you fuckers NEED to get on this bullshit its soo good. everyone read paradise lost NOW

ngl kinda curious what happens if mc gets shipped with one of the nobles more often than the kings instead?

You know the AO3 ship popularity chart? Let's say they did one of those for the "child of Solomon" fandom.

Mod Jjok: The most popular ship with Mc for this month is... Mc x Sitri! With over 20k words in the longest running fanfiction on the ship reaching peak popularity in the middle of the month!

Dantalian: Sitri? Isn't that his majesty Satan's blood bag?

Glasylabolas: It turns out he has a name.

Paimon: I think this must be mistakeeeeen. I just recently wrote in collaboration with Astaroth a 25k words fanfic about Mc x Satan

Eligos: Oh, I mass-reported that one. I would apologise about that, but demons can't lie

Paimon: You're so sillyyyyy

Paimon: You just lost cuteness session priveledgessss

Eligos: :'(

Eligos: It was for the greater good of Tartaros

Bimet: Very noble of you, Eligos

Dantalian: Bimet! You fucking bitch, where's my MC body pillow????

Eligos: @Dantalian please take this in private we don't vibe with this negative energy here

Dantalian: Speak for yourself, I vibe with it!

Gamigin: Guys, what happened????? I was asleep, it's like 5 AM in here.

Gamigin: HOLY FUCK

Gamigin: How did Sitri of all people win????

Paimon: I mean, he's not that baaaaaaad

Gamigin: 20k words isn't even that long! How?!

Gamigin: I think we all have to come together to break the two up

Gamigin: Sitri is a common enemy and we shall stop him!

Dantalian: I'm sharpening my knife as we speak.

Gamigin: His Majesty Lucifer said I'm not allowed to leave Paradise Lost :'(

Dantalian: And?

Gamigin: And ... what?

Dantalian: He's not your dad! Even if he was, you don't have to listen to him. Do you think I listen to everything his majesty Asmodeus tells me to do? No. He may be my dad and my king, but I am in control of my own future.

Glasylabolas: Preach brother, preach

Gamigin: But I don't want to go against Lucifer's orders

Dantalian: Pussy

Glasylabolas: Pussy

Dantalian: First! Suck it old man!

Gamigin: Wait, doesn't Paimon live in the same country as Sitri?????

Gamigin: @Paimon, dearest, could you please kill Sitri for us? At least tranquillise him or something. Make sure he doesn't move anymore.

Paimon: I'm not murdering Sitri over thisssss

Paimon: I'll just ask him if it's true he's dating Mccccc

Dantalian: I think we should vote on Sitri's fate

Glasylabolas: Absolutely. I am for democracy.

Dantalian: Knife or gun death?

Glasylabolas: I prefere knife. Gun's make everything messier. How am I supposed to get arroused by a pile of guts?

Dantalian: Ask Ronové or Phenix and they'll tell you

Dantalian: I once saw Ronové remove an angel's intenstines and fucking them

Eligos: That's why nobody wants to visit Abaddon.

Dantalian: In his defence, it was kind of hot

Glasylabolas: I can imagine

Glasylabolas: I should call Ronové again...

Dantalian: He charges for one night stands now cause Abaddon lost its health care recently

Gamigin: Yeah, Morax told me about how you started getting curious about his eye hole.

Dantalian: I don't even blame Ronové for that one. I'm also curious what happens if you cum down someone's eye socket.

Paimon: Ok guyssssss

Paimon: I talked with himmmm

Paimon: It turns out that he just had a lot of black tea recently and wrote 20k words in a dayyyyy

Paimon: And a lot of people read it because Asteroth recomended it on his bloggggg

Dantalian: ah, yeah, shipping

Dantalian: Asmodeus x Mc for the win

Eligos: In your dreams

Dantalian: Yes. I do dream about that often.

Dantalian: I don't even know why y'all care so much for Mc's sex life

Dantalian: Having sex with only one partner is boring

Gamigin: Keep your shitty opinions to yourself.

Dantalian: Only if you make me

Eligos: I'm going to mass report it

Gamigin: I already did <3

Sitri: All of you are so mean

[Mod Jjok stopped comments on this post]

Stumbled across your post on Carmilla and Cain from one of my favorite artist and just wanted to say that I loved that post incredibly!!

I loved the way you articulated the ability for free will to shatter heavens expectations! It had me thinking about free will in general so thank you for sharing that goodness!

Thank you! This analysis just came to me as a fun little observation, I wasn’t expecting it to gain so much traction. Free will is very thematically important to Hazbin Hotel, isn’t it? Lucifer believed in the good it could do, but accidentally created evil by giving it to humanity and fell for it. Since then he’s seen all the pain free will can cause and become embittered. Charlie, however, believes like he used to and fought for human souls passionately and selflessly enough to bring him back around. The Elder Angels who ordered the Exterminations and the Exorcists who carry them out seem to alternately hate and fear free will’s power, and by their indiscriminate condemnation of sinners as inherently irredeemable, not want to acknowledge it at all.

If the theory that Adam could live on as a sinner in Hell turns out to be true, I’d love to see his character and thoughts on his mortal family and free will explored, because he must have SO much baggage, which could explain (though not excuse) him being The Worst. An interesting detail in the backstory Charlie reads is that he’s never actually stated to eat the forbidden fruit. We see Eve take it, but not him. Maybe the reason that he’s in Heaven, but we never see or hear of Eve or their children in either afterlife, is that in this canon’s version of Genesis, he’s obedient and didn’t commit the original sin, only to be cast out anyway. Regardless of what exactly happens in Eden, he and Eve are forced to fend for themselves in the wilderness. Suddenly they need survival instincts. They can bleed and starve and get sick and loads of animals want to eat them. They have existential dread. Not to mention the marital tension. Why? Because the same angel who stole his first wife messed with his second one! As a result, people can sin. They can hurt each other. This allows Cain to invent murder on his brother. He’s then cursed to wander the Earth, eternally living with his guilt and grief. Oh, and where can dead souls live on now? Where might Abel be trapped forever? Hell, a dimension made of evil, everything bad about the new and degraded human experience taken to the ultimate extreme. You’ll never guess why it exists (Lucifer. It’s Lucifer again). So Adam loses two kids with one stone that was indirectly thrown by one fucking bird guy. Can you imagine how you would feel, having lived that life?

You would have issues. A lot of issues.

No wonder he scorns redemption so much. In his eyes, free will is synonymous with sin - with suffering. But thinking damned souls to be evil incarnate at least lets him take vengeance. It lets him feel the wrathful satisfaction of physically stabbing and hacking his way through representatives of the force that cost him paradise. Broke his family. Killed his child. Maybe he was a genuinely good person when he died. For the most part. Maybe stewing in all that unprocessed trauma while watching the horrors of human history unfold and being venerated and indulged in the perfect afterlife without any of his family changed him for the worse. If you can have a redemption arc in Hell, you can have a corruption arc in Heaven.

After all, Lucifer lost faith in humanity over time. But he has Charlie. Adam’s ‘daughters’ in Heaven are the Exorcists (he calls them “[his] girls” and names them, so he probably creates them), of which I bet Lute was the first. That’s a really twisted dynamic. Like, “From now on, my kids are killing people on MY terms”. Lute having parallels with Charlie makes her being the new main villain even better!

This got out of hand. What I mean to say is, the first human family and how they relate to the theme of free will have huge potential for exploration and development. And if Adam is reborn as a sinner, it would be precisely the Hazbin Hotel blend of heartbreaking and hilarious to have him reunite with Eve, Abel, Seth, etc. in Hell and they’re all like “What. The FUCK?” and his whole horrible personality just collapses in on itself.

                                         𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬

       from taylor swift’s 2022 album midnights.   feel free to change pronouns as needed!

001. lavender haze

“meet me at midnight.” “you don’t ever say too much.” “you don’t really read into my melancholia.” “i’ve been under scrutinty.” “you handle it beautifully.” “all this shit is new to me.” “i’m damned if i do.” “i’m damned if i do give a damn what people say.” “they keep asking me if i’m gonna be your bride.” “the only kinda girl they see is a one night or a wife.” “they’re bringing up my history.” “you weren’t even listening.” “get it off your chest.” “get it off my desk.”

002. maroon

“we were cleaning incense off your vinyl shelf.” “we lost track of time again.” “you were my closest friend.” “how’d we end up on the floor, anyway?” “i chose you.” “ain’t that the way shit always ends?” “i feel you, no matter what.” “i lost you.”

003. anti-hero

“i have this thing.” “i get older but just never wiser.” “all the people i’ve ghosted stand there in the room.” “i wake up screaming from dreaming.” “you got tired of my scheming.” “it’s me, i’m the problem.” “it must be exhausting.” “i’m a monster on the hill.” “one day i’ll watch as you’re leaving.” “i have this dream my daughter-in-law kills me for the money.” “she thinks i left them in the will.” “she’s laughing up at us from hell.” “everybody agrees.”

004. snow on the beach

“i saw flecks of what could’ve been lights.” “it might just have been you.” “life is emotionally abusive.” “time can’t stop me quite like you did.” “my flight was awful, thanks for asking.” “tonight feels impossible.” “to hide that would be so dishonest.”

005. you’re on your own kid

“summer went away.” “he’s gonna notice me.” “it’s okay, we’re the best of friends.” “i hear it in your voice.” “i waited ages to see you there.” “you never cared.” “you’re on your own, kid.” “i gave my blood, sweat, and tears for this.” “the jokes weren’t funny.” “i took the money.” “make the friendship bracelets.” “you’ve got no reason to be afraid.” “you can face this.”

006.  midnight rain

“he wanted it comfortable.” “i wanted that pain.” “it was paradise.” “i broke his heart cause he was nice.” “he was sunshine.” “i guess, sometimes we all get just what we wanted.” “he never thinks of me.”

007.  question...?

“i remember.” “i swear that it was something.” “one thing after another.” “fucking situations, circumstances, and miscommunications.” “i just may like some explanations.” “can i ask you a question?” “what did you do?” “did you leave her house in the middle of the night?” “oh...” “did you wish you’d put up more of a fight?” “do you wish you could still touch her?” “it’s just a question.” “you’re not sure, and i don’t know.”

008.  vigilante shit

“you did some bad things.” “i’m the worst of them.” “sometimes i wonder which one will be your last lie.” “they say looks can kill, and i might try.” “lately i’ve been dressing for revenge.” “i don’t start shit but i can tell you how it ends.” “don’t get sad, get even.” “she needed cold hard proof, so i gave her some.” “she looks so pretty.” “the lady simply had enough.”

009.  bejewled

“i think i’ve been a little too kind.” “putting someone first only works when you’re in their top five.” “by the way, i’m going out tonight.” “when i walk in the room i can still make the whole place shimmer.” “they ask ‘do you have a man?’“ “i don’t remember.” “i polish up real nice.” “i think i’ve been too good of a girl.” “i think it’s time to teach some lessons.” “i miss you.” “i miss you but i miss sparklin.” “some guy said my aura’s moonstone.” “you can try to change my mind.” “what’s a girl gonna do?”

010.  labyrinth

“it only hurts this much right now.” “breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out.” “i’ll be getting over you my whole life.” “you know how scared i am of elevators.” “it can’t last.” “uh oh.” “uh oh, i’m falling in love.” “oh no.” “oh no, i’m falling in love again.” “oh.” “oh, i’m falling in love.” “you know how much i hate that everybody just expects me to bounce back.”

011.  karma

“you’re talking shit for the hell of it.” “you’re terrified to look down.” “you wouldn’t know what i mean.” “karma’s a relaxing thought.” “i’m still here.”

012.  sweet nothing

“i spy with my little tired eye.” “we almost forgot it.” “they said the end is coming.” “everyone’s up to something.” “i find myself running home to your sweet nothings.” “you’re in the kitchen humming.” “this happens all the time.” “you should be doing more.” “i’m just too soft for all of it.”

013.  mastermind

“once upon a time...” “you and i ended up in the same room at the same time.” “i couldn’t lose.” “what if i told you none of it was accidental?” “the first night that you saw me nothing was gonna stop me.” “nothing was gonna stop me.” “what if i told you i’m a mastermind?” “no one wanted to play with me as a little kid.” “i’ve been scheming like a criminal ever since.” “this is the first time i’ve felt the need to confess.” “‘cause i care.” “i told you none of it was accidental.” “you knew the entire time.”

Ex’s and O’s | K.Bakugou

» Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader.

» Word count: 6.7K

» Genre: hurt/comfort, Smut MDNI, Prohero!au

» Summary: Its bad enough that you’re spending your ex-boyfriend’s birthday curled up in bed, wearing his merch, drinking away your sorrows, but what’s even worse is having your eardrums pierced by the blaring music upstairs at the party thrown just for him.

» Warning(s):  Smut 18+ MDNI please, hurt/comfort, mentions of alcohol, dubcon since reader is under the influence while getting dicked down, drunk sex, oral sex and fingering (female receiving, we getting fed tonight), one pussy slap lol, manipulation, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy)

» Author’s notes: Hello! aaaah I’m actually pretty excited about posting this fic! First of all, its Bakuhoe’s birthday! and what better way to honor it than to feed you all some good ol angst sprinkled in with some good dickin’ down. Its been years since I’ve written smut and I’m actually really fuckin proud of it, yet real nervous but I hope you enjoy! Secondly, this fic is a part of Bakugous Birthday Bash! I’m so excited to read everyone’s work, thank you everyone for holding this event and allowing my ass participate to create this with you all ♡ be sure to read everyone’s contributions, I know it’ll be more than amazing since everyone worked so hard!

Happy Birthday to our favorite King Explosion Murder♡♡

Lastly, I wanna thank everyone for their support and helping me reach 200 followers already! You guys are the cutest thing ever and I promise I’ll update more frequent the minute I’m out of uni late june fml, thank you @tteokdoroki for giggling with me when i wrote cock for the first time lol

» Masterlist | Requests

Rolling out of bed and flailing onto the floor as a start of your day ensures you that the following 24 hours will ultimately suck ass. Getting up and readying yourself for the day by looking through one of your cardboard boxes for your favorite Dynamight hoodie, the back of your mind keeps nagging you, trying to remind you of something buried deep in your subconsciousness, and you have half a heart to try and remember, because for some odd reason, you feel so fucking weary, as if the few steps from your bed to your bathroom are somehow now endless miles, almost making you breathe out in relief after finally reaching it.

And as you are making your coffee, that odd feeling keeps annoying you again, prodding at your brain to remember something, something. And ultimately, that's when your eyes fall to the counter. You knew this day was coming and you were dreading it for months, so as you look at the calendar on your kitchen counter, you frown, the quote of the day you always love reading so much long forgotten when your eyes fall on the date. 

“You’ve gotta be kiddin' me.” You mumble at the calendar on your counter hatefully with furrowed eyebrows, as if it would either reply or change its date, it doesn’t do either, and your lips curl downwards even further. As in immediate response, you pick up your phone, your coffee pot tossed aside as you dial the number of the only person you could think might help you right now.

“G’morning y/n -” you hear Kendo’s voice through your phone, and you honestly want to sob right then and there, but you hold yourself, barely and speak over her overly cheery voice first thing in the goddamn morning. “It's Kats- Bakugou’s birthday” you whimper at the slip up, being so used to the first name basis you were in with your now ex-boyfriend.

“Yeah, was kinda hoping you would’ve forgotten.” She sighs, tugging at her bangs and pulling back her phone to check the time. “Tell you what, I get off work in an hour, then I’m spending the day with you. I’ll get tequila, I know you love your shots.” 

“Ken, it's like 10 right now..” you can’t help but pout, having alcohol in your system as an escape to help you forget about the entire day still sounding better than the urge to cry and crawl into a hole, even if it's at the start of your day. “Y'know what? Get those gummy worms I like too.” “Bet.” you hang up with a sigh, moving back to the kitchen to sift through your bubble wrapped kitchen utensils, barely forcing yourself to prepare breakfast as to not have your liquor on an empty stomach.

You loathe the fact that you remembered his birthday, always reminded of him no matter how long ago since you’ve last seen him, being the center of the media’s attention for years as the number 6 hero in japan has its perks, well, in his case, but to you? Nothing but trouble and heartache as every channel you flip through plasters his face, whether it be about some big rescue mission he partook in or a new rumor about a potential lover to the explosive hero, followed by him almost attacking a reporter, yelling to them about ‘needing to mind yer goddamn business and keep my fuckin’ name outta your mouths’. Therefore, you opted long ago to stay away from the TV to avoid seeing him, his captivating rubies for eyes, covered by that goddamn mask you like to push up to his forehead, sweeping his bangs away and exposing his sweaty forehead that he bumps against yours as he makes love to you, still in his hero costume, all battered and dusty and so incredibly hot you have to- 

You grip your coffee mug tighter, almost to the point of breaking the handle off of it, placing it rather roughly onto the table before pushing your food away, appetite gone with the thought of whatever paradise you were thinking you were in before now long gone and never coming back, all because of you, of your action, of your mistake.

Kendo walks in with a bright smile on her face, as if her overly cheerful attitude will balance out the void you’re slowly but surely falling in. She shakes the bag of snacks in your face as you blink your eyes back into focus. Dragging your heavy feet across the floor to get to your kitchen to retrieve the shot glasses. Only kissing her cheek in thanks when you snatch away whatever it is she brought with her to lift your mood.

She eyes the boxes by your kitchen, the four placed haphazardly in your living room and the one you're using as a stool while filling your shot glasses, tongue sticking out to try and fill each one to the brim without spilling any on the new coffee table that she failed to notice before is still wrapped in bubble wrap that prevent any damage during the moving process.

“y/n…” you hum in response, a frown falling on your lips as the third glass spills a bit and the liquid pools on the plastic.

“Don't you think that you should’ve probably unpacked a while ago? Hasn't it been, what, five months?” 

“I didn't know you were gonna come here to harass me about my life choices, Kendo”

She flinches away, your tone venomous, almost feeling it as a slap to her face, before leaning in when she sees your eyes start to water.

“If I did, that just means it's true… that just means it happened, and I did the stupidest thing- you know what,” you wipe the few tears that managed to escape away with the sleeve of your sweater, looking down at the shots in front of you. “It, it doesn't matter anymore just- can I just drink and try to forget about how my life has gotten nothing but fucking worse since the day I left him?”

You questioned your worth that one time, that one time all those months ago. Thinking that by doing what you did and leaving, he’d drop everything and run behind you, chase after you and win you back, but he didn't, and as you sit surrounded by the evidence of how much of a failure you find out you are without him, you regret ever questioning it, ever questioning him. Because to you, living in denial was so much better than whatever hell this is.

So all you could think of is to just drown yourself in alcohol until your mind is too numb to think of the possibilities of how you could have avoided this, how you could’ve been a less of shitty person, and stop imagining how your life would be now if you just swallowed all your insecurities and just stayed. Despite the neglect, despite not being prioritized, because in some weird twisted way, those lies held you with warmth that you were never able to find after uncovering the ugly truth you’re living in right now. 

You lay on your living room floor, the alcohol swirling in your system and clouding your vision as you trace imaginary shapes in your ceiling, the voice of Kendo muffled as she rambles on and on about her day, the amount of outlaws she bitch slapped - a term she uses to get a laugh from you - and how she considers herself the unluckiest being in the whole world for having Monoma as a partner of all people, seriously contemplating who she should beat up first between him and the villains.

“Must be nice,” you voice, low and slow, scared of how Kendo would react to what you’re about to say, yet your intoxicated self unable to stop your mouth from uttering the words. “To have a purpose in life, to not be quirkless and lost like us.” your face twists in an ugly scowl at your ceiling, but mostly to yourself for putting a downer on whatever mood your friend is trying so hard to build, proven by the hitch of her breath before she enters your peripheral vision when she leans over you, all upside down and pouty.

“What’re you talki-” the shrill ringtone of her phone breaks you away from each other as she leaps to fetch it and silence the god forsaken thing by answering the call. “Battle Fist here, yes sir, I was partnered up with Phantom Thief for the patrol at area B, n-no sir I wasn’t informed.” Kendo breaths out in irritation, pinching the bridge of her nose as she starts tapping her feet aggressively on the floor, eyes falling onto yours when you look up at her all weary and sad, knowing what she would tell you once she hangs up. “That dumbass is gonna be the end of me I swear.” She crouches down to your level and kisses your forehead, promising to be back in the morning with hangover food, before she leaves and locks the door behind her. 

Now you’re left all alone, back aching from laying on the hardwood floor and eyes watering as you feel your loneliness eating you up inside, the god awful music thumbing loudly in your ears followed by the cheer of people as you-

Music?

You sit up abruptly, groaning at the dizziness of the swift movement as your hands fly to cover your ears, a failed attempt of ensuring your brain doesn’t begin to spill out from them, because of the loud voices, the bass shaking your entire fucking apartment by how strong it is, and you curse yourself for falling for the scheme the landlord pulled you in, paying half of the rent everyone did, just because you lived right below the penthouse that hosted the loudest parties in the area, 4 days out of the fucking week. 

The money hungry shameless bastard praised the apartment the minute it spiked your interest all those months ago, selling it so well you actually moved in the next week, anything to stop feeling like a burden to Kendo as you couch-surfed her apartment. Only to realize within that first week from your downstairs neighbors that he rents the penthouse to host parties of all sorts, and due to its location in the city, it was pretty popular, yet you didn’t have the money to move out again, nor the heart to concern your friend with your problems, as she was a hero with other responsibilities aside from taking care of your hopeless self.

So you get up, barely gathering yourself onto that elevator to tell off whoever the fuck will answer the door first to turn the music down. You pound the door with your fist repeatedly the minute you reach it, the door opening so suddenly you almost punch the man standing in front of you in the chest, the cool air created from the door cooling your warm cheeks as you squint at your victim for the day.

“Welcome!”

“Listen here, you buttfaced moron” you start to chew the person’s ear out, your sight blurring yet still able to notice how bright his hair is, how fiery and familiar it looks, and you’re certain you’ve seen it somewhere before. “I’m trying to drink away my regrettable life choices and cry over my ex-boyfriend, so if you would just turn down the-”

“y/n?” oh, that’s where. Your stomach drops as Kirishima looks down on you, the bright smile he flashed to whoever he was welcoming now dropped with his eyes almost bulging out at your presence, you both stand in silence, the boy unbuttoning the collar that suddenly feels like it has a chokehold on him while you cross your arms and hope the floor would swallow you a floor down back into the comfort of your home.

Kirishima basically is shutting down the second his eyes lay on you, breaking a sweat as your eyes never waver, despite how you fail to stay standing straight, what was he supposed to say? ‘Hey we’re throwing a birthday party for your ex-boyfriend because he's been feeling depressed from the day you dumped his ass’ ? No!  He wouldn’t do that to his friend, but what was he gonna say now?

Well, he didn’t have to really think about what to say to you, because his other friend didn’t hesitate to push him forward, slurring something along the lines of ‘lettin the hot ladies in so they can take a look at the prettier blond, aka moi’. In his moment of panic, the redhead stumbles forward, his cup slipping from the tips of his fingers and meeting its doom by the floor, whatever was filling it now staining your pants as you both look at the mess between you.

“Woah bro, we said you gotta get’er wet but not- '' Denki's cackle stops him from continuing whatever filth he was gonna spew out - thankfully - before his eyes drop down to your chest, or more like what was covering it. “Hey! You a Dynamight fan? Hey Bakuhoe, comere for a sec.” 

Dear God, move, for the love of all that's pure in this god forsaken world, move! Run!

All you could do is shake and breathe in short segments as your widened eyes meet his unamused ones, the garnets in his eyes glistening at your sight, he stands straight and so tall, suited up in his usual attire. Dressed for the occasion, words aren't able to describe his beauty. You try not to let your brain be dazzled by how incredibly handsome he looks. He is wearing a dress shirt, in the deep color of wine that complements his eyes, dress pants hugging his long legs, not to mention the open collar, and no tie. He looks like a long, lean Lothario. 

At that your eyes drop down to the floor, specifically the now stained carpet, your hands wrenching the end of your hoodie to distract yourself from the piercing rubies that haunts your dreams.

