp. You went rigid as he wiggled against your back, his arousal twitching tellingly.

“Andy, please--”

“Can’t knock you up a second time,” he purred.

“I… no, please, I’m tired--”

“Come on, honey, that night… wasn’t that amazing?” He turned you to face the island and you caught yourself against the edge, “that was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“It was a mistake, alright? Look at us now--”

“Look at us, hmmm?” he pushed his hand down and cupped your cunt through your dress. You gasped and squeezed his wrist, “I lay in my bed thinking of you all night… and you’re just across the hall. Why are we playing this game still?”

“Get off of me, please,” you begged, “Andy--”

He pressed his fingers to your pants and pushed the cotton against your folds. You bit your lip as he found your clit and the chafing formed a pressure beneath his touch. You shook your head and leaned back into him, trying to shove him away.

“Let me go…” you breathed.

“Doesn’t that feel good?” he urged, “I can feel you getting wet already. You’re lying to yourself.” He pulled your panties aside and dipped two fingers between your lips, “why do you gotta be so damn stubborn?”

You sucked in air and tensed as he played with your bud so that your thighs quivered. You tucked your chin in and bit down as you tried not to let out a moan. Your nails sank into sleeve but he kept on. You felt how powerful he truly was, his chest pressed against you as his arm remained immoveable.

He bent you slightly as he snaked his hand further and poked a finger inside of you. You squeaked and he added another, curling them as he began to rock his hand. He buried his face into your neck and his hot breath permeated your skin.

“Mmm, isn’t that nice, honey? I just wanna help you relax?” his teeth grazed your neck, “I can be nice, you see?”

Those words turned your blood to ice. You closed your eyes as you returned to those hours ago when his fist crashed into the wall. When his voice was rigid and unloving, when you were certain he would do worse than just yell. Now he was all over you, coaxing you as if it never happened, as if there hadn’t been months of this precarious tug-of-war.

“Andy, really, I’m tired,” you pleaded, “that night… I told you--”

Your voice caught in your throat as he thrust his fingers deeper and moved his hand faster. The pressure throbbed inside of you, pulsing through your veins and you kept your hand tight on the counter as you gripped his arm with the other. Your ankles threatened to bend as you shuddered and came in a sudden rush.

“Tired?” he mocked as he led you through your climax, “I’ll do all the work, honey.”

You shook your head and whined through your teeth. He kept on until you were weak and clinging to his hand. He slowly drew his fingers out of you and slid his arm out from around you. You slumped against the counter as he let you go, the subtle tinkle of his belt gleaned in your ear.

You turned to him as his belt hung open and he caught you by surprise. He wrapped one arm around your back, his other hand across your ass as he lifted you with a grunt. You threw your hands back to keep from falling across the island as he put you down on the marble. You tried to slide forward as his hands grasped your hips and held you in place.

His blue eyes burned and dilated. He reached under your skirt and pulled your panties down. You whimpered as he tugged them down. He quickly pushed your legs apart and moved between them, your knees wide around his thighs. He grabbed your chin and tilted your head back, his lips covering yours hungrily.

You clawed at the front of his shirt as his other hand danced along your pelvis. His fingers crawled down your thigh and she shifted as he fumbled blindly with the front of his pants. You pushed against his shoulders as the panic erupted from your stomach and swelled in your throat.

He brought you closer to the edge and pulled his hand back to grip himself. You opened one eye as you tried to peek down but couldn’t see beneath your bump. He leaned on you until you fell over the marble and bent over you as he slipped his tip along your cunt. His lips strayed to your cheek and down to your throat.

“Andy,” you begged one last time as he pressed against your entrance.

He purred against your neck as his hand slid past your shoulder and stretched over your tit. He pushed into you slowly and you gulped as tears pricked in your eyes. You bent your legs so your heels pressed to the side of the counter and gritted your teeth as he got deeper.

As he bottomed out, he rasped against your skin. He stood up straight and dragged your ass over the edge of the counter. He puffed his chest as he thrust into you and his eyes rolled back. He growled as he did it again and your walls clenched around him. Your reached down and pressed on his open pants with your fingertips, trying to push him away pathetically.

“Andy,” you whimpered as he hooked his arm around your thigh, “Andy--”

His other hand flipped up your skirt and he stretched his hand over your round stomach as he rocked into you. You shook your head and covered your face with one hand as you gripped the edge of the marble with your other. Your breaths grew shallow as you fought your own body and the pleasure blooming around his intrusion.

He sped up as the wet noise filled the kitchen and you bit the heel of your hand to keep from crying out. Another orgasm flowed over you and knotted your muscles around him. His groans and grunts grew louder as his flesh slapped against yours, his fingers drawing circles on your stomach.

“Oh fuck,” Andy hissed and jerked his hips harshly.

He sank into you as deep as he could go and wiggled his hips as he flooded you. He twitched as he leaned his head back and sighed, his fingers tight on your thighs as they painfully poked your tender flesh. You moaned and trembled as you felt his release hot inside of you.

He stilled and let your legs splay around him. You stared at the ceiling in shock as he shuddered. You propped yourself up on your elbows and looked between your legs as his cum dripped out around him. You pulled off of him and shoved him away. He seemed to awaken from a trance as you did and his lashes fluttered.

You dropped down carefully to your feet and stormed away. He called your name but the vomit was already halfway up your esophagus. You weren’t going to make it upstairs. You closed yourself in the half-bath under the stairs and wretched into the sink. You held yourself up weakly until the violent ripples quelled. You looked at yourself in the mirror and winced.

One night cost you the rest of your life. One night meant your body, your soul, your days were his. One night would be countless nights, your fate decided in a single careless act.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #fic #series #dark fic #dark!fic #one night #defending jacob

435 notes · View notes

anabsolutetrainwreck · 3 years

Text

it’s just what we know || h. styles

warnings: dad!harry, talks of pregnancy, slight mention of vomit, talks of kissing

word count: 1.6k

summary: having your second child takes its toll on you and your relationship...

Your daughter was three now. And yet it only felt like yesterday that you’d brought her home from the hospital. She’d certainly tired you and Harry out for a good while after she was born. You both loved Vera unconditionally, so when you discovered you were pregnant again, Harry was worried he’d lose a bit of his love for Vera to give to your new baby. He was scared he didn’t have enough love to share between the three of you.

He’d spend his nights awake, his hands resting on your stomach. Anne had assured him that the love one has for one’s family is never limited. There’s always enough affection to go around. Your own father had said something similar, though it was slightly less poetic.

Your second pregnancy had been far worse than your first. You felt constantly exhausted, dehydrated and sick. It amplified Harry’s guilt immensely. He already felt bad about not being able to love Vera the same as he did when she was an only child, but now you were in pain and there was nothing he could do about it. All he could do was help you sleep comfortably, fetch you water whenever you needed, hold your hair back when you were disposing whatever food you had eaten into the toilet, and provide you with plenty of cuddles.

When your baby boy arrived in June, neither of you were surprised. Your entire family had predicted a boy because Harry had an older sister and you had a younger brother. So, when George Styles arrived, you’d been overjoyed to finally meet him and to have the rough pregnancy over.

Bringing him home, where Vera finally met him, almost solidified the reality that you and Harry had had a second baby. Vera became very obsessed with him very quickly. She would get up early just to come and watch him sleeping soundly. She’d sit and admire as you and Harry took turns in putting him to bed. She hated it when he cried and she hated it when you or Harry got frustrated with him for not stopping. Vera was naturally curious.

At first, it seemed easier than you’d remembered it to be with Vera. However, it quickly became just as stressful. There was nothing as bad as putting in hours upon hours of effort to seemingly get nothing out of it. The constant headaches and heavy eyes were beginning to feel worse than the pregnancy.

You’d always been aware of how tough pregnancy could be. Watching your aunt go through it when you were younger and hearing Anne talk about it when you first revealed you were pregnant with Vera had taught you that much. But you’d never expected it to be this hard.

As of present, you were balancing George on your hip. He was almost nine months old now. He’d found such joy in tugging on your hair and your ears. You tried your very hardest to ignore his actions as you prepared dinner. With only one free hand, it made it incredibly difficult to cook. But it was your only choice. Whenever you put George down, he began crying. And the last thing you needed to hear was more of his crying.

Vera sat at Harry’s piano, pressing her fingers down on random keys, giggling loudly as she went. The tune emitted was far from pleasant. And with the combination of George’s physical torment and Vera’s masterpiece of music, you were nearing your limit.

You’d dealt with them all day. And it was definitely one of those days. To make matters even worse, Vera was going through her daddy’s girl phase. She needed to know where Harry was and when he would be back and she’d only ever do anything if Harry asked her to. As far as she was concerned, you had no authority in her life whatsoever.

Harry had been at the studio all day with Mitch, writing and toying around with the instruments there. There was only so much he could do at home without being interrupted by a clingy Vera Styles. And, as much as you knew how much his music meant to him and his fans, you just wished he’d take a day to look after Vera and George. You were constantly tired, constantly aggravated and constantly stressed. All you wanted was a break.

You heard the front door close. Harry had always slammed the door, it had just been a habit of his. That was until you first had Vera and he learnt that she became easily frightened by the loud bang and it often woke her up. And when she was awake and on edge, she wasn’t going back to sleep. Which, in turn, meant you and Harry didn’t get any sleep either.

You listened silently as Harry hung up his coat and kicked off his shoes. He wandered into the living room. You heard him gasp, “That’s beautiful! You’re so talented!”

It was swiftly followed by Vera’s giggles. She said something to him, something you didn’t quite pick up. You heard his footsteps as he arrived at the threshold of the kitchen. He grinned, “There’s my baby boy!”

You let out a sigh of relief as Harry lifted George from your arms. You smiled to yourself as Harry peppered George’s face in light kisses. He turned to you, “And my gorgeous Y/N.”

He pressed his lips to your forehead, squeezing your hand with his free one. You smiled, “How was Mitch?”

Harry sat himself down at the kitchen table, tickling George as he did so. He shrugged slightly, “He was good. We wrote a great song today, Y/N. Oh, God, you’d have loved it.”

You nodded, “I’m glad you had a great day.”

Perhaps there was an air of bitterness to your tone. But you couldn’t help it anymore. You were just so tired. Besides, Harry didn’t pick up on any traces of sourness, but a part of you almost wanted him to. Maybe then he’d bring you up on it and you could tell him about all your problems.

You felt almost guilty being the person to bring it up; you didn’t want to burden Harry with what you were dealing with. Communication between you and Harry seemed scarce these days. Sure, you’d have a brief catch up in bed, but half the time, you were asleep so quickly the conversation didn’t last all too long. And then the hours between Harry’s arrival home and when you fell asleep was only filled with Vera and George. You knew that’s what parenthood was about, but you just craved some alone time. Harry nodded, “I did. The band is gonna come down tomorrow and we’re gonna play around. You know, see if we can put some music to my lyrics.”

Slowly, you said, “So, you’re going to the studio tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I just have a really great feeling about this song, Y/N. I mean, you really would have loved it.”

“I’m sure I would,” you said, suddenly filled with the urge to cry. “Can you take over for a second?”

You gestured down to the pan you were preparing dinner in. He quickly shot up, much to the glee of little George. You wiped your hands on your trousers and left the kitchen with your head down. Rushing into the bathroom, you let it all out quietly.

You splashed your face with a bit of water in an attempt to wake yourself up a bit. It was only two minutes later that Harry wandered in, ruining your only time alone all day. Upon realising you were upset, he rushed to kneel in front of you, taking your face in his large hands. “Baby, what’s wrong?” he asked, his eyes large and inflated with sympathy.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” you smiled forcefully, kicking yourself internally for that being your default reply whenever you were asked how you were feeling.

“No, please don’t lie.”

“I’m just… just so tired,” you said, feeling lighter already for finally confessing. “I just can’t physically do it on my own. I’m so lonely all day. And I know I’m just being selfish, but I feel like I’m raising them without you. It feels like I never see you anymore.”

“You’re not being selfish, my love. Please, don’t think you’re being selfish for feeling alone. I love you. I love you so much. Okay? I’ll make the effort now, okay? I will. I promise. Please, darling, don’t keep stuff like this to yourself anymore. I need to know. I’ll tell you what, I’ll tell the band to have the day off tomorrow and I’ll stay and look after George and Vera. You can do whatever you want all day, whether that be sleep or go see your parents.”

He never failed to make you smile, with slightly flushed cheeks.

“Are you sure?”

“We shouldn’t even be a big thing. I’m their father, I should just automatically put in as much effort as you,” he said.

You sighed, “Well, yeah, but you are a lot busier than me.”

“I’m never too busy for my three angels. Alright? I love you,” he said softly, kissing you.

It felt as if something within you had reigniting. It felt as if this kind of intimacy had been lost on you and Harry since having kids. And, for a split second, you felt seventeen again. “Thank you,” you whispered, laying your forehead against his.

“Stop thanking me for doing the bare minimum. You know I hate it,” he sighed, leaning into your touch. “Now, come on, before we end up with spaghetti all over the kitchen walls.”

#harry fanfic #harry fanfiction #harry imagine #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry imagines #harry styles imagines #harry x y/n #harry x reader #harry x you

456 notes · View notes

allronix · 3 years

Text

Carth and Force Sensitivity (crossposted from Reddit r/kotor)

This is for @k-she-rambles:

Okay, so while we're shooting the bantha crap over on KOTOR fan theories, u/134340Goat mentioned my all time favorite "Have you been chewing spice?!" fan theory when it comes to KOTOR: Is Carth Force Sensitive?

So this one starts with a story. I mentioned my brother in law, who is pretty much Keeper of the Jedi Archives. Seriously, he's an English teacher and my sister is a librarian. They met at a sci fi convention and their first date was Phantom Menace. We're taking not just geeks, but geeks who can throw the damn bookshelf at you. Brother in law bought KOTOR on the day it launched and turned it into a week long binge watch at his house. And because brother in law is that kind of geek, he's translating the characters into the West End D6 system. I'm watching him do a playthrough, and he's got Canderous and Zaalbar at Ajunta Pal's tomb.

Allronix: Huh. That's odd. Why aren't commenting on anything when Ajunta is speaking?

Bro in law: Oh. They can't even see Ajunta. You have to be Force Sensitive to see a Force Ghost The stronger your Sensitivity, the better you can see it.

Allronix: Really? Then how come Carth can see it?

Bro in law (gets the "holy shit, I gotta confirm this" look): Really?! He just sees something out the corner of his eye or something?

Allronix: No, he sees Ajunta just fine. Understands what the dude's saying too.

Bro in law instantly rolls back to his last save, swaps Zaalbar for Carth, and sees the bit in question.

Bro in law: Oh. Dear. (Goes over to make some quick scribbles on Carth's character sheet)

Okay, so maybe that was a lore fail. I didn't really think about it too much until I hit that False Level Up glitch and ran around with Carth and Mission as Sentinels. Now, while I couldn't really see Mission as a Sensitive, that little bit with my bro in law nagged at me. And became a "once you see it you can't unsee it." Apologies to TV Tropes, where some of these were my additions to the Wild Mass Guess entry on this topic.

Any one of these on its own is pretty easy to blow off. After all, man is career military, and knows All this Shit is Weird. I also like to think of Sensitivity as a spectrum and not a switch. If all life is connected by the Force, then all life would be Sensitive to some degree or another. It’s just a matter of to what degree. It’s only as the list gets longer and longer does the case start looking damning...

What are the odds of surviving that attack on the Endar Spire, getting to the escape pods, sharing the last escape pod with the mindwiped Sith Lord, piloting through the chaos, landing in what passes for the "good" part of town, remaining uninjured, pulling the badly injured mindwiped Sith Lord from the wreck, evading Sith detection while all this is going on, and just happening to find a dump of an apartment where the landlord's not asking questions? That is one amazing string of coincidences and good luck. Get that many in Star Wars, and it's definitely The Force sticking its nose in things.