You build up some courage, enough of it to lift your head to continue what you came here to do, so you open your mouth, and drop a few IQs while you’re at it. “The m-music is loud and m’tryin’ to sleep,'' you mumble, noting how Kirishima leans down to make up the words you are saying over the sound of the blaring music while Bakugou narrows his eyes at you as if disregarding his sight will make him hear you better. “So, if you could turn down the heat, that’d be,” 

“You squiffed?” The blond grunts, leaning his face close to yours to inspect it, and he catches a whiff of alcohol in your breath, his eyebrows furrowing at your response. “No I'm not squinting-” 

“Yeah you’re drunk alright,” he huffs at your less than intelligent reply, pushing his glass of whiskey - you figure since it's always been his drink of choice - against Kirishima’s chest, telling him to lower the fucking volume and grabs you by your bicep. “C’mon, I’ll take you home.” you stumble at the force used against you, no matter how weak it actually is, before you barely straighten yourself to push his hand away. “I can walk down all by myself, thank you.” Of course you’d expose where you live, you dumbass.

He doesn’t question your integrity, just continues to basically drag you to the elevator before pushing your apartment door open when you choose your floor, irked to find your misplaced trust in the people of the complex by not locking your door after leaving. He barges into your bedroom and tells you to change out of your fucked up pants and proceeds to saunter to your kitchen to get you water, eyeing the boxes that he comes across during that small trip.

He stands awkwardly by the door when he sees you standing in the middle of the bedroom, sifting through countless moving boxes with your pants on the floor, thrown next to a pile of clothes that he can only assume that its supposed to be your laundry ‘basket’, until you opt against wearing any since you can't seem to find anything to replace them. And when he asks you if you just moved in, his expression sours when you shake your head no and explain to him that you’ve been living for months in this space, after chugging that cup of water like you’ve been parched for days.

“Birthday party?” You ask out of the blue as you play with the strings of your hoodie, your ears perking up at the confirmation hum you receive. “Hmm, thas’cool… I-I guess.” 

Bakugou’s impassive as he gently pushes you onto your bed, eyes meeting yours as he covers you up with your blanket. “Get some rest, I’m leaving.” He said, slowly stalking away from you and barely reaching your door as your big mouth talks on its own. Your body sitting up and facing his retreating back.

“That's what you always do, you always leave”, you utter and you see him stiffen his shoulders before he spins to face you, so fast you almost want to check up on him about getting a whiplash.

“Hah?” it's one syllable, but it shakes your very core, that one sound making you almost shake, overwhelmed by the amount of emotions, the amount of pain that one sound has. He steps closer to your bed, the stomps of his feet sounding like gun shots in your ear, and you pathetically lift up the blanket to cover yourself up, cowering behind it like it's some pseudo shield that might protect you from him.

“I’m the one that leaves?” he growls at you, his eyes sizing you up when you react to his forceful approach, leaning back to look down on you, but his lips are still curled in a frown, he tries to hold himself from blowing up at you, his feelings oddly enough still raw in his chest the moment he lay eyes on you the first time since you left, threw him away and walked away, probably finding someone better, probably finding someone who you tolerated, unlike himself, but when he sees you straighten up your back to rebuttal him, an automatic response to whenever he raised his voice at you from all those years ago, he knows he is in for a fight. 

He snarls when you nod at him, your eyes hard and glaring up at him, not knowing that your silence is by your better judgement since you don't trust your voice, knowing it’ll fail you, probably crack and show him how much he actually is affecting you by his closed off posture and demeaning look down at your frame.

“Real fuckin’ rich of ya, y/n.” He snaps back, his hands brought up to his hair, tugging at it. “As if you didn’t pack your shit,” he kicks at yet another cardboard box fucking spewed in your room, noting its heavy weight when it didn't move but an inch by his action. “Dropped your keys by the fuckin’ door,” as an emphasis, he throws your apartment key at you, making sure it doesn’t actually hit you, but falls onto your lap. “And left. Without a single fuckin’ word, like I'm some lowlife who didn't deserve an explanation, like I didn't deserve anything! And-” that hurt, goddamn it. 

Exhaling deeply, he focuses on how your eyes look a little less glossed over, a little more sober, but holding fear, and he almost steps back and out when he looks at how you’re fighting tears, almost wanting to bust his own kneecaps than to see you like this, always wanting nothing for you but to be happy, to never upset about anything no matter how small it might be.

Then why did you leave him? Left him to drown by his lonesome self, waves of his insecurities and sorrow crashing into him, pulling him even further down to his inevitable doom.

Despite the fact that you both yearn for each other, long to feel one another, engulf yourselves in the others presence. You both stand your ground, eyes glaring despite the emotions hidden behind them, mouths shut and curled into ugly scowls regardless of the words you wish to speak to each other, whispers of promises into each other's ears about being together forever, in spite of not knowing what the future holds.

Bakugou breathes out again, recalling all those months worth of coping mechanisms to exercise when placed in anger inducing situations like this one, the time in therapy spent to better himself, to control himself, to be the best version of himself, for you, hoping that one day you’ll pity him enough to want to come back, knowing full well he would never hold a grudge against you and welcome you back with open arms, intending to never repeat whatever it is he did that made you think of him as so unbearable you couldn't spent another day with him.

You on the other hand, are barely holding in the tears, wanting him to just leave your sight, so you can go back to the world of denial where he didn't look like straight out of a magazine, looking as captivating as always, as if your absence did not have an effect on the hero, of course it wouldn't, why would a quirkless extra have an effect on the great Katsuki Bakugou, that's what he used to call them, right?

“Just leave, Bakugou-” his ears pick up the way your voice breaks at his name, the way you utter it sounds so horrendous, because you aren’t meant to call him Bakugou, you’re meant to call him Katsuki, Katsu, Suki, your Suki. Not- “I hate you.”

The room suddenly spirals. The floor panels misalign themselves into zigzags. Bakugo’s eyes shatter like a glass window. He tries to hold himself against the tears that threaten to fall, stomach wrenching as if reaching from inside of his body, but it’s useless. He brings his hand up close to his chest and sinks his head, letting the words overtake him.

Oblivious to his internal struggle, you pile whatever courage you have left in another attempt to ask him to leave, aware that your body wouldn’t aid you in pushing him away physically, you open your mouth, only to gasp after a moment of silence when he pounces on you and grabs you by the neck, sliding a hand behind your head and leaning your face impossibly closer to his “you fuckin’ hate me? show me you hate me then,”

Then he's pressing his lips against yours, your half foggy mind all too surprised by the flow of motion you can only try to keep up with his feverish kisses, you try to pull away, to push him away, to no avail, Bakugou only stopping his assault on your lips to growl at them again “Show me then, hah?” 

But he wouldn't even let you, his grasp on your neck loosening to circle around your back to push you to him even more. His kisses get more and more aggressive, trying his best to show you how much he was hurt by what you said, by what you did, after all this time, almost begging you to not let him have to voice out whatever he’s feeling because he would do so much of a worse job than he is doing now.

The hands you placed on his chest in a failed attempt to push him away are now just placed over his pecs, welcoming their warmth and the way they flex under your touch, your right hand clenching over where his thumping heart is, and he almost sighs in relief, the movement feeling like it holds together all the broken pieces of his heart to make it whole again.

Almost like that gesture calmed him down, Bakugou’s rough touches start to soften, very caring as they glide to your hips before sliding underneath your - oh my God it's your special edition Dynamight hoodie! His amused chuckle tickles your lips as he pulls away when he feels you stiffen at the realization, barely letting you breathe in ease until he places his lips against your ear. “Love how m’still the only one sprawled over yer tits.”

“But I still want the real thing, lemme see ‘em, hm?” And just before throwing a dumb retort and embarrasing yourself even further, the article is tugged eagerly off of your body and thrown haphazardly on the floor. Earning yourself a low whistle when he realises you’re wearing nothing underneath. Bakugou all but shoves you onto the bed, spreading your legs when you try to rub them against each other for any friction, wedging his body neatly between them as his teeth gently bite your soft buds, pulling them slightly before captivating the nipple entirely.

His tongue flicks against your hardening nipple while keeping a watchful eye at the sinful expressions your face makes, his one hand toying with and twisting the other nipple while the other slides down to tease your needy cunt, pressing his fingers against your -fucking soaked- panties, swearing under his breath at the feeling of your walls trying to clench around his fingers just from that one movement. Sitting on his haunches, he lifts your hips with ease to pull your panties right off, eyes travelling between your heaving chest and your exposed pussy. Before lowering himself and finding comfort in biting and sucking your nipples again.

Bakugou’s smirk grows with your moans as his tongue dances over your sensitive nipples, he presses his finger against your walls, and you immediately keen at the prodding feeling that almost feels foreign after all this time apart. His thumb pushing your pussy lip to the side to see you suck his finger in like the good girl he knew you always were.

“Ba-ba-ba,” you struggle to talk, your drool collecting at your lips, stopping you from forming any words as you feel a breeze hit your spit covered tits, whining at the feeling and wanting him to pull your nipples in the warm cavern of his mouth again. Bakugou’s eyes focus on the spit line connecting his bottom lip to your nipple before disconnecting it to smash his lips against yours in an effort to shut your blabbering up.

“Ba-ba, what? y’better not be callin’ me Bakugou with my fingers deep in yer pussy baby, its Katsuki for you, yeah?” he taunts with a fake pout that immediately turns into a grin at the way you hold your pathetic sobs, pressing another finger in your tight cunt, reveling in the wet sounds your pussy makes as he thrusts his fingers in and out of it, soaking his fingers in your slick as he curls them, eager to hear the squelching sounds it would make when his cock is shoved deep inside you. “Or better yet, lemme hear you say Suki, hmm?”

“Suki- p-please, eat me out” you throw your head back and bring your hands down to play with your clit, showing him where you want his lips to be, as if the blond doesn't already know where it is, and he scoffs at the thought, slapping your hand away and giving another slap to your clit, earning a moan from you from the sharp pleasurable pain.

“Yea, yea I fuckin’ know already, needy slut,” he growls, keeping eye contact as he circles your clit with his tongue before sloppily eating out your cunt, making a mess of both drool and your arousal, mumbling “my needy slut.” to himself, and you do hear it, yet you brush it off with the thought that your lust must be messing with your brain.

Your chest still flutters at his words and your walls clench in on his fingers as he curls them again in a way you didn’t know would make you yelp like it did. He thrives off of how your body responses so easily to him, your back arching and the squelching getting louder as his fingers pick up speed, his tongue so skillful in drawing circles around your clit before sucking it again. A whine escapes you when he draws his head away from you, only for you to see the way his eyes darkens, his chin glistening from your arousal when it catches the light.

“Let go for me princess,” he whispers uncharacteristically, making you question if the glint in his eyes is from his desire for you or something else. “Lemme see you fall apart for me, alright?” the way he’s almost begging you to come undone for him takes you by surprise, and your body curls in on itself so fast, not realizing your orgasm was creeping up on you until it hits you. The knot in your stomach breaks as you gush around his fingers, white crossing your vision as he slows his pace to help you come down from your high. 

Your shuddering body lays on your bed, eyes unwavering as they meet Katsuki’s, his fingers stuffed in his mouth as he moans around them at your taste. It's all a blur after seeing that unravel, and you’re so woozy that you don’t register him discarding his clothes until he lays above you. Placing himself between your legs as he pumps his cock, hardened from seeing you fall apart on his tongue and fingers, his tip leaking precum and burning a bright red.

His movement is almost too quick for you as he dips his head into your leaking hole before pulling right back, a breathless chuckle escaping him when you whine and roll your hips and try to suck him in again, wanting to feel the stretch of him inside of you.

“Didja wanna say somethin’ princess?” he taunts you, one of his hands holding you down by your stomach while the other is wrapped around his length, teasing you in the ways that he knows drive you crazy, he leans in, using the tip of his cock to spread your pussy lips open and running it along your slit to coat it with your arousal.

“Katshu, p-please I-” you hiccup, your fists tightening on your bed sheet as you try to rock your hips up get more than just his leaking tip, but your begging is always interrupted when he isn't hearing what he wants you to say.

“Say you love me.”

You freeze at his demand, your widening eyes looking up at him before you pout your lips, not thinking about surrendering to him, no matter how much you want your cunt stuffed full of him right now.

“I don’love yooou-” you gasp as katsuki’s grip onto your waist tightens and you feel as he gives a thrust into your sopping cunt, arching your back at the burning stretch of being filled up by his thick cock. Katsuki’s hand traces down your left thigh before cupping behind your knee, hiking your leg up and out, close to your chest to expose more of yourself to him, wanting nothing more than to see his dick seething in and out of your tight pretty pussy, and by almost muscle memory, you did the same thing with your right leg, replacing his hands with your own, presenting yourself to him.

“Y’see that? Fuckin’ know you like the back of m’hand, y’think someones gonna- ah, take the fucking time to work you like I did?” he's right, absolutely right, he ruined you for any other potential lovers and he loved it with every fiber in his being, knowing this means you’re always going to be wrapped around his finger. You moan as he pushes more of himself into you, bottoming out and holding one of your tits and squeezing when he feels your walls do the same to his cock.

You hate it, after all this time, you’re still a blubbering mess the second he was one fucking inch deep in your pussy, sucking him in and clawing at his back begging for more. No self respect, no dignity, you hate it, how come after all this time he gets to come here and fuck you like you belong to him, like you’ve belonged to him despite everything that has happened.

You only realize that your eyes are closed when Katsuki’s breath hits your face, and you open them wide, noting how wet your lashes have gotten from your tears, only for him to kiss at the tears gliding along your right temple and licking the ones on your left. He breathes out a chuckle and when he leans to look at your eyes, the humor and menace you expect to see in his eyes are nowhere to be found, clouded by a solemn look instead.

“What? Yer cryin on me now, huh? Y’think a few tears are stoppin’ me?” His voice is masked so well, because he sounds like he was simply enjoying a game, like an imp that had branched from a demon. “C’mon, not gonna tell the birthday boy you love’em?”

“I don't love you, I hate you, h-hate you-” you keen as drool pools at your lips, your body betraying you as it shakes from pleasure, letting go of your legs to wrap them around his slim waist, to bring him in closer, if that was even possible, stopping his deep thrusts that were brushing up against your cervix, it feels pathetic, denying him the pleasure of telling him you love him while clinging onto him like he's your last breath of fresh air, because in a way, you feel like he is, like him leaving would just collapse your lungs and stop your heart from beating, you know that he’s gonna leave you. While your spent body would lay on your bed and you'd cry because you didn't tell him you love him, yet you wouldn’t ask him to stay, knowing deep down that you don't deserve it, you don't deserve him.

You feel his weight on top of you as he rests his elbows by your head, his lips brushing against your ear as he repeats again with every shallow thrust into your warm insides, his cock twitching from time to time in your walls. “You love me.” he says it once, twice, thrice. Every time his voice lowers more and more to a broken whisper, almost a plea instead of the cocky taunt he started off with.

Your legs are starting to ache from the grip they have around him, so you loosen up, your mind easy since his thrusts haven’t been rough nor painful. And when you do, you notice two things immediately, first, your thighs are so soaked from how he's making you feel, probably ruining your bedsheet at this point, second, he pushed his chest away from yours to look you directly in the eyes, one hand molding around your thigh to keep it from wrapping around him again while the other is placed on your stomach, his thumb inching closer and closer to your clit, wanting to toy with it, toy with you, but not ready to give you any satisfaction until you admit to him, please just tell him, that you do still love him. All insecurities, all battle scars, all emotional constipation as layers he covers himself with, that no one gives a fuck to peel off, to see who he really was, except you.

His red eyes lock onto yours as your chest heaves with breathless sobs at the lost of his warmth, and when you think he's lowering himself back down, he pulls out suddenly, sending a  shiver down your spine as you gasp, now feeling like you're frozen over, your tears coming from lack of both pleasure and warmth.

Suddenly your face is met with the pillow and you feel his hands on your hips as he lifts them up and off the bed, your half intoxicated, half aroused mind barely registering that you’ve been flipped over on your stomach until you feel his cock prodding at your cunt, easily sliding in like they’ve been made to be warmed up in there, when you know Katsuki would argue that your pussy was made just for him and to warm his dick.

He presses his chest against your back, pushing you onto the bed as he thrusts his hips roughly, pulling out fully before seething himself right back in, your moans and whimpers muffled by your pillow from being pushed down by his hand as his other holds your hips firmly. 

Then what happened next probably shocked him more than you, despite how delirious you’ve become due to his relentless thrusting, his dripping tears feel cool on your bare warm shoulder, one by one as his groans and moans turn into strangled sobs, before Katsuki digs his teeth into that shoulder, to both hear you scream and to muffle his cries from you. 

“because I love you” he sobs, detaching his teeth from their grip and kissing the bite marks before resting his forehead against it, but his thrusts never cease, getting sloppier, as if the confession is pushing him off the edge. Dragging the tip of his nose from your bitten and bleeding shoulder to the back of your ear, his own face flush and warm against you as he breathes harshly against your ear and kisses along it.

“So-” he moans again, the hand behind your neck now turning your face so he could see your fucked out expression, the tears streaming down your face and the drool that pools under your cheeks, with your tongue lolled out and your eyes barely focusing on his form.

“You better say you do too, becau-”

“I love you.” you gush, like saying it is a breath of fresh air, your eyes never leaving his teary ones, your gaze so intense and fixated on him with no regards to the way the snapping of his hips against yours is shaking your entire body against the bed. 

With new found vigor from your confession, Katsuki grabs onto the meat of your ass, hammering into you from behind with force that pushes you against the bed even further, your pulled hair jerking your head back so he can listen to the lewd noises you are making, long forgotten the will to cover your pleasure and hiding your moans.

Your ass heavily slaps against his thighs as he grabs your hips with both hands and pounds into your sopping wet cunt, relishing in the way you’re begging for him. “Y’like it when I fuck you baby, hmm? Like it when I stuff you so fuckin’ full of me?” He growls, feeling you push your ass back every time you repeat ‘yes’ to his questions. “Yes, yes love it, love you, please please don’t stop, please ‘Suki. Yes, gonna cum ‘Suki please” you weep, your head pounding from the grip he had on your hair and your eyes crossing as you feel his thrusts stutter, getting sloppier when you bounce your ass against him, his hand coming down and slapping it.

“That's fuckin’ right, cum on this cock, c’mon baby” he brings four of his fingers to rub your clit with urgency, and you can’t help but arch your back as your orgasm hits you again, screeching as you feel your walls tightening on him, squeezing him for what he’s worth. “F-fuck ah, y-you’re so- Fuck” his heavy weight falls on you as he fills you to the brim with his milky seed, forehead pressed against your shoulder as he rocks his hips against you, pushing more of his load inside before slowly pulling out, gaze flutters down to where your bodies were once joined, seeing your mixed arousal seeping out of your hole and he has half a mind to push it back in with his fingers.

But he flips you over effortlessly, the sight of your crossed out eyes and wet cheeks squeezing his chest at the realization he might’ve been too rough on you, so he wipes your cheek with the palm of his hands and revels in the way you lean towards him, turning your face to kiss his palm. “Say it again.” barely a whisper, as you flip his hand and kiss the back of it as well, and he almost repeats himself, thinking you didn’t hear him, but your hands reach up and cup his face, bringing him towards you. “I love you Katsuki” and goddamn if that wasn’t the most beautiful thing you’ve ever spoken. “Again,” “I love you, Katsuki” “Again,” you giggle, and he knows that's probably what angels sound like.

Your thumb brushes over his warm cheeks, red from showing vulnerability, and you pull him even closer, “Happy birthday, ‘Suki.”

“Yea,” He breaths out, his lips barely brushing against your bitten and bruised ones. “It really fuckin’ is.”

aaaaaaaaah! Hope you enjoyed it! Lemme know what you think of the smut, I also changed my writing style from past tenses to present tenses or tried to at least

Borrowers (taglist):

if you want to be tagged with for any of my fics let me know ♡

Purple Panties (2)

Stray Kids

Parings: Bully!Hyunjin and Felix x female reader

Genre: pure smut

Word Count: 1.3K

Requested

Part 1

CONTAINS DARK THEMES

PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

———

I apologize for any mistakes. Like always, not edited cuz I’m too fucking tired:)

———

A/N: warnings are after the undercut. LETS FUCKING GO I FINISHED THIS STUPID REQUEST, ABSOLUTELY HATE IT & I APOLOGIZE FOR THE LONG WAIT. Yeah it’s pretty shitty. Sorry for making you wait for so long only for it to come out as literal trash. I fcking hate myselfff.

⚠️Warnings: begging, dacryphilia, somnophilia, bondage, choking, spanking, physical abuse, overstimulation, marking, anal, threesome, breath play, spitting, biting, breeding kink, unprotected sex (please wrap before tap)

I do not condone or encourage this type of behaviour. This does not represent Lee Felix or Hwang Hyunjin in any way and is purely for entertainment. Please read the warnings carefully.

THIS STILL CONTAINS NON CONSENSUAL SEX

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

Last part will have fluff❣️

——————————————————————————

“Tie her down, I’m not finished with her.”

Y/N squirms around on the bed, groaning and forcing her eyes open. Her head spun while Hyunjin tightly tied her wrist to the bed frame. She thought the boys were done with her. Why couldn’t they just let her go already?

“Ple-please! You said that you were finished with me!” Her bottom lip quivers as more tears slip out when she makes eye contact with Felix. “We didn’t say that we were finished with you.” Felix spoke deeply, coming closer to her. “We just said that you wouldn’t be able to walk for the rest of today.” Hyunjin said, finishing off the sentence.

The boys nod at each other then look at her. “Well… let's not waste anymore time...” Hyunjin poured out a drink for himself and took a seat. “Knock yourself out, Felix. I’ll join in after my drink.” Felix hums in response and takes his belt off. “Our little doll lost her virginity today. I can still see the blood stain going down her thigh.” A sadistic smirk places on his face as he bends his belt into a loop.

“Please Felix! I’ll do anything you want except for this! Please have mercy on me! Please! I didn’t mean to-” a high pitched yelp leaves her mouth and her thigh muscle quickly clenches. The leather belt left a clear, red mark on her thigh. “No talking. You talk when I tell you.” The girl sharply breathes in, failing to hold her tears in. The only reason why this was happening was because of that stupid milk.

The moment Felix saw her tears, he lost all his patience. “Stop crying before I give you something to cry about.” He hits her other thigh causing her to cry even harder. “I-I’m sorry! I’m trying n-not to!” She bit down on her lip and held her scream in as Felix hit her again. “Do you not understand what ‘no talking’ means?”

“Why are you even letting her breathe right now? Take her Felix. Show no mercy on her. She loves it rough.” Hyunjin chirps in, clearly bored because of the lack of action. He looks over at Y/N who was frantically shaking her head ‘no’ and pulling on her wrist restraint. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N. No means yes in my eyes...” Felix wraps his hand around her neck and squeezes it while his other hand guides his veiny, thick, cock out.

Y/N closes her eyes, hoping to knock out before they even start. She couldn’t think properly. What did she do to deserve this? She was able to handle their degrading comments but.. this has gone way too far. The girl was deep in thought until she felt something fill her dry cunt up once again.

Her mouth opened to release a scream but it was cut off by Hyunjin’s hand. Without giving her time to comprehend, he got on top of her and shoved his cock into her mouth, making her gag right away. She screamed and cried around him but he continued to push it down further while Felix rammed her pussy.

“Stop struggling! You’re only making it harder for yourself.” Hyunjin growled, plugging her nose. Her face began to heat up and her throat tightened around his cock. She looked at Hyunjin once again with pleading eyes and he finally took himself out. As soon as his tip was on her tongue, she coughed up cum and saliva. “Take her Felix, ruin her!”

Y/N couldn’t respond. All she could think about is breathing. Felix only pushed in harder while Hyunjin took another shot. “It hurts right? That’s good. Maybe you’ll learn.” Felix says in a gravelly tone. His words only made her sob harder. Learn what? She thought. Though her mind was frustrated, her body couldn’t handle more aggression. If she had said something to Felix, it would’ve provoked him.