Piloting the escape pod to land in the Upper City, piloting the Hawk through the Sith Blockade of Taris, the random Sith patrols, the escape from the Leviathan, and the fleet around Lehon along with the crash landing that left the ship easily repairable. Now, compare to Atton who we know to be an excellent pilot and drawing on The Force who still manages to crash the ship at least three times.

He's a scary good judge of character if you're interacting with other NPCs. If you watch him with other NPC characters, he's got a pretty good compass as to which characters are being helpful and which ones are full of shit. The only one he calls incorrectly is Rukil, who is probably also an untrained Sensitive (the age, the "marked" comments) and half senile, which is probably throwing him.

Related to that, his distrust and wariness about something not adding up with the PC, the Jedi Council feeding the party a line of bull, that things just aren't adding up. And on all of it? Dead on. He's 100% right about the Player Character, he just expected something a little less crazy than "that's Darth freaking Revan."

If you play Female Revan, then Carth's the one who gets fried in the torture cages on the Leviathan. Saul comments how strange it is that Carth takes so much punishment and still remains conscious. Now, this is a low level thing, but in lore, Force Sensitives have drawn on it to keep them alive or conscious under duress. Explicitly, the first sign we got that Leia was a Sensitive when she withstood the Imperial torture droid.

Another of his scary ass judge of character feats? In the comics, Zayne (who is on the run from the Jedi, who framed him for the murder of his classmates) has a vision that Mandalorians are coming for Serroco. Saul? Laughs it off, throws Zayne in the brig. Zayne's own friends don't even believe him. Carth gets one of those creepy hunches and starts calling in "duck and cover" sirens as far as he can broadcast, which sends seventeen cities and millions of people heading for shelter. It saves their lives and Carth is called a hero for it. Armed with another hunch, he disobeys Saul (remember this is before Saul nukes Telos) and lets Zayne "escape" from custody. Mind you, not even the Jedi or his party members believed Zayne. Carth did.

Carth makes a lot of creepy weird offhand predictions about the future. He says he knows on some level he'll be there when Saul dies. That certainly pans out. He makes an offhand prediction that the Jedi have set the party up to take a fall. Right again. He tells a female PC that she'll have to make a choice soon, one she can't walk away from. And then we get the temple top. He even blurts out that "I sensed you would have to make a choice soon, and that was it*, I can feel it!"* If you specify a LS Female Revan, his recording for T3-M4 says he's had a hunch Revan would leave without warning. Again, spot on.

Specify a LS male Revan, and Carth will remark to Bastila that seeing the Exile reminds him "there are worse things to lose." The only other people who can see just how screwed up the Exile is are the Jedi Masters, Chodo Habat, and the Force Sensitive party members.

Specify a LS female Revan, and Carth will insist that he would know if Revan were dead (again, scary ass intuition) and that there's an "emptiness" where she used to be. Now, remember one of the things about a broken Force Bond? It would simply be "empty, a wound."

You know how your party members in KOTOR 2 feel upset or even horrified as they realize they feel compelled to protect Exile and can't being themselves to leave, even when said actions are kicking puppies? And how they swing wildly from being crazy, almost stalker level possessive of them to being scared out of their wits and clamming up when you try to pry anything out of them? And the more potent (and untapped) their Force Sensitivity, the more they get hammered with the effect? (Mira and Atton in particular) Yeah. Now, Carth's "I don't wanna talk" looks a bit different, doesn't it? It could also account for that romance arc, especially if you roll a DSF Revan and go for that "everyone dies" ending.

Again, Ajunta Pal. Seeing a Force Ghost? Yeah. Some degree of Sensitivity needed. Understanding what he's saying? Yeah. Takes a bit more than that. And Carth makes a weirdly insightful comment about the Dark Side on top of it.

Notice that this a wall o text argument already, and I'm now just getting to the "Yeah, his kid is able to throw around mid-level Dark Side powers and packing a red lightsaber." Given the jawline and the muleheaded attitude, no way Morgana was fooling around with the pizza delivery boy. That's definitely Carth's kid, and that's definitely Force Sensitivity. Now, while it can skip a generation (see Theron Shan), it tends to run pretty heavy in families.

Lastly? Gee. He comes from a planet settled by and heavily populated by descendants of Force Sensitives who failed their training. I'm also willing to bet some bastard children of Jedi get passed off as "foundlings" and "orphans" and dumped there, too. Jedi are forbidden attachments, but not sworn to celibacy, so...yeah, bastard kids are gonna happen. There's probably a Jedi or two in that family tree. It's circumstantial evidence at best, but it still supports the case.

Now, any arguments I missed? Counterarguments?

And the million credit question: If there's a character who gets to break this news to poor Flyboy, who do you think would actually take that on? How do you think Carth would take that kind of news? And what, if anything, would come of it?

I kinda figure Jolee might be the only one nuts enough to poke that with a stick...I also kinda figure "Sentinel" would fit best. Consular? Hell no. He hired Mical for that. Guardian works with the feats, but the whole "ferreting out deceit and injustice?" Yeah. That's Carth.

#KOTOR #Carth #fandom meta #Carth Onasi

76 notes · View notes

lubdubsworld · 3 years

Text

Falling for you ( Falling from grace) ( Complete )

Summary : Friends with benefits? Or maybe Enemies who just happen to fuck? Areum and Jungkook love driving each other crazy, but also can’t keep their hands off each other.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8 ( Final )

Something about sitting on the counter in Jungkook’s kitchen, wearing nothing but his shirt and chopping carrots , while the clock read 2.20 AM felt so right, that I couldn’t stop grinning.

Jungkook was singing softly and apparently singing was yet another thing he was ridiculously good at.

“You’re singing at our wedding. You sound like an angel.” I declared, pointing one red veggie at him.

Jungkook laughed.

“Sure, what song?”

“Something sweet and nice and-”

“ Take off those heels- Lay on my bed- Whisper dirty secrets as I’m pulling on your hair.....”

I glared at him.

“absolutely not.”

“Aww Come on... “ Jungkook gave me the full brunt of his puppy eyes, “We should be true to ourselves and lets be real, yes I enjoy being corny and romantic with you but...it’s in the bed that we truly shine as a couple.” He grinned, bunny teeth poking out in an entirely too adorable way considering that he wanted to sing a fucking sex song at our ‘not-even-sure-if-its-happening wedding’ .

“No one else needs to know that...” I shuddered. My sister would expire on the spot.

“ They will when we sneak out at the reception to have sex in the closet.”

“In my wedding dress? Yeah right.” I rolled my eyes.

Jungkook’s eyes glittered.

“We’re going to be married in the Maldives. You’re going to be in a bikini.” He said casually.

I blinked.

“A bikini?”

“Yes. A bikini. The kind I can undo with just a couple of tugs on a string. “

“You’ve...given this a lot of thought.” I smirked.

He nodded.

“I am...but only because it’s damn near impossible to think of anything else when you’re in front of me.”

“You’re ridiculous.”.

He shrugged,

“Even picked out a ring.”

“Liar.” I hissed and he laughed.

“You’re right. I haven’t picked a ring. We’ll pick one together ....when we want to get married.”

“But...thats ...not anytime soon right?” I said nervously. Jungkook gave me a smile, moving back to stirring the saucepan with the meat and adding some sauce.

“It doesn’t have to be ever. I’m happy this way. If one day you wake up and feel like you’re missing a ring on your finger, we’ll go do the whole wedding shebang. If not, that's fine too. We can spend the rest of our lives being the horny couple everyone avoids at family gatherings. ” he shrugged.

I laughed but felt my heart expand a few sizes inside me.

“Thank you.” I whispered and he leaned over the counter to gently grip my chin, planting a soft kiss on my lips.

“No one else gets to say what we are. No one else gets to say what we can or can’t do. Okay?” He rubbed his nose against mine and I nodded.

I bit my lips, thinking about something that had always bothered me.

“Your parents-” He cut me off before I could finish.

“I won’t lie. They’ll probably want me to...reconsider.” He sighed. “ But I don’t think they’ll give you a hard time about it.. They’re polite and good people. Just have a different idea of what I need in a wife.”

I played with the hem of his shirt.

“Sana , she’s-” i couldn’t even say it, just looking up at him. He was already staring at me.

He nodded, smiling a little.

“Someone my parents have been trying to set me up with, yeah.” He admitted.

“You didn’t turn her down ...” I said softly, feeling hurt .

He stared at me, turning the heat down on the pan before coming around to stand in front of me.

“Hey, come on, don’t look like that, baby...”

“And she’s going to be there at your fight today and-”

“I just didn’t want to pick a fight with my parents before today’s match. Because believe it or not, I was going to ask you out today , after I won.”

I blinked at him, surprised.

“Really?”

“Really. I... you’ve been staying over and stuff, and you actually looked jealous of Sana so I thought...you know maybe you’ve changed your mind about us.... So I wanted to ask you out. And I wanted my parents to be in a good mood when I told them I’m with you. So I indulged them a little , that’s all.”

I nodded. Talking about his parents made me think of my own mother and God, I could feel a headache coming on. But I had to tell him the truth.

“My mom...she’s...she’s a little...”

He squeezed my knees, leaning closer and bumping my head with his.

“I’m not the kind of guy women usually want to bring home to their parents, but i will wear a nice button down, brush my teeth and get a whole bunch of flowers for her when you ask me to.” He whispered.

“She’ll only want you for your money.” I blurted out.

He straightened, looking confused.

Embarrassment flooded me but I had to be honest with him.

“My mother, she... she got used to a really luxurious lifestyle with my dad and when he died, she just...she couldn’t accept that she’s going to have to give up a lot of stuff... So she’ll try to get you to buy her things. I’ll try to keep her away as much as I can but-”

“I really wouldn’t mind buying her stuff-”

I shook my head fiercely.

“No..No..that’s... I can’t ask you to that.”

Areum look at me-” He demanded and I stared at him.

“You do know that I’m like, filthy rich, right?” He said firmly.

I rolled my eyes.

“Yes but-”

“Buying your mom a few trinkets every month wouldn’t even put a dent in the amount of money I make in a fucking hour.” He raised both his eyebrows.

I frowned.

“Okay, stop bragging.”

He laughed.

“ I’m serious. You don’t have to worry about it okay? Besides you can always repay me for it. “

I gaped at him.

“I cannot repay-”

“In kisses.” He finished.

I stared at him, not fooled at all.

“And office sex. I really really want to spend a whole entire day at work with you wrapped around my cock...not even fucking,,,just you in my lap, me inside you.... Its like my biggest fantasy.” His eyes looked a little glazed.

I felt heat rush all the way up to my ears, my face flaming.

“You’re insatiable” I muttered, whacking his shoulder.

His eyes shifted, gaze darkening and heavy with something that was more than just lust. More than just attraction,. It was heavy and over powering, strong and impossible to ignore. It was so heavy and dark and sensuous and yet somehow so achingly soft and affectionate.

“It’s never enough, “ He leaned in close, curving fingers on my waist and kissing my neck. “ After two years, I tell myself I should have had enough of you but...” He brushed his lips against mine, “ It’s not. I want to touch you more. I always come away from our time together wishing I could touch you some more. Want to touch you more, take in that scent of yours, watch your eyes flash when I make you cum. ”

He grabbed my knees, spreading my legs and I became acutely aware of being completely naked underneath his shirt.

“We’re not having sex on the kitchen counter.” I protested, laughing and he hummed, kissing my jaw gently.

“Come on, its a rite of passage. Its not true love if you don’t have sex on the kitchen counter while your dinner burns on the stove...”

Oh, well.

Maybe he was right.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Should i just forfeit the match tonight?” Jungkook whispered, voice muffled against my shoulder blades as he pressed soft little kisses to my skin , deliciously slow and gentle.

I frowned, face down on the soft duvet on his bed, fingers curled into the fabric, trying to chase sleep.

The slightly golden light spilling into the room told me it was morning, but still pretty early. We could definitely afford to sleep in a few more hours at least. It had been almost four in the morning when we had finally fallen asleep. Jungkook had wanted to leave the kitchen as it was but I couldn’t fathom leaving some poor maid the task of cleaning cum off the mahogany surface.

“Why would you say that?” i said, surprised.

Jungkook sighed.

“I don’t know. “ He pulled away from me and rolled to the side. I stared at him as he gazed back at me.

“What’s wrong?” I whispered, genuinely concerned.

He gave me a soft smile.

“It’s just a thought. I have it every morning of a major match.” He ran a palm over his face, mussing up his hair bore reaching out to press a kiss on my forehead.

“Is it nervousness?” I asked, feeling anxious. There was something oddly frightening about seeing this side of Jungkook. I’d only ever seen the cool, confident asshole. The one that had no qualms about taking what he wanted, when he wanted.

And I felt .... like it was a privilege he was granting me, letting me see the vulnerable side to his well earned cockiness.

He shook his head.

“It’s not. I’m not worried about losing, wouldn’t even mind losing once in a while.”

“But you don’t... you’re literally incapable of losing, golden maknae...” I teased and he rolled his eyes.

“It’s actually about you.” He reached out and cupped my cheek gently.

I blinked, pressing my own fingers over his. .

“What?”

“I’m not sure you’ll....like that side of me.” He said hesitantly.

“Jungkook...”

“A large part of why I never let you see me fight is because, I’m not a nice person in the ring. I don’t show a lot of mercy ... I sometimes use more force than necessary and well, there’s nothing beautiful about beating the shit out of someone is there?”

I swallowed.

“You think I’ll see you differently, if I watch you fight.”

He nodded.

“Won’t you? It’s not a very dignified sport.”

I hesitated, not sure what to say to that.

“I’ve not... I don’t think I’ve ever thought it was weird, in a bad way, that you boxed. I just thought it was something you were good at. It’s not... I don’t think I feel that deeply about it.”

He nodded.

“I believe you . But it still worries me. I’m just scared I guess...”

“Scared..?”

“Scared that seeing me in the ring will make you change your mind about us.”

I jolted, stunned.

Moving quickly to his side , I threw my arms around his neck, kissing him hard.

I pulled back to glare at him.

“I’m not going to leave you over a sport you play.” I said drily .

He chuckled and kissed the tip of my nose.

“If you say so.”

“I’m serious. I’m not a delicate flower, Jungkook. I’m not going to enjoy watching you get hurt, yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to just...give up on everything that you are.... because of this.”

“You’re right.... I’m sorry if i worried you.” He said softly , and it was so disarming, how much adoration was writ large on his features.

I was used to the lust and the passion and the roughness but this Jungkook, the tender, gentle lover....he was sending me into a downward spiral.

“This is weird.” I laughed a little.

He grinned.

“What?” He scooted closer, reaching out to gently hold my hand.

“You...being so...” I stopped when he stroked the delicate skin on the back of my hand with feather light touches.

“So...what?” His eyebrows quirked up, teasing and I felt myself blushing so furiously .

“Stop it...” I whispered, mortified with how hot my face was getting. That tender, adoring look on his face was making it impossible for me to breathe.

Jungkook gave me a wicked smile and carefully slotted his fingers between mine, holding my hand gently before raising it up to kiss my knuckles.

“What’s making you turn so red, angel?” He pressed soft affectionate kisses, on each knuckle and then the inside of my wrist and I smiled so wide my cheeks began to hurt a bit.

“Jungkook...” I could barely get the words out and it was so incredibly embarrassing that something as innocently affectionate as him holding my hand was filling me with an incontrollable urge to just burst into tears.

“ I love you...” He whispered , blowing gently on my fingers.

“Oh, God...” I could feel my soul threatening to leave my body.

“Love every little bit of you...” He rolled over me, straddling my waist , arms caging me in as he pressed one soft kiss to my temple.

“I’m going to cry.” I said firmly.

“Love that you’re so brave, so unafraid. “ He kissed the edge of my brows., “ love that you stand up for yourself, love that you don’t take shit from anyone, even me and I love that you’re here. In my arms. Like this, although I don’t deserve you at all, my beautiful goddess....” he whispered.

The nickname made me astral project for one hot minute.

Determined to get some control back, I grabbed the drawstrings of his sweatpants, untying the loose knot before slipping my fingers into the waistband.