Lost in her thoughts once again, a hard slap on her cheek brought her back. “Thinking of another man while I fuck you? Disgusting bitch! You’ll probably die by choking on a dick.” Felix smirks at his own comment and slaps her again. “You’re gonna cum for me again. I can feel your walls trembling around my cock. Stop acting like this doesn’t feel good.”

Her feet kicked Felix’s chest, causing him to stop out of shock. Hyunjin stood up and heartlessly slapped her across the face. “So you wanna play hard to get? I can play that baby.” Hyunjin whispered deeply, sending chills down her spine. The boys flipped her onto her side and both roughly entered her at the same time. She sobbed into Felix’s neck while her legs were tightly held down by Hyunjin’s.

Cum covered her private lips and upper thigh, making her feel gross and sticky. Her hair was damped because of sweat and her face was bloated because of the tears. Her eyes burned every time she opened it. What wasn’t hurting? She lost terribly against them. She wasn’t capable of saving herself.

Hyunjin wrapped his long arms around her and placed his head on top of hers. “You look so cute crying under us.” He muttered softly, frightening her more. The older male left gentle kisses along her neck, up to her jawline then cheek. His soft lips brushing against her smooth skin soothed the girl.

Meanwhile, Felix was in paradise. His eyes were closed, but his hips kept thrusting at the same pace. His cock was buried deep in her; from time to time, brushing against Hyunjin’s cock. He didn’t mind that Hyunjin pulled her away from him because it gave him more room to thrust. Both Hyunjin and Felix zoned out to their own little world, making it safe for the girl to zone out as well.

———

“HOW DARE YOU FALL ASLEEP ON US, HUH?”

At this point she lost her voice. Tears filled her eyes causing her vision to blur. Y/N didn’t respond to the boys, instead she let herself go. Her mouth hanging open, her arms dropping down on the pillow, the tears sliding down her face. Felix came just by the sight.

“Please! I’m so so so sorry! I- I didn’t even feel you thrusting. I m- must have been unconscious.” She stutters out, explaining herself. Hyunjin bit her ear and kept thrusting harder, chasing his high. “Fuck! You little slut!” Another slap from Felix lands on her hot cheek. “Why can’t you just be a good girl?!” He scolds. “I really try! I’m so sorry for not being good. P- please forgive me. I- I’m just a dumb nobody. I need you to teach me please!”

Hyunjin and Felix couldn’t stop themselves from smiling. Felix pets her hair while Hyunjin slows down behind her. “You finally learned something, princess.” Hyunjin kisses her cheek, suddenly loving on her. She took this opportunity to catch her breath. Each time she took a breath in her pussy twitched around the boys.

“Are you guys done?” She mumbles out quietly. ”Felix may be done but I’m not.” Hyunjin slides out of her ass and stuffs it right back into her pussy. Quiet sobs left her lips when she felt him re-enter. The older males hand quickly covers her mouth as he starts to move faster.

Her insides were on fire. The pain wouldn’t go away. She laid still, unable to move and completely unfocused. It hurt to cum. It hurt to move. Hyunjin kept a tight hold on her when viciously fucking her. It was hard to breathe because of his grip around her stomach and neck. Felix enjoyed the sound of the skin slapping and almost fell asleep.

Sickening, I know.

Hyunjin finally felt his cock burst inside of her. Cum rushing in, painting her insides white. Y/N released a hard breath as she came again. Hyunjin pulled her close to him, refusing to take his cock out of her warm, wet cunt. He fondles with her hair until she falls asleep. Though Hyunjin was tired, one question kept him up.

What if she falls pregnant?

The Sins of Angels

devil!Taeyong soulmate!au 

Genre: fluff, fantasy, smut, angst Words: 10k

warnings: sex (incl. degredation), swearing

better to reign in hell than to serve in heaven - Paradise Lost, John Milton 1667

You weren't a bad person, but clearly, you hadn’t been a great one either. You had to figure that was the case as you stood in a really long queue at the front desk of Hell. There were some people around you crying and screaming, but most people just stood in stony silence, waiting until they reached the end of the queue.

It was a casual four weeks later when you reached the front, which for Hell you supposed was quite quick. You wondered if it was meant to unsettle you, to form part of your eternity of torture, or maybe that's just how long bureaucracy in the afterlife took.

“Name and time of death?” You finally heard be called out to you. You had to think for a second, the hours of standing in the queue had really started to rot your brain.

“It’s y/n and I died on the 3rd March 2020 at 9:58pm” You said, having no idea why you knew your exact time of death, but the desk man wasn’t surprised and therefore it must have been something dead people just knew. The desk man handed you a gold coin.

“Straight ahead to the gates, tell them you’re going to the second circle,”. You took the coin and nodded. “Have a terrible time,” he said, sounding so bored that you were sure he was having a worse time.

No sooner had you step away from the desk to contemplate your impending doom before he called you back.

He stared down at the old 1980’s computer in front of him in slight disbelief, hitting the side of it three times just to make sure it was actually working properly. Seeing that this made no difference the man shrugged and motioned for you to come closer to the desk.

“Just had a message from the boss man, turns out your wanted down where the real actions happens,” he said taking back your coin. He placed it carefully back in its box before reaching down below his desk and fiddling for a moment.

“Could you come round here and stand beside me?” he asked, you noted his tone had become much more polite ever since he had read his computer message.

“First interesting thing to happen at this desk in ninety years,” He said looking at you, eyes not blinking for a slightly uncomfortable amount of time before pointing down to where he had been fiddling.

“This is a passage to the City of Dis. It’s a ten hour-long fall and it hurts when you get to the bottom, but it’s that… or ten hundred years of torture to get there and we don’t have that kind of time.”

“Don’t we have all of time,” you questioned, Hell had always been marketed as an eternity of suffering.

“You mean to say,” the man began, “That you would actually prefer to endure the ten hundred years of torture?” He was incredulous, you didn’t think his eyebrows could lift any faster.

Neither seemed like a good option, but you couldn’t possibly die twice so one hard fall had to have been the better option. You looked down at the endless dark hole, trying to contemplate what was being proposed here.

“You don’t really have a choice, please jump down the hole, you’re really holding up the queue, I’ve got targets to meet.”

You couldn’t ascertain whether the last part was a joke or not, but you had realised that overthinking wasn’t helping anyone. You took one last look at the man at the hell desk before launching yourself into the depths of Hell.

You screamed for about the first minute, before realizing it was pointless, you had a long while to go until you hit the ground. You pondered about why you might have ended up where you were, cursing that in real life you hadn’t bothered to study the nine circles of hell, that might have given you a clue.

About three-quarters of the way through your fall it started to get lighter again, but also hotter, it was exhaustingly hot, worse than Death Valley in the summer hot. You felt like you had been falling for much less than a few hours, you weren't sure if time worked the same way in eternity. You almost wanted to cry but the thought that an eternity in Hell could be worse though, which somehow comforted you. Even though you knew that it could get worse and probably would.

-----

It was a while longer until you finally hit the ground. It hurt like every single bone in your body had broken. You just lay there, contorted.

“Oh... That looked like it hurt!” You heard someone exclaim from above you. You half-opened one eye to see a boy staring down at you. All you could notice was that he was very good looking, something you had noticed about desk boy too now that you thought about it. Every bone in your body may have shattered, but if all the people in hell, looked like the men you had seen so far... your complaints were limited. A fact which truly made you think you had really lost any sense of reality.

“You need to get up ... you haven't reached your final destination.” He said. You swore under your breath before pushing yourself onto your hands and knees, something that induced the agonising pain all over again. The good-looking guy just stared at you with a wicked grin.

“I have all the time in the world babe quite literally infinite time, but the person we are going to meet does not have infinite patience. And- and I can’t stress this enough - he's really fucking scary so stand the hell up,” he grabbed your arms lifting you to your feet, shaking his head, “get the hell up, did you not appreciate what I did there.” You stared at him blankly.  

“My humour is wasted in this bloody city.” He complained.

You said nothing, you had literally no idea what to say to this man, if he even was a man.

“I’m Yangyang by the way,” he continued, “one of this city’s finest fallen angels, fell straight from heaven into the ladies' hearts.”

Now you were standing up you realised the light you had seen was just endless fire, the only break in the fire was a stone path that didn’t seem to have an end, at least not an end that you could see.

The fire was filled with burning souls in the distance, the screams you could hear were unnerving, you wanted to somehow disappear. Yangyang didn’t even seem to hear them, the screams of hell must have become just a faint music to him over time, like radio music in a shop.

You followed closely behind him as he led you along the fire-lit path. As you got closer to what you presumed was the city of Dis the sound of a distant roar of voices got louder and louder, but there was still no end in sight.

“What did you get kicked out of Heaven for... if it’s not rude to ask?” You were trying to create any sense of distortion from the horrifying surroundings.

He laughed, the fire reflecting against his face that still held the same wicked grin.

“I’m not offended and even if I was, this is Hell, people are rude all the time it doesn’t matter. Here in Hell you can do what you want babe. There is only one person youwill have to listen to; Lucifer himself. Most people listen to the fallen angels too, but I fear you will end up being more important here than me.”

You knew in theory who Lucifer was, fallen angel, cast out by God. Somehow though, you hadn’t expected him to exist even after you got to Hell, you assumed he was just created to scare children and adults alike. The idea of fallen angels was also a foreign one to you, you hadn’t even known there were more people like Lucifer.

“And to answer your question, I got kicked out of heaven for being too fun,” he said, laughing mostly to himself. You doubted that was the official reason he got kicked out, even if he decided to justify it as such.

-------------------------

The walk came to an end at the edge of a vast canyon. At the very bottom, you could see a very grand building surrounded by markets and various other buildings. In the rock face, there were many entrances and balconies which people seemed to live inside.

“We don’t have to jump do we?” You asked, feeling like you had done enough falling for at least the next six lifetimes in Hell.

“There is a lift.”

He said like it was very obvious, and you were stupid for even suggesting otherwise, even though he had seen the end of your bone breaking fall.

The lift wasn’t like any modern-day one, more like one you would have seen in a mine shaft in centuries past, just bigger. There was a large queue for the lift which Yangyang didn’t seem at all bothered by. He grabbed your arm and walked through the queue, the sea of people parting as the jumped back in what appeared to be fear. You couldn’t understand why; Yangyang seemed nice enough.

You stepped into the lift and clung to the side as the door shut. The metal groaned slightly before beginning to lower. You could see each of the levels more clearly now, there were four distinct areas above the ground floor.

“The city is the 6th to 9th circles of Hell,” Yangyang explained, “For people who committed worse crimes, treachery, heresy and all that.”

“What is the second circle?” You asked back, hoping he could provide you the answer to your biggest question.

“Is that where you were headed?”

You nodded.

“Just before I was told to jump down the hole and ended up here, I was originally meant to go to the second circle.”

Yangyang just laughed but didn’t bother to answer the question and you weren’t brave enough to ask again.

The metal began to screech again as the lift hit the ground floor and the gate began to open. The people waiting at the bottom also immediately moved back when they saw Yangyang step forward, pushing you off the lift and past the crowd.

Yangyang set off walking, through market, after market in which everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. There was the odd scream of pain here and there but there were more screams of laughter, more voices chatting and bargaining.

As you got closer to the centre of the floor the buildings got bigger and grander, some of them almost palatial.

“That’s my house” Yangyang said pointing to a large building to the right of you. It looked quite nice, even if a drunk man had passed out on the front steps.

“You can get drunk in Hell?” You asked.

“Ninety percent of the people here are drunk ninety percent of the time.” Was his answer.

You walked for a few more minutes before reaching the gate that surrounded the grandest building of all, Devil House, Yangyang informed you. The gates were opened by two guards as you approached, how bowed at you both as you passed. Yangyang walked you up to the door before knocking six times.

After a minute or so the doors opened seemingly by themselves. Situated behind the doors was a grandiose entrance hall made out of black marble, a gold chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

You looked at Yangyang expectantly for him to explain what would happen next, but he said nothing, the wicked grin gone from his face. For the first time he actually looked somewhat scared.

You suddenly noticed a man standing at the top of the staircase. He was staring straight down at you with a glare that could have killed, ifyou hadn’t already been dead.

“My Lord,” Yangyang managed to choke out, he stared down at his feet, his hands fidgeting. When you looked back away from Yangyang, the man, who you guessed was the Devil, was standing right in front of you. Blood red hair, perfect jawline, flawless skin - out of all of the good-looking men you had seen here so far, he was the most perfect.

He reached out and kissed your hand.

“Welcome to Hell, my love, my name’s Lucifer, but you can call me Taeyong,” he said.

-----------------

You woke up in a bed with some of the softest pillows you had ever felt, you sat up slowly, taking in your surroundings, not knowing how you had ended up there. The bed you were on was the only piece of furniture in the completely white room. There was a door at the far end of the room and a window that looked out onto the fire and darkness below.

You stood up carefully and walked over to the window. You could see the guards still standing by the gate and a few people fighting in the corner of the street.

A light knock came at the door.

“Come in?” You replied after a brief pause, realising that the person knocking was assuming this was your room.

The door swung open and Taeyong, Lord Lucifer, walked in. You froze where your stood by the window, even though he was standing about ten meters away from you.

If Taeyong sensed your fear, he chose to ignore it,

“I hope you're comfortable, I had one of the women change your clothes, I figured you would prefer that,” he said. You looked down, where your previous dust-ridden clothes had been was now a silk nightdress, you raised your eyebrows slightly. It was a beautiful item of clothing but slightly on the revealing side for meeting a man you didn’t know.

“Isn’t that very nice of someone who is meant to be the Devil?” you asked him. He looked you dead in the eyes and tilted his head slightly,

“If you want me to be mean darling, that can be arranged... but I would prefer if we could be civil.”

You nodded, once again lost for words. You couldn’t remember much about your life, but you were pretty sure that in life you had always had something to say. Yet since you had gotten to Hell you were more often than not lost for words.

You started to remember the events of the previous span of time, you remembered falling and meeting Yangyang. Yangyang made you feel comfortable, you had many questions and hoped maybe he would be able to answer them.

“Could I maybe talk to Yangyang,” you asked. Taeyong shook his head.

“No.” His lips rested in a firm line; you were starting to understand why Yangyang said he was someone to be afraid of. Yet with a life of torture already assured you felt you had nothing left to lose.

“I’m just gonna say it,” you began, ‘what is going on here, like what’s with the whole situation, I don’t remember anything about my life, or even how I ended up in this room, all I know is I jumped down a hole, met Yangyang, who was definitely scared of you by the way, and ended up here right now. I know that you are the all-powerful Lucifer, but you won’t let me see the one person I vaguely know or trust.” Taeyong just smirked out your outburst.

“You don’t always get what you want in Hell and I wouldn’t make a habit of trusting fallen angels” he replied.

His lacklustre reply stirred a deep sense of anger within you, you found it really hard to tolerate people who thought they were better than others.

“Is this my torture? Because if so, you guys are using weird tactics these days... like rather unorthodox if you ask me, I think I might rather just be burnt.” You instantly regretted the comment about being burnt, “But also please don’t burn me.”

To your surprise Taeyong half smiled at your comment.

“I’m not torturing you; I assure you that definitely involves classic techniques like burning people to death. In fact, I would argue that fact fate has left you lucky.”

“What does that mean?” You asked. Taeyong shrugged.

“There are worse things in death than having to marry me.”

You blinked about ten times in a row, the words gone from your mind again, blank.

“Sorry one second,” you said, holding up four hand, “can you just elaborate on that, because last time I checked I wasn’t engaged to any devils.”

“Not any regular devil, theDevil.” He corrected, before looking down at the expensive watch that was on his wrist, “I have to go and sort some things out, feel free to look around the house, just don’t leave and don’t interact with any of the staff around the house.”

You didn’t have time to formulate a reply or protest before he was gone, door shut perfectly, as if he had never even been there.

You sat around in silence for a few minutes before becoming curios about your surroundings. Your room was totally empty so you hoped the rest of the house wasn’t as such or it would have been a rather dull house tour.

Fortunately, as soon as you stepped out of your room you were faced with a very different sight. The corridor had a plush red carpet lining the floor and paintings and tapestries lining the walls.

You entered room after room, most of them just empty bedrooms, though none as empty as yours had been. As you ventured a little further into the house you began to find more interesting rooms.

There was a corridor that constituted only of studies another that had what seemed to be conference type rooms with long tables and lots of chairs. Around the other side you finally came across the dining room where there was food laid out on the table. A whole feast that you didn’t dare touch for a variety of reasons.

A man stood in the corner of the room, when he saw you enter, he bowed down just as the guards had, something that unsettled you.

“In case you wanted to eat,” the man explained, gesturing towards the table. You noticed there was only one place set for eating, at the same time you wondered if the concept of being hungry even existed in Hell. You felt your stomach grumble slightly, answering your own question.

You gave a weak smile to the man before sliding into the seat. This could be where the torture begins, you thought. It could have been poisoned food or turned into rotting flesh when you ate it, yet it looked so appetising you could hardly believe that would ever be the case.

Still unsure of weather to eat it or not you turned to the man,

“Do you know where I could find this guy called Yangyang?”

“I think we both know that I can’t tell you where Yangyang is,” he replied. You looked back to the food pressing your lips together, it had been worth a shot.

“I would be happy to try and answer any questions you have instead, my name is Yuta, I am a personal assistant of sorts,”

“Another archangel?” you asked. Yuta shook his head.

“Nope, just a demon.”

Yes, just a demon, of course.

Yuta watched you staring at the food and quickly guessed as to why you are hesitant,

“It is perfectly safe to eat; you are an honoured guest of hell.”

“That is exactly what someone who wanted me to eat the torture meal would say,” you replied accusatorily. Yuta laughed to himself slightly,

“If you don’t want to eat it that’s also fine, you will starve for eternity but that is, what as this other demon Johnny often says – not my problem.”

You still wondered if it was reverse psychology, but the hunger pangs had really started to kick in, so you decided to eat the food regardless.

You quickly realised that it wasn’t poisoned and that it was actually some of the most delicious food you had ever eaten.

After you had eaten for a while you looked back at Yuta who was still standing there watching you.

“How come I am allowed to talk to you and not Yangyang?” you asked.

“I don’t make the rules,” he replied. Yuta followed the word of Taeyong just as much as everyone else did, the devil really did seem to have a lot of power.

You stood up from your seat, as you did the dishes and food vanished at a click of Yuta’s fingers. Demon magic. When you headed towards the door Yuta remained where he had always been, unmoving.

“Nice to meet you, I suppose, I’m y/n by the way.” You said just before you left.

“I already knew that,” Yuta grinned. Everyone you had met in Hell acted weirdly, both in general and specifically towards you. You couldn’t figure out why there was no torture or why you had supposedly ended up engaged to Taeyong.

You had thought about asking Yuta more questions, but it seemed like Taeyong didn’t want you to know the answer to your questions and therefore none of his buddies were ever going to tell you, so you didn’t bother.

You went another three weeks before you saw Taeyong again, or anyone else for that matter. The only person you had seen was Yuta who watched you eat every day, would enter into general conversations with you about himself, and tales of demons but would never answer any questions you had or explain anything useful.

“I really need to talk to Taeyong,” you asked him, pretty much pleading at this point.

“Not an option,” Yuta replied.

“Where is he?” you asked for the ninth time that day.

“Hell,”

“Yeah very funny bud. I am not marrying him, I’ve only met him once and then he fucked off, not really the kind of behaviour that would make him a good husband.”

“He will return soon,” Yuta said, clearly trying to hide his own laughter, as a Demon he thrived on your suffering ever so slightly.

“You are annoyingly vague.” You sighed, “Can we not just break the rules, like this is hell can we not just sneak out and go and do something, this house is boring there is nothing to do and I would still really like to talk to Yangyang.”

Yuta pressed his hands together before speaking,

“No, we cannot just ‘break the rules’ Taeyong is all powerful I would rather not piss him off. It is very unboring here, I still have two million years’ worth of top-quality stories lined up, not all of them mine, I will admit. You only met Yangyang like one time, no need to make it twice, furthermore he will not answer your questions either, he too fears those who should be feared.”

You banged your head against the table repeatedly.

“This is definitely Hell!”

“You are rather dramatic y/n.”

You could see Yuta out of the corner of your eye and though he was laughing you could tell he also felt sorry for you.

“I will see what I can do,” he relented. You stopped hitting your head, got up and ran over to Yuta, throwing your arms around him.

“Thank you!” you said in earnest.

At that moment the door on the other side of the room opened and Yuta froze.

“It seems I have been gone too long, my fiancé is turning to other men,”

You let go of Yuta and spun round.

“She was hugging me because I offered to find out where you were…” Yuta tried to explain but you cut him off.

“Yeah well I have only been stuck in this boring house for a whole month with only him to talk to so if we are close that is your own fault.” You shouted at him.

“Don’t shout at him, that’s not gonna end well,” Yuta whispered to you aggressively.

“I am just a little bit angry, no, a lot angry and seeing as I cannot have any friends or meet any people, I will be voicing them to the only two people I am allowed to talk with.”

Taeyong said nothing, he strode over to where you were, grabbed your hand and dragged you from the room.

Yuta looked alarmed as you left. Taeyong led you down several corridors until you reached one of the grandest offices you had seen yet. He let go of your hand and slammed the door behind you.

“I would appreciate it if you were not rude to me in front of the people who work for me.” Taeyong said.

“I would appreciate it if you weren’t such an elusive dickhead.”

“I had … work to attend to,” he said, hand running through his bright red hair.

He was standing only a few feet away from you causing you to notice just how good looking he was for the first time. He had a cut in his eyebrow and a jawline that was stronger than anything.

“Whereas I was stuck here, doing nothing. Yuta is nice and all, but his stories get kinda old after the first thirty. I just don’t understand why I can’t talk to anyone or leave this house, why I can’t know anything about hell.”

“I…” Taeyong almost started to explain but then shut his mouth again, leaning with his hand against the door.

“What are you afraid of me finding out?” you asked him.

Taeyong sneered.

“If I told you then it wouldn’t be a secret.” He paused for a moment before walking towards you. “I can’t decide,” he said, “whether to risk falling in love with you.”

“So, you have a bad relationship past?” you guessed. Taeyong said nothing so you assumed you had hit the bullseye.

“See, now we are getting somewhere,” you said, “if you explain things to me life is a lot easier and I won’t resent you as much.”

Taeyong continued walking towards you and you walked backwards away until your back was pressed up against the wall.

“We aren’t alive.” He corrected, you could feel his breath on your face, he was inches away.

Taeyong’s face looked pained, confused.

You don’t know why you did it, maybe it was the lack of physical contact, or the slightly sexual nature of some of Yuta’s stories but you felt like it was the right choice.

You place your hands on Taeyong’s cheeks, pulling his face down towards yours, lips together. You had only meant for it to be an innocent kiss at first, just a few seconds. You didn’t know Taeyong, but you wanted to take away the pained look on his face for just a second.

But as your lips touch you felt a deeper desire, your lips moving against his with a slight sense of urgency. Taeyong’s hands moved to your waist pulling you closer towards him, his grip like iron.

After a minute or two you pulled away, realising that you hadn’t breathed, that you didn’t need to breathe, a surprising perk of Hell. You opened your eyes to see Taeyong staring down at you, the pain still in his eyes, but now mixed with something else, something more positive, you didn’t know quite what.

“I’ve never had a girl kiss me first before,” he remarked. You smiled at him slightly.

“Well I just…” you couldn’t really explain why you did I, you didn’t know, because you still resented this man quite a lot., “It doesn’t mean I forgive you,” you assured him.

Taeyong leaned down and placed a final peck on your lips.

“You have made my choice for me though, there is no way I can avoid falling in love with you now.”

“Yuta are we friends,” you asked him.

“Why do you ask, please don’t ask me you break you out again you know I can’t,” he said, sounding genuinely sorry.

“I just mean if I told you something personal because I needed advice you wouldn’t need to tell Taeyong right? As long as it’s not my plan to break free. I have no girls here to talk to, or even any other boys, you’re my only hope,”

“I don’t see why I would have to tell Taeyong something like that no, so you can count me as a friend on this one.”

“I kissed Taeyong.” You blurted out the second he finished speaking. Yuta blinked a few times, nodding his head slightly.

“Did I really need to know that?” he asked.

“Do you know why I would have done that?”

“This, is the single worst question you have asked me yet, how would I know how your brain functions?” Yuta joked. You sighed, picking up your spoon and placing it in the ice-cream in front of you, that even with demon magic was fast melting due to high temperatures.

A few minutes later you walked back out and started searching the house for whatever room Taeyong was in.

You walked through room after room, to the point where you were not even sure which way was back anymore.

Eventually you came to a room with a door that must have been made out of gold. The door had a picture carved into it of an angel falling from heaven into the fire below. Your feet stopped. It had to be the room you had been searching for.

You knocked loudly but there came no reply, so you pushed the door open slightly, peeking into the room. At first it seemed empty, just like yours had been. There was a wooden bed with a canopy, that looked like one you would see in a period drama. It was ornate and stylish with two bedside tables either side.

Those three pieces of furniture were the only ones in the room.

You felt bad about intruding into someone else’s space, but it didn’t stop you, if you had been a better person you wouldn’t have been there in the first place.

You walked curiously over to the bed and sat down on it, the bed was perfectly made, not even a crease as you ran your hands across the bed covers.

You stared down at the bedside table, something you didn’t have in your own room. The one on the left side was empty, not even a dust particle to be seen.

You rolled over the bed to the other drawer, expecting it too to be empty.

You pulled it open to see a few things inside. There were a few letters which you felt like you shouldn’t read, a pen, a picture of Taeyong and Yuta and at the back of the drawer a small red book.

It wasn’t something you were proud of, but you couldn’t help but peek into the book. The first page was inscribed with a verse:

And the great dragon was thrown down, that ancient serpent, who is called the devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world—he was thrown down to the earth, and his angels were thrown down with him.

So, the stories were true. But as you flicked through the pages you only became more confused, some were written in a language you didn’t understand or even recognise, some were filled with cursive handwriting recounting stories, much like the ones Yuta had told you, but it was the final few pages that confused you the most. There were paintings of five girls, each on a separate page.

Each had their name written underneath, a date and a timespan. The first 120AD - 3 months up until the most recent 1827 – 2 months.

In the last entry to the book you saw your own face. It was a picture of you sitting in a café in the sunshine, it had to have been from your life. You were drinking iced tea and laughing like nothing could have stopped your happiness. The date 2020 but no time span.

You didn’t understand what it meant entirely but you weren’t stupid either, you realised you were not the first girl who had ended up here.

Your thoughts were interrupted as the book was snatched away from you. You stared upwards to see Taeyong, eyes dark and unforgiving.

“What gives you the right,” he began through gritted teeth, “to look through other people’s personal items.”

He placed the book back in the drawer.

“I would say you can’t come into this room when I’m not here, but I assume you have already seen all there is to see,” he laughed darkly.

“Who are those girls, what do those dates mean?” you asked, still curious and somehow still unafraid, even though the man in front of you looked ready to kill.

Taeyong said nothing. You placed your hand over his lightly.

“I can only become close to you if you let me, and if we are to get married for whatever mysterious reason of fate, we should be close.”

Taeyong moved his hand back and looked away.

“We don’t need to be close; all that book proves is that in this cursed place, fiancé does not mean future wife.”

“Would you stop being so damned elusive for a fucking second?” you said. Taeyong lifted one eyebrow smirking.

“You don’t understand,” he said.

“Yeah I don’t understand if you don’t tell me.”

Taeyong’s smirk faded until he just looked sad. He looked over at you and smiled slightly.

“You can leave the house if you want, make some friends, just don’t leave the city, it’s not so fun outside the walls of Dis, its where the real sinners go.”

You were surprised, freedom wasn’t what you expected to gain from your trespass into his personal space.

“Why now?”

“Because even though you probably won’t choose hell in the end, I at least don’t want you to resent your time here.”

You walked round the bed to sit closer to him but as you sat down, he stood up.

“I think it is easier for both of us long term if what happened yesterday… doesn’t happen again.” He looked down at the time, “I have some rogue demons to chastise, I’ll get Yuta and Yangyang to show you around town.”

Five hours later you were drunk at a vodka bar in hell where Yuta had disappeared with some girl about an hour previously and you were left laughing with Yangyang until your stomach hurt.

“You have way better stories than Yuta,” you joked as Yangyang recounted a mishap between him, a goat demon and a man who had been sent to hell mostly for his obsession with stealing collectable plates.

“and you,” he replied, “are much more fun to be around than any of Taeyong’s previous ladies,” he said, covering his mouth as soon as he said it, “well fuck,” he finished off.

“Do not fear young fallen angel for I already know of these previous ladies, as in I know they exist and nothing else.”

Yangyang breathed out a sigh of relief.

“If I had let that secret go, well I would probably have been stung by bees for the next couple hundred years, every day at three o’clock.”

“There must be worst tortures?” You prompted. Yangyang shook his head.

“Don’t ever underestimate hell bees,” he said in a statement that sounded like he had his own history with said hell bees and that you shouldn’t press further.

“I know of the ladies and I guess that’s what makes him act weird towards me, but I don’t understand what happened.” You explained.

Yangyang looked around to see who was looking before motioning you to come closer.

“I can tell you, but you never heard it from me,” he said, “I must be drunk to be telling you this. Basically, Taeyong is cursed, not by God that’s just this whole hell thing but in a personal argument with an angel named Taeil. Taeyong once stole Taeil’s fiancé back in heaven, so when he was cast down to hell Taeil vowed to take revenge. Ever since as soon as a girl dies, who is someone Taeyong would definitely fall in love with, Taeil make sure they are sent right to his door, calls them the brides of hell. Well with the first one Taeyong didn’t realise it was Taeil, he just thought he had found his soulmate. Yet three months later Taeil shows up at the gates of hell und summons her fourth, Taeyong following close behind. He offers the girl a chance to go to heaven to have everything she ever wanted, that her going to hell was just a mistake and she is meant to marry him in heaven. And the girl agrees. Because as much as she loved Taeyong she wasn’t willing to give up the idea of eternal paradise for him, same for the next four girls… and now you. With the last one he didn’t even try. He didn’t talk to her once he just kept her locked up until Doyoung came. When she left, she said she hated Taeyong, which hurt him just as much as when he was betrayed.”

You took another shot of vodka.

“Well that… is a story and a half,” you remarked. Yangyang shrugged.

“Did the first girl really love him?” she asked. Yangyang nodded.

“They were happy together, Taeyong isn’t a bad guy to the people he loves, he’s not the same person he was a couple hundred thousand years ago, he’s not a great guy by any means but he was kind to the girl and they loved each other, the first betrayal is still the worst.”

“How could she do that to him if she loved him,” you asked him, you had only known Taeyong a short time and for most of that you had resented him, but you had started to understand him.

“Heaven isn’t something you refuse,” Yangyang said simply.

Before long you were both back to laughing and drinking, increasingly incapacitated. An hour later Yangyang was dragging you back to the steps of Taeyong’s house. He knocked on the door, lazily calling out,

“Taeyong, come and get y/n! I want to go to bed!” he said.

Taeyong appeared at the door a few moments later to see you lying on the ground semi-conscious, cocktail umbrella still in you grasp.

He leaned down and picked you easily, something you welcomed after Yangyang’s drunk drag.

“I’ll take you back to your room,” he said. You shook your head laughing.

“No!” you protested like a stubborn child, “I want to sleep next to you, in your room.”

Taeyong looked somewhat shocked.

“I already explained it would be better if we just kept out distance,” he began before you cut him off. You put your finger over his lips to silence him.

“Starting today,” you said, “I am going to stay with you forever, starting right now, in your bed.”

Taeyong sighed, continuing on to your room before placing you down in your bed, he tried to leave but you grabbed his arm to stop him.

“Please don’t leave me alone again,” you asked him quietly, “I don’t like being alone in this place.”

Taeyong’s eyes soften, his resolve defeated, he sat down next to you in the bed.

“I really won’t leave you, I won’t go with that mean Taeil guy,”

“Yangyang is so dead,” Taeyong said.

“We’re all dead silly.” You lay back in the bed, pulling Taeyong’s arm so he fell down to lie facing you.

“And you will leave, they all do,” Taeyong explained. You blinked a few times.

“I’m not them, I’m y/n, I’m my own person. And anyway, I bet none of them ever kissed you first.”

“Why did you kiss me?” Taeyong questioned thoughtfully.

“I really don’t know I just suddenly felt like it was the right thing to do in that moment, like fate had been leading up to right then and there.”

“I don’t believe in fate,” Taeyong sighed, “we are all just puppets of people like Taeil.”

“For someone who has power over a whole dimension that is a very defeatist attitude.” And before he could protest anymore you placed your hand on his cheek, your fingertips brushing a few strands of his hair,

“Am I really not different to any of those other women? Maybe their choice wasn’t wrong, maybe they just weren’t right for you, maybe I am,”

“I’m scared of you in particular, I have watched parts of your life on earth and I could see myself with you more than anyone before, and that terrifies me,” Taeyong admitted.

“I cause fear in the devil, what a powerful woman I am,” you joked grinning at him, “Don’t underestimate me.”

Taeyong brought his hand up to cover yours that was still rested on your face.

“You said you hate being alone here, why would you ever choose to stay here?” he asked.

“Because I wouldn’t be alone, I would have friends like Yuta and Yangyang and I would have you, Taeil chose me because we are a perfect match, right? Well then we will always be happy, also Yuta assures me he has a few million more stories lined up and I can’t miss out on that.”

Taeyong’s eyes stared into your soul, he licked his lower lip slightly before moving so he was positioned over you, resting on his forearms.

“I really hope that what you say is true,” he said before bringing his lips to meet yours.

A few weeks passed, you didn’t see Taeyong very often, he was still very busy, but he had made your life in hell become somewhat enjoyable. You spent most of your days playing around with Yuta, Yangyang had work to do, and getting to know the city. When you did see Taeyong he still somewhat guarded, but he was a lot more genuine with you.

You were just coming back from a game of throw the devil with Yuta when you noticed a bright white letter sitting on the doorstep, Dear Taeyong was written on the front in cursive writing similar to that of Taeyong’s.

Yuta grimaced at the sight of it. You didn’t have to ask who it was from because you knew it was from him, from Taeil.

“Well it was fun to get to know you,” Yuta said, holding out his hand for you to shake, “I wish you all the best in heaven, it sounds like a great place.”

“I’m not going,” you said. Yuta snorted,

“No one would ever give up that chance, especially not for someone they barely know, you’ve talked to Taeyong, what three four times, you might be crazy but there is no way you’re that crazy.

You looked up at the orange sky above, wishing more than ever that you could remember your past life, so you could understand what choice you would have made when you were alive.

“It doesn’t make sense to me either, maybe I suffered permanent brain damage when I fell down that hole on the way here… but I just have this feeling, a feeling that tells me that I belong here, with Taeyong, with you, with Yangyang, that this is my fate.”

“Don’t suffer a harsh fate just because you feel sorry for the devil,” Yuta exhaled deeply.

“How is this fate harsh?” you asked, “maybe for most people hell is the worst, but I have only had good experiences here, I may have complained about your stories, but they weren’t that bad,”

“Any fate is harsh in comparison to perfection.” Yuta mused.

“It’s almost like you want me to leave,” you joked. Yuta looked at the letter with envy.

“If you want to stay here that’s your choice and I will be happy not to see you go, but it’s not the choice I would make.”

You pushed him slightly on the shoulder to ease the tension.

“You would be bored after five seconds up there,” you said opening the door and kicking your shoes off into the hallway.

You both went to eat and were wrapped up in conversation but neither of you could ignore when you heard the front door slam loudly and Taeyong scream out a list of profanities even from the other side of the house.

You gave Yuta a small smile before hurrying downstairs to try and find Taeyong. He was kneeling in the hallway staring down at the open letter on the floor that was set alight, the pages burning until there was nothing left but ash.

You tried to sit near him to comfort him, but he pulled away.

“I won’t go with him,” you said quietly. Taeyong rolled his eyes.

“Yes, you fucking will, no matter what you say humans are all the fucking same, you’re not special.”

You were taken aback. You had known the letter would upset Taeyong, but you hadn’t expected him to act with such anger.

“I don’t need your stupid fucking pity,” Taeyong hissed, the venom in his voice not something that could be faked, “I may want to love you but at this point I hate you at the same time and I will hate every girl that comes after.”

Your eyes narrowed and you snorted slightly.

“I didn’t pity you before Taeyong,” you said, “but this is pathetic.”

You picked up a vase that was next to you and smashed it on the ground.

“What are you doing?” Taeyong said standing up, alarmed at your sudden violence.

“I don’t remember my life on earth,” you began, but I’m pretty sure I wasn’t an angel. I do know who I am now though, I commit petty crimes with Yuta for fun, I am attracted to a man who tortures people for a living, and I broke your vase just because I can. That doesn’t make me evil but I’m not a saint and I certainly don’t see a reason to go to heaven. Call me a narcissist but at least here I’m special, at least you will love me and for whatever reason my brain seems to value that more than eternal glory or whatever.”

“I’m a difficult man and this is a difficult place, I’ve just sheltered you from it so far.” Taeyong said.

You stepped closer to him until your lips were right by his ear.

“Then show me,” you whispered, “show me hell,” you stepped back, “show me what life here is really like and then I can make an informed choice, I can’t chose you if you don’t even give me a chance.”

“That seems fair, you can at least be Queen of Hell for a day” Taeyong agreed.

Which is how you ended up hours later back on the lift out of the city. This time you had no broken bones and you instead wore a dress of fire, courtesy of Yuta’s demon magic.

Taeyong led you through the circles of hell, through all the punishments, betrayers frozen in ice; tyrants and robber forced to swim in boiling blood; the eternal combat of the wrathful sullen and lazy and the lustful caught in the endless violent wind to name but a few.

“Hell is a horrible place for a lot of people, the city of Dis is the exception not the rule, to live there you have to live with that.”

“Then who are the people wondering around, in the villages outside the city?” you asked, not really wanting to dwell on the torture.

“The pain of torture dulls after a few thousand years and those people become free, everyone here is free because of that. After a few thousand years you can just get up and walk away and live a life again. I burned in fire for three thousand years until one day I just walked away and found the demons in the city,” Taeyong explained.

“So, the torture ends?” You asked him. Taeyong nodded,

“Pain has no power if you have experienced 1000 lifetimes of it, it just becomes normal.”

“Then I can live with it.” You said.

Taeyong looked surprised.

“It probably makes me a bad person but then I suppose that justifies my place here but if the torture ends then I can justify within myself living here, marrying you.”

“If I chose to stay, do I have to suffer the thousands of years?” you followed up.

“Does that change your answer?”

You didn’t know. But you didn’t think so, you just didn’t ever want to say something you weren’t totally sure about.

“But no, you wouldn’t, every millennium I can pardon someone, I have saved that for the chance someone ever choses to marry me,”

“Not the pessimist I always thought then,” you giggled. Taeyong laughed,

“It wasn’t optimism, it was fear… though the pain ends, I still didn’t want anyone who had made a choice to stay with me to have to experience it, because while it normalises after a thousand years the first couple hundred really are torture.”

“Well then I can’t really have any objections to hell then, or to such a thoughtful devil as you.”

“Would you like to sleep in my room tonight,” Taeyong asked suddenly.

“I knew there were other perks to Hell,” you joked.

“Well you’re a beautiful girl and I’m certainly no saint.”

When the sky turned from orange to blood red you were in Taeyong’s room. He was sitting up in his bed, shirt unbuttoned slightly, making the room feel even hotter than the inferno it already was.

You fiddled slightly with the bottom of your shirt before pulling it straight off, to reveal the lingerie that had been left in your drawer by Taeyong since day one. Taeyong smiled to himself dragging his finger over his lip slightly.

You continued, pulling down your shorts to reveal your panties, stepping ever closer towards Taeyong, who had begun to take his own shirt off as well, revealing his chest underneath.

You reached back and unclasped your bra, throwing it to the ground as you crawled onto the bed, towards Taeyong, fuelled by new confidence given to you by the look the devil. His eyes burning with lust.

You had barely touched him before he caught your arm and flipped you over, once again resting on his forearms above you but this time he kissed your neck.

“I’m the king of hell, I’m in charge here,” he said, bringing his hand up to massage your breast as he marked your neck, causing you to illicit a moan, any plans you had slipping away.

You watched him grin as he pulled away,

“You’re beautiful,” he noted. You noticed the same thing about him, it was clear he used to be an angel, but the scars on his chest, a product of hell somehow only made him more attractive. As you both paused your eyes travelled down to his underwear, where a wet patch had already formed at the tip of his dick.

Taeyong caught you staring,

“Wanna suck?” he asked and so you nodded but Taeyong stopped you as you leaned down to touch him.

“I want to hear you say it, I want to hear the sinful words, worth of the Queen of Hell.”

You had no problem obliging, you didn’t think there was anything you wouldn’t do for this man at this point and you still weren’t a hundred percent sure why.

“I want to suck your cock, I want to choke on it” you said to him with a small smile, before once again leaning down and pulling at his waistband. Taeyong was pleasantly surprised by your own addition to the statement,

‘I didn’t realise you were such a good slut,” he grinned a grin that quickly turned into a moan as you took him into your mouth, pushing your head down until you felt him against the back of your throat causing you to gag before moving back up and down again. As you sucked you looked up at Taeyong, tears forming in your eyes, never breaking eye contact.

“You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth,” he said. It didn’t take long until Taeyong’s breathing got heavier and you swallowed his warm cum that burst into your mouth, not missing a drop.

He recovered quickly and before you realised it, he was kissing you again, his hands wasting no time in removing your own panties, that were already soaked.

“I’m glad I have this effect on you,” Taeyong smirked as he chucked them across the other side of the room. Taeyong’s fingers stroked over your wet entrance but before he could slide a finger in you grabbed his arm, stopping him.

“Not today, I just want to feel you inside me,” you asked, and he was happy to oblige, just as you had been.

“Get on your hands and knees,” he commanded. When you were ready you could feel him rubbing his dick over your wet folds, teasing you.

“I’ve gone months without sex down here because of you, just fuck me, please,” you begged. Taeyong immediately thrust his full length into you, but despite this initial urgency, he kept a slow torturous pace.

You whined in complaint which had no effect on Taeyong’s actions.

“This is what you get instead of a thousand years of torture baby, and also you feel so good, so tight around me, I want to savour it.” He said.

You moved your hips back to meet Taeyong, trying to get him to increase his pace.

“I’m sure Taeil would fuck me harder,” you teased which was all it took.

“So that’s the game you want to play,” Taeyong smirked before pulling out completely. Before you could even complain about the loss Taeyong thrust back into you again in tandem with a smack on your ass.

“You’re a bad girl, and bad girls get bad treatment.” He kept one hand on your hip and one hand grabbed your hair as he pumped into you hard and fast, your moans getting louder each time.

“If you don’t shut up Yuta will here you,” Taeyong complained, “but I bet a naughty slut like you would like that wouldn’t you,”

You moaned in agreement.

“I want to hear you say it,” Taeyong said, smacking your ass again.

“I’m a naughty slut who wants Yuta to hear me fucking you.” Taeyong groaned at your sinful words, his dick beginning to twitch inside you.

A few seconds later you felt his cum inside you and Taeyong continue to fuck it into you, which was enough to push you over the edge.

“Fuck!” you screamed out as Taeyong kept fucking you through the aftershocks, before pulling out and getting you to kay down next to him.

“I love you y/n,” he said, his eyes filled with affection, “even if you are a naughty girl.”

Two days later Taeil appeared at your door. It was 3pm in the afternoon when he knocked. Taeyong answered the door and went outside first, you didn’t go until he called you a few minutes later.

“Hello y/n, I am Taeil, Angel of Heaven.” He introduced himself.

“I am aware,” you replied curtly. You could see the fear in Taeyong’s eyes, and it made you want to cry, you couldn’t believe he still thought you would leave him.

“I am here to give you the chance to come to heaven, where you can have everything you ever wanted and live in perfect peace, instead of a tumultuous eternity in hell.” He began but you cut him short.

“I am fine here actually but thanks for the offer.”

Taeil didn’t look phased, maybe it had taken a while before the others agreed.

“I can give you everything, memories of your life on earth, the chance to meet your family again, here you will endure years of pain.”

You remained resolute.

“That’s a no thank you, have a nice day,” you said grabbing Taeyong’s hand and moving to head back inside

Taeil stopped you, his arm placed in front of you. He reached into his pocket and played a scene into your mind.

It was what you guessed was heaven and all you could feel was an immense sense of peace, you saw people around you smiling and cheers of laughter not screams.

“My answer is still no,” you said. Taeil looked perplexed.

“No one who has seen heaven has ever turned it down, what could be better than the everlasting peace?” he asked.

You looked up at Taeyong who still looked frantically worried and smiled. You saw Yuta hopping from foot to foot behind a bush with Yangyang to eavesdrop what was happening.

“Everlasting love,” you replied, “Everlasting friendship,” you continued, “and besides I reckon hell must be more fun anyway.”

Taeil took a few steps back, something close to anger appearing on his face.

“If you turn this offer down, I will never give it to you again,” Taeil asked. You shrugged.

“Have a nice flight back,” was all you said before leaning up and giving Taeyong a kiss on the cheek.

“I won’t want what I can have because I have all the things I need, and that is my peace.”

Taeyong wrapped his arms around you grinning,

“You really are one of a kind, kissed me first girl,” he remarked. Taeil scoffed.

“Have fun being damned together,” he said before heading back out the gate.

“Being damned never looked so good!” Yangyang called from behind the bush. You laughed, sure at that moment you had made the right choice.

Even if you hadn’t Taeil came back every year for the next thirty years, despite promising it would be the last each time, unwilling to accept that he had lost. Each time you found a creative way of telling him to get lost. Each year Taeyong looked less and less scared that you would leave him until he finally realised you never would.

“Get lost Taeil!” He called out, “My wife isn’t interested in your schemes and she never will be,” he shouted before he proceeded to make out with you in a very non-PG way causing Taeil to cover his eyes and run. After that he never returned.

A hundred years later you sat with Taeyong under the orange sky and smiled.

“Do you believe in fate now?” you asked, rubbing your thumb on the outside of his hand.

“I believe in my love for you, be that fate, the end to my torture or just sheer luck. Whichever it is I’m thankful for it, because hell is lonely but when you have someone with you, it’s just a very warm place with a lot of alcohol and screaming.”

Maybe the second part wasn’t so eloquent, but it was right. Hell wasn’t something to be feared when you had someone by your side. Because for Taeyong being alone had been more torturous than the fire.

At that moment Yuta’s demon child ran into the garden and set fire to the tablecloth and you couldn’t help but burst out laughing as Yuta then threw the child about a mile, probably a demon throwing high score.

The afterlife you had chosen wasn’t what most people had chosen, most people didn’t even get a choice and so when Taeyong kissed you in the darkness lit up by flames you felt like someone who was lucky. You didn’t know why this was the afterlife you lived or why Taeyong had ever meant so much. But you final realised that you didn’t need to know. That sometimes things could have vague answers and that was okay. As long as your love for Taeyong was clear, then so was the choice you had made.

As you had once shouted at Taeil whilst chucking a demon at him,

“What’s so good about resting in peace anyway,” you found resting in chaos much more entertaining.

Marco’s Bauble Part 8 - a One Piece Mermaid AU Text Story

Another update for Tumblr!

This work goes by On the Courtship of Monkey D. Luffy on AO3, and I’ll be updating over there tonight as well!

A quick question....do people like reading the updates here on Tumblr? Or now that it’s on AO3, would people prefer to read there? And if so, would you be okay waiting for new updates until AO3 catches up? I’m a little torn because I’m not sure if people are enjoying reading on here, and it’s quite a hassle to format for Tumblr, and it’s getting a bit difficult for me to juggle updating these stories on 3 separate platforms...