“Hmm... you’re right. You don’t deserve. But because I’m a generous generous goddess, how about I let you worship me, the way I deserve ....” I whispered, tugging his pants down, pushing the fabric past his muscled thighs. He laughed.

“And how would that be?”

“Let me use that hot, thick dick of yours... Wanna ride it till my thighs shake, make you cum so hard you’ll see heaven...” I whispered and he rolled his eyes.

“This is supposed to be a soft moment .... and all you’re interested in is my cock , you dirty little-” He choked when I shimmied down, quickly. Scooting down the bed till i was face to face with his dick, his thighs straddling my chest and his cock right up against my mouth.

I licked the tip, gently.

“I love you too..” I whispered, wrapping my lips around the soft head , letting my lips suck on the sensitive skin, tongue licking the soft underside as he grabbed on to the headboard to steady himself.

“Areum-”

“Love how much you care for me,” I ran the tip of my tongue all over the head , getting it nice and sloppy, “ how upset you get when I’m hurting....” I opened my mouth wide, lifting up just a bit to suck more of him into my mouth.

“Oh God-”

“Love how kind, and talented and nice you are. Love how good you are at making me feel good. No one makes me feel as good as you do, Jungkook...”

He was staring down at me, eyes blown with a mixture of arousal and affection, fingers carding through my hair gently.

I gave his hip a small pat.

“Fuck my mouth... i can’t suck you off like this.” I squeezed his ass , enjoying how hard it felt beneath my hand. I gripped his thighs, stroking them up and down, leanly muscled and corded with strength.

And then, completely losing my senses,

“Namjoon’s thighs are a little bigger than yours right? ” I said thoughtfully, completely serious and not even realizing what i was saying and who I was saying it to until his grip on my hair tightened hard enough .

Jungkook’s eyes widened comically and he was off me in a second.

The look of sheer and absolute horror on his face made me laugh so hard i nearly choked.

Growling, he grabbed me by the shoulders, flipping me over so fast, i bounced off the mattress. I laughed into the fabric of the pillow .

“Jungkook, i was just jok--” I got cut off by a smack to the back of my thigh, hard and stinging.

“Hyung’s thighs? Really, Areum, you wanna got there?” He smacked me again, and I whined.

“Is this any way to treat a goddess?” I choked out, struggling to crawl away but he held me down easily.

“Shouldn’t ever go soft on you..., called you a goddess one time and suddenly you wanna be a little brat about it......” He grunted, fingers closing around my upper arms and pulling my hands back so hard that my shoulder actually popped.

He pulled me up till I was on my knees, his chest pressed to my back as he gripped my wrists hard.

“Ow!! I’m sorry!” I yelped, but he wasn’t listening, and I grinned when i felt the familiar cold of metal on my wrists.

“You’re so easily riled...” I added a slight lilt to my words, knowing how much it annoyed him.

He didn’t disappoint, grabbing my chin hard and yanking my head back so I could stare at him.

“Only when you forget your place, angel.” He whispered .

“My place?” I blinked innocently. “ And where is that?”

He gave me a quick bruising kiss.

“In my heart most of the time. But right now, on your knees up against the head board so I can fuck your brains out.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“I love you.” Jungkook said cheerfully, leaning against the wall and grinning like the Chesire cat. I straightened from where I was kneeling, tying my sneakers.

I stared at him, completely amused.

“Jungkook you don’t have to say that so often...” I shook my head.

He frowned.

“I like being able to say those words to you. I spent entirely too many months thinking them and not being allowed to say them.”

I felt my heart melt a little.

“I love you too. “ I whispered.

“I wouldn’t mind you being there, you know. I know I said all that stuff, but if you really want to see me fight from up front....”

I shook my head.

“Its alright. I won’t be anywhere near the front and I’ll make sure to look away when you’re punching your opponent. “ I teased.

He sighed.

“Just remember that’s not who I am, okay? I... I love you.” He said again.

“Now the word’s just beginning to lose all meaning.” I laughed.

He looked hurt at that.

I rushed to sooth him.

“I’m just joking, I’m joking... Of course it has meaning and i love that you’ve suddenly turned into a love bot, but let’s just... tone it down. Just a little bit.” I pinched my fingers together,.

He tugged his lower lips between his teeth.

“You’ll be okay to get to the venue by yourself right? I’m going to take a shower and a nap before I head there.”

“I’ll be fine.” I waved him off. “ We’ll meet up after you win and celebrate properly.” I winked, giving him one last kiss before waving bye.

As the door closed behind him, I couldn’t help but grin ear to ear.

Ain’t love grand?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was wrong.

I couldn’t do this.

“He is so hot. Oh my God, you’re so lucky, Sana...look at his fucking abs.”

I willed myself not to take a swing at the girl next to me. I wanted to clench my fist, raise my arm and just let loose till she was knocked out on the floor. The women from the office had seen me hovering awkwardly at the back and swooped on me like a pair of vultures.

I’d been swept to the very front with them, my protests falling on deaf ears and now, suddenly I had front row seats to watching the love of my life get hurt.

There was nothing even remotely enjoyable about watching Jungkook get hit. And although it was clear that he was winning , clear that he was so much better than his opponent, there was no denying that the other guy was good too.

And the two times he had managed to catch Jungkook off guard, landing a couple of punches, my entire heart had cracked into two.

“He’s going to be my husband...can you believe?” San whispered next to me and I startled.,

Oh God.

The girls looked at me eagerly.

“Oh...that’s yeah. Sounds amazing.” I smiled.

“He could probably like fuck you against the wall, “ Jieun whispered, giggling .

Sana blushed so red I wanted to scream.

“So hot... Do you think he’s... you know...big?” She nudged me lightly, laughing.

Oh wow. I clenched my fists, feeling rage fill my veins so fast that I saw red.

But I was saved by the sound of a commotion up front and my head whipped around, panic setting in.

I stared at the ring. Jungkook stood back while his opponent was flat on the floor, unmoving.

Great, these horny bitches had made me miss him taking the winning shot.

i watched the referee kneel beside the prone man, counting slowly and I saw Jungkook turn to stare right at me.

“He’s looking at you, Sana... He’s looking at you, look!!” Jieun grinned.

I bit my lips, smiling at him.

“I think you should go to him.” The girls told Sana and I jumped.

What the fuck??

Unable to bear it, I pushed past them, ignoring their surprised squawks as I pushed past the crowd to the aisle.

“And , ladies and gentleman, we have ourselves a winner. Give it up for our very own, Jeon Jung Kook!!”

The crowd went wild, the referee raising his hand up in victory.

I ran all the way up to the ring, narrowly missing the guard near the front and crawling up into the ring.

Jungkook stared at me, wide eyes as I jumped on him with a running leap.

He caught me around the waist easily, laughing. He gripped my butt, hoisting me up and I wrapped my thighs tight around his waist.

“Oh, wow”. He whispered, but I was too busy searching the crowd for the three girls who had triggered me into this madness.

Sana and her two friends stood slack jawed, eyes wide as saucers as they stared at me.

I snatched the mic out of Jungkook’s hand. Glared right at them.

“To answer your question...yes.. he’s big. The biggest I’ve ever had and what’s more he knows how to use it too. Also, stay the fuck away from my boyfriend and stop talking about him like he’s a piece of meat, you whores. You do know I work in the HR department right? I will file sexual harassment suits on the three of you so fast you’ll-”

Jungkook grabbed the mic out of my hands before I could finish, looking absolutely horrified.

“You crazy little bint!” He laughed aloud and I pouted.

“They’re taking about your dick. I don’t like that.” I protested.

“Baby, you know my dick is yours.”

“Damn right it is.” I said firmly.

He grinned a bit.

“And so is my heart.”

I let him kiss me, the background noise and the sound of of cheering fading away as I let my eyes flutter shut, reveling in just him.

Of course, we had things to do. Meet our parents. Make our relationship public.... a whole lot of messy grown up stuff that would annoy the fuck out of both of us.

But for now, kissing him in front of everyone, ignoring Namjoon’s screams of, ‘ Jungkook there are reporters here!!! ’ and my sister’s shouts of, ‘ stop you heathens’.....

Well, this felt just right.

The End .

Authors Note : Well, this was a whole entire journey wasn’t it!!!!! I will deeply miss Jungkook and Areum, I loved them with my whole entire heart. I hope you guys loved them too... Let me know if you did... As always, feedback is much, much appreciated !!!! Thank you for sticking by. Love and kisses.

taglist :

@veronawrites

@ladyartemesia

@jincentvangogh

@unicornbabylover

@ggukkieland

@yoongisdragon

@aamxxrii

@brooky95

@apollukee

@bonyg

@craztextae

#jungkook fics #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook au #bts smut #bts au #bts fics #bts fanfics #jungkook fanfics

289 notes · View notes

fanmoose12 · 3 years

Text

to know your enemy

Hange glanced at him briefly – Levi stood with his hands behind his back, his head raised up high. Their eyes met – just for a second – but it was enough to calm her nerves.

Captain Levi was not an ally, most certainly not her friend, but amidst all foes, he was the only thing that gave her comfort.

A citizen and a loyal soldier of a country that wanted her dead, Captain Levi was the sole source of light in her life during these dark times.

Or, a Marleyan!Levi au

The cell they’ve put her in was cold. The wall she was chained up to was damp. A pool of something sticky and putrid beneath her legs was making her nauseous. It had a characteristic metallic smell that after years of being a soldier Hange knew all too well. She hoped, at least, that the blood wasn’t hers.

A single torch, hanging on the wall outside, behind the metal bars, was the only thing illuminating the cell. It was dark inside, but not dark enough for Hange not to distinguish a figure, looming over her.

She recognized him right away.

“Commander Hange,” Floch curled his lips in a cruel, bloodthirsty smile. “It’s so good to see you here.”

“Ah, the pleasure is all mine!” Hange replied, looking so cheerful and relaxed, as though she was sitting behind the desk in her office back at home, not chained and locked up in the darkest, deepest cell of Marleyan prison. “You know, I always wanted to visit the country I’ve been fighting against for so long. And you provided me with a perfect opportunity to take a much needed vacation!”

“My god,” the smile slipped from his lips. Floch’s expression changed to that of a complete distain. “You really are insufferable. It isn’t a surprise that Eldians are losing in this war, if you’re their Commander.”

“My soldiers don’t really complain. Much,” she grinned, showing her bloody teeth. Despite her high status back in Paradise, her Marleyan captors weren’t gentle or cautious with her. She gave them all the reason for that kind of treatment. “But I guess you know it already. Not that long ago, you were one of my soldiers too."

Floch seethed. "And as a Commander, you’ve disappointed me."

"Aw, you poor thing," Hange cooed, angering Floch even further. “I’ve disappointed you? That’s why you’ve decided to betray your country and your comrades? That’s why, while fleeing, you’ve killed several of my men?”

“I did not betray you, I merely switched sides. Unlike you, I prefer to stick to the winning team.”

“Or you’re just a scumbag with no sense of loyalty.”

“Shut up!” Floch surged forward, grabbing Hange by the collar. “You, Commander, who is dooming your own people with reckless decisions, what do you know about loyalty?”

“Apparently she knows more than you do,” spoke a cold, indifferent voice.

It had an immediate effect on Floch. His face palled and his lower lip began to tremble. He bit it to hide his unease from Hange’s sharp eyes.

He didn’t release his hold on her collar, though, and continued to glare stubbornly at her.

“Floch,” the man stepped out of shadows. Hange swallowed as she watched him. He was short, but his face was menacing enough to more than make up for it. “Are you that slow? Do I really need to spell it out? Let Eldian Commander go.”

“But—”

“No buts,” the man growled. He grabbed the back of Floch’s shirt, yanking him back hard. “You weren’t even supposed to be here, so get the fuck out.”

It was obvious – Floch wanted to argue, but one look from his superior officer and he surrendered, taking a step back from Hange and letting her go. He gave her one last look, filled with hatred, and then left.

Like a dog with its tail between its legs, Hange thought with no small amount of amusement.

After Floch’s departure, she was left alone with the unexpected savior. Hange stared at him, warily, waiting for his next move.

He stepped closer to her, and her eyes widened in surprise, when he raised his hand to unlock her shackles.

“Um,” Hange scrunched her face in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“You aren’t supposed to be here either,” the man explained with a roll of his eyes. “It was another one of Floch’s stupid stunts. This level of dungeon is made to hold rapists and murderers.”

A sparkle of curiosity ignited in the deepness of her honey brown eyes. Hange tilted her head, staring at the man beside her. “I’m sure most of your people would argue that I’m both.”

“I’m not most,” he scoffed. “And your crimes are not bigger than any of our soldiers.”

“Huh,” the last of her shackles fell down and Hange absentmindedly rubbed her freed wrists. “And here I thought that all Marleyans are pricks with a superiority complex. You proved me wrong,” she paused, not able to fight off a smile. “Captain Levi Ackerman.”

“So my reputation precedes me,” he sighed with a disgruntled expression. “Follow me,” he added, leading her out of the cell and down the dark, empty hallway. “And here,” he thrusted something in her hands. With a sense of bewilderment, Hange realized it was a handkerchief. “Wipe the blood off your face.”

“Oh,” Hange awkwardly chuckled. She could have used her own sleeve, but… it was kinda nice of him to offer. “Thanks. And about your reputation, yeah, you’re quite famous back at the island,” she easily fell into step with him. “Although, I admit it was hard to recognize you with all these scars.”

“That’s a courtesy of your soldiers and your deadly inventions, Commander.”

“You’re off from active duty, I take it? My men have a chance at winning this war then.”

“Had to step down from my position,” Captain said grimly. “My mother worried too much.”

“And they say Marleyans aren’t funny,” Hange opened her mouth, the cheerful laughter ready to bubble out of her throat, but then she stopped, gawking at the Captain. “Wait…” she asked cautiously. “You aren’t joking?”

“Marleyans aren’t funny,” he retorted in dead-pan voice.

This time, Hange did laugh.

“Here,” Captain led her into another cell. This one - sufficiently illuminated and with more than enough space to contain not only essentials, but a desk, a chair and even a bookshelf – was drastically different from the last.

“Wow,” Hange whistled. “This cell is almost as good as my office. Are Marleyans that welcoming to all of their prisoners?”

“Doubt you’d be feeling much at home here,” Captain Levi huffed. “Zeke is very eager to chat with you.”

“The infamous Zeke Yeager wants to talk with me? I’m impressed.”

"Just wait until he starts bragging about his royal heritage and other shit. You won't be that impressed after that."

"Well," with a grin, Hange plopped down on a bed that stood in the corner of the cell. Something was very, very wrong with her, but the company of Captain Levi was... actually enjoyable. "Will you be there to witness it?"

"A chance to see Zeke embarrass himself in front of an enemy war chief?" something that almost resembled a smile appeared on Captain's indifferent face. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, four-eyes."

***

“I’ve heard what Floch had done,” Zeke lowered his eyes and shook his head. Hange had to give it to him – he looked almost genuinely sincere. “He wasn’t acting on my orders, please believe me.”

“I know more than anyone how hard it is to rein in Floch. I took no offense, don’t fret.” Hange lifted a cup of tea Zeke brought her and looked at it skeptically. Then with the same expression of doubt, she turned her gaze back to him. “It’s safe to drink this, right?”

“Can I call you Hange?” Zeke asked. “I feel like we’re so alike, there is no need for titles.”

“Sure,” Hange shrugged. “Call me whatever you like.”

Zeke nodded, a pleased smile breaking on his face. “I would never scoop so low as to poison you, Hange,” he answered. “Meeting you is a great honor. I hope you enjoy this time as much as I do.”

Hange raised her gaze, looking over Zeke’s shoulder and exchanged a look with Captain Levi. He was wearing an irritated expression, and when their eyes met, he lifted an eyebrow, as though to tell Hange ‘I told you so’.

She hid a smile behind her cup.

“So what do you want to know?” she focused her attention back at Zeke. “The number of our troops? The location of strategic sights? How many times a day I take a shit?”

There was a sudden coughing sound, and as Hange looked up, she saw that Captain Levi turned around, his shoulders shaking slightly.

“I don’t think you understand the severity of your situation,” a smile slipped from Zeke’s lips. He obviously wasn’t as amused by her witty comeback as his Captain. “I may be kind and polite to you, but you’re still my prisoner.”

“And I don’t think you understand that I don’t give a fuck about that. Do whatever you like, Zeke. I won’t tell you anything.”

Zeke narrowed his eyes, glaring at her. “Enjoy your stay in Marley.” He declared between gritted teeth. “I’ll be seeing you again very soon.”

He rose to his feet, almost knocking a chair to the ground. Hange took a sip from her cup, watching how Zeke stormed out from her cell.

“Don’t take your eyes off her,” he instructed Levi. He muttered something else, something that sounded almost like a curse and then left.

“Wow.” Levi breathed out, when the sound of Zeke’s heavy footsteps disappeared. “I have to admit, you’re something else, four-eyes. I spent years, getting on his nerves, but five minutes with you? And he already calls ‘a fucking Eldian scum’? You’re force to be reckoned with.”

“And that was just our first meeting,” laying chin on her hand, Hange sighed dreamily. “What a nice guy. Can’t wait to see more of him.”

***

“Why are you here?”

Levi was leaning against the wall opposite from the cell Hange was contained to. As soon as the question left his lips, Hange looked up, closing the book she was reading.

An amused grin spread on her lips. “I’m sort of a prisoner here, didn’t you know?”

“I didn’t mean that,” Levi rolled his eyes, pushing himself off the wall and taking a step closer. “How did you get here? How did you get captured?”

Hange frowned, scratching her head. “Haven’t you read the report?”

Levi did, more times that he could count. He read it again and again, trying to piece together the reasons for Hange’s behavior. Trying to understand why did she act the way she did.

“Ship Wings of Freedom was spotted near Marleyan borders.” Levi effortlessly recited the beginning of report. “According to the statement from Eldian Commander Hange Zoe, they were trying to launch a surprise attack at Odiha port. The ship was ambushed before Eldians could charge an assault. The only person, who was discovered at the ship’s board and, subsequently captured, is Hange Zoe, war chief and main engineer of Paradise Island.”

“So you did read it, huh?”

“Obviously, you couldn’t be the only person on that ship.” Levi contemplated aloud. “And that means you let your soldiers escape. Why did you stay behind?”

“Someone had to create a diversion,” Hange explained so easily, as though it was a simple, trite matter and not something Levi was obsessing over ever since she was placed under his care.

“Anybody could have done it,” Levi moved closer, touching the metal bars of the cell with his chest. His cold grey eyes bored into Hange. Perhaps, if he looked hard enough, he’d be able to see it. He’d be able to understand her. “Certainly, there were other less valuable soldiers than you.”

“Exactly. I was the most valuable one. And that meant your men would think twice before killing me.”

“You stayed behind… let us capture you, because… you wanted to save your squad?”

"Well, when you put it like that..." Hange giggled, a little embarrassed. "It sounds like I'm the worst Commander ever."

She couldn't have been further from the truth. In his life as a soldier, Levi had seen his fair share of Commanders. Some were awful, while some were much better. And, as far as he could judge, Hange was the best of them all. With just one act, she showed Levi what a real Commander must look like. Self-sacrificing, fearless and loyal not only to the country they’ve served, but to their soldiers as well.

If only things were different, Levi couldn't help but think, I would have happily followed you.

"Don't you regret it?" he asked. "Leaving your soldiers without your guidance?"

"They'll manage," Hange said without an ounce of incertitude in her voice.

"You're so confident in your subordinates?"

"They're the best of the best," a proud smile curled at her lips. Hange sat back in her chair, putting hands behind her head. "Just wait until they regroup. Mark my words, Captain. They’ll crush Marley in to time."

Marley had the biggest army in the world. They had the most advanced technology. They’ve conquered several countries. They were considered an indestructible, imperishable Empire.

And if there was anyone who could stand a chance against his motherland, Levi was sure - this fit could be achieved exclusively by the soldiers who were trained and tutored by Commander Hange Zoe.

"All this bragging about your squad," a smirk pulled on Levi's lips, amusement painting his usually stoic features. "Are you trying to recruit me, Commander Hange Zoe?"

"Why," Hange gave him a sly grin, raising her eyebrow. "Is it working?"

Levi snorted. "You have to do better than that to sway me, Commander."

"Ah, a shame," she giggled. "We could have used your skills, Captain."

"Need I remind you that you don't have an army right now?"

“It’s true, I don't. Right now. But who knows what is going to happen next?"

There was a small, but enigmatic smile on her lips, and fire inside her eyes burned brighter than the torch he was standing next to. Her expression made Levi realize that not all prejudices about Eldians were wrong. Hange proved that the old Marleyan saying - Eldians always have a trick up their sleeves – could actually be true.

It was obvious that she had some kind of a plan. And it was obvious that she was confident in its success. Rooting for her was wrong, some could even interpret it as treason.

And yet— a part of him hoped that she – and her people – would succeed.

***

Levi unlocked the door, stepping inside. The moment he crossed the threshold, a pair of gentle arms wrapped themselves around his neck.

"Levi," his mother pressed him tightly to her chest. "Welcome home."

"Sorry for being late," he whispered gruffly. He pressed his face into her neck, inhaling the familiar and dear scent of chamomile and lavender. "I had so much paperwork, I was practically swimming in it."

"My poor boy," Kuchel ruffled his hair and took a step back, releasing him from her embrace. "Take off your shoes and go wash your hands. I'll heat up dinner for you."

"Thanks," Levi said, shrugging off his formal coat and undoing his tie. As he stripped his uniform, breathing came a little easier.

"So?" Kuchel put a plate with broth in front of Levi and sat down next to him. "Is it true? Did they really capture Eldian Commander?"

"Yeah," Levi nodded, after he swallowed the first spoon of broth. "I've been assigned to watch over her."

Kuchel perked up. "And? Is she as terrible as they say?"

"No." Levi held the spoon a little tighter. He pursed his lips, staring in his plate with a faraway look. “She’s not terrible at all. Quite the contrary. I know that it’s wrong but… I think she’s a good person.”

"Eldian Commander?"

"Yes. Hange. She's my enemy, I know that. And I know that I must despise her, but... She's so good, mom. She's brave and she cares about her people, and... I can't help but think if this," he gave a vague gesture, "our lives - would have been better if people like Commander Hange were in charge. It makes me think… maybe, Kenny, that old bastard, was right."

"Honey..." Kuchel lovingly patted his cheek and exhaled, her beautiful grey eyes filling with sadness at the mention of her late brother. "During times like this, it’s hard to know what’s wrong and what’s right. Isn’t it wrong to kill people? Isn’t it wrong to hate an entire nation just because we don’t share the same name? They’re people just like us. Just like us, they can be good or bad. It's easier to hate them, to see them as monsters that need to be slayed. Doesn't mean that it's true. And if you see your enemy as someone worth of admiring, if you can forget about you differences and see just another person, isn’t that a good thing? Isn’t it something we should aspire to? You’re a kind and good man, Levi. And if there were more people like you… maybe, we wouldn’t be fighting this war at all.”

Silence fell over the small kitchen room. Levi thought about his mother’s words, he tried to imagine a world she was talking about. A better, kinder world with no hatred and prejudices. A world, where peace and happiness were more prevalent than war, starvation and poverty.

A world like this would have been nice. But sadly, it was nothing more than utopia.

“Well, that was enough philosophical monologues for one evening!" Kuchel chirped, jumping to her feet. "Quickly, eat the broth before it gets cold. I'll brew you a cup of tea in the meanwhile."

Levi complied, diving into his dinner. From the corner of his eyes, he continued watching his mother move around the kitchen. She stood on her tiptoes, reaching out to the higher shelf. As she did so, the sleeve of her dress rolled up, revealing an ugly, purple bruise around her wrist.

He was by her side in an instant.

"What is this?" he hissed, carefully lifting her arm. Kuchel looked at him, her eyed widening in alarm. "What is this?" Levi repeated, even though he already knew the answer.

"Honey-"

"Did that bastard do it?" he let go of her hand. His anger was growing and he didn't want his mother to become an accidental victim of it. He turned around and started to pace around the room. "I'll go to him." He declared, his whole body shaking with rage. He spoke quietly, but every word was filled with cold, merciless fury. "I'll kill that scumbag with my bare hands, I'll make him regret ever touching you."

"Levi!" Kuchel rushed to him, cradling his face in her palms. "Levi, calm down. This was just an accident. He apologized and it would never happen again, I swear."

In the arms of his mother, Levi's fury had lessened. He stared at her, as another feeling took its place instead of anger. The feeling of helplessness and despair.

"You can't continue seeing this bastard,” he said, almost pleading. “He hurts you, and I can't watch it happen."

"My boy," Kuchel kissed his forehead. "My Levi, we don’t really have a choice, remember? But, please, don’t worry about me, I’m doing alright. As long as you're with me, everything is going to be just fine."

"That was the last time," Levi promised, the fire returning to his gaze. "It was the last time he hurt you. General or not, if he ever does it again, I'll kill him. I'll kill him even if that would be the last thing I do. I won't let anyone make you suffer."

“Levi…” Kuchel sighed, quietly and warily. She lowered her hands and turned away, hiding the pain inside her eyes from Levi. He watched her back, his chest tightening. In that moment, his mother looked so small, so fragile. Levi despised the man who made her feel this way and his uncle, who put them into this mess. He despised their world for making her suffer so much.

And more than anything, he despised himself for not being able to protect her.

***

Hange's next meeting with Zeke was vastly different from the first. Instead of a small, suffocating cell, it was conducted in a large, spacious room with big windows and high ceilings.

And as Levi had led her inside, she was astonished to see that Zeke wasn't alone. The other generals - probably the entire main body of Marleyan brass - were waiting for her arrival.

All these attention to the little, insignificant her? And they say Marleyans aren't charming...

“Gentleman!” she greeted with a blindingly bright smile on her lips. There was a chair in the middle of the room, and she plopped down on it, still wearing the same happy expression. “Good day to all of you!”

Levi took his place just behind her shoulder. Hange glanced at him briefly – he stood with his hands behind his back, his head raised up high. Their eyes met – just for a second – but it was enough to calm her nerves.

Captain Levi was not an ally, most certainly not her friend, but amidst all foes, he was the only thing that gave her comfort.

A citizen and a loyal soldier of a country that wanted her dead, Captain Levi was the sole source of light in her life during these dark times.

“So?” Hange put hands on her knees, her gaze studying each member of Marleyan brass carefully. “What did you call me here for?”

“I’m sure you already know,” Zeke, who sat at the center of the table, took the word. He seemed more controlled than during their last meeting, and a confident smile has returned to his lips. “We haven’t finished our earlier conversation.”

Hange arched an eyebrow. “Still interested in my shitting techniques?”

“No.” Zeke answered grimly. A few surprised chuckles came from his colleagues around the table, and Hange could almost hear the sound of his teeth gritting against each other in frustration. “That’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

“We are more interested in other aspects of your job,” a man that sat next to Zeke spoke. “My name is Winston Greeves, it’s nice to meet you, Commander. Now,” he leaned closer, prepping his chin with his hand. “Is there something you wish to tell us? Something related to the state of your troops, perhaps?”

Hange lifted her head and tapped her lower lip with a finger. “Is there something that I wish to tell you…” she murmured pensively. “I guess I can tell you how much I’ve been enjoying your country and your hospitality...”

“Again, that’s not exactly what we want to hear ,” Greeves said, and the easy smile that was plastered on his face just moments ago became a little too tight around the edges.

“I would stop this farce, if I were you,” Zeke spoke again, his voice low and almost growl-like. “Unlike your barbaric, primitive island, Marley is a civilized nation, but that doesn’t mean we’re above using techniques that would undoubtedly untie your tongue.”

“Was that supposed to frighten me?” Hange asked with a bored, unimpressed look. She took off her glasses, wiping them with the sleeve of her shirt and looking at Zeke beneath her eyebrows. “Do better next time, Zeke. You think that threats would work on me? You think that promise of pain would make me submit? You think that there is anything you can do to me that will make me betray my own country? I surrendered willingly to you, idiots, I knew exactly what was going to happen to me. And I knew that I wouldn’t be getting out of it alive.”

“You’re right,” Zeke nodded. “You won’t survive. You will die, Hange Zoe. You will die regretting your loyalty and devotion. You will die, but not before you spill out to me every last one of your secrets.”

“Till our next meeting,” he promised darkly, gesturing Levi to take her away.

***

"Zeke's nice guy persona is slipping," Hange muttered, as Levi led her back to her cell. "I wonder what this sudden urgency is all about..."

Levi pursed his lips, thinking. He probably shouldn't say this to Hange. It was classified information, known only to the highest members of brass. If anyone finds out that he revealed it to Hange, without a doubt, he'd join her in that cell. And that's in the best case scenario.

On the other hand, there was no one Hange would pass this information onto. Telling it to her would have no consequences whatsoever.

Levi had decided. He turned to face Hange, but before his mouth could start forming words, a familiar smell entered his nostrils.

Chamomile and lavender.

He whirled around. General Greeves himself was standing behind him.

"Ackerman," he spat, barely looking at him. "We need to talk."

"Can't it wait?" Levi didn't bother to hide irritation from his voice. "I have to take care of the prisoner."

"The Eldian can wait." Greeves scoffed. "It's not like she can escape. Leave her and follow me."

Levi glanced back at Hange. She was looking right at him, her head tilted to the side, watching the exchange intently. There was a curious spark in her eyes and something else, something that looked almost like... concern? Whatever it was, Levi had no time to decipher that.

"I'll be right back," he told her curtly and followed after Greeves.

***

"Is your mother free this evening?" Greeves bluntly asked the second they were out of Hange's earshot.

"She is not," Levi said lowly. He looked at Greeves and all he could see was the frail pale wrist of his mother that was painted in mix of purple and dark yellow. It took all of his willpower and then more not to latch onto Greeves' neck and kill the bastard with his own hands.

"Then make sure she is." Greeves snapped. "And wipe that scowl from your face, boy. Or do you need reminding just how much I’ve done for you?"

Levi said nothing, just glared at Greeves from beneath his fridge.

Greeves looked around, the hallway was empty save for Hange, but he cared not for her. He grabbed Levi by the collar of his uniform, his hold strong enough to lift him off the floor.

"You have the gall, Ackerman," he hissed right into his face. "You, who got from me an apartment in the center of a capital and a fancy title of a Captain. Do you think I won't take it away from you? Do you think your mother is that good that I won't throw you out on a street? Or I can do much, much worse," a malicious smile spread on his lips, as he stared down at Levi as though he was nothing. "I can reveal a little secret. I can tell everyone that the dreaded Kenny the Ripper was actually an uncle of the brave and great Captain Levi Ackerman. Do you want me to do that, hm? Do you want the whole world to know that you were raised by a traitor? Do you want to repeat his fate alongside your dear mother? Believe me, getting lynched on the street is not the best way to go. So stop with attitude and be a good boy, understand?" Levi kept his silence and, furious, Greeves violently shook him. "I asked - do you understand?"

Levi thought of saying no. He thought of throwing the bastard's hands off him and punching him in the face. He thought of taking his gun out, of shooting him right in the center of that ugly, narrow forehead of his and watching life leave his eyes. His hand twitched.

But then he thought of his mother, of what they would do to her if he decides to succumb to his rage, of how many bruises would appear on her body after that.

He met Greeves's eyes and nodded.

"Use your words, brat."

Fury spiked inside him again, threatening to bubble out of his chest, his muscles, his bones and unleash itself onto his enemy.

He closed his eyes for a second, and the face of his mother appeared behind his eyelids. He saw her beautiful eyes, her tired but gentle smile.

"Yes." He said, his voice loud and clear. "I understand."

"Atta boy," Greeves smiled and roughly pushed him away, making Levi stumble. "Tell your mother my shift ends at seven. And I hope it goes without saying that you better not show your face while I'm there. Dismissed, Captain."