ANYWAY, in this update, Thatch has some Thoughts, and there is mention of Ace x Luffy.

Continues off of, and should be read after:

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble Part 1

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble Part 2

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble Part 3

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble Part 4

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble Part 5

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble Part 6

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble Part 7

~~

What are her 3 sizes?

(For the wedding dress, of course.)

"The fuck! Like I'd tell you!" Thatch roars, startling the blue gull into momentarily leaping off the rail, before it circles back, landing again to peck at his  sleeve to express its displeasure. Thatch ignores it, because he's fuming.

So apparently all of his and Koala's secret debates over whether Marco intentionally proposed or not were for naught, because here's the fucking evidence. And it comes from Izo of all people, because Thatch would recognize that lopsided handwriting anywhere (the man insists that his handwriting is beautiful in his native language of Wano, but he never quite got used to writing any other way).

And well, if Izo, an unrelated third party but professional snooper knows, then Marco himself must know.

And apparently, they're already planning a wedding.

Thatch feels like an idiot. He'd been defending Marco against Koala, and the lil Revolutionary was a tough opponent, one he'd had to chase out of the kitchen with a ladle more than once when he was tired of her word games. Thatch had insisted, like a fool, that no Marco's not that kind of guy, he really isn't the type to play with people's emotions, he would never propose for a joke, nor would he do it seriously without good reason. It must all be an accident, a little misunderstanding, Marco was just ignorant like Thatch himself was!

Except, apparently he did know and it wasn't an accident, and now Thatch feels completely lost because he doesn't know what Marco's thinking at all. Marco, who's not just his his first friend on the Moby, but arguably his best friend; Marco, his brother over several decades; Marco, who Thatch thought he knew better than anyone, except perhaps Pops himself...

Thatch's also pissed, because if Marco wants to start drama after they all reunite and he's introduced to Luffy, that's one thing (not that that would be great either). But right now, they're still near the beginning of Paradise with almost half the circumference of the world to go until even the halfway point, and Marco is WAY on the other side of the Red Line. If this ship explodes in flames or whatever that batshit Revolutionary brother might do, Mister First Division Commander is completely unaffected, but there are plenty of innocents here (like hello! Thatch!) who would find that pretty devastating.

Also, Thatch was the one who passed on that gift to Luffy! Even if he didn't know what it meant at the time...doesn't that make Thatch complicit? And even if not, Marco's strongest connection here is clearly Thatch. If Marco's actions cause chaos, then the blame and responsibility to clean up the mess naturally falls upon Thatch. Which, he definitely did not sign up for.

Pops, Thatch thinks miserably, I thought I was supposed to show them they can depend on us Whitebeards, NOT that us Whitebeards will fuck shit up for them...

But more than anything, there's a shocking large part of Thatch that absolutely balks at just the idea of Luffy getting married. And it's shocking because Thatch shouldn't feel this upset.

Marco, for all the complaints Thatch wants to hurl at him at the moment, is still a really great guy. A guy who, in literally any other situation, Thatch would be the first in line to enthusiastically encourage, and also to congratulate.

And sure, Thatch knows he has a crush, and his little Seastar's carving out a larger home for herself in his heart by the day, but--Thatch admittedly has crushes a lot. Sure, this one feels different, but...Marco, to his knowledge, has never had a romantic crush. He only sometimes but very rarely even has a night out, and Thatch doesn't think he's ever held a relationship longer than three encounters. He's always so serious, so diligent, so sincerely and whole-heartedly dedicated to Pops and his family. He almost never does anything selfish for himself, and Thatch would know.

If, for whatever reason, Marco is genuinely serious about Luffy...then Thatch should, and would, step to the side, regardless of personal feelings. If this is the path Marco wants, then he deserves it, and Thatch will always be the first to say it, no matter how craptastic the circumstances. And Thatch knows that Marco would give his bride the world.

Without them even having met, Thatch doesn't doubt for a second that Marco would make Luffy happy, till the end of her days.

The fact that Thatch knows all this, yet still feels near unbearable reluctance...says more than he's willing to admit.

And so he decides to avoid thinking about the most obvious reason (his own feelings), and instead contemplates his second very compelling reason: Ace.

His littlest brother isn't so great at being honest with himself, and never has. But this, Thatch feels, isn't just a matter of denial.

The boy literally has no clue.

Oh sure, Ace knows he loves his little brother. He makes sure everyone else knows it too, both here on the Merry and back on the Moby once he opened up enough to talk to people. He's so damn proud of her, yet also concerned for her, while also trusting her with his life and more. It's clear to anyone who sees them together that he absolutely adores her.

But it's more than that, isn't it, Thatch thinks. It's in the little gestures, the way Ace raises his arm up without looking at her and she slides under it, also without needing to look at him. It's the casual way they lace their fingers together, like it's nothing, when they're snoozing out on the deck. It's the way sometimes they have unspoken conversations, just staring into each others eyes, before moving forward in synch to meet in the middle to bump their foreheads together in some secret mutual understanding.

It's the reason why Sanji, for all his extravagant flirting, knows when to shut up and return to being a normal human (and, Thatch grudgingly admits, this applies to himself too). It's why Zoro never lets his gaze linger more than two seconds longer than it needs to (but he'll always take those two seconds), why Nami always looks like she wants to sit closer but doesn't, why Koala hasn't said anything when she's probably usually a much more proactive flirter.

Everyone on their crew can see it, except the two in question.

Ace, Thatch thinks, heaving a huge sigh as he looks down at the crumpled note from Izo in his palm. Little brother, you are so fucking in love.

It might not necessarily be romantically. It's certainly not particularly sexually, if Ace's lack of reaction to Lu's aggressive physical smothering is any indication. It could very possibly be platonically.

But either way, there's no room for Sanji, nor Zoro, nor the girls, nor even Thatch himself...at least, until those two figure that out.

Until then, everyone aboard the Merry is here because they love and respect their captains. No one would dare encroach on something so special, yet so potentially immature, not yet ready to be dragged out to be recognized.

Thatch knows Ace has known Luffy for years, he practically raised her. But he was also away at sea for three years. Luffy was a child when he left; she's an adult now.

Thatch once asked him if she had changed at all since he last saw her (Ace most certainly had, according to Deuce). And Ace looked blank, then horribly confused, before saying No...but also, yeah, I guess. Thatch understands; Ace isn't used to not knowing something about Luffy. And something...something had changed.

That something might very well be the thing that needs to be figured out. And for that, Ace hasn't had much time yet, since reuniting with Luffy. Only as much time as the rest of them, in fact. And they deserve time to figure that out, and as the two captains' loving crew, the ASL pirates have an unsaid agreement to watch over them...at least until they have.

(After that, Thatch thinks grimly, it might be open game.)

But of course, there's also the question of Luffy herself, and as much as she's the heart of the ASL Pirates, she's also an enigma. Thatch, for all that he adores her and honestly wants more with her, genuinely has a hard time imagining her as anything but clueless as someone's romantic partner (he's carefully not thinking about anything sexual). It very well may be that the whole "figuring out" that she and Ace have to do...ends up being nothing. And that's fine as well.

Either way, as much as Thatch loves him, there's no way that any of them here on board the Merry will stand to let Marco shatter this delicate...whatever it is that's going on between their captains, that the rest of them are so patiently respecting. Even if it ends up continuing indefinitely.

As strained as it can feel at times, they're comfortable like this. There's the little spark of joy when Seastar gives him a little extra attention, a little burn when Sanji kisses her hand, but comfort in the stability that no one will go any further. If anything it's a nice little spice to their daily lives, just the right amount, and not enough ruin the dish so to speak. This is fine.

Except, that there's just one teeny little problem...

"What did the blue gull bring you today, Commander?"

Thatch doesn't jump, because he's not an amateur and did realize that the Revolutionary was approaching, but perhaps later than he should have. Damn the kid's good at hiding his presence, and Thatch wonders if he'd have noticed at all if Sabo was being serious.

"Just a stupid request from a stupid brother," Thatch says cheerfully as he turns around to face Sabo. The boy isn't even trying to hide his curiosity, his gaze pinned to Thatch's hand.

Thatch contemplates chucking the letter into the sea, but then he realizes he isn't sure Sabo wouldn't just dive after it, and as a devil fruit user, Thatch wouldn't be able to stop him from reading it underwater.

So he casually uncurls his fingers, watches Sabo visibly perk up--before Thatch opens a black hole in his palm, letting the crumpled paper get sucked into the void.

(Perhaps he should be using his power as more than a secure second dimension pocket expansion, but hey, so far it hasn't been so helpful in the kitchen.)

Sabo sags and sulks, rather cutely, Thatch thinks. "You coulda let me see it," he pouts, looking up at Thatch with an expression uncannily like Luffy's. Fuck.

"Collecting intel, Chief?" Thatch winks, expertly hiding his horror that for a moment, he'd actually been tempted. Little sneak.

"Perhaps." Something slightly manic enters his gaze, and alright, that's nothing like Seastar, not so cute after all...

"Nice try, but it's a personal family thing, can't really share," Thatch says, and it's not really a lie.

Sabo grunts, letting it go, before his gaze flicks to the gull, who still has a beakful of Thatch's sleeve. "It waiting for something?"

Thatch sighs. "Yeah, yeah, my response, which I should probably give..." Because, right, Thatch needs to send a message back to the Moby, even if no, he isn't going to answer Izo's idiotic question.

Which, is actually a fine excuse to extract himself from this situation.

"So, sorry, the response also is personal, hope you don't mind," Thatch nods, and Sabo easily opens the way for him--which, Thatch belatedly realizes, he'd actually been blocking. Scary, little Chief, scary...

"Sorry, didn't mean to pry." Sabo sounds genuinely apologetic, and tips his hat at Thatch as he passes by, and Thatch inwardly heaves a massive sigh of relief. "I'm working on it, but I know I can get a little...pushy, when it comes to things that involve my baby brother."

Thatch continues to walk away.

But inside...

Oh. Yikes, he thinks.

~~

Thatch is in the privacy of the currently empty men's sleeping room beneath the deck, and has just finished writing and giving instructions and bribes to the gull when the hatch creaks open.

"Thatch, we're in trouble," Koala announces as she stomps down the stairs, making her sneaky opening of the door rather pointless.

"I noticed," Thatch says dryly.

Koala pales. "He didn't break any of your toes, did he?!"

"What."

"Well, you're a cook, you make food Luffy likes with your hands," Koala shrugs. "Just wanted to make sure."

"What the fuck."

"I don't think he will! You're Luffy and Ace's crew, and you're a Whitebeard pirate, but..."

Thatch groans. "I already thought your Chief might be trouble, but holy shit I didn't know he was that batshit."

"He might not be!" Koala sounds defensive, but it's not particularly comforting. "He's usually reasonable, kind of, but since his memories came back..."

Thatch throws up his arms. "So, how'd he get it out of you?"

Koala flushes. "I didn't say anything!"

"Sure."

"It's not my fault that Sabo's a damn--!"

There's a loud knock, before the hatch flings open, and Ace pops his head in. "Hey Thatch! What's for snack--"

"NOT AGAIN!" Koala cries.

At the same time, Thatch shouts, "IN A SECOND!"

Either way, the hatch slams shut with a, "SORRY!"

Thatch and Koala stare at each other with their hearts beating uncomfortably rapidly.

They slowly heave a slow sigh of relief as the tension drains.

"I really need to apologize to Ace," Thatch mutters.

"I really need to work on my Observation Haki," Koala groans.

"HEY THATCH, I WANT A SNACK," Luffy shouts, and Thatch and Koala's heads whip around in horror, only to sag with relief at seeing that Luffy's not in the room, but only for a second--

--because after that second, a mermaid's crashing through the hatch, ripping it from its hinges as she slams, hatch and all, into Thatch's chest.

The room fills with dust and debris, and there are shouts outside.

Koala gingerly peers into the wreckage where Thatch is now buried in the wall, a terrified blue gull  perched on her shoulders peering alongside her, its claws digging through the fabric of her shirt.

"We're fine," Thatch coughs, peering down to make sure he'd successfully caught and shielded Luffy from damage, even as he peels himself from the wood. Luffy seems unharmed, though her eyes are wide; she clearly hadn't expected to do quite this much.

"...Armament?" Koala asks, noticing how the back of Thatch's hair is black from where it's fanned around him.

"Armament," Thatch agrees, keeping the entire back of his body coated until he's safely pulled himself and Luffy, still in his arms, away from any sharp wood.

"Sorry, Thatch," Luffy says, not particularly apologetic, if anything sort of curious. She peels herself back from his chest, scritching her cheek while looking down at what was once the hatch to the mens room that had shattered between them. She then reaches back to tug at Thatch's black locks, and oohs when they fade back to auburn.

"No worries, just make sure to make it up to Deuce and Usopp when they have to fix this," Thatch sighs, before grinning, letting his arms fall away from Luffy once he knows she has a secure grip on his shoulders. He then begins carding his fingers through her hair to make sure no splinters got in, and likewise dusting off the front of her vest, taking care not to let his touch linger. Luffy nods frantic agreement, more like rubs her head into his palm, and Thatch feels his heart skip a beat.

Koala sighs.

"Hey Thatch, what's this?"

Thatch blinks, then inwardly curses.

Luffy's holding Izo's crumpled piece of paper. His control of his power's still shoddy, and it must have accidentally spat it back out in the commotion.

Please, don't be able to read that, he prays. He luckily doesn't have much confidence in Luffy's reading abilities.

"It says 'what are her three sizes.' What are those?"

In the background, Koala slowly raises her fist.

~~

A few days later, Marco's scouting when a blue gull rapidly approaches him.

Delivery! it squawks. Delivery for you, Boss, and don't show Izo! Don't show Izo! Don't show Izo or the bread man will be mad!

Thank you, noted, friend, Marco responds, and catches the note from Thatch in mid air.

The gull trills acknowledgement, then wheels away to rejoin its brethren, while Marco changes course for the nearest island, a safe forest haven in Pops's territory, still a ways away from the Moby. It's uninhabited, save for the wildlife, and it would be good to land once before returning home anyway.

Marco lands lightly on the tallest and oldest tree on the island, from where he can survey the island of pure greenery, and the endless blue stretching beyond. The branch he's chosen looks deceptively thin, but he already knows it can support his human weight, which is why he shifts, passing the note from his claw to his hand before completing his transformation.

Marco frowns. The other Commanders (and to be honest, the entire crew) have been acting a bit strange recently, but for Thatch, who isn't even on board with them, to also be in on it...

True, this may or may not be related to that at all. But still.

Marco feels like he's missing something.

Marco, Thatch's message starts, and Marco already knows it's going to be serious because it didn't start with a jibe at his appearance.

Marco, I think I'm actually serious about her. Thoughts, brother?

Her, meaning the Ace's little brother, the mermaid girl.

If Marco remembers correctly, in Thatch's first note back to him, he'd written, She's stolen my heart, I think I want to marry her.

Marco had assumed Thatch was joking at the time, or just light-heartedly flirting, as he always did. Marco's used to hearing Thatch spew these kinds of words, and he'd taken it to mean that the girl's exceptionally Thatch's type, but hadn't thought further.

The words had made him remember a little trinket he'd had stored in a chest at the back of his closet, one he'd received from an elderly couple on Fishman Island around two decades ago...

But that's not important now, Marco thinks, focussing on Thatch's message.

In all his years of flings and casual relationships and jokingly asking ladies (and some gents) Won't you marry me...Thatch has not once asked for Marco's opinion. He's certainly had plenty of opinions himself about whether someone would be a potential good match for Marco, which Marco always ignored. But Thatch has never asked Marco about matches for himself.

Thatch really is serious.

Marco finds himself slowly smiling. "Finally, you sap," he murmurs, though no one hears him but the other birds in the trees around him.

He knows he ought to think more about what to say, but the answer is so obvious that Marco takes Thatch's note, and carefully tears the paper so that his brother's words aren't damaged. Gently tucking Thatch's note into his pocket, Marco pulls out a pen for the remaining small blank strip of paper.

Shortly afterwards, two birds depart from the island, in opposite directions: one, a phoenix, wings burning cyan against the clear skies, and the other, a blue gull headed to Paradise.

~~

~~

~~

Part 9, things start Moving as Sabo confronts Ace.

Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! And again, please do let me know if you actually like reading the story here on tumblr or not >.<;

As always, any comments are immensely appreciated and help motivate me to create more for this AU! ;A;

❀ ❀ Send YukiPri an Ask! ❀ ❀

~This ask has been added to the Mermaid AU Text Headcanons Compilation post~

so today I just watched the first episode of Almost Paradise! And I’ve gotta say, I am impressed. I already had it on my watchlist but I was planning to wait to watch it for a while until I could let Eliot fade a bit from memory, just so I wouldn’t automatically think of him while watching Kane. But I ran into an article this weekend about how it was filmed in the Philippines and the details of that, and my curiosity was piqued considerably more, so I figured... why not? 

(I also started White Collar this weekend and that was very enjoyable, but that’s a post for another day.) 

Anyway, my brain’s buzzing now, so have some first impressions and reactions, plus initial meta-analysis because I am intrigued. In hindsight I probably should have recorded first impressions while I was watching, but I’ll do my best to remember the bits that stuck out. Warning for... exceedingly long post.

ooo, okay, so he’s got a medical condition. I faaaaintly remember reading about this in the summary but I didn’t pay much attention to that, oops.

telling a guy played by Chris Kane not to get his heartrate up! that’s definitely gonna happen. definitely. one hundred percent. not like this guy loves fighting or anything

(also tbh the joke about, ah, sexual dysfunction admittedly left a sour taste in my mouth, because I do not go for that kind of thing, but... this is Devlin and Kane, so I’m trusting, based off Leverage experience, that they aren’t gonna be too inappropriate. [In hindsight there are actually interesting meta reasons for this so the sour taste has dissipated somewhat.])

this poor doctor. she’s so done with him. 

...he’s definitely not gonna pay attention to the monitor is he

that journal’s gonna get zero use oop

(I was duly impressed when he actually did use it later)

huh, liking how we immediately dive into the effect tourism has had on the Philippines. so we’re getting some commentary here too? I can deal with that

...wow. bad shop. eek

I’m sorry but I am loving the touch with the floorboards and such breaking beneath Alex. the look on his face is just perfect

and the monitor goes off! for tbh the last reason I expected it to first go off for, excellent 

MOTORCYLE? did they give him a motorcycle?!

awww no it’s the baddies who have the motorcycle :(

hmm this should be interesting. loving the look of this leader guy tho

--aaaand good asthetic guy is dead! with an ice pick! creepy and creative! 

bar. no way this could go wrong

internal battle! understandable that Alex wants out, buuuuuuut if he’s anything like I suspect he is--

--yup, picking a fight, with a damn pool cue--

--not picking a fight?

...picking a fight. by being friendly. *sigh*

yuuuuuuuup. that’s definitely good for your heart

badass fighting scene! with a pool cue, that’s a new one! love seeing Kane take ordinary objects and turn them into fighting tools

(ngl this had Eliot vibes. that said I am thrilled to see how damn good these fight scenes are and this is making me even more excited for Redemption)

aaaaaaaaaand oh fuck this was a police setup. which. I actually did not see coming, huh

ahahah they’re pissed! because he messed up their bust? or because he just saved their asses? 

...probably technically the former but I suspect the latter is also true

refusing to get Involved being foreshadowed by his indecision earlier! of course he’s going to get Involved anyway, only question is how

“hitter” I SEE YOU. I SEE YOU AND YOUR REFERENCES. I SEE YOU DEVLIN AND KANE

pfffffffffffFFFFFT the meditation, oh gods

that voice. oh Alex. 

I genuinely cannot tell if this is him actually trying or if this is him begrudgingly making an attempt because he has to

lacquering(?) the doors, which, hey, actually look pretty nice--this place is gonna look good when it’s done isn’t iii--

oh fuck Alex is being attacked

(this is definitely something to be concerned about. yes. totally. not like we haven’t already seen him take down a bunch of guys.)

with a garrot! this is definitely totally not how he’s gonna get Involved

oh my gods the detail with the paint. nothing says Competent like getting irritated at how the baddie interrupted your house restoration

hehehehe Involved

oooh, hmm, he thinks they sent the guy after him? what kind of corruption has Alex faced? I mean it’s not an unreasonable fear, but jeez, it sounds like this has happened to him before. doesn’t say much good about the DEA...

huh, this is a level of disturbed I haven’t seen from Kane before. which, granted, I have only seen him in Leverage, but I’ve never seen him pull this out before. the voice crack is an excellent touch

also, worth noting, Alex is definitely a notable level of... hmm, paranoid? this is just a tad bit frantic, though that’s understandable from a guy who almost got killed while in the middle of an attempted meditation

oh god being cocky in the middle of a briefing. poor Kai 

--being cocky and competence porn! of course he takes the watch and turns it into a lesson

...he must be a hell of a teacher

(also, bonus points for actually using the journal. maybe he’s taking this health thing more seriously than I thought he would?)

may I repeat: COMPETENCE PORN

uh-huh, you’re so not involved, definitely, Alex, not like you’re gonna get pulled straight into this or anything

Ernesto is just watching to see how things play out, Kai is... trying to do things the right way, and Alex...

...Alex gives precisely zero fucks. buddy you are so not subtle

right, walking straight into the lion’s den! radiating confidence! terrifying

this is a disturbing level of truth he’s sharing for this lie. I mean, best lies are crafted from truth, but... jeez

hm. so is Alex also a “I don’t like guns” type guy? 

(probably not for the same reasons as Eliot doesn’t [his is definitely more in the “they make it too easy to kill” department whereas I would guess Alex has either more tactical or PTSD reasons], but, hmm. this is something to watch for)

(did they know they were bringing back Leverage when they set up Almost Paradise? I’m genuinely wondering if they didn’t write some Eliot traits into Alex specifically bc they knew Kane missed playing him)

this is a fantastically confident level of grifting--what exactly did he do in the DEA, precisely?

...ah. cool asthetic guy. stuffed in the freezer. gotta admit, I definitely didn’t see that one coming. creepy! 

(and it looks like you actually managed to shake Alex a little, hah)

aaaaaand in the meantime we have Kai following his advice! in an... interesting way. hm. 

(surprisingly this does not annoy me that much in hindsight. not sure why)

and understandably, this does not go over well! except, oh, fuck, DEA guy. this ain’t gonna be good

...worse. worse than I thought. what happened to you, Alex? former partner? whaaat

“attacks”? 

this gonna be the typical “traumatized white dude has Anger Attacks” type thing? 

honestly I immediately went “probably not” given how it was handled in Leverage. wasn’t sure though. but that does leave the question of what sort of attacks? it doesn’t seem like it’d be meltdowns, so what does that leave? 

hmmm. DEA guy is an Ass. we Do Not Like him. I’ve known Alex for less than half an hour but you do not do that to him. you do not use trauma against your guy, Jerkface. 

cutting a deal? this should be interesting

...well shit. I. am sincerely hoping Kai isn’t about to walk in on anything too bad

this definitely isn’t gonna be a fight though, that I called right off the bat

--bottles. dammit

oh, Christ. attempted OD or just drunk?

just drunk! good! well, very Not Good, but better than the other thing

pffffft dunking him in the water and then him going straight back to the water when he sees her, that is both absolutely hilarious and deeply concerning

aaand I’m agreeing with Kai but also, poor guy just got confronted with a hell of a lot of things that would raise his trau--

...mm. yeah. that’d be it. 

...I. was. not expecting that much backstory info straight off. holy cow, Alex. that is. messed up. someone get this man a hug

“one of the guys that cared too much”

(...like you?)

(or is that why you won’t let yourself care now?)

fuck, there was a lot more to that boat scene than I thought. ow

partner who betrayed him like that? I’m just. gods. 

Trust Issues is definitely gonna be a Thing isn’t it

can we just take a second to appreciate how Christian Kane is playing the absolute hell out of this character

aaaand Kai brings him back to the city for a Heartwarming Reminder of why he was in the game! this is very tropey but it is, as John Rogers has pointed out, an instance of the “well-worn writing tool” rather than feeling cheesy! 

holy crap Kai has lost. a lot of people. oh man

ahahahaha classic “why did you bring me here?” line! you know why, Alex. you know why

oh, and Ernesto gets a chance to help him out! I’m already enjoying this so much

awww and Kai shows up to help encourage him! with coffee! supportive friend and very obvious but honestly okay love interest! good!!!

(what the heck is with Devlin and his crew and sticking Kane with two besties? based on Ernesto’s dynamic with him I’m guessing this isn’t gonna be an OT3 but. I am loving the trend)

“I’m gonna regret this in the morning” pfft

huh, working with the DEA agents. not like he’s gonna go off script or anything. that’s totally not gonna happen is it

hehe irritated look while they’re putting on the mic. he is so very unimpressed

--”little episodes”--episodes? 

moment of appreciation for the un-forced-feeling diversity in these police squads

“how’s the anxiety?” I’m sorry what

hold up, when we say “episodes”--are we talking panic attacks? does Alex have actual goddamn anxiety? 

...actually with PTSD? that would make complete sense. I am... intrigued. I am really hoping that that’s the case, actually, because having seen how well they handled Parker and her PTSD in Leverage (as well as Nate’s and Eliot’s) I have a lot of faith that they could pull that off really well, actually. That would be good. 

ppFFFT TAKING OFF THE WIRES RIGHT OFF THE BAT

wait what. you’re telling them everything? what’s your game here? 

“get that frikkin gun outta my face!” yup, not a fan of guns! no disarming though? huh

(also can we just. appreciate how Kane manages to make “frikkin” sound just as much like the cuss it’s replacing?)

(LET ALEX SAY FUCK)

oh. OH

hi Ernesto! hi Kai! I see what y’all doing

ohhhhhhhhhh Alex you goddamn genius. Getting rid of all of the drugs so there’s no way the precise thing he was claiming to be doing can happen. I like this

THE MEDITATION COMING ON ON THE RECORDING I CAN’T--OH MY GODS

Alex please tell me you know how to disarm a gun. please. guns are not effective at that distance

OH. OH I DID NOT SEE KAI COMING. 

got ‘em! murder confession, how did I not see that coming? good stuff

Kai can fight! 

KAI CAN FUCKING FIGHT WOW

I am very much appreciating Kai right now

also is that a FLYING KICK from Ernesto?

they better give these people more fight scenes

aaaaand straight into the water, oh god. I’m assuming this was a choice made because Alex is familiar with this territory? ...I do not think I want to know where Alex learned to fight underwater.

(I really really really want to know.) 

how the fuck has your monitor not gone off by now Alex

choking him out underwater, okay, wow 

what size are your lungs? this is long

extra kudos for excellent underwater filming and wow I am hoping the actors actually came up for air

(this is also unreasonably beautiful for a scene where you’re choking out a drug lord. the water is so pretty)

Evil DEA guy (no I am not going to learn his name, he doesn’t deserve it) is gonna be Alex’s Agent Sterling, isn’t he? this should be interesting

heh, police chief is taking his side! good stuff, good stuff

(it is very nice to see Alex getting some people in his corner after knowing what hell the DEA put him through)

Alex has fallen so damn hard for Kai. this is very very adorable actually

awww he’s really getting into fixing up the shop, isn’t he? I’m sincerely looking forward to seeing how he gets this up and going, it really looks like he’s enjoying himself

somehow I am starting to wonder if the cocky “oh yeah I’m opening up a gift shop how exciting huh” thing at the start wasn’t... actually genuine. he... is enjoying this, isn’t he? good. very good

I am unreasonably invested in this man’s wellbeing for one episode in

!!!!!!!!! HE GETS HIS PARADE

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

giving him his reason to keep going! yes! yessss

oh Alex you are attached now. you are very attached. good luck my dude and don’t let the trust issues get in the way

this is a good show. this is a heckin awesome show. 

also, side note, it is SO PRETTY

I am just loving loving loving all of the scenery. competence porn AND landscape and city porn. beautiful. perfection. excellent

...that was. much longer than I anticipated oops 

anyway, conclusion: hot damn this is a fun show! I am very excited to keep watching this. Alex officially has my heart, even if he’s a bit of a cocky bastard sometimes. Kane is fucking hilarious. (More reasons to be excited for Redemption!) Kai and Ernesto also have my heart, and I am extremely interested to see their character development. 

Honestly, the beauty is surprising. I didn’t expect to just enjoy how pretty it is. The blues of the ocean, the intense tropical colors, even the run-down gift shop--there’s such a gorgeous aesthetic to it all. If I wasn’t already invested in the characters and plot, I’d be invested for that alone. 

So... I have some thoughts on Alex and the show structure.

He’s obviously very disillusioned. There’s a lot of nods to the idea of war--he’s commonly referring to himself as a soldier, as a veteran, maybe as a casualty. I’m gonna take a totally wild guess here and say this show is going to be focused on the drug issues in the Philippines. (Wow, Synapse, how the heck’d you guess that?) I do find describing the war on drugs as a war, and going into the terminology that comes with it, very appropriate, and I like how this show is actively calling this to attention rather than using it as a convenient plot. They’re actually addressing the issue and discussing its impact. And given how overlooked certain aspects of the impact of the drug war on the Philippines is, this is a good choice, especially in order to alert American viewers to the issue. I’m curious to see how they handle that.

Again, interesting drawing parallels to war, too, and comparing it against the likes of WWI and Vietnam. It really gives that sense of weight to the issue and defines a vital aspect of it: the impact of the war on drugs on the people involved. It emphasizes that the people who are fighting it suffer consequences and PTSD just as a soldier in the field does, and it also emphasizes, with Kai, that it isn’t just the people actively fighting who bear the consequences. It’s also the people on the sidelines--it’s the families, the people on the streets by the gunfights, the economical impact, etcetera. 

But there’s also an element to Alex’s character that automatically makes him relatable to a lot of people... and it has nothing to do with the PTSD, nothing to do with the war on drugs, nothing really to do with the main issues. It is, simply, the intense hopelessness and depression that comes with trying to make a difference. In his case it’s making a difference on a severe worldwide issue. But the vast majority, if not all, of Almost Paradise’s audience should be able to relate to a feeling of never doing enough. And there’s certainly a large section of that group who can relate to being part of a fight that never seems to end. Doesn’t matter what you’re doing--if it’s driven at helping, it rarely ever feels like you ever do enough. But the advice given is excellent. One of the best things to do, when you’re feeling hopeless over this, is to focus on and take deep joy in the impact you do make. 

Alex is an expression of a frustration that a lot of people deal with. This, I think, is one of the reasons why he instantly drew me--and presumably the rest of the audience--in (outside of a fantastic actor and great humor). He’s relatable. He’s something that most people can see a part of themselves in. 

Anyway, symbolism and real-world talk aside, this is just... fun. It’s genuine fun. We’re covering rough issues, but there’s a lot of well-written tropes in here too that are written in that way that makes them enjoyable to relive rather than painful. The humor is delightful and plentiful. There’s a lot of beautiful feel-good moments. I’m suspecting this’ll be a comfort show, and I am perfectly all right with that. 

Onto the next episode!

I grew up in the Bay Area at the height of AIDS panic, and all of that era’s sex paranoia remains burned into my brain, repurposed for Covid-19 and the act of commingling wet breath. A few weeks into this crisis, I found myself having a ten-foot-distant conversation with my neighbor Patty, both of us incredulous at people who still tried to talk to us in-tight face-to-face, like we weren't all suddenly barebacking reality with everyone they'd chit-chatted with that day and everyone in their lives, etc. Patty allowed that she should be able to strike people she considered a threat. I mentioned Florida's attitude toward this legal principle and firearms. I suggested she become militant. I tell that to a lot of people, but I attenuate the humor of it for the audience. I tell every teacher I know to strike.

There are more sirens now. It's hard to tell, because unlike New York, everything isn't quiet. Cars are out on the road—fewer, but enough that hearing a siren can still be vehicular idiocy and not a more sinister house call. But I still hear more of them.

I don’t know why Luke asked me to write about Coronavirus in Florida. I mostly stopped writing last year when a good friend dropped dead in front of his family. (Subscribe to my Substack—we don't update regularly!) Before that, I felt increasingly overborne by events. Things ground to a halt in 2019, but the machine began to break down long before. I ended the 2016 campaign periodically sitting under my desk, high, feeling secure because I wasn't writing anything stupid and feeling good because I was appropriately afraid of everything, but people thought I was exaggerating when I mentioned it.  

I wish I could say my seriousness about the novel coronavirus stems solely from believing in science and peer review and that I would take it seriously regardless, but my spouse is immunocompromised, and my father, who lives out in the Bay Area, had Covid-19, back in March or early April. He didn't tell us kids until he was out of the woods, but for days he had fevers over 103º. My stepmom, a former emergency room nurse, couldn't get him admitted anywhere, because he wasn't having respiratory problems. He woke up the same every day: It felt like someone had parked a Volkswagen on him.

We're supposed to say he's out of the woods. I'll believe that when he dies of old age, or something more reasonable that kills men in my family, like colon cancer or car accidents. Sometimes I think about him dropping dead like my friend, only from whatever post-Covid-19 effect triggers the brain’s forgetting to tell the lungs to breathe—or from the one that leads to storms of strokes, like a brain's blood vessels recreating the burning energies depicted on a CRISS ANGEL MINDFREAK poster. Then I wonder how I would die, or my wife, or my friend in Atlanta, or my brother. I think about drowning in open air, alone in a hissing world, and being incapable of saying the overdue apologies I ran out of time for.

After a while I realized that basically all Luke wanted was to hear from a coward living in the mismanaged kleptocracy of Florida, and the thing is, I can do that! I’m frightened right now!

I considered opening with, Every day I wake up frightened, to throw a fucking jolt into a piece about facing down a pandemic in a place where they have a paradise just for the cheeseburgers. But the joke is, I'm not wastin' away here in Coronaville. Sometimes I wake up and just have to pee, on the rare days when I don't wake up from the sensation of my son elbow-dropping my head because—how rude of me—it's 6:45 already.

In this respect, I am serene: My son and I exercise outside to burn off his energy, so I'm out in the sun for hours a day. I'm tanner, I've lost weight, and my phlegm feels looser. I grew a lushly indifferent goatee. My haircut looks like something that belongs on the gatefold cover of a concept album about a form of locomotion by a band named after geography. While the term "Lebowski Phase" has been applied to my appearance and to the fact that my leg injury and medical-marijuana prescription have collided with the reality of never having to drive anywhere again, I must insist that in many respects I have come to look like Jesus Christ. I am pro life and take no pleasure in reporting this.

As I have said, I am frequently awakened by my son, whose full name is My Beautiful Five-Year-Old Son Maitland. He is a treasure who spends quarantine within earshot of 24-hour news, regurgitating West Wing Democrat observations of mine with five-year-old precocity to harvest follows for Instagram. Maitland is an influencer already on record as supporting L’Oréal, opposing Medicare For All, and, when I first read him the shaggy start to this piece, he said, "Not a good look." He's a natural.

Waking up is violent but easy. The problem is everything after that. By the time I close my eyes, I'm not sure what I felt most on any given day—anger, sadness, impotence, a resentful churning need for vengeance, despair. Any one can seem like a day's dominant emotional dysfunction and then suddenly be overwhelmed by the dread that suffuses prolonged thought about the world outside.

I am one of the people who is Taking It Seriously. Seriously Taking It Seriously, though—not the people who say they're taking it seriously and then tell you about:

• Going to a recent indoor birthday party.

• Having a multi-course dinner at a fancy restaurant, "But it was okay because it was [extremely not-worth-a-life celebration]!"

• A full-contact playdate their kid had recently with two other children.

I abhor these people. I have an existential loathing of these people, and a granular scientific indictment. I enjoy reading new articles to learn new ways in which they are a danger to me. My apprehension is rich and exquisite. May their friends shun them, and may they be abandoned by their gods.

Sooner or later, every day, I think of the threats arrayed against me and my family. Each day, I see the most recent thing said by my governor, Ronald Fuckface DeSantis, in which he explicitly endorses and declares his intent to pursue actions that all available data say will kill Floridians by the thousands. Each day, I think about how, if I do so much as suggest fostering a free exchange of ideas about the proportional value of using every means to stop him, I will be arrested.

Every day, I bounce the "Evil or Moronic?" debate around my brain. I check in with an alumna buddy in Atlanta to see whose governor has shown more recent determination to murder his citizens. I gotta give Brian Kemp credit, because he's really holding his own. Naturally, this leads to wondering if either of them have a natural or acculturated advantage in terms of idiocy and malevolence. DeSantis' enrollment at Yale and Harvard and service in the military problematizes the idiocy narrative only for as long as it takes to remember all the people you've met who've gone to any of them and were dumber than dogshit. It would seem like fate to be murdered by an oaf, but I don't know that it's not merciful to at least be murdered purposefully rather than contemptuously and indolently.

Eventually, this leads to spending some time thinking about DeSantis as a kind of lethal bro angel. It's hard not to see his shitchyeah, brah, people are dyin', it's classic! expression and recognize that the state's chief executive resembles a lout you don't want to run into walking alone at FSU after a home loss. I prefer my jokes about the governor, but my friend David Roth nailed it when he said that DeSantis seemed like a person who would describe himself as “kind of a DUI guy.”

I know there's supposedly a culture war out there. There's a truck in my neighborhood with a Q sticker, and another with a Three-Percenter sticker, and there are more than a few neighbors of the "easily victimized white dude who owns a $50,000 truck he rarely takes off the pavement and who becomes physically belligerent when you correct him" variety, but there's a reason why you really only see “war” shit on YouTube. Few Americans are hostile to general safety protocols, and even fewer act out against them. I live where hate groups and old fashioned unaffiliated redneck trash drive in from the county to make a show of rebel flags, rolling coal and honking to intimidate protests, but people line up six feet apart at Home Depot, wear masks at Publix and get takeout at the pizza place outside without insisting on barging in. Most wars don’t need one side of them to be this manufactured.

Most of my friends and colleagues from this gig live in New York, so I've already sat through weeks of descriptions of streets silent except for ambulances, and I’ve already woken for weeks to the half-twilight of nightmares where friends died in a spare white hallway. There aren't a lot of surprises in store for Florida, and no images I can describe that would make you want to turn back now. It's like we're waiting for the rolling premiere of a franchise blockbuster. The dead won't really start packing them in for a few more weeks, but all the scariest shit hit YouTube when it opened in New York a thousand years ago. The coronavirus as an image, what it functionally is, as a horror, feels as familiar as the Scream mask, and the context that makes that scary as hell already feels dangerously been-and-gone, like an apprehension that Florida had for too long before the actual scare came.

There's a hope that all this will come to little again. Despite Governor DeSantis' refusal to take the initiative on shutting down the state until the last dollar was wrung from the last snowbird, the original shellacking never came. The Tampa Bay Times sampled smartphone data and concluded that Floridians overwhelmingly took the initiative to stay home, and they were aided in their quarantine process by the fact that Florida is car-dependent and atomized.

The heartbreaking realization, as you gradually run across more people who are Not Taking It Seriously or are Expressing Moronic Skepticism, is that for a month there about 80 percent of America was on board with doing the right thing. We, a people who suck at doing the right thing even for the wrong reasons, stood on the side of doing the harder thing if it helped people who weren't even us.

I really can't tell if I feel more anger than sadness at the fact that those who were meant to encourage us in safety, to serve us by offering difficult guidance, wasted our sacrifice and our trust. They squandered the patience given by a beggared and exhausted people. All they had to do was the right thing, and if they weren't sure what that was, they could have erred on the side of saving people’s lives and hoping it counted, and they failed.  

Instead, more people will die, and we'll be shut down again, and we will realize we are fundamentally unequipped for life with Covid-19. Florida is built on enclosed air-conditioned spaces: It's dependent on divorcing yourself from Florida as a climate and place. Asking Floridians to generate a public life under the unshielded rage of God’s angriest sun and baked from beneath by a sprawling pave-ocalypse requires asking them to rebel against everything their infrastructure has taught them for as long as they can remember. It is a car culture to the flesh and bone, and a restaurant relocating indoor tables to a road patio would park its diners inches away from eternity.

A picnic day like that is months off, again. It's time to go back inside and resume Inside Time. Inside Time melts away. I saw a headline around the Fourth of July, from the New York Times, that read, "In the Covid-19 Economy, You Can Have a Kid or a Job. You Can’t Have Both," and I remember seeing colleagues tweet, mmmm, so true, and, gets at something crucial we aren't talking about, and shit like that, and I was like, "Buddy, let's get in the DeLorean and visit March." I have nowhere to go, anyway, and all life is timeless.

We have no family in the area and have had no break. It's the three of us, like No Exit, but if most of the dialogue was the word "no" and a lot of stuff about poop and butts and farts, good guys and bad guys, and what Lego Star Wars would do, but with a lot of excruciated pleading for silence because Mom and Dad Are Working Right Now and We Love You Very Much but Jesus Christ Please Stop for the Love of God I Will Give You a Dollar If You Go in Your Room and Be Quiet and Play That Kindle App That Teaches You to Read That You Pay Attention to More Than Us Even Though I Would Read You a Fucking Novel If You'd Just Shut Up and Sit Still.

I'm resigned to staying in here until 2022. I’m screaming, but I will do it. I'm lucky in that I have access to a community pool and a neighborhood where my son and I can roam around on bikes and romp and look at water and birds and turtles. When we're lazy, we have a porch where we can feel nature without feeling exposed. We have a dependable (ok!!! haha!!!) income, and I can do irregularly scheduled work that allows me to be Parent rather than Employee. Exercise, meals and stories take up enough hours that I might as well lean into it.

But we’re lucky. We have a house and prescription mood-altering drugs and one thousand years of undersleep, but we are in less immediate danger than most. The state, almost reflexively, reaches out to open more doors even as Covid-19 blows past reopening benchmark after reopening benchmark.

The inexorable march for commerce doesn’t even come from malice in many cases; people in charge just don’t know how to do anything else but extort and scold people into working under any conditions, so long as it devours most of their time. All the exploitive principles are expected to work the same even if the world they built is fraudulent. We feed meat and the virus into the machines, irrespective of what the data says, and pray for rain. Watching Florida government on the state and local level is like watching two parents bring an alcoholic home after he got kicked out of rehab and deciding that the best course of action is leaving him with $5,000 in an apartment up the street from a dive bar and then going to Cancun for the week. It was on the calendar already, there wasn’t any choice, he looked very healthy at the time!

We have friends who are teachers, and we are scared for their spouses and kids. I don't know what Florida's plan for its teachers is other than to murder them. Again, I don't know if DeSantis is an idiot for flirting with giving enormous bipartisan sympathy to arguably the most effective labor group in the state, or a genius for flirting with finally eliminating a lobbying obstacle to conservative governance by simply liquidating its members as a class.

I worry if I start listing all the things I'm scared of, they'll never stop, but every day I see my son reach for something he should be able to reach for, and I either have a low-grade panic response and stifle it, or I have the panic response and yelp at him to get his attention and tell him to stop, startle him, and add another layer of gun-shy haunting to his day. I'm afraid he'll eventually become an animal in a Skinner Box in which all the buttons and levers are electrocuted, and there are no prizes.

I'm afraid that my son will always be emotionally arrested at two years behind the development of people the same age who had siblings in their house, or who, like many kids in my neighborhood, had parents who thought kids were invincible to Covid-19 and let them play with whomever they wanted. I worry that he may pay a price year after year even into adulthood because other kids got to practice socializing as we rode past. They got to hang out with people their own age and run around and do vitally stupid shit and say "butts" a lot, and he got look at me heartbroken and knowing empirically and epidemiologically that he couldn't play with his friends anymore but still needing to know why, and knowing that I couldn't tell him anything more sophisticated and anything less terrifying than, "So we don't get sick."

The other day he started crying and then screaming, "I hate the sickness! I hate the sickness!" repeating it in a higher and higher register, until he was up even past that piercing birdlike screech that prepubescent boys make whenever trying to sound like lasers or dinosaurs or squealing brakes. Every day I worry that I see another little bit of his capacity for happiness is dying—that the same awkward process of terror that took me from happy little kid to profoundly unhappy teen to scarred adult is even more rapidly at work, and each day another sparkling and joyous little light of childhood winks out in him, replaced by fear as a necessity of life.

I know that there is no plan for us. Conservatives don't want to be taxed or have their businesses lose money, so people are being kicked off unemployment and sent back to work with no test and trace protocols, irregular access to PPE, overwhelmed hospitals and often limited access to any care. We're doing all this as Florida blooms scarlet like paint being spilled into a mold shaped like the state. We're sending the men in the gasoline suits right at the heart of the fire.

It's a cruelly lazy little culling genocide of the working class, a Wall Street gamble that the blow to the labor force won't be more than a blip on the Dow and, a little recession aside, the One Percent will come out ten years later owning an even greater percentage of the United States. To the extent that there is a plan, that's the plan, and whether you land on the dead or the living part of any of those exchanges is more of a Your Problem than a Their Problem.

For now, it's enough to be hermits and hope the rest of Florida goes on strike by going inside and staying there and writing letters to representatives threatening to never come out. Cooking the same things, getting the same exercise in the same places, having the same awkward conversations on VOIP delay, and living every moment outside like we're three drinks in so we’re ready to get belligerent with anyone who is getting too close. Living every moment with some low-level neurasthenia that grows spine-deep and for the rest of our lives sends shuddering disequilibrium at the thought of air that never seems to move, hallways that lengthen without exits, and objects that seem both unavoidable and unclean. It’s fine. We’re all fine, here, now. How are you?

I feel a sudden Git Offa Mah Land thing about my son, a resolute commitment to homeschooling for the foreseeable future and to keeping the gummymint away. It sucks so much. I was so happy to send him to the public school just a few blocks away, instead of the shitty little charter schools nearby, but now that it’s Plague or Parents, he’s got his parents. Between us, he'll have access to 1.5 first-class educations. I still have my grandpa's service weapons from WWII, the last time America was in a war with fascism, when we took the opposing side. I'll empty a couple magazines into anyone who comes onto my property and tries to stop me from teaching my son critical race theory, Howard Zinn, and Leonard Levy's Jefferson and Civil Liberties: The Darker Side. I refuse to turn my back on the heritage of my youth, of watching thousands of hours of MASH, by refusing to wear a mask outside or in fact any time I am doing anything other than drinking gin that I made in a tent.

Outside, records fall and progress rolls on. A governor whose go-to pejorative for opponents of all ages and sexes is very likely still “queef” watches as even the president concedes that a Republican National Convention here would be too lethal, as the state repeatedly sets records for daily deaths, beats out all of Europe in terms of new daily cases, leads the nation in cases per day, then tries to set them again. And then, every day, our governor makes his ahegao-but-for-ethnic-cleansing face and psychotically clangs a bell indicating that Florida just became the 15,000 customer at Leadshoe Larry’s Kicked-in-the-Dick, and it’s time for all us lucky winners to line up and drop our pants.

Florida’s lethality is so tacky that it’s almost camp, but there is no satisfaction in being right about how wrong everything is. Nobody gets a prize for correctly guessing the surplus death toll. All you have to do is look someone else in the eye working in life under Covid.

I’m old now, so I have Humiliating Injury Syndrome (HIS), and somehow in the month between the Super Bowl and the pandemic, I tore a rotator cuff, a labrum, or both, by throwing a (mini!!!) football with friends. After four months, I broke down and went to get an MRI. I skulked down corridors and lurked in a corner of a waiting room, like playing spies with an opponent who was the air. Even the clean and modern fixtures felt miasmic and corrupted, like they were a parking garage in an Alan Pakula film.

Eventually a nurse emerged from an office, crinkled her brown eyes, waved and surprised me by asking after my family by name. She lives three blocks away from me and had hosted me at a party once. Later that day, as my car coasted down the approach to my house, I saw a garage door open and my neighbor’s son walk out on his way to his shift at the same grocery store that I treat emotionally like a Superfund site.