Greeves left after that, humming under his breath. It took Levi a couple of minutes to calm down. He stood frozen in place, breathing heavily as though he had just finished a marathon. He was so angry, his vision clouded. He saw nothing but blood. He wished for nothing but violence.

A careful, warm hand on his shoulder broke him out of his trance. He whirled around and was met face to face with none other than Commander Hange Zoe.

"Are you alright?" she murmured softly. The concern in her eyes was more prominent now. He stared at her for a second, wondering what was wrong with her. How much kindness was stored in her heart if she had enough to spare even for her enemy.

Well, he thought bitterly, it was her kindness that had led her there, to Marleyan prison and straight into Zeke’s arms.

In their world, it was best not to care at all. If only he knew how to do that, he lamented as the disquieted expression on Hange's face insistently tugged at his heart.

"Worry about yourself, four-eyes," he tore his eyes away from, putting on the familiar mask of cold asshole and trying to convince himself that that's what he really was. "Let's go, your cell awaits you."

***

When he came home that night, two hours after midnight his mother was already asleep. Or, at the very least, she appeared to be. The door to her room was closed and the house was dark. He approached it nevertheless, his hand touching the wooden surface. He almost knocked, but stopped himself before his hand curled into fist. He ached to know if she was alright, but he already knew that she wasn't, and going inside would only make all of it worse.

The world they live is cruel, he reminded himself, as he turned away and headed to his room. He tore off his uniform, kicking it in the corner.

He lay in his bed, fighting back tears. Fury and sorrow mixed in his mind, as he thought what his mother had to endure today, as he remembered that there was nothing he could to cease her suffering.

Their world was cruel, he remembered, and the only thing they could do is try to survive.

***

Levi took the next day off.

He woke up with the first rays of sunshine and quietly made his way to the kitchen. He cooked breakfast for his mother and then went out to the market to buy her flowers and pastries. He returned back home and went to wake her up.

The smile she gave him at the sight of fresh flowers and warm meal was enough to make him forget about his troubling thoughts.

"Let's take a walk," he offered after the breakfast was over and he dealt with the dishes.

His mother put on one of her best dresses. She let her hair down, and, as she put her arm through Levi's, a small, but endlessly happy smile curved at her lips.

"Shall we?" he asked after he put on his hat.

Kuchel giggled, covering her mouth with a palm, a picture of elegance. She made a small curtsy and murmured. "After you, my dear." The stroll through the park was nice.

They walked around for a bit, and then, when Levi's injured leg started to ache in protest, they sat down on a bench, enjoying the warm weather in the shadow of a big tree.

Knowing his son's quiet nature, Kuchel took it upon herself to fill the silence. She spoke about birds and how prettily they were singing, gushed over children that were running around and waxed poetic about trees, flowers and how beautiful they looked in the spring.

She was just telling Levi how much she enjoyed the smell of cherries when they're in bloom, when he saw one cheery petal fell down. It landed on Kuchel, tangling in her luscious, black hair.

Levi reached out to take it out and realized - it was time. He had to speak with his mother, had to tell her everything that's been on his mind.

"Mom," he began, looking her in the eyes. "Listen—"

"Shh," Kuchel pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him. "Levi, don't. I know what you want to say, and I'm asking you - don't. Our situation isn't the best, I can't deny it. But it's better than the fate your uncle has suffered. We're both still alive, we're still together. I can still be your mom, can welcome you home from work and take walks with you in the park. And that's more than enough for me. So," she pushed the hair away from his forehead and leaned in, leaving a kiss on his forehead. "Let's just enjoy this moment. Sometimes it's all we can do, my dear."

Something in the tone of her voice, the way she didn't look in his eyes evoked a feeling of dread inside him. It brought Levi unprompted desperation. He took his mother's hand in his and gripped it just a little tighter than usually.

Enjoy the moment, he repeated to himself, sometimes that's all we can do.

***

Levi returned to work the next day— and regretted ever leaving his post.

A couple of plates stood next to the Hange's cell, all of them untouched.

Hange herself wasn't in her usual spot, sitting behind the desk with a book in her hands. She was lying on the bed, facing the wall.

Levi swallowed and unlocked the door, stepping inside.

"Hey," he called softly, hoping that Hange just decided to take a nap and didn't hear him approach. She didn't respond. "Hey, it's me," he tried again, but received no answer once more.

His stomach fell as he thought about the reasons for her silence.

He hurried to her side and laid a hand on her shoulder. It was still warm. Levi let out a barely audible sigh of relief. Still warm meant still alive.

He shook her. "Get up, four-eyes."

"No," came her curt reply. Her voice was gruff, almost lifeless. Hearing it broke something in him.

Levi looked at Commander Hange, thinking what to do. Then he saw it - red seeping through the yellow of her shirt.

Zeke's methods in action, he thought grimly.

He turned around and marched out of the cell. With hurried steps, he went into infirmary and grabbed a med kit.

Commander Hange wasn't going to die. Not on his watch, at least.

"Get up," he ordered once he was back in her cell.

"No."

"Get up," he repeated, kicking the leg of the bed. "Right fucking now, four-eyes, those wounds of your need dressing."

A short laugh escaped from her lips. It was bitter and devoid of any mirth. "Why do you, of all people, worry about me?"

"I don't," Levi easily retorted. "But your people do. They want to get you back. It'd be a shame if their loyalty would result in nothing because you got too tired to continue fighting."

"Don't lecture me. What do you, Marleyan, know about my people?"

"More than you do, apparently."

That finally got her to face him.

The sight of Commander Hange almost made him choke. Her face was a mess, what was not bruised was covered in blood. Her nose looked broken and her right eye was swollen.

He felt bile rise to his throat as he continued to stare at the results of Zeke's desire to win this war.

"What do you mean?" Hange asked, her voice wary. Life slowly started to return to her eyes. “Do you know something?”

"Not much," Levi shrugged. "But there had been reports about suspicious activity on the south borders. They think your guys are getting ready to attack. That's why Zeke is so impatient to get information out of you."

Zeke was scared shitless. All of them were. Marley was an imperishable Empire who was involved in too many wars. They didn't have enough people to defend themselves in case of the attack on their land. With most of their soldiers fighting and conquering in countries far away, if Paradise attacks, they'll be practically defenseless.

"So quit moping," he told Hange. "Let me fix your wounds and then I'll bring you more food. Save your strength, four-eyes. Don't let your soldiers down."

"Has anyone ever told you you're quite rude, Captain?"

"More times that I could have count, Commander. Now, quickly, turn around and take off your shirt. We'll deal with the wounds here first."

"Bossy, aren't we?" Hange huffed, but complied and started to unbutton her shirt.

As she pushed the yellow cloth down, revealing her bare shoulders and back, Levi sighed in relief. The wounds there weren't as severe as he had expected.

Still, severe or not, the injuries had to be cleaned and dressed. Levi set out to work.

The touch of disinfectant to her bare skin made Hange hiss, but she didn't recoil. A soldier through and through, Levi noted with a growing sense of admiration.

"You weren't here yesterday," Hange spoke, her voice shaking slightly. "What were you doing?"

"Went to a park."

"Oh," Hange turned her face to the side, looking at him curiously. "Did you take Missus Ackerman with you?"

"Miss Ackerman," Levi corrected. "My mother."

“Interesting,” she hummed, biting her thumb. “So Marley’s strongest soldier is actually a momma’s boy?”

“Thinking of using it against me, Commander Hange?”

“You know what they say,” she shrugged, a smile pulling at her lips. It suited her a lot more than the pathetic expression from earlier. “All’s fair in war.”

“You’re cruel.”

“I’m effective.”

“And very annoying,” Levi scoffed, taking a step back. “Put on your shirt and turn around. I need to take care of the mess on your face now.”

“Why are you helping me?” Hange wondered, as Levi inspected her wounds, holding her chin in his hands.

“I’m not,” Levi answered, his gaze focused on the cut on her eyebrow. “I’m a loyal soldier of my country.”

“So by taking care of me…”

“I’m making sure that you live on. So you could reveal more information to us.”

The lie slipped easily from his lips. So easily that Levi almost began to think that it was the truth.

Commander Hange Zoe, however, wasn’t so effortlessly convinced.

“And yet you haven’t asked me a single question, Captain.”

“Levi,” he grunted, as he started to gently wipe the blood from her forehead.

“What?”

“Call me Levi.”

“Oh.” She looked down for a second, mumbling something under her breath. Her voice was too quiet, but Levi thought that she was mouthing his name. Then she raised her eyes and met his. A soft smile was playing on her lips. “Then you should call me Hange.”

“Nah,” he said, desperately trying to fight back a smile. “Four-eyes suits you much better.”

***

A week later the news came.

The base in Lago, where the main body of their navy was located, was destroyed. No survivors. No witnesses.

A banner of Wings of Freedom that was now fluttering in the wind at the top of the once great Lago base was enough of a clue, though.

The pride of Marley, the fear of dozens of their enemy nations, Lago base was thought to be indestructible. Just like Marley itself.

A week later the news came. The next day, Commander Hange Zoe lost an eye.

***

“Stop it with that face.”

“What face?” Levi tore his gaze away from the bloodied mess and a lifeless white that once had been a lively, rich brown color.

“That face. Stop looking so angry. Or I will start thinking that you care.”

Hange lifted a finger, and then— before Levi could react – slap her hand or push her away – she bopped his nose. He blinked and looked down. He didn’t know what face he was making right now, but it had Hange snickering.

“That’s better,” she declared.

“Idiot,” Levi scoffed and turned away, fumbling with the med kit he had brought. He was more than familiar with its contents by now, having regularly used it to treat her wounds, but he felt the need to keep himself busy, and, more importantly, keep himself facing away from Commander Hange. If she had noticed the flush on his face, he wouldn’t hear the end of it. “Of course, I do care. Your wound is bleeding. It ruins the sheets, you know.”

“Ah,” Hange nodded. “That is a serious problem.”

“More than you know. I wash those sheets, if you didn’t know.”

“You do? The great Captain Levi washes the sheets of a mere Eldian prisoner?”

“No one else wishes to do it. And I can’t stand that reek.”

“Oh god,” her remaining eye lighted up, as though Levi has just said the most wonderful thing she had ever heard. “I can’t believe it, Captain Levi Ackerman, the fear of all Eldians,” she paused dramatically, an amused smile playing on her lips. “Is actually a clean freak.”

Levi arched an eyebrow, giving the most unimpressed look he could muster. “Has anyone told you’re very stupid?”

“Never,” she confessed proudly. “I’m actually considered one of the smartest people in Paradise.”

“Makes sense then, why you’re losing this war.”

“Ouch,” Hange winced. “That actually hurt.”

“Speaking of pain…” Levi took a cloth dapped in antiseptic into his hand and grabbed Hange by the chin. “Let me take a look at your eye.”

In his years as a soldier, Levi had seen his share of injuries. But he had never got used to it. The sight of broken bones and lacerated skin, of blood seeping through uniform and sinking in between trembling fingers, it was a sight he just couldn’t get accustomed to, no matter how hard he tried and no matter how many battles he had witnessed and survived.

The wound that he was now seeing on the face of Hange Zoe wasn’t an exception. Looking at the cut running through her eye, the eye that was always filled with so much life and emotion, he felt sadness sip deep into his heart.

“Not as handsome as I was before, eh?” Hange lowered her voice to a quiet murmur, and when he glanced down at her face, he saw that she was wearing a hesitant expression.

“Nonsense,” Levi shook his head, chasing away his troubling thoughts, and began to wipe the blood away from her face. “Who told you were handsome before?”

“You are even snarkier than usual today.” Hange noted, her only eye looking at him closely. “Is there a reason for it, I wonder?”

“Who did this?” Levi asked. “Zeke?”

The hold he had on her jaw tightened ever so slightly, as he fought to conceal his anger. Thankfully, Hange didn’t comment on it.

“No. This little monster I had created myself.”

“Floch,” Levi guessed instantly. Of course, how he could forget about that damned bastard. “Well, if it gives you any consolation, Zeke isn’t having the time of his life either.”

“Oh?”

“Lago base was attacked, and, subsequently, destroyed.”

“Oh…” Hange bit her lip, a cautious and almost worried expression on her face. “And the attackers…”

“Were never found. The only thing that was discovered is the banner of Wings of Freedom.”

“Huh,” a wide, excited grin spread on her lips. “A stealthy approach then. Definitely one of Armin’s ideas.”

Levi kept his silence, continuing to work on her wound.

“What,” Hange playfully kicked his leg. “You’re not going to ask who that Armin is? His full name? His rank?”

“I’ll leave the interrogation stuff to Zeke,” Levi pursed his lips, the disgust showing at his face at the thought of the bearded jerk. “My job is cleaning up his messes.”

“And looking after me,” Hange said with a soft look in her eye. “You’re such a good man, Levi. So kind to me…”

“It’s not kindness,” Levi scoffed, doing his best to remain nonchalant and hide his discomfort. “Just basic human decency.”

“You think I deserve it?”

You deserve it more than most, he wanted to say.

“Why wouldn’t you deserve it,” he answered instead. “You’re a human too, aren’t you?”

Hange chuckled, the sound quiet and bitter. “Most of your countrymen would disagree.”

“I told you already. I’m not the most.”

“But you’ve told me something else too,” Hange argued. She lifted her hand and traced the line from his cheek to his mouth. “These scars… you said they were caused by the weapon I created. Don’t you hate me for that?”

“No.” Levi echoed. “You’re not at fault here. The war is.”

Hange fell silent after that, lost in her thoughts. To an accompaniment of her shallow breathing and infrequent hisses, Levi finished tending to her injury. He cleaned the wound, did his best to stitch the cut skin together and then dressed it in a white gauze.

When he was tying the ends at the back of her head, Hange softly touched his arm.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “For making survival just a bit easier for me.”

Levi looked into her eye, swept his gaze across all of her face and body, carving it to his memory, and nodded.

He turned around then and left her cell. As he walked through the empty, ill-lit hallways, he thought if Hange was able to understand, if she could see in his eyes that he was grateful to her for all the same reasons.

***

“Captain.”

Without asking for permission, without waiting for an invitation, Zeke waltzed inside Levi’s office, plopping down on the chair beside his desk.

“I came to talk with you,” he announced, that infuriating smile plastered to his lips. “Do you have a moment?”

“For you, Zeke?” Levi made sure to put as much sarcasm and distain in his voice as it was possible. “Always.”

“Excellent!” Zeke eagerly clasped his hands together. He either didn’t notice or simply didn’t care enough to respond to Levi’s taunting. “I wanted to discuss with you the infamous Commander Hange.”

His stomach fell as those words left Zeke’s mouth. Whatever he was going to say next, Levi was sure he wouldn’t like it. He didn’t let any of his anxiety show at his face, though, and so Levi nodded, prompting Zeke to continue.

“She’s a tough nut to crack, and as you’re well aware, we’re losing our precious time. We need to get at least something out of her, or the whole country is doomed.”

“And how is that my problem?” Levi lazily inquired. “Torturing people isn’t one of my responsibilities.”

“I’m not asking you to torture her, I doubt you can do that,” Zeke said it flippantly, like an after-thought. But his eyes stared at Levi intently, gauging his reaction. “But she trusts you. And I need you to exploit it.”

“Trusts me?” Levi scoffed, genuinely surprised by Zeke’s assertion. “We’re talking about Eldian Commander, do you think she’d be stupid enough to trust me?”

“You’re closer to her than any of us,” Zeke protested, serious, despite his ridiculous claims.

“So what?” Levi sat back in his chair, crossing hands on his chest and staring at Zeke with a deep frown on his face. “She lets me dress her wounds. That doesn’t mean she trusts me.”

“On the contrary. That’s exactly what it means. Do you think I’m such a barbarian, Levi?” Zeke asked, before Levi could continue protesting. “Do you think I have not offered to take care of her wounds? She laughed at me and then spat in my face.”

Despite his best efforts, Levi’s lips twitched as he fought back a smile. If only he could see it… The expression Zeke made in that moment, it was probably the one of pure disgust and hatred. Levi had spent years trying to make Zeke look at him like that.

Truly, Commander Hange Zoe was something else.

“Talk with her, Levi,” Zeke ordered, his voice tainted with anger at the sight of Levi’s clear amusement. “Do your country a service. Or else I’m going to dig deeper into the reasons of why Commander Zoe trusts you so. You wouldn’t want to become second Kenny the Ripper, would you? Your mother wouldn’t be able to take it. So think of her, if the loyalty to your country isn’t enough to motivate you.”

Without waiting for Levi’s reply, Zeke stood up and headed to the door.

“I hope you’ll make the right choice,” he said at last, and then disappeared behind the door, leaving Levi alone.

***

Another week passed, and all the main forces of their army were brought in to the capital. The brass looked at the young, but worn-out faces, at the once strong bodies that were now claimed by exhaustion and traumas, and realized – they had no army.

Their unwinnable, perfect soldiers, the elite of elites, they were too few of them. A lot had died far away from their motherland, conquering countries at the other side of the world, while the others fell victims to stray bullets and bombshells which left them broken and unable to fight.

And the military of indestructible Empire realized – they were going to lose this war.

***

Levi came home that evening, and found his mother behind a weasel, painting a tree branch that was visible from their window.

“I’m home,” he announced for his mother was too occupied with her work to notice his arrival.

At the sound of his voice, she turned around, and the brilliant smile on her lips was enough to calm his raging heart.

“You picked up art again?” he asked, as he approached her and laid a hand on her shoulder.

“I felt a sudden feat of inspiration,” she said, her voice like a sweet melody. “Although, I’m afraid my skills got a bit rough…”

“It’s beautiful,” Levi assured. “Did you eat dinner already?”

“Oh no,” her eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth. “I forgot to make it.”

“I’ll cook something for us, don’t worry. I’ll call you when it’s ready, you can continue painting.”

“Such a sweet boy,” she shook her head, lifting a brush and dipping it in a green paint. “How are things at work?”

Their second base, this one much closer to the capital was destroyed.

The situation was as bad as it could possibly be. Eldian forces were making rapid progress, and no one knew what to do to stop the invasion. They didn't have enough men to defend themselves, and, to make matters worse, they were yet to actually see the Eldian soldiers. The devils from Paradise remained hidden, striking from the shadows.

Zeke had departed from the capital, going to the closest army base to train the new recruits. Most of the Marleyan brass followed after him - Greeves had left too, and Levi suspected that it was the reason for his mother's good mood. They claimed they wanted to overlook the trainings, but Levi knew better - in case of the attack on the capital, they were hoping to wait it out in the safety of base's bunkers.

Zeke had left, but he sent Levi letters every day, asking on his progress with Hange. And every day, Levi had to come up with another lie to explain to him the absence of results.

So no, things at work weren't going that good, but then Levi remembered a smile that bloomed on Hange's face as he told her about the accomplishments of her soldiers, and he said.

"The work? It's going fine."

***

In a desperate attempt to showcase their superiority, to prove to the whole world that they're still the same indestructible Marley, the government decided to throw a parade.

The soldiers were rehearsing for days at end, perfecting their matching technique.

The sound of their tramps boomed through the main courtyard and reverberated through the stone walls of the army headquarters, as military officials and army engineers ran around, preparing the best and most advanced weaponry to show everyone their might.

During a day like this Levi led Hange out of her cell.

She walked through the hallways with a spring in her step and her hands dangling from side to side. For a tortured prisoner, she looked far too cheerful.

"Are you leading me to the gallows?" she asked in a playful singing voice.

Levi swept his gaze across her form, something coming alive inside him at the sight of her looking so joyful. "Unfortunately, no."

"Hm.” Hange nodded, narrowing her eye. “And what about the handcuffs?" she raised her free wrists. "Where are they? Am I not supposed to be an important and dangerous prisoner?"

"Are you going to run away, four-eyes?" Levi looked at her, a spark of amusement lightening his bored expression.

"I could try," she challenged.

"You could," Levi agreed. "And you wouldn't take more than two steps before I catch you."

"I could take you by surprise..."

"And you're saying this to prepare me for that surprise?"

Hange's bravado disappeared without a trace. "Damn your perceptiveness..." she muttered with a slight pout.

"So where are you taking me?" she repeated her question.

"To the bathroom."

"Eh?" a look of confusion settled over her face. "Is this a new method of torture?"

"No. I'm just sick of your smell. You reek worse than a pig, four-eyes."

"Ah, your clean freaky tendencies,” she snickered. “Of course, how could I forget."

“Take your clothes off,” he instructed once they were inside a brightly lit room with a bathtub standing at the center of it.

“I see you already prepared the water…” she murmured, approaching the tub and dipping her fingers in it. “And it’s still warm!”

“Don’t waste any more time then. Get inside, four-eyes.”

“Wait,” Hange sat at the edge of the tub and eyed him suspiciously. “You’re going to stay in the room with me?”

“You’re an important and dangerous prisoner,” he used her words from before. “Can’t exactly leave you here all alone, can I?”

“Or you just can’t resist my sexy and curvy body…” she whispered with a smirk on her lips.

“Start cleaning yourself,” Levi hastily turned around, hiding his blush. “Or I’ll do it myself.”

“Oh, will you be rough?” her sultry, sulky voice was quiet, but enticing. Levi hated the fact that it made his heart beat faster. “Will you manhandle me? Make me submit to your commands?”

“For fuck’s sake!” he growled, his ears and cheeks burning. “Just shut up and take a damn bath!”

“You’re no fun…” he heard her mumble. A moment later, he heard another sound, the one that made him exhale in relief – a sound of splashing water that signaled that Hange finally got inside the bathtub.

Levi tuned out everything else after that and stared out of the window, watching the soldiers march – one foot, then another, left and right, left and right, each move precise and controlled.

“So they’re organizing a parade,” Hange said. “Marley really doesn’t care that Paradise can attack at any moment?”

“On the contrary,” Levi disagreed. “Your guys got army higher-ups terrified as ever.”

“So this parade…”

“Is meant to show the other countries that we’re still as strong as ever, and ensure our own people that we got everything under control.”

“Not bad,” Hange hummed. “When people in Paradise start to doubt the government, they just start throwing shit at us.”

Despite himself, Levi chuckled. “Literally or figuratively?”

“Depends on how much we fucked up.”

“Paradise sounds more and more like my kind of country…” he mused quietly.

“I told you already,” Hange said, and without even looking at her, Levi could see the proud smirk on her face. “We could use your skills.”

“Are you trying to recruit me again, Commander?”

“It depends – is it working?”

Yes, Levi wanted to say. In the end, he said nothing.

“Hey,” she called. “Help me wash my hair, please.”

Levi wordlessly complied. He stood behind her back, his gaze involuntarily darting to the myriad of scars on her shoulder blades. He wondered about the story behind them. Without thinking, he reached out and traced the outline of one blemish, the one that ran along her spine.

“I have a lot of time to think nowadays,” Hange began, snapping Levi out of his reverie. He pulled his hand away, as fast as he could. The warmth from her skin lingered at his fingertips, making him wish to savor it for as long as possible. Ignoring the pleasant feeling, he pushed her down, wetting her hair. Then, when Hange reemerged, he squeezed shampoo onto his hands and buried them into her brown locks, gently carding through her hair. “I know it’s a bit stupid, and I know you most probably will laugh at me, or call me crazy, but… I thought if things were different, if—”

“If I wasn’t me, and you weren’t you?” Levi prompted, his voice hollow. He thought about the same thing.

“Yes,” Hange gave a slight nod. “If we had met under different circumstances, could we become… friends?”

Friends. What a weird word, what a constellation of different, but equally warm feelings. Affection, trust and care… They meant nothing to him. In all the years he was living in this world, he never really had anyone who could fit that description. He had colleagues, had brothers in arms, had his family… but a friend? He wasn’t familiar with that concept.

But if he was, Hange Zoe would probably fit that description to a tee.

If only things were different…

“Close your eyes,” he ordered, ignoring her question as though it had never been asked. “It’s time to rinse your hair.”

“Thank you,” Hange said, when she was finished with a bath and put on the fresh clothes Levi had brought her. It was his own, the white shirt was too wide for Hange in the shoulders and a little short in the sleeve’s area. She should have noticed, she probably had. She didn’t comment on it. “The bath was nice.”

She lowered her head after that, refusing to meet his eyes.

Even so, Levi nodded. “Let’s get back then. Your wounds need redressing.”

Hange followed him without another word. As he led her back, one thought repeated itself over and over in his head.

If only things were different…

***

The parade was fast approaching. And with that, came a spread of a rumor amongst high ranking officers that the attack was going to happen during the festivities. It was based on nothing, a little less than a stupid superstition.

Still, the atmosphere at the capital was becoming tenser and tenser with each passing day.

Zeke had come back along with other members of military, disappointed in Levi and desperate to get at least something out of unyielding Commander, something they could use to protect themselves before it was too late.

The absence of time was working in Levi's favor. Zeke couldn't spare even a second on him, otherwise he'd surely investigate the suspicious lack of any results.

Levi too had his fair share of reasons for anxieties. He couldn't leave the capital, his absence would be noticed immediately and punished severally, but he wasn't so keen to escape. He was ready to stand with other soldiers and do his best to protect his homeland, but his mother... His mother was another matter completely. He couldn't leave her in the city, even if Hange's people weren't quite as cruel, a fallen building or one particularly bloodthirsty soldier could become a reason for his mother's demise.

He couldn't let it happen.

So in the middle of the night, three days before the parade, Levi paid a visit to an old acquaintance.

Uri Reiss, the biggest adversary against Marley's imperial tendencies, the leader of a once influential political party and the sole reason of Kenny's early and shameful loss of a life, was now in the hiding, living the last days of his glory in the slumps at the edge of the city.

When Levi came, he was sitting in front of a fire with his legs folded underneath him, surrounded by a group of people.

Levi briefly wondered if that were his new followers. Looks like the bastard had lost everything, except his charm, he thought bitterly.

Uri looked bad, old and weary, he was a far cry from the charismatic and sharp man his uncle had decided to follow all those years ago. He was wearing baggy, dirty clothes that were patched up too many times. The only part of his garb that still seemed clean, the only thing he obviously took great care of, was a hat he was wearing on his head.

Kenny's hat, Levi realized after a second of staring at it.

Even after all those ten years that passed since Kenny's death, Levi still remembered that hat.

Remembered how easy it was to find his uncle in the crowd of people because of it. Remembered the texture, the feeling of it in his hands from those rare moments, when Kenny put it on his head.

Of course, he left it to that bastard. Gave it away, easily just like his life.

The mere thought of Kenny evoked a sense of deep, forgotten rage in Levi. The mere sight of his friend, the damned Uri Reiss that condemned their whole family with his naive beliefs, was enough to make Levi fume with anger.

"Levi," Uri squinted, looking at him. "Is that really you? What are you doing here?"

He stepped closer, the shadows from the fire that Uri and his friends were sitting around dancing across his face. "I came to collect my debt."

"Your debt?"

"Yes," he nodded. "You promised Kenny, I know you did, he told me so himself. In exchange for his life, you promised that in time of need, you'll help me and my mother."

"I hope you understand that my hands are quite tied, and I don't have the influence I once possessed," Uri tilted his head, his abnormally bright eyes studying Levi. Despite his old age, despite his current state, his eyes remained the same. The same wit and wisdom Kenny couldn't resist, they were still there. "So what do you want?"

"I'm not going to ask for much," Levi assured him. "I just need you to take my mother out of the city, as far away as you can manage."

"Ah, beautiful Kuchel," Uri shook his head, a wistful smile playing on his thin lips. "Kenny had a soft spot for her too. For both of you, you were the only thing he cared about..."

"And yet he gave his life for your cause," Levi growled, his hands squeezing into fists. “And left us to deal with consequences."

He always hated Uri, hated how much influence he had over Kenny. Hated how in the end, Kenny chose him, and not them, his family.

"Will you do this or not?"

"I—" Uri faltered for a second, something changing in the depth of his eyes. "Of course, I'll help you, Levi. In three days, I'll send one of my men to fetch Kuchel from your apartment. They'll bring her to a safe place, you have my word."

"Good," Levi turned around, unable to look at the bastard any longer.

"And you, Levi?" Uri called after him. "Don't you wish to leave too?"

"No," he answered, his gaze determined. "I'll stay here. Until the end."

***

Convincing his mother to leave proved to be a tougher challenge than Levi had expected. But in the end, after swearing to her that he would join her very soon, he was able to persuade her to start packing her things.

And that's how he spent the remaining three days - helping his mother and keeping Hange company. As though sensing the approach of her soldiers, she became much livelier. She talked about them a lot - gushing over her subordinates as if they were her own children.

Levi shared small bits about his life as well - briefly reminiscing about the time when Kenny was still alive, still with them and they were a small, but tight and loving family.

In moments like these, he couldn't get her words out of his head.

if we had met under different circumstances, could we become… friends?

In moments like these, he felt as though they already were.

***

Three days later, Levi was in a hurry.

He glanced at his pocket watch - it showed seven o'clock - and started running. He left his office and headed outside, passing dozens of people who were in the same state of haste as he was. The parade was starting in just an hour, civilians already started to gather at the main plaza, and everyone was busy with the last preparations. And Levi was in a rush to get home.

The pointer of his pocket watch showed that it was almost a quarter after seven and Levi squeezed himself in-between the large, tight crowd, desperate to get home.

If he was fast enough, she'd still be there. If he was fast enough, he could say a proper goodbye to his mother.

Panting and heaving, he all but tumbled into his apartment. Instantly— the smell of chamomile and lavender tickled his nostrils.

Levi relaxed, she was still here. He kicked off his shoes and walked inside.

He headed to the kitchen and froze a few steps short from it. With heart in his throat, his eyes slowly traced the trail of blood on the floor.

His mother— she wasn't there. Not anymore.

"That's what whores get for trying to escape."

Levi's head snapped to the sound of voice, that voice.

Greeves had walked out of the bathroom, the still bloodied knife in his hands.

Levi was at him in an instant.

He didn't think, he didn't feel as he had wretched the knife out of his hands and threw it away.

He glanced back, at the body of his mother. He saw the steely look in her eyes, a mask of suffering etched forever on her beautiful face.

He turned back to Greeves, and he hit.

His first blow broke his nose. Greeves hollered, and somewhere outside, a distance away from the little apartment in the center of the city, the fireworks started. Or, maybe, the defining explosion wasn't caused by fireworks, as the screams that followed were terrified, not excited, but Levi did not care enough to pay attention to it.

He hit Greeves again and again, and then again. His knuckles started to ache, but he didn't stop. Greeves fell to the ground and he didn't stop, just paused long enough to get on top of him. He stroke blow after blow, hit his face again and again, until there was nothing left.

Only then, he had stopped.

With his legs shaking and hands trembling, he stood up and approached the prone body of his mother.

He picked her up - as gently as he could with the hands that were made for war, with the hands that were covered in blood of her murderer - and brought her to her room, placing her on the bed.

He fixed her hair, wiped the blood from her face and pressed a kiss to her forehead, mimicking a gesture he had received from her so often.

Now that the fog that had taken over his mind was gone, Levi was more aware of his surroundings. Now he was able to understand what was going on outside.

It wasn't the sound of fireworks, those weren't the scream of triumph.

As a loyal soldier of Marleyan Empire, he knew all too well the sound of a thunder spear explosion.

The deadly invention of Commander Hange Zoe.

The city wasn't going to hold out for much longer. That meant he was still in a hurry. There was still an unfinished business he had to take care of.

***

All hell had broken loose, when Levi walked outside. The streets around him were ablaze with fire, from all sides all he could hear was explosions, cries and wallows.

The worst of the fighting was done on the main plaza. A downpour of bullets rained down all around him, as two sides desperately fought to achieve victory.

His blindingly white military coat was making him an easy target and wordlessly told everyone which side he was on. So Levi shook it off and made the rest of the way, running from cover to cover, wearing only his thin shirt.