I thought about how much I unconsciously held my breath where they work, and how I unconsciously associate those places with poor choices. The danger of the world outside is so massive that I reflexively need to cordon off the threat into areas of blame and blamelessness. In a moment of crisis, years of conservative rhetorical conditioning in the discourse have taught me to reflexively pathologize those in harm’s way. There is less chaos if someone is at least responsible for something. There is less risk to me, if it turns out someone else’s epidemic is someone else’s fault.

But it is someone else’s fault. And it’s not some poor fucker doomed to sit in a box somewhere and accept paper money and hand metal money back and point at where toilets are, because that’s how he keeps the lights on. It’s not the person consigned to some life-sucking task that, on the best of days, is too humiliating and cruelly impoverished of purpose to ever be a reason why someone should die. It’s not the person around whom you hold your breath because you don’t know where they’ve been. It’s the person and people who put us all in position to suddenly feel like we’re suffocating together.

I hate that I sometimes unconsciously hold my breath around strangers, and I hate that they have heard it. I think of my neighbors, and of the workers on whom we’re dependent, and the permanent uncertain shortness of breath I feel, and I want every moment of their anxiety and mine gathered up and then rained on those who shepherded it into being, those who nurtured it and feasted on it, those who profited from it and were indifferent toward it. Those who consider themselves DUI guys and those who pay to elect them and give them sinecures and who are simply too rich to be arrested for boating under the influence anymore.

I think of how I hold my breath near good people and near vulnerable people in places I am wary of and that we all need to share, and I wonder if we will simply hold our breath for the rest of the year, and if we’ve bargained for standing near each other and holding it for all of the next. And I wish so eagerly that all our suspended futures and the air between us might catch at the throats of those who put us here. That justice for a man like Ron DeSantis might be a permanent and sucking terror: stuck always in an involuntary startled gasp at the sight of responsibility, afraid at the approach of every stranger, incapable of drawing a full and restful breath, and never knowing peace again.

Jeb Lund used to write about politics for Rolling Stone, The Guardian and Gawker, and a bunch of other places, and was the Spectacle of Trump Editor at 50 States of Blue. He and David Roth have a podcast about Hallmark original movies that is mostly funny and exasperated and not unkind, and it's not ultimately about the movies anyway. It's fine and people enjoy it. Don't make it weird. He also has a podcast where he watches every Dennis Quaid movie in a row. That is also completely normal.

Ok here’s me again with a couple more things.

You’ll want to read this in the New York Times today about a forthcoming documentary on ICE. After it was completed the filmmakers were apparently threatened with legal action by the agency over the inclusion of parts that made ICE look even worse than they already look doing literally everything else they do.

Some of the contentious scenes include ICE officers lying to immigrants to gain access to their homes and mocking them after taking them into custody. One shows an officer illegally picking the lock to an apartment building during a raid.

At town hall meetings captured on camera, agency spokesmen reassured the public that the organization’s focus was on arresting and deporting immigrants who had committed serious crimes. But the filmmakers observed numerous occasions in which officers expressed satisfaction after being told by supervisors to arrest as many people as possible, even those without criminal records.

“Start taking collaterals, man,” a supervisor in New York said over a speakerphone to an officer who was making street arrests as the filmmakers listened in. “I don’t care what you do, but bring at least two people,” he said.

Here’s one disgusting detail among many.

They followed Border Patrol tactical agents who took pride in rescuing migrants from deadly dehydration even as the agents acknowledged that their tactics were pushing the migrants further into harm’s way. They showed how the government had at times evaluated the success of its border policies based not only on the number of migrants apprehended, but on the number who died while crossing.

***

source:

https://luke.substack.com/p/all-they-had-to-do-was-the-right?utm_source=Brooklyn+Today&utm_campaign=dd6f63665c-EMAIL_CAMPAIGN_2020_07_28_01_15&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_1ba554d7d5-dd6f63665c-125128182

Absolution

Summary:

noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment

The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who's willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.

XX

January 4, 2278.

I followed Percy outside the Lamplight Caverns, trying to match the pace of her footsteps. Her shoulders are all tensed up again, and I just know a storm’s brewing in her head. I reached out to touch her shoulder.

“What is it?”

“Percy, how are we going to rescue those children from Paradise Falls?”

“Simple. We sneak in, free the slaves, and fuck the place up so no slaver can set foot in it again. Then we escort the kids back to Lamplight so we can proceed with retrieving the GECK.”

I shook my head. “Percy, that’s easier said than done. If we’re going to take down Paradise Falls, we need coordinated attacks. Inside information. Tactics. Rushing in would be foolish,” I tell her.

My friend gives me a sour look, but it melts into a pout. “You’re right. Shit, how are we going to pull this off?”

“May I suggest something?” I ask her. Her face lights up, lips curling into a smile.

“You know I appreciate all your suggestions,” Percy responds, bumping her arm against mine. The corner of my mouth twitches upward before I can stop myself.

“We need inside information. A layout of the place would be a good start. Then we figure out tactics. Our attack must be coordinated,” I tell her.

Percy pushes her glasses up, brows furrowing. “Yes. We’ll need to take care of logistics too. Ammunition. Medicine.”

Then she pauses, opens her mouth, and closes it again.

“Is there something you want to tell me?”

“Charon,” she starts, rubbing the back of her neck. “You said that slavers used to hold your contract years ago, yes?”

My throat tightens, but I nod.

“Then, do you happen to remember details about the place?”

I blink at Percy a few times, the holes in my memory screwing things up again. I couldn’t say anything.

“It’s okay big guy, don’t force yourself. Just tell me when you remember something,” my friend responds.

We continue walking.

The sun is high up in the sky, but it isn’t warm. Flakes of snow land on me and turn into water droplets. The days are getting colder, and though the radiation in my body and the lack of nerves on the parts of myself that didn’t have skin made me more resistant to it, I can still feel it in my bones.

We pause at the side of the road. Thankfully, the cold meant creatures stayed in their burrows, and raiders kept mostly to their camps, near the fires. Percy takes out the scarf she got from Tulip’s shop and wraps it around her neck. It must’ve been musty; she wrinkled her nose when she took her first inhale. I snorted softly at her reaction. Then, she reaches into her pack again and tosses me a hat.

“I thought you might like it,” she tells me as I look at the hat in my hands. “It’s an ushanka. You don’t have much hair to keep your head warm, and this hat has flaps on the side. I think you’ll like it.”

Something stirs in my chest. It wasn’t unpleasant… but it made me long for a life I lost centuries ago.

“My father used to wear one.”

Percy’s eyes lit up. “Oh. What was he like?”

“Tall. Strong. His hair was red,” I told her as I put the hat on.

It’s as cozy as I imagined. I felt like a child again.

When I tried my father’s hat on, it was too big for me. He said that one day I’ll be big like him and grow into it.

That day never came.

“Like you.”

I didn’t respond. I just bumped my arm against hers.

“I’ve read in a book in Arlington that those things came from a place called Russia. Have you ever been there, Charon?”

“No. But my parents came from that place.”

“Oh. Do you still remember the language? Or the culture?”

I hummed. “Barely. We used to speak it at home… but that was a very long time ago. There was a lullaby my mother used to sing to me, but I cannot remember all the words.”

“Was that the song you hummed to me, when I was grieving my dad?”

“Yes.”

Percy sighs and stretches her hands over her head, and they land on her sides with a muffled thud. “It’s a beautiful melody. So many things lost to war…”

I kept quiet, looking away. There are horrid things about wars I didn’t want to remember.

“Sorry for the rambling. I was thinking about dad.”

“Nothing to apologize for.”

Percy flashes me a smile. “Remember the day we got Dad out of Vault 112? He immediately ran off to get back to Rivet City and we had to tail him without stopping. He even took out a Super Mutant with a rebar club he picked up… Jesus .”

I remember that. James was pretty tough, for a doctor. Like Percy. Now I know where she gets it from.

“I guess I am my father’s daughter. I was so ready to dive into things. Like that book I wrote with Moira…”

“...that made you sick for days,” I interrupt, and she laughs.

“Yeah. Admittedly, that was pretty impulsive and stupid of me. And now I almost rushed into storming Paradise Falls. Dad used to be my impulse control when we were in the vault. I was just thinking, what would Dad say if he were still here? I used to live off of his advice...”

Without thinking, I put my arm around Percy’s shoulder, her small frame bumping into my side, and she lets out a soft grunt. Then, she laughs, and wraps her arm around my waist.

“I’ll make sure you won’t run off to do anything rash.”

“I’m glad you’re around, Charon.”

I didn’t respond. I just smiled. I hope she didn’t see it.

As we continued our trek back to Megaton, Percy said something that made me remember a detail about Paradise Falls.

“Dad probably would tell me to stock up on medical supplies. Remind me to go to Doc Church’s clinic when we get back. We might need Med-X. Lot’s of it.”

Doc Church.

Paradise Falls.

Wait a damn minute.

September 28, 2277.

I guess I’m a fucking babysitter now.

This girl that I’m supposed to protect and keep out of harm’s way just couldn’t stop getting herself in trouble now, couldn’t she?

I’d understand if it were due to raiders or wasteland creatures. But no, she just had to get herself sick from drinking that fucking atomic bomb water, and as if the radiation wasn’t enough, she had to contract a disease from it too. Stupid.

If it wasn’t for the contract, I would’ve let her sorry ass suffer the consequences of her foolishness. For someone who’s so smart, couldn’t she just explain the effects of radiation to that egghead who asked her to irradiate herself “for science”? It also doesn’t fucking help that she jumped off the railings to cripple her legs for that “scientist” too. It was a miracle that she didn’t receive any permanent injuries from that.

God fucking dammit. What she’s doing is borderline suicidal.

Her illness delayed our plans, as well. We were supposed to be in Rivet City by now. Instead, she’s feverish and looking miserable on the couch, the dog whining as she groaned and grumbled. Dogmeat licks her face, and she buries it in the dog’s fur.

Days ago, I noticed how small she really was, and now she looks even smaller, legs pressed against her chest, curled under a tattered blanket.

A pang of guilt twists in me for even thinking of abandoning her. She’s my employer, and she has been good to me so far. I shouldn’t think of such a thing.

But she’s making it difficult for me to do my damn job.

Sluggish, she stands up, and reaches for her jacket, the one with the snake embroidery on the back. Percy shuffles to the door, and I follow her.

“Miss, you are in no condition to be up.”

“I just need to get more antibiotics from the clinic, if the doc has any left,” she croaks. Her voice is hoarse from all the vomiting she did from her hangover and her illness.

I’d pity her, if she didn’t inflict it on herself.

“As you wish,” I replied.

We left the dog at home, who took the warm spot where she used to lie. I had to help her through the downward path from her house to the town clinic, making sure that she doesn’t stumble and fall, her arm around my waist. I look down and see the top of her head, her black hair tousled.

I had an urge to smooth it out with my hands, but of course I didn’t act on it.

I went inside the clinic first, opening the door for my mistress. The doctor didn’t glance up from his clipboard.

“Unless you’re dying, I don’t want to hear anything about-”

When he looked up, it took one look at me for him to stop his bitching, eyes wide.

I narrowed my eyes.

I swear I’ve seen his face before, but I can’t put my finger on it.

“Doc,” Percy croaks, voice cracking. “Do you still have antibiotics? Need a refill.”

The doctor clears his throat.

“That’s what you get for drinking the water from the crater with those Church of Atom folks,” he grumbles, standing up from his seat and heading inside his office. He comes back with a bottle of pills, which he gives to Percy.

As Percy was counting her caps, I can see the sweat on the doctor’s forehead as he watched me.

“Does he need anything too?”

“Oh, no. He’s my bodyguard,” Percy replies. “Charon, meet Doc Church.”

As soon as Percy hands him the caps, he hurriedly shows us the door.

Now I remember why he was so nervous.

“Wait. Church used to offer his medical services for the slavers,” I blurt out, and Percy whirls around.

“Are you sure? You didn’t seem to recognize him the first time you met him in Megaton.”

“Might be the age. If there’s any way I can prove it to you, I am unsure, though.”

Percy furrows her brow. “Let’s hurry back to Megaton. I have an idea.”

When we arrived in Megaton, it was already dark. The shops are closed, and Church’s clinic is closed as well. After dumping our equipment in the house, I followed Percy to Gob’s Saloon. Her footsteps are heavier than usual from her haste.

We got in, and there were a few patrons lounging about, but it was quiet. Gob’s face lights up at the sight of my friend.

“Percy! Good to see you,” he greets, and Percy nods at him.

“Hey. Gob, we need to talk,” Percy tells him. “In private. It’s important.”

With apprehension, Gob leads us to a room behind the bar, and Nova takes over for a moment. It’s a narrow room with a terminal adjacent to a back door, something that’s rare in Megaton. The other structures have single entry and exit points.

“Are Moriarty’s files still there?” Percy asks him.

“I haven’t touched the thing at all, smoothskin. I thought of letting Moira tinker with it so I can use it to keep track of tabs, but the thing just reminds me of Moriarty.”

Percy sighs in relief. “Well, thank whatever the fuck’s out there that they’re still here. Do you have his password?”

“I already threw the paper away. Sorry, Percy.”

Rolling her sleeves, Percy powers on the terminal and begins typing away. “It’s fine.”

Gob looks over Percy’s shoulder, eyes flicking to the text on the screen. “What do you need the files for, anyway?”

“Moriarty’s got dirt on almost everyone here and the prick was more than willing to rub it in my face. I’m trying to get information on someone,” my friend replies, flicking a stray lock of her hair away from her face. “Aha, there we are.”

Her face is inscrutable.

“Charon, you’re right,” she tells me, her eyes still on the screen.

“Can you please slow down and tell me what’s going on?” Gob asks, scratching the little skin he had left on his cheek. “This is all so sudden, Percy. Sorry.”

My friend and I look at each other. We know the other ghoul was trustworthy. There was a silent agreement between us.

“Promise to keep quiet about this? It could put all of us in danger.”

Gob nods enthusiastically.

“We’re going to take down Paradise Falls,” she says, and Gob’s eyes widens.

“Whoa, Percy, I know the two of you are badasses, but how are you gonna do that?”

“That’s what we’re figuring out. First, we gotta know the place inside and out, so we’ll know where to come and go,” Percy responds.

“That’s… actually pretty smart, wow.”

“It’s Charon’s idea,” she adds, nudging my arm with her elbow. I can feel my lips curling into a smile again, but this time I fought the urge.

“We’ll also need a rendezvous point while planning this operation out,” I add, and both of them turn to me. “This room is secure, and the back entry makes it ideal for whoever is involved in the operation to come and go in the cover of night. I suggest we meet here for a week, if Gob will allow it.”

Grinning, Percy turns to Gob. “Good idea. What do you say, Gob?”

Gob seemed to hesitate, but he smiled at us. “Y’know, I used to hope I can fight the Good Fight instead of being stuck here. Maybe I can’t go out there and be badass slaver hunters like you guys, but I’d do what I can to help. Sure.”

Percy pulls the other ghoul in an embrace. “Thank you!”

“Hey, it’s nothing smoothskin,” Gob replies, leaning into the embrace.

He probably needed that, but still I can’t help but look away.

“Is a week really all you’ll need, though?”

“I’ve been in operations with less resources and less time to coordinate,” I tell him.

“Anyway, Charon said Doc Church used to patch up slavers. What I saw in Moriarty’s terminal confirms it,” Percy explains.

“What are you gonna do to the doc?” Gob asks, tone wary.

“We’re not gonna hurt him. Whatever he was then, he’s overworked helping Megaton now. Sounds like a man who’s trying to atone. We’re going to use that as leverage to get him to help us.”

Gob rubs his arm. “Be careful, the two of you. Oh man, those slavers probably have connections everywhere. They could get you guys killed.”

A dark glint in her eye, Percy gives Gob a smirk. It was unnerving and fascinating at the same time. I’m certain that this woman is still the same kind and gentle girl I met months ago, but something changed.

“I’d like to see them try.”