Because, apparently, the universe had its fill of miseries for him already, he was able to get to the entrance of army headquarters relatively unharmed.

Once he stepped inside, Levi had to pause and survey his surroundings. After all the chaos outside, the familiar hallways seemed almost unnaturally quiet.

It was unexpectedly empty too, although Levi was sure it won’t last for long.

Without wasting another moment, he headed to the dungeons. The lone guard that still stood there, protecting god knows what, at the sight of Levi raised his arm in salute.

“Captain Ackerman!” he shouted with no small amount of relief. “We were looking for you, General Yeager needs you—”

The words slowly died on his throat, as he took a better look at Levi’s face.

“Captain?” the guard asked cautiously. “Your face… Did you already engage in a fight? Are you hurt?”

“Get lost,” Levi growled, pushing past him. “Go and hide somewhere, wait until the fighting is over. Don’t throw away your life for this country,” his face changed, a shadow passing through it. “It’s not worth it.”

Without another glance at the soldier, Levi opened the large metal door and walked in.

She must be still here. Thankfully, she was.

***

In the silence of the dungeons, the sound of a key turning and the lock opening was loud like a gunshot.

It had Hange bolting up from her place at the bed.

“Levi!” she exclaimed, relief and happiness mixing in her voice.

“Get out.” He rasped, hollow and lifeless.

“Levi?” she approached him, cautiously, like a cornered, wounded animal. “What—”

“Get out!” he yelled. “While you still can.”

The thundering noise of heavy footsteps sounded up above them. The soldier, guarding the entrance, had probably reported to someone the news about his arrival. That, or they have already found the body in his apartment.

Either way, he was already done for. After murdering a war general, there was only one way for him to go.

And he’d rather get hanged, knowing that he did at least one good thing in his life.

The irony of it all was laughable. Always praised for his loyalty and obedience, he ended up as a traitor.

Like uncle, like nephew.

“Levi, what happened?” Hange stood right in front of him, so close he could feel her breath on his cheek. She watched him, her eye shining with worry. “There’s blood on your face…”

“Not mine,” he answered, staring at the wall behind her shoulder with glassy, distant gaze.

“Thank gods…” she muttered, cradling his face in her hands. Using the sleeve of her shirt, she did her best to wipe the blood from his cheeks and jaw.

Levi didn’t look at her even once.

“Hey…” Hange tried again, moving even closer, her thumb absentmindedly brushing his cheekbone. “Levi, talk to me, please. What happened?”

“Go,” he wanted to push her away, but Hange didn’t sway, a look of stubborn determination taking over her features.

“I won’t go anywhere, until you tell me what happened.”

The footsteps became louder, soon they would reach the dungeon. He needed to get rid of Hange before that happens.

“My mother…” he whispered, shutting his eyes close. The mere memory of her body lying in a pool of her own blood brought him an immense amount of pain. It felt like someone had stuck a knife in his chest and turned it, it felt like someone had ripped his heart out.

“Oh, Levi,” Hange wrapped herself around him, burying her nose in his shoulder. “I’m so sorry. Who did that? Was it—”

“No,” he shook his head. “She was killed by Marleyan. And I killed him.”

“That won’t go unpunished,” Hange carefully said, still holding him in her arms.

“I know. And I don’t care.”

“I do,” she said suddenly, the fierceness of her voice surprising Levi. “Go with me.”

“What?” Levi took a step back, staring at Hange with wide eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“There is nothing keeping you here. And if you stay, they’ll put you in prison or worse. Run away with me, Levi.”

Her offer… was unexpected. He thought his life was already over, made his peace with that, but what Hange proposed… it didn’t sound that bad, not as bad as dying alone, at least.

If he accepted, he’d be able to find a purpose again. He’d finally get a friend.

He looked up at Hange. She was staring back at him, waiting for his answer. The footsteps up above stopped, and the voices appeared, Levi instantly recognized Zeke and Floch. They were close, possibly just behind the door.

Levi knew another way out, a hidden exit almost no one knew about. Hange could use it to escape, but she didn’t have much time.

Nevertheless, she didn’t falter. She didn’t glance back, didn’t fidget or sweat or tremble.

A force to be reckoned with, Levi remembered his own words.

“All this talk of running away…” he lifted his lips in a shadow of a smile. “Do you wish to recruit me so bad, Commander?”

“I told you, we could use your skills,” Hange answered, a smile breaking on her face as well. “So… are you interested in my offer?”

He reached out, grasped her hand in his and answered.

“I am.”

#just so you know this whole thing was created out of idea 'hey wouldn't levi look super hot in marleyan uniform?'#so you can imagine it's not super coherent #levihan #levihan fanfiction

244 notes · View notes

watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

Text

VALERIE - Part V. (Harry Styles)

happy sunday loves!! part 5 is here, buckle up bc we are getting down to business here!! thank you so much for the nice feedbacks, it’s always so moving and inspiring to read your thoughts, so please keep them coming! even if it’s just some gibberish rambling, those are the best haha! now let’s jump right into part 5, we are heading into the christmas mood and im so excited for yall to read this part!! enjoy!

word count: 6.1k

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

By the time November nears its end you officially become a couple with Marcus. It happens gradually, two more dates follow your first one, and then on the third one you agree to test the waters of the possibilities between the two of you exclusively.

Marcus is a great guy. He is funny, caring and smart, always listens to you and cares for even the smallest details about you when you’re talking. He is great company and never fails to make you feel appreciated and wanted. Exactly what you’ve been looking for in a guy, Rosa really hit the nail on the head this time.

You easily fall into a habit with him. Fridays are for date nights, sometimes you go for little trips outside the city on Sundays and he never misses a chance to send you flowers throughout the week. He is just the type of guy that’s always there to cheer you up with something whenever the days start to weigh down on your shoulders.

You even have dinner together with Rosa and Steven one Saturday evening, Rosa keeps giving you those ‘I told you so’ eyes whenever Marcus kisses you shortly or places his hand to your waist. You mostly just roll your eyes at her, not wanting to make a big deal out of the two of you, but Rosa knows how long you’ve been trying to find someone.

What’s a surprising turn is that you start seeing Harry more. Intentionally. You have no idea how it happens, but it does and you’re not mad about it. Some days you grab lunch together whenever he is in the neighborhood, some days you go shopping with him when his sister doesn’t have the time. Harry is a problematic shopper, he takes a long time to decide on clothes so usually you are the one that forces him to choose and finish before all shops close.

When he has had a rough week and you happened to call him for whatever reason, the two of you agree to meet up for drinks at his place, then end up playing UNO for hours, slowly emptying out two bottles of wine.

It’s starting to get harder to imagine what it was like when things weren’t like this with him. When you were getting anxiety from just the thought of seeing him or having to talk to him. It’s like the both of you are showing a different version of yourselves to each other and you have to admit you enjoy being friends with him.

He keeps his habit of teasing you and making jokes about you though, but you don’t mind it. He is not doing it in a mean way with the attempt to piss you off, but to make you laugh and start a playful war where you both throw insults at each other until one of you runs out of it and just starts laughing. You feel a kind of dynamic building between you and him that has a way better effect on you than the continuous killing you were doing before.

You can tell Rosa is thankful for the change as well. Whenever she sees you interact with Harry without making a grimace or have that face that screams how badly you want to hit him, she is relieved that she has one less thing to worry about and Valerie will have two amazing godparents who even like each other.

Christmas is always a big parade in your family. Your mom and your aunts always want to celebrate together so in the past few years it has become a tradition to rent a place out that has enough space for the whole extended family and spend three days there from the 23rd to the 25th. This year your dad found a huge cabin in the woods with ten bedrooms and seven bathrooms, just the perfect size for you all. It’s gonna be your parents, Rosa and Steven with Valerie, Aunt Monica, Aunt Teresa with Uncle Andrew, your cousin Etta, her husband Joe and their two kids, your other cousin Lily with her husband Jeremy and their daughter, and lastly you and Harry. Though your mom urged you to invite Marcus along as well, he could join you for longer than a dinner, since he was already set to fly home to his family.

“You sure he can’t stay for at least the first night?” you mom asks on the phone one evening. You’re stirring the sauce in the pan. holding the phone to your ear with your shoulder so you have both of your hands free.

“Yes, I’m sure. It’s fine, he can come for dinner and then leave later.”

“I get it, but it would have been fun if he stayed,” she sighs, clearly disappointed that she couldn’t change what’s already set. If you’re being honest you don’t mind that Marcus is not staying for the night. You haven’t been dating for that long, you feel like it would be a little uncomfortable to have him there the whole time. A dinner is perfectly fine as a starter, since he hasn’t met anyone else from your family other than Rosa and Steven.

“Anyway,” she sighs moving on, “Have you figured it out how you’re gonna get there?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’ll tag along with someone.”

“Well, I think you should ask Harry. Everyone else is pretty packed already. Rosa and Steven won’t have any extra space with Valerie this year.”

You nod, even though she can’t see you. These past years Rosa always offered you a ride for the holidays, but even when they brought her over for just one night their car was jam-packed. No way you’re gonna fit in there so you are left with Harry since Marcus can only come in the afternoon.

“Sure, I’ll ask him.”

You shoot him a text that day and he replies right away that you’re welcomed in his car, though he won’t be able to take you back since he is leaving early in the morning on the 25th since he is flying back to the UK to his family. It’s fine, you think, you’ll just probably just tag along with aunt Monica back to the city, she always gets her a car for these occasions. Though it’s not your ideal option, she is not the best partner for rides, because she is a fan of smoking in the car, but you don’t have much of a choice.

“I’ll call you when I leave, okay?” Marcus tells you on the morning of the 23rd. It’s early, barely seven, but he is up because he needs to work a little today and you are finishing up packing since Harry will be here in an hour to pick you up.

“Sure. Drive safe,” you huff sitting on the edge of the bed, staring down at your suitcase that’s still not closed, clothes are sticking out on the side and you’re sure you’ll have to sit on it to pull the zipper.

“See you later,” Marcus says before you end the call.

It’s rather comical how you try to close the suitcase but you only care about the fact that you eventually succeed. Only minutes before eight you are packed and ready so when you get Harry’s text that he is outside you can leave right away.

Seeing you with your big suitcase he hops out of the car and rushes to help you.

“How long are you planning to stay, Y/N?” he chuckles lifting the bag up and you just shrug your shoulders with a smirk. You’ve alway been a heavy packer, no need to try to cover it up.

Harry throws your stuff into the back of the car as you take the passenger seat. His phone is hooked to the car, a playlist of his own playing gently through the speakers and you’re surprised to catch on the Christmas feeling in the songs.

“Are you in the spirit?” you ask when he gets into the car.

“Like to set the mood ahead,” he chuckles starting the car and off you go.

Ridiculous to think about it, but it’s actually the first time you sit in the same car with Harry or see him drive even. The way you two used to be was not quite ideal to have you locked up in such a small place as a car. But now you have nothing against spending the almost hour long drive with him.

“Can you pull out the navigation when I leave the highway? I’m not sure where exactly I need to head,” he asks you, eyes fixed on the road ahead of him and nodding you open the app on your phone so his can keep on playing the music without the voice of the navigation interrupting it.

“Excited to spend your first Christmas with us?” you ask. Though Harry was there at several family events, it’s his first Christmas since becoming Valerie’s godfather.

“I am,” he chuckles, nodding, hands gripping the wheel gently. He is a natural driver, easily working the car, the kind you feel completely safe next to. As Baby It’s Cold Outside comes on a smile stretches across your lips as you start gently bop your head to the song. “I’ve heard crazy stuff about Christmases at your family,” he adds glancing in your way for a second.

“Like what?”

“I remember when Steven told me about his first Christmas with your family. You remember that?”

Searching in your memories you tried to remember when was the first time Rosa brought Steven along. They dated for two years before they got married so it’s been about five years since then, but as you think hard the memory of that specific year pops into your head making you laugh as you nod.

“Oh, yes. The year Aunt Monica almost burned the Airbnb down,” you sigh grinning at the memory. She brought some special kind of cigars that year that were told to be curiosities from somewhere fancy, but they ended up the literal worst quality, flaming bits were falling out them all the time when she would smoke one, almost making the rug catch on fire wherever she went. Best thing is that she was already drunk on the liquor so she didn’t even notice, there was always a person on Aunt Monica duty, following her around, making sure nothing burnt down.

“Steven said he had a moment when he thought about bailing,” Harry tells you and you gasp, because that’s new information.

“Really?”

“Yeah, but like only for a split second after your dad walked in on him naked in the bathroom. That was kind of the last straw. Luckily Rosa could convince him to stay. Guess it all worked out at the end.” Harry smiles as he stares ahead of him.

You can’t imagine a version where Rosa and Steven don’t end up together. They met through a mutual friend not long after Rosa had a nasty breakup with her scumbag ex. Steven was there to put her back together and be her partner as she found herself again. The change and positive impact he had on her could be seen every day and you were so thankful to him for helping your sister find her way out of such a dark place in her life. It didn’t take them too long to start dating and he proposed a little more than a year later. You still remember how Rosa was screaming in the phone when she called you that evening telling you that Steven proposed. They are quite literally a match made in heaven. It’s been your goal in life to find this person in your life though you haven’t had much luck with men so far. Ironically, if you were in a room with every man you were ever involved with in any kind of way, Harry would be the only one you’d want to talk with. If you had to make this exact same choice just months ago you would have chosen to run out screaming.

“Maybe this year it’s your turn to get horrified from us,” you laugh, sinking down a little in your seat as you adjust the seat belt. You’re still quite far away from the cabin, you might as well make yourself comfortable.

“I think there’s not much that I haven’t witnessed yet. I was walked in on at the bathroom once too, but it was your cousin, Etta.”

“When did that happen?” you ask with a heartfelt laugh.

“I think it was last summer at one of your nieces’ birthday party. Luckily everything was already tucked away when she basically barged in.”

“She didn’t miss much,” you tease him with a smirk and your witty comment catches him by surprise.

“Are you saying my dick is not imposing enough to be worthy of peeking?” he asks with raised eyebrows and you’re happy he is driving. His intimidating look would already burn right into your skin by now, but he is forced to watch the road instead.

“I mean, if you want to put it that way…” you continue, but a laugh escapes your lips.

“Take that back, Y/N,” he orders, sneaking a hard look at you before turning back ahead, but you can see the small smile hiding on his lips.

“Or what?”

“Or you might find yourself in a war you don’t want to be involved in,” he warns you, but his words don’t quite have the effect on you he wanted. Because in a heartbeat you find yourself feeling… excited? Thrilled? Even curious about his means behind his words.

“Wouldn’t want to lie, so…” Pretending like you’re sorry you shrug your shoulders as Harry gives you a look that makes your stomach churn. Now either you are gonna have some fun teasing each other or… you just threw yourself into the arms of the Devil himself. Either way, you’re certain Harry won’t leave it in that.

Turning your head to your window you can’t keep your smile contained as you think of the fact that how big of a lie it was. Harry is surely not a guy who should ever worry about any aspect of his manhood. You’re talking from experience.

***

The cabin is absolutely gorgeous, just the perfect place for a cozy family holiday. Hidden from the busy roads with a secure gate and tall trees on both sides, the back of it is facing a majestic view of the valley and the evergreen covered hill in the distance. With an interior straight from the pages of a magazine, you need just a few moments to adjust to your surroundings upon arriving.

“I saved a nice room for you, Harry!” your mother gushes the moment she sees the two of you walk through the front door. You huff in annoyance.

“And what about me?”

Harry chuckles giving you a smug grin. “Guess you’re just second after me.”

“It’s his first Christmas with us, he deserves the better room,” your mom shushes at you, making your eyes roll instantly. It’s still hard to believe Harry has this kind of charm over most people.

After greeting everyone who is already there, your dad, Aunt Teresa and Etta with her family, your mom walks the two of you down one of the hallways that leads to several bedrooms. She stops at the last door with an excited grin on her face as she opens it revealing the bedroom behind it.

You instantly understand why she thought this is the best one. The view is absolutely breathtaking, the gentle noon light is flowing into the room through the floor to ceiling windows, the king sized bed facing them so when you wake up in the morning the first thing you see is the endless sea of evergreens on the side of the hill. Not to mention the room has its own bathroom, not many of the other rooms are blessed with that. There’s a spacious shower that has enough space for at least three people in there and it’s one of those fancy ones that can make you feel like you’re having a shower in the middle of a jungle, mood lights and bluetooth speakers attached to it.

“No fucking way Harry is getting this room!” you gasp as you look around, taking in the luxure your mother is willing to hand over to him.

“Jealous, much?” he smirks, throwing his sports bag to the bed already ruining the neatly made sheets. He does not deserve this.

“Mom!” you huff turning to her, but she has made her mind up already.

“Your room is nice too, don’t worry Honey. Let Harry have this one!”

“I really can’t believe you are taking his side,” you grumble under your breath, folding your arms on your chest as you take one last look at the stunning view.

“Come on, Y/N. He is a guest!”

“He is not! You said it yourself he is family now!” you retort and Harry just laughs behind you, so you shoot him a murderous look over your shoulder, that just fuels his entertainment.

“Don’t be silly. Your room is the second one on the right from here,” she smiles at you. “We are gonna take a walk around once everyone arrives, so get settled by then!” she informs you before walking out.

“Hey,” Harry’s soft voice makes you turn around. “You can have the room if you want.”

Your eyebrows rise at the kind gesture, it’s very not like him, even now in your friendly state, so it’s quite odd that he is willing to switch rooms with you.

“No need,” you shake your head grabbing the handle of your suitcase that you abandoned at the door.

“You sure? It doesn’t matter where I’m sleeping, really.”

“I’m not gonna deal with my mother’s scolding if she finds out I took your room, so you can totally stay.”

Harry chuckles as you head out, but stop at the door to have one last word with him. “Though I might occupy your bathroom, that shower looks nice.”

“All yours,” he grins before you walk out.

***

By 11 am everyone arrives and the once quiet cabin is now buzzing from life, children running around, Valerie’s babbling shoots through the spacious living area where Rosa set her crib up, your mother is already making preparations for dinner while most of the men are circled around the pool table having a beer since no one has to drive for the rest of the day.

“When is Marcus arriving?” Rosa asks, eyes on Valerie who is absolutely destroying something that once were an elephant maybe, but she’s been ruthless with the poor animal, chewing and throwing it around all the time, so it’s not just a grey, fuzzy mess.

“Sometime before dinner. He has some work to finish,” you tell her pulling your legs under yourself on the comfy couch.

“And explain again, why isn’t he staying for the night?” she turns to you with a puzzled look.

“Because he is going home to his family early in the morning tomorrow.”

“Okay, but he could have just left from here, didn’t he?”

“It’s… complicated. It’s better if he just goes back home tonight and then leaves from there in the morning.”

What you leave out of the whole explanation is that you didn’t really invite him to stay the night as well. Sounds horrible and ridiculous but you didn’t think you’d have felt comfortable with him staying. You’ve been dating for only barely more than a month and though things are going well, you felt like starting with just a dinner would be a better idea. Marcus didn’t question why you didn’t offer him to stay, it seemed like he was fine with just coming and then going after dinner.

Does this make you a bad girlfriend? Maybe, but you value your comfort and feelings more than to ruin your favorite holiday with your family.

Just as you mom said, once everyone is settled in their rooms for the upcoming three days, the whole gang dresses up to have a walk around taking the welcoming little path that runs around the cabin and is smooth enough for Valerie’s carriage as well. Your nieces and nephew are quick to surround Harry and nag him to join them at the front, exploring the woods surrounding the path. It seems like he doesn’t mind it and gladly takes part in the adventure, also secretly looking after them so their parents can have a break and enjoy the stroll in hopes the walk tires the kids out enough that they’ll willingly go to bed in the evening instead of whining to stay up late.

You’re walking with Etta next to you as she tells you about Hannah’s latest dance competition when you spot that Harry and Oliver, your nephew, Etta’s other kid are suspiciously whispering around pointing in your direction. At last Olly nods and runs up to you showing a quite thick piece of wood into your hand. You look down at him confused.

“Thank you?” you tell him a little unsure what it’s all about.

“I found it in a bush, I want to take it home. Harry said you’ll keep it for me because you have a good hand for thick and hard sticks.”

You almost choke on your own breath, as Olly just carelessly runs back ahead to join his sister. You immediately look over to Etta in fear that she heard what Harry told Oliver, but luckily she was talking with Joe turning back, not really paying attention to the conversation you just had with her son. If she did, Harry probably wouldn’t live by now.

Speaking of the devil, you look in his way and that annoying, smug grin is right there as he nods in your way saluting before he shows his hands into his pockets and turns back around to catch up with the kids.

That disgusting piece of shit really went into the depth of teaching something secretly dirty to your nephew as a way of payback for your comment in the car earlier. He surely wasn't just joking when he said you’d pay for what you said. And you have a feeling he is just getting started.

***

Aunt Monica is like a legend in your family. She is the oldest between your mom and her sisters, already in her sixties, but in the heart she still feels like she has just turned twenty. She never married, but had several men in her life, love affairs, short flings, but none of them lasted for more than a year.

“Why would I settle when there’s so many fish in the sea?” she once told you, her iconic Chanel sunglasses sat on her nose as she sipped on her martini.

She has worked many jobs throughout her life, she was once a dancer, she waited tables and even worked as a TV host at one point in the ‘80s. She was the true free spirit of the family, her sisters often questioned her sanity, but you think there’s nothing wrong with how she lived her life, enjoying it to the last bit. In the early ‘90s she was seeing a millionaire, probably the only man she would have given her lifestyle up for. Unfortunately, they never married, the man passed away due to his heart problems, however, since he had little to zero family he left basically everything to Aunt Monica. Money, house, cars, business, everything. Being the smart woman that she is, she handed over the business into professional hands but she is still the owner, so the money is still flowing even though she could have lived happily on the money she inherited without ever having to work a day.

She seems a little odd in your family, but she has always been a loving aunt to you, a caring sister and she never fails to take care of her loved ones. She is the one to pay for all these Christmas getaways, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to stay in places this nice.

“What’s all the money for if I don’t spend it on my family?” she always says when someone questions if she is fine with paying for everything. Your mom and Teresa have tried to convince her to let them at least pay for part of it but she wouldn’t even listen to them.

She likes to have her own, sometimes odd ways in life. She definitely has a drinking problem, but not in a dangerous way. You have never seen her completely wasted, she just likes to keep things buzzing and always have a drink on her whenever she needs the extra fun. Because of her past she has the greatest stories about meeting famous people back in the days or how soldiers used to try to win her over when she was just a teenager.

“Oh, those things happened,” your mom told you when one day you questioned if you could believe all the crazy stories Aunt Monica tells you. “She was like… the star of the show. Used to hate living in her shadow, but I can’t blame her for enjoying life and doing the things I was too afraid to do myself.”

Now you’re sitting in the sunroom that faces the amazing view behind the cabin, the Christmas tree is standing tall in the corner, beautifully decorated in white and beige. Valerie is snuggled up to your chest as you gently rub her back and you listen to Aunt Monica tell you about how a literal captain once proposed to her after just three days of knowing each other.

“He was a gentleman, but a beast in the bed, Y/N. I’m telling you, men in uniform are just a different level of satisfaction.”

She sighs deep, taking a sip from her margarita that’s definitely not her first drink, and you just laugh nodding.

“He was begging for me to go to Italy with him.”

“And why didn’t you?”

“Who said I didn’t?” she asks with a pretentious hurt look turning to you and you just laugh. You should have known the story would go this way. “I accepted the offer, only turned down his proposal when we sailed off and then we parted as soon as I stepped onto the land of Italy. Broke his heart into pieces, but I was too busy enjoying the Italian summer.”

Harry comes in and hands you a bottle filled with juice that probably Rosa sent for Valerie.

“Thank you,” you smile at him shortly as you adjust the little girl in your arms and hand her the bottle.

“Young boy, have you ever proposed to someone?” Aunt Monica asks Harry who stops in his way as he was already about to head out, but now he walks back to the sofa where she is sitting.

“No, not yet,” he shakes his head.

“And how do you think you would if the time came?”

You watch Harry think to himself at the odd and quite random question. It’s not really something you would have ever asked him, but now that there’s the chance to hear his answer you are listening curiously.

“Depends on the woman I’m proposing to,” he replies after a few seconds.

“How would you propose to Y/N?”

Your eyes widen as you turn to your aunt with shock all over your face. You definitely didn’t want yourself dragged into this.

“Aunt Monica, that’s--”

“Shush! I’m just asking theoretically. Wanna hear his answer.”

Harry’s eyes wander over to your sitting figure on the sofa as he leans onto the back of the one in front of him. You can feel the heat crawling up on your neck to your cheeks under his burning look and you just know he enjoys how nervous you got from this simple question that wasn’t even asked from you.

Licking his lips he moves his eyes from you over to Aunt Monica who is still waiting for his answer.

“Something romantic, but not too grandiose, I know she doesn’t like being in the center of the attention that much. Maybe…” Tapping on his chin you listen to his words and without even realizing you hold your breath. “Maybe on a hike with a nice view. She would be admiring the view when I get down on one knee and as she turns around I pop the lid on the box.”

What bugs you is that it’s an awfully accurate description of how you’d imagined your proposal. He was right about many aspects, like how you don’t like being in the center of attention. No idea how he nailed so easily, but he did.

Glancing down you pretend to be busy with Valerie who is still peacefully drinking her juice, eyes wandering around the room relentlessly.

“So you really look to satisfy her deepest fantasies, careful about even the smallest details. Women appreciate it,” Aunt Monica nods, completely oblivious to how uncomfortable she just made you feel.

“Thank you, I do like to satisfy women,” Harry cheekily answers with a smirk, eyes locking with yours for a moment as Aunt Monica lets out a laugh at the dirty comment. Before you could bite your tongue a retort slips out of your mouth.

“What a shame you don’t always succeed.”

Harry’s eyes turn from playful to dark pretty quickly and you enjoy the victory over him. Your comment in the car earlier already wounded his manhood, now it’s another stab right into his… crotch. It’s the least he deserves after what he taught poor Olly.

“That I don’t believe. He seems like an absolute pleaser.” Aunt Monica winks in Harry’s way who just smiles at her shyly, but you can tell your comment is still bugging him.

“I think Y/N knows that too herself, am I right?” He tilts his head to the side and you stand your ground with holding his gaze and not looking away.

“Don’t be so sure about that,” you simply say, just when you hear your mom calling out for you. “Would you take her please?” you innocently ask walking up to Harry, holding Valerie out for him. You can tell he is looking for a witty comeback, but he has nothing just yet, so he is stuck with keeping his mouth shut as he takes baby Valerie from you. You gift him with a sweet, but definitely spikey smile before leaving him there with Aunt Monica.

***

Dinner is already almost ready, you’re helping your mom and Aunt Teresa in the kitchen with the finishing touches, Joe and Harry packing out the wine bottles from the rack Jeremy brought them in, the two of them examining the bottles with such professionalism you almost believe they have the slightest idea about what to look for in a good wine.

“Should we open some red or white ones for tonight’s dinner?” Joe asks your mom who is the master chef when it comes to the dinner.

“Red would suit better,” she answers. “Are they sweet?”

“Some, yeah,” Harry nods holding up a bottle and checking the label.

“Great. Monica loves that too,” Teresa chuckles as she adds some salt to the mashed potato.

“And Y/N too,” Harry adds, not even looking up, but he successfully attracts your mom’s attention with his comment.

“She does?” Harry looks up and sees your boiling anger plastered all over your face, so of course he chooses to take it further.

“Oh, yeah. She can drink like a gallon. Wine drunk Y/N is like a whole different person.”

“I told you so many times not to get drunk, Y/N. It’s not too ladylike. When was the last time you saw her drunk?”

“There were plenty of occasions,” Harry exaggerates and you could kill him right there. “Though last time it was the tequila that got her wildin’.”

That damned smirk of his is making your hands curl into fists and for a moment you tell yourself it’s okay to punch him in front of your mother even if she’ll probably disown you for such behavior.

“Y/N! I have told you a million times that you need to know where your limits lie!” she huffs shaking her head at you while you clench your jaw. Back at it with the lessons about getting drunk. She’ll never get over it, not even when you’ll be forty. Why does it matter to her so much? Sometimes she is the one to get you started, but then she gives you the dirtiest looks when you have one too many. She should just get used to it now.

“She surely likes to have fun when she has had a few drinks,” Harry continues smugly. “Remember how much fun you had at Rosa and Steven’s wedding?”

“Oh, God! I remember how drunk you were that evening, I could have killed you!” your mother growls and you roll your eyes at her.

“It wasn’t that bad. There were a lot more people who got way more wasted than me,” you try to defend yourself folding your arms on your chest.

“That doesn’t change that you were too,” she says with a hard look. Great, now she is mad at you for something that happened literally years ago. Kudos to Harry for ruining her mood.

“She wasn’t that bad,” Harry adds and you look in his way with suspicion. “She was a delight when it was time to get her to bed.”

Your mouth almost hangs open, but it seems like you’re the only one understanding what he really meant by that. Luckily, beside you and him, Rosa and Steven are the only people who knows what happened between you and Harry that night, so it’s no surprise no one else catches on the hint.

“You were the one who took her up to her room? Sorry if she was a burden,” your mother sighs and right at that moment you wish the floor would just open up and you could disappear forever. Harry’s satisfied grin is the evidence that he just won another round of this nasty war.

Just as you open your mouth to try and move the conversation to another field you see a pair of headlights pull up to the driveway. Everyone turns to the window as Marcus’ car parks down last in the line. As you step away from the counter you see the confusion in Harry’s eyes about the new guest.

“Oh, amazing! He is here!” your mom cheers, seemingly instantly forgetting about how she was dragging you just a minute ago.

“Who’s here?” you hear Harry ask, but you’re already out of there, heading to the front door to greet Marcus.

Just as you walk out into the cold evening air you see him get out with a warm smile on his lips. You wait for him at the door, arms wrapped around yourself and as he reaches you he places a soft kiss to your lips.

“Hey, how was the drive?” you ask him.

“It was fine. I didn’t arrive too late, right?”

“No, we were just about to set the table. Come on in, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

He takes your hand in his as the two of you walk inside, all eyes immediately turning your way at the arrival of your boyfriend.

“Everyone, I want you all to meet my boyfriend, Marcus. He is staying for dinner.”

Your family members walk up to the two of you, shaking hands and introducing themselves to Marcus who smiles at everyone politely, trying his best to remember all the names and information that’s thrown at him all of a sudden. Everyone seems delighted to have him for dinner, the kids instantly make him promise he’ll play a card game with them after dinner and he happily says yes to the invitation.

You can tell your mom is proud that finally both of her daughters are spending Christmas with a man by their side and you’re almost certain your dad took a liking to Marcus the moment he mentioned he is into fishing.

Everyone seems excited and happy for Marcus, there’s just one face that doesn’t fit in the line of joyful smiles. Harry stands quite far from the two of you and only gets closer when he shakes hands with Marcus. His cocky grin is long gone from his face as he keeps his hard look on your boyfriend who is chatting with everyone. Standing next to Marcus, your hand still holding his, your eyes lock with Harry’s and there’s an unknown, burning feeling in your gut when his hard gaze holds yours. The sudden change and cold act gets you wondering what’s really going on in his mind. He is the first one to look away and you watch him walk into the kitchen and disappear from your sight before you force a smile on your lips and turn back to Marcus.

PREVIOUS PART

NEXT PART

TAGLIST

let me know if you’d like to be added or taken off!

@f-vasquezp @perspnhel @http-cherries @h-arrystyles @just-damn-bored @millennial-teenybopper @sarcasticallywitty15 @gwenlovesharrystyles @perfectywrong @do-youseeme @burberryharold @irwindoll

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles series #harry styles imagine #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles valerie #harry styles valerie series #valerie series

521 notes · View notes