America & Libi

America: This is gonna sound thirsty as hell cos it is 👌 America: your boyfriend's friend, Sean America: do I have a shot? Libi: 😂 Thirst away, I know he would be SO flattered Libi: Bobby isn't MY boyfriend, but that's by the by and so not why you're in my inbox right now Libi: well, he isn't dating anyone, that I know of, I'll ask Bobby to confirm but I'm like 99% sure Libi: and of course he thinks you're cool, you guys would be a sweet match America: He ISN'T? I thought - never.mind 🤫 America: anywayyy America: did he say I was cool? LOL yeah I really feel it now Libi: Everyone says that, don't worry Libi: we're just best friends Libi: Awh, don't be silly! I'm not going to go tell him word for word Libi: like that's not an exact quote but I know the few times we've hung out all together he's had a good time, specifically hanging out with you America: if you're gay I'm like really sorry for getting your hopes up with my thirsty opener! America: Sean does not deserve that quick of a U-turn from me Libi: Not, so you're totally cool and not on the gay girl shit-list Libi: not for this anyway, I don't know who is, officially Libi: He talked about your party for AGES after Libi: even though that got cut short 😕 did you get in so much trouble? America: The reaction from my sister alone would be reason to do it but I don't think I can commit that hard to you & that idea America: maybe if Sean says no America: I hope he didn't say anything about that part of the party when he was talking about it or I'll have to go crawl in a hole America: or bury my mam's boyfriend in one America: did you get to have any fun? I literally don't remember seeing you when we left your house Libi: Well, she is my biggest fan Libi: who's 💔 is theoretically worse, hers or mine rn? Libi: Just what we were all thinking Libi: which was that we thought that guy might keel over if he didn't 🤐 sooner rather than later Libi: so I'm glad you're already making funeral plans though not because that must suck Libi: no, we had a good time, lost in the crowd seems like the answer America: Jake is the only one with any power to 💖✂ her, don't worry, & she's my biggest fan for pointing out on the regs he's a waste of unblemished skin America: we were making all kinds of plans before she got 🍆💫 America: guess I'm on my own with keeping the good times coming ➜ Libi: 🤨 I'm not sure I've heard him say anything interesting before Libi: It's usually a lot of posing and preening, right Libi: but who am I to judge America: 🤣 I'm on the classroom floor rolling America: neither of them are looking for intellectual stimulation from each other Libi: 😅 Apologies to your teacher Libi: I'll pretend my 😳 is paint America: Miss visibly wants to get me diagnosed with something, it's a long-running thing we have going Libi: Like it makes them any more equipped to deal when they have a name for something Libi: must be a funding issue Libi: but that's a rant for another day 🤓 America: Sean is gonna have his work cut out now America: get your not boyfriend to tell him, game on, but he's in competition with you Libi: I'll go easy on him 😉 Libi: oh, and he is 100% single and 100% tried to read that message so America: misbehaviour puts him back in the 🏃 Libi: Damn Libi: Would helping you have a meet-cute with him bizarrely help my case? America: how cute? sharing in my sister's delusions is a turn off Libi: I don't think he's that kind of guy Libi: BUT it would not be weird for me to bring you along to hang with my not boyfriend and it wouldn't be any weirder if he asked Sean, casually America: which means what I've been thinking about him is right America: & you don't have to be disqualified for trying to drag me into some fake paradise where everyone is in love with themselves Libi: I mean, like all boys Libi: or most, I would be asked to ** in Libi: he talks a bigger game than he has, but I mean that in the best possible way, honestly Libi: he's nicer than he can sometimes sound, you know what I mean? America: me too, I hope Libi: You sound nice Libi: thirst and all America: I scared you away before, couldn't let that happen before I got what I wanted from you Libi: No, that was your mum's fella Libi: I promise Libi: I'm just not a party pro America: that's what I mean, before at your 🏠 I could tell you two were out of your depth Libi: I hope you didn't take it as a personal, you and your party thing though America: it wasn't my party Libi: Sorry, no doubt she'd be 😤 over my lack of distinction there Libi: you know what I mean America: I'm just a guest that she didn't really want there, like you Libi: I don't get the whole sibling thing Libi: only child perk and curse, I guess Libi: but I'm not anti-party or anti-you, for the record Libi: just less initiated America: & I'm not anti-anyone cos Chi is, putting that on the record while we're stating facts Libi: Fair enough 🤝 Libi: I don't take it personally from her, also btw Libi: how she has been about Bobs, moreso but that's not on you so like ❌ America: she acts like she burst out of her crib knowing how to do a smoky eye & what shots she liked best America: you've got time to get initiated if you want to America: & yeah, I know she's a dick about anyone not in her ⬛ of perceived coolness Libi: I've got very little shame in how far away from a smoky eye I was as a kid 😂 Libi: She's not the only one Libi: ⬛ are boring Libi: more boring than I probably seemed that night Libi: 🤞 America: I thought you were just 😍💖 America: that's a lot of people in my life right now though so that's probably why Libi: Oh God, you do not need to tell me Libi: I feel like EVERYONE is suddenly, it's wild America: & now me jumping into your inbox America: what's in the water? Libi: I'm sure the Bio teachers are screaming hormones right now Libi: 😬 gross but true America: Whatever the reason, I didn't mean to contribute to the 💖💣 in your face Libi: You're so beyond fine Libi: not anti-love Libi: or a nun America: you'd be in luck if you were, we aren't calling this love Libi: 😍💖? Libi: Gotcha America: interest America: the 1st I've broadcast Libi: Worth pursuing Libi: I hope I've helped confirm, anyway America: maybe we'll end up just friends like you & Bobby or < America: but I think he's worth pursuing Libi: no harming in 👀 or trying, right America: for the right people Libi: I'll drink to that Libi: not right RIGHT now though because that is paintbrush water and I've made that mistake before 🤢 America: vivid flashbacks to your pre-party drinking face America: shock & disgust Libi: Oh nooooooo 😭 Libi: really sold myself as life of the 🥳 Libi: 😂🙄 America: It wasn't any different for me, if you'd be there to see it Libi: No one is doing it for the taste yet are they Libi: I refuse to believe America: I don't think anyone's doing it for the taste ever America: wine or whiskey snobs only wanna show off America: & that's grown adults Libi: My granddad would be so offended 😅 America: If he wants to try & change my mind, I'll come over Libi: Sounds fun Libi: but also like a potential way for him to lose his license so maybe we'll keep it between us America: Why can't he use his words without bringing the 🍷🥃? America: it's like those people who are all about how 🌶🌶🌶 or rare something is America: you wish you were 💪 we understand Libi: I didn't know you just wanted a debate but that's cool too Libi: come over any time, like America: it's off the table at my house America: he'll start blowing a whistle & stop all verbal communication soon America: not a nun either so I assume I won't be into it Libi: Yikes, he should try getting a 🐶 or two Libi: even then, probably be disappointed, soz America: I'll pitch the idea as long as it ends in disappointment Libi: if he doesn't love puppies you know he's not the one America: I know that about him already America: What's Sean's stance? Libi: Good question Libi: I shall 💬 America: don't lie to score points yourself, I'll find out Libi: [so many dog pictures which clearly aren't just her and Killer but her and Twix and Bobby too] Libi: ➕ America: OMG Libi: Yeah 😎 Libi: they're old ladies now but they were puppies once [a throwback we just have] America: Miss is gonna live for this U-turn from 🤣 to 🥺 America: name that personality disorder, bitch Libi: Looking like a poor taste budget horror Libi: LOVE that America: get my good side with that 📹 of yours Libi: but every personality Libi: Got this 🎬 America: every personality's best bits Libi: I wish I could fix everything in post Libi: life would be so ✨ America: edit out Gary America: make Chi less of a cow America: make my other sister reappear Libi: So wild to me how your sister used to be 'round my grandma's at the same time I was and I really can only just remember those days Libi: what is she up to now? America: 😍💖 Libi: Ah Libi: of course Libi: like everyone else in the world America: but you know, with a rented flat & office job Libi: The grown-ups version Libi: I feel you America: I don't know what the fuck we're calling what my mam is playing at America: but yeah, give my sister more grown up points than that Libi: How long has he been on the scene, Gary? America: too long LOL America: but that'd be 1 date in his case Libi: I can't imagine how awkward that must be when it's your mum and your house Libi: it's bad enough when a friend or an auntie or something dates a dickhead America: she's dated fuckwits for as long as she's dated America: but they don't usually see a month in Libi: I'll 🤞 he's gone sooner rather than later America: Thanks Libi: You're okay, right? Libi: That might be weird to ask America: I guarantee it's weirder to answer Libi: You don't have to, that was out of line Libi: but if you wanted to, I wanted to give you the chance, even though all I can do is listen Libi: but we can as easily leave it America: I'm 👌 in the sense that he's probably not gonna murder us all in our beds Libi: That's always something America: but if your grandad decides to leave your nan, I'm down to move in & have nightly debates Libi: It's been nearly 60 years so Libi: he's either overdue or change or you're out of luck Libi: but you're still invited to come crash when you need America: unless Sean makes me a better offer, you win Libi: Of course, of course America: unlikely, I can't really open with please rescue me Libi: Might be a bit strong Libi: but the spare room doesn't come with any of those connotations America: Can I have the dog too? Libi: She'll have to decide for herself, it would be rude for me to Libi: but she's pretty chill as long as you give her treats or attention so it's likely America: What's her name? Libi: Killer Libi: I did not name her America: 😶 I don't really get to say anyone's got a shit name anyway Libi: What's in a name, the English teachers will chime in America: music teacher would probably say a lot Libi: **harmonize it, please America: [does as if we're not fully in class rn] Libi: Brava! 👏 Libi: so much better than whatever 'painting' I've managed this lesson, whoops America: that'll be my L to take for not shutting up America: sorry to your 🎨 Libi: We'll all survive, even if this not-masterpiece does not 🗑 Libi: painting is not my thing anyway America: I never got prime fridge real estate America: as an only child, you would Libi: Only child, technically, but my grandparents have ALL the grandkids, so it didn't always work out like that America: my nan has the same favourite as my mam so 🤷 America: consistency 🎊🎉 Libi: I don't need 3 guesses Libi: why is it Libi: is she most like them or what America: 👼 America: blue eyed, blonde haired fucking wonder America: my entire family IS that shallow Libi: Well I can say blue eyes are overrated and you can say blonde hair is America: skipping over the 🚩 of taking German when my family are basically neo-Nazis Libi: will have to get you out of my DMs stealth if that one rings true Libi: no negotiating America: I don't want to do the cliché plea of how different I am but like, in this instance, it holds up Libi: I'll hear it America: how does a girl prove she's not a Nazi around here? 💭 Libi: 😂 Can you prove/disprove a negative is a big 💭 Libi: too big for before lunch, I think America: Gary's existence proves a negative Libi: 📢🔥 Libi: He felt that America: 💖✂ Libi: If that's the order of the day, I'm not mad Libi: have played cupid once here so America: What about you? Libi: What about me? America: There's absolutely no 😍💖? Libi: Oh, nah Libi: not right now 🤷 America: Then you probably can't answer my kissing questions America: I think that practising on my hand has to be movie propaganda but pretending it'll be perfect & I won't 🤤 all over anyone has to be too Libi: I could try Libi: I've had some but maybe not recently enough to experience counts? America: this close to picking up a 🎸 & opening the floor for them but my sister would KILL me Libi: and Miss would fully be staging an intervention before you could get any decent ones America: even though she's literally a teacher & I'm asking to be taught something Libi: The hypocrisy 😏 Libi: I think the less you think about it the easier it is Libi: which is such non-advice I know America: 👌 have a drink & just do it Libi: lowkey, yeah Libi: nerves never help a performance, right Libi: sure your teacher would have to agree on that one America: Did I agree to putting on a show for him? 👌 I see how it is Libi: 😲 Libi: not what I meant America: No? Libi: I mean, do what you wanna Libi: but not sure he warrants that much effort yet America: 🤣 America: I hope he didn't feel that 💖✂ Libi: It's not shade so it's okay Libi: I covered that he's nice before I went there 🙃 America: Did he go out with Michelle? Libi: Our sources say yes Libi: couple of months America: A couple of months seriously or casually? You were there Libi: I think he thought it was more serious than it was Libi: but I don't think he's looking for that America: & they're 100% over, no hang ups Libi: Totally America: cos she seems cool, I'm not trying to start something Libi: She's chill Libi: he's a free agent Libi: and he's interested too, for sure America: the interrogation can stop 🎊🎉 it's not making me look very chill Libi: I'll never tell Libi: plus you've distracted me from a boring lesson so it's okay Libi: a favour, really America: I can tell you're an only child America: my sisters would use anything I said or did or almost said or did against me if they can Libi: Damn, should I be keeping these in my backpocket? America: realistically Libi: SO bad at this Libi: I'm a slightly better friend 🤞 America: Being somewhere in the middle of a total dick & and a good friend, I'm not the right person to help you get better at either America: partying though America: if you ever want Libi: It would be useful Libi: not gonna lie Libi: as you got what you wanted, like America: I'll knock for you Libi: 👍 Bobby can come too, right? America: yeah, he can join in too America: I won't insist that he kisses me but pitch the idea Libi: I'll 🏏 America: There's always something going on, even with my house being not enough like a morgue but simultaneously too much like a morgue Libi: Halloween isn't the only time for costume parties 👻🧛👽🤖 America: I knew I fucked with you Libi: 😏 Libi: people who think costume parties suck have 0 imagination America: or only wanna look a certain way Libi: that too Libi: heaven forbid you have fun and don't just sit there 😘 America: if Chi didn't feel that, I'll be the one 💖✂ Libi: you can always say it yourself and take credit Libi: on me America: ghost writer, there's a costume in that America: she doesn't just sit there honestly, but it's not about having fun, she'll do fucking anything but it's to keep everyone looking at her Libi: I guess that accounts for some of it Libi: Middle child syndrome is a costume too Libi: if a little abstract America: Favourite child too, but she's got too much wear out of that one as is Libi: No repeats America: worse crimes have been committed than tiara recycling Libi: Maybe Libi: but it's close America: you've got jokes America: I don't think you really need me to teach you anything to be fun at 🥳 America: I predict some kind of 📹 prank is about to happen to me Libi: If youtube pranks are still fun and cool, I'm gonna have to ❌ that because yikes Libi: I just, there's a lot of it that everyone else does that I don't see the point to Libi: for me, anyway America: You don't have to do things that everyone else is doing Libi: Technically Libi: I don't think everyone else is the PSA enabler friend/peer pressure pusher or anything Libi: but it does other you if you don't join in, to a degree, with a lot of it America: 👌 so when we get to your limit, stop me Libi: Okay Libi: but don't go easy just because this all makes me sound about 7 America: Miss wouldn't have oppositional defiant disorder on her diagnosis checklist if I went easy on anyone Libi: 😂 Libi: She's really gone through psychology today yeah America: she's clearly so bored America: & wishing she had talent to scout America: I literally can't have that cos I don't see teachers as authority figures in the first place Libi: Delusions of grandeur ✔ for her America: 🤣 America: sorry you can't control me bitch, call Gary & compare notes Libi: Maybe Gary should bring in his CV America: we'd both love to see more of each other Libi: Of course Libi: and he's the ideal candidate for hapless teacher #46 who can't control their class America: if he ended up 🤯 my mam would 😍😗 the little neck stump America: she's that far gone Libi: Again, I only have experience by-proxy Libi: but that usually ends up 🤯 everything else Libi: so I 👂 America: You heard right in my experience America: my da's got enough left of him to sign a cheque, I picture him like that Adam's family hand Libi: [does the clicks in a boomerang type thing] America: nailed it! Libi: You know Libi: didn't want to be the girl who makes everything about her dead parents Libi: but arguably I'm the proof of everything going 🤯 so I do know a little bit about it America: Shit sorry! I forgot Libi: Don't be Libi: it's good it's not like, forefront of the facts you can recall on me, if anything America: I know what you mean, from a family of attention seeking whores isn't how I like to advertise myself Libi: I'm sure I could make a claim for that title too according to the masses Libi: but neither of us need to 📢 America: send my apologies to Sean if that's what he was expecting America: I do need attention but it doesn't have to be sexual specifically, as Miss can testify Libi: I should HOPE she can America: She plays hard to get, for all her therapizing Libi: She in the 🏃? America: only in the fantasy land she's created Libi: Bless her Libi: any way to kill the day is this place's motto, I think America: 🎼 school song if I do some more harmonising 🎹 Libi: 🌹👏 America: Due credit to you & your ideas America: I couldn't be happier it's not a 😍💖 song Libi: Likewise Libi: so it's worth it and you're welcome Libi: I can give Sean your number, I presume? America: & any screenshots you've taken as mean girl practice Libi: Only the worst bits, obvs Libi: 😘 America: my ugliest sides 👺👺 America: Still not a nazi btw, I just realised the 👃 and brows are a bit anti-Jewish propaganda Libi: 🤔 What if you realizing that is racist though? Libi: conundrum America: well fuck Libi: Hypothetically though Libi: goes a bit beyond mean girl territory to accuse you of racism/fascism America: slightly yeah Libi: thus I would NEVER Libi: 😎 only America: you've seen Gary so you know my hatred isn't rooted in anything racist there America: 🎊🎉 Libi: Can back you up there Libi: nothing but warranted and fair America: Thanks Libi: Has he 💬 yet or is he playing it cool? America: Cool or his teacher is a dick 📴 America: hopefully he's not in a lesson with my sister, that'll turn him off Libi: Not ideal Libi: She's probably changed all her classes to match Jake's, right? America: 🤮 Libi: Too real America: the upside of Gary's regime is that I don't have to see Jake at my house on the regs Libi: Upside? Libi: That's the WHOLE appeal America: 👏 You're not one of the 'everybody' Chi thinks is obsessed with him 🎊🎉 Libi: I don't even know him, in reality Libi: so I probably shouldn't 💬 on him but the only times I've heard him speaking he's been being dismissive or rude so Libi: meh America: Nobody knows him in reality, they live a bubble 🏰👑 America: but when you party, you'll get to know him America: what a fuckwit he happily presents himself as Libi: 😰 Libi: as long as that's in the bottom 3 of the experience, not top, then it won't put me off the 🥳 as a whole America: don't worry, you're too pretty to have to hear the full 💯 Libi: ❓❓❓ America: I just mean, he'll frame it like a compliment for you, so it'll be easier to take or brush off Libi: Compliments don't mean much when they come from an arsehole Libi: 🤷 America: I know Chi didn't feel that Libi: We've all got our taste, I guess Libi: or lackthereof Libi: I'm making myself sound more and more like a nun by the minute America: Not gonna insist that you prove you're not Libi: 🤞 it'll become clear Libi: obvious lack of habit aside America: Excellent wordplay Libi: Do my best Libi: though as it's art, not english, probably not appreciated by anyone but you rn America: Graffiti is words a lot of the time & that's art Libi: That's a good point Libi: I'll have to see if he goes for it America: Good luck Libi: Do you like high school so far? America: maybe that's supposed to be a weirder question than if I'm okay, but I lowkey do like it Libi: Me too 🙃 Libi: Primary was really boring by the end America: I thought everyone would treat me like a giant baby but I've made so many cool older friends already America: & I refuse to give my sister credit for them ALL Libi: Yeah, I thought the same thing Libi: apart from the usual dickheads being like that to everyone whatever the reason, everyone's been pretty chill Libi: and it's nice that we have SOME say over what we take now, instead of just doing a bit of everything America: My even older sister, from your flashbacks, made this place seem really different America: in a bad way Libi: SAME Libi: not your older sister, that would be random Libi: my aunties and stuff made it sound like literal HELL though America: She is a LOL random type, honestly, I'd believe it Libi: 😂 Libi: No DM slides from either sister, we're 👌 America: that'll happen when she finds out you pimped me to Sean Libi: 😬 Libi: well when you put it like THAT America: jk she hasn't threatened anyone on my behalf since everyone was over my OUTRAGEOUS lies about who my da was & I got doxxed to prove how 🥱 he is America: Primary really did get boring by the end Libi: Like I said, no imagination America: what was your favourite lie of mine? Everyone's got one Libi: 🤔 Libi: Long haul lorry driver Libi: because it seemed the most realistic so everyone thought that one was true America: I tripped myself up when I added he witnessed that 🚽 murder Libi: Right Libi: and then suddenly it was all along route 66 Libi: 👎 America: it was a better naming story than my mam's real reasons, I stand by that Libi: Was she a big traveller or wishes she was? America: this would be the PERFECT time for an elaborate lie Libi: Feel free America: you're expecting it now Libi: Suppose that does take away most of the fun Libi: Everyone thought I made up all the stuff about my parents too America: Why didn't you? Libi: That's the thing, probably would've been more comfortable for everyone if I did, honestly Libi: guess the details made it seem unbelievable enough but it just didn't cross my mind, really Libi: I was just wanting to 💬 about them all the time when I was little America: I remember that! Not saying you inspired me to become a pathological liar with how cool it all sounded though America: I probably wouldn't even if Chi hadn't be so mad you gatecrashed her birthday party Libi: 😏 See, can't say I couldn't hang America: she'll still try to but she's said worse Libi: To be expected America: like a text from Sean Libi: Let's not get it twisted though Libi: not excited for it America: 😐 is me Libi: What emoji can I be/ America: 🥳 when I'm done with you, bitch Libi: 😂 I accept America: ask your not boyfriend when he's down & slide into my dms Libi: I will Libi: You can hit up Sean and ask him when he hits you up, finally Libi: I think he's gonna hit you up just after lunch Libi: to show he's casual America: 🐁🐈 America: I'll resist the urge to throw myself at him before then America: to show I understand how this all works Libi: Very mature Libi: or actually, not, but we have to get down to boy's levels America: he's about at our level right now, I think that's how the age gap works Libi: That's fair Libi: there's a lot of lads who still think we're diseased or are more interested in whatever game they are rn America: yeah, I don't know how much he knew about me before we met but there's no escaping that we only just got here America: an age based lie isn't happening Libi: No, that's not working Libi: I don't think you need to lie though Libi: he clearly wants to get to know you more too or I'd be awkwardly letting you down right now, right America: unless you're either too nice to do it or mean enough to want to see me make a twat of myself Libi: 🧐 Libi: Have to see, but I am neither, for the record America: catch me on the rebound 🕷🕸 Libi: All part of the plan America: I'll partner up with you in PE, give you a chance to make your move America: the seating plan'll fuck you over for the rest America: really would look like a nazi if I force Bekah to give up her seat for me like I'm your new BFFL America: 💖💣 Libi: Maybe we don't bring up the 2nd N word around her, like Libi: otherwise she's gonna be cool America: 👌 I'll 🤫 America: no casual German dropped into the conversation Libi: You wanna sit next to each other in German though Libi: the boy I sat next to is 🥱😴 America: The boy I sit next to did fall asleep recently so yeah America: I need to know if I'm 🥱 or he's 😴 & it's not about me Libi: 👋 It's a date Libi: 😘 jk America: they do like it when we roleplay America: 💐🕯🍷

About Shingeki no Kyojin 125 - Theories and ramblings.

Annie and her New Year's resolutions.

More than one we looked forward to Annie's return and I am deeply glad that our favorite blondie has already left her glass prison, but why has Annie returned? What are your purposes? Well, she makes it clear in her conversation with Hitch: go back to her father. We know that Annie appreciates her father more than anyone in the world; if she had to do all the atrocities she did to return to her father, she would do it again. It's not that Annie is bad, but, as Nietzsche said: “Whatever is done for love always occurs beyond good and evil.” Human nature is like that, and Annie knows that she has committed unforgivable sins. She is not proud, but she will not punish herself. SnK's world is cruel, but if there is something that represents love and kindness, it is family: Eren swore to avenge his mother; Mikasa lost her parents, but found similar figures in the Jaegers; Armin lost his grandfather; Reiner wanted to become a warrior for his father to return to his mother; Connie, who lost his family because of Zeke, is willing to sacrifice Falco, a poor child, to recover his mother... Annie's motivation is deeply human and reminds me of John Marston, protagonist of Red Dead Redemption. John had only one goal: to hunt his old friends, who were outlaws, so that the Government would return him to his family. If Abigail and Jack, his wife and son, had been killed, what would have happened to John? We will never know, but when John is killed by government agents, his son Jack takes revenge a few years later, continuing the cycle of violence and death. In the end, John... loses, because his son has become a criminal.

If Mr. Leonhardt dies, something I see very possible under the circumstances, what will happen to Annie? Her great goal has vanished. Nothing makes sense anymore. If even the most sacred and beloved has died, what should Annie do? We meet like this with someone whose life has no direction. Someone who has lost beauty in a devastated and corrupted world. It is the seed of nihilism. Isayama is not characterized by fulfilling the dreams of his protagonists, not in the way that the viewer wants: yes, Armin reaches the sea, but what does this mean? It is the beginning of the end. The human being needs to cling to dreams, turn his back on reality to continue existing in it; however... What happens when nothing makes sense anymore? It is absurd, it is hopeless. It is something that could knock the strongest. According to Albert Camus, someone who has lost the meaning of his life has only three options: suicide, clinging to God or... continuing in the absurd, rebelling against it, turning life into an act of rebellion against nonsense. So, in the hypothetical case of his father dying, what should Annie do? Should he act like Jack Marston and continue the violence? I do not think so. Annie doesn't enjoy killing. Her face witnessing Marco's death is good proof of that. Annie must find a new purpose: end the violence, with that barbaric world that takes away what you love. Understand that she has lost everything, but not everything is lost. While something is at stage, we must continue fighting. In Red Dead Redemption II, Arthur Morgan knows his end is near; the love of his life has left and Dutch, the man who gave him a home and a direction, has become a mad and heartless man. However, not everything is lost. He can still save some (including John Marston and his family, as RDR II is a prequel to the first game) and he succeeds. Arthur finishes his story as a redeemed character; he, who had spent his entire life killing, lying and stealing, ends up redeeming himself. However, Arthur Morgan was not seeking self-redemption, but a future for others. It's something we can apply to Annie. His final role cannot consist in returning with his father and being happy. We know Isayama: God is more likely to come down to Earth.

Connie, Falco and a decisive meeting.

And if Annie can aspire to redemption, Connie is willing to morally condemn himself. Come on, we all know that Falco is not meant to be titan food. Connie, in addition to the prankster par excellence with Sasha, is a character with a story as tragic as any other: he lost everything, but the possibility of recovering his mother gives him hope. But sacrifice Falco? Is Connie able to do something like that? I do not think so. Connie is human; Anger and revenge are very human things, but so is understanding. Connie will abandon his plan sooner or later, when he accepts that, beyond the vessel of one of Titan's powers, Falco is just a child. A child, like his siblings. A child who is not guilty. A boy who, like him, has lost his brother and his friends. Taking into account that Connie, along with Sasha, cried when they faced Reiner during the Return to Shigansina, we must understand that he is a sensitive and empathetic character, blinded by anger and the possibility of recovering a loved one. Armin and Gabi go in search of them, but will their intervention be necessary? Mikasa warns Armin that they won't be able to reach Connie; indeed, I don't think they reach it. Armin, Gabi, Hanji, Levi, Magath, Pieck, Connie and Falco are more likely to meet. Remember that, because when it happens I will come to brag hehehe. What if they meet? The cocktail would be fantastic. They may be Paradise's last hope. Also, I want to see the reunion of Falco and Gabi; because they are very cute and deserve it. How much do we bet that Gabi ends up crying like a baby while hugging Falco? And with that confession at the last minute, I wouldn't be surprised if Isayama felt romantic and gave us a kiss between them. Imagine the faces of adults. I may be delirious, but if it happens... here I will be, again, with ‘I told you so’.

On the other hand, such a reunion can return hope to Armin. Levi, who is the strongest soldier of all time, the Messi of Paradise (yes, I had to make the comparison sorry CR7), is alive; fatally wounded, but alive. In addition, Hanji, who represents leadership, is also fine. With these two pieces again on the chess board, it is possible to trace the game. In addition, Hanji and Levi's encounter with Magath and Pieck constitutes a point of union between Erdia and Marley. In the end, it seems that yhe idea of Eren as the final and unifying enemy of humanity begins to make sense, even if he has not proposed it. After all, if you can't with your enemy... join him against something much worse.

Jean and Mikasa: replacements.

While we know that the commander and the eternal captain are alive, Jean and Mikasa believe otherwise. Well, if I were one of these two, I could only think one thing: WE'RE FUCKED. Fortunately, Isayama has wanted these two to receive the fatal (and false) news. It's not by chance. Nothing is. We know Jean Kirstein and Mikasa Ackerman well; I could say that we have grown up with them. Jean, a guy who started out as an arrogant bastard and who soon revealed his impressive leadership ability; Mikasa, a woman with a force only inferior to Captain Levi. Well, here I go: Jean must take over from Hanji and Mikasa from Levi. We have seen a practically shattered Jean, almost subjected to Folch; However, Mikasa, despite her situation, remains more or less well, keeping a level head. Don't get me wrong: she's pretty screwed, but she seems better than Jean now. During the battle of Trost there is a critical moment: the gas is running out and everyone is going to die. Then Mikasa arrived and, far from being blocked by Eren's supposed death, he tried to motivate them in her own way, you know: I am strong, much stronger than you. We already know that Mikasa is a woman of few words, but her message was enough to encourage Jean and the others. Yes, the current Mikasa is not the Mikasa of ninety chapters ago, but her character has reached a key point: she has to take the reins, think for herself. Only they can stop Folch and handle the situation in Shigansina. Their characters need it. Hanji is a leader, yes, but Jean has much more potential; Mikasa is not Levi, but she is an Ackerman, the only one capable of fighting, and in these four years she has been able to perfect her skill. If these two start working well together, they can be a lethal and decisive combo.

Louise and the scarf.

Well, if a scarf is not in your closet on a cold winter day it may not mean anything important: it may be in the washing machine, with the other clothes. However, Mikasa Ackerman's scarf is not just any scarf, but it contains crucial values ​​and stories for her... and for Eren. The scarf has taken a very important role during the last arc and has now disappeared, Louise has taken it. And it's normal, because Mikasa is her idol. Well, we all know what meanings the scarf has, which represents positive values ​​in a world like Shingeki no Kyojin. The scarf has no place in the current situation; everyone is hopeless and crestfallen, dejected and defeated. And when will the scarf return? I have read the following theory out there: Eren will find Louise's unrecognizable corpse and believe it is Mikasa, recovering the scarf and feeling like real shit. Yes, that would be a possibility of fulfilling what our boy said in chapter 50. The scarf will return when the barbarity ceases, when that beauty returns, in the words of Mikasa, who lives in a cruel world. And we know that it will return due to the first panel of chapter 1 of the manga, Eren's mysterious dream.

I'm sorry if I have grammatical mistakes: English is not my mother tongue.

hope’s lullaby.

summary: The summer between Laurent King’s fifth and sixth year at Hogwarts was the one that hurt the most. Luckily, comfort came to him.

- - -

notes: a huge thank you to all my beta readers for the wonderful feedback they gave me!

- - -

Hope, as Laurent King had recently found out, is nothing but a lie. A stupid invention. A cruel lullaby meant to soothe you with unrealistic scenarios and to make you believe that everything is, in fact, alright when it is clearly not. He had made the mistake of hoping through all summer, of creating himself nonsense --illogical yet comforting scenarios in his mind-- and the truth about hope was finally hitting him full force: it’s sole purpose is to leave you, to abandon you, and to leave you stuck with your own feelings and disarray.

These were his thoughts as he laid before him the many letters he had just received. Spending the entirety of August at his aunt’s place, he had taken care to inform all of his friends of his new address. As he had expected, tons of messages have been sent to him, filled with love and friendship, now awaiting to be read. Even though he knew he should be feeling happy he felt a terrible, selfish bitterness take over his being as he realized something. Fucking called it. But why am I disappointed, if I had already sort of expected it? This doesn’t make fucking sense. None of this does. Why why why? Before him laid letters sent by Penny Haywood, Rowan Khanna, Tulip Karasu… none of them bore the name he had wished most ardently to see.

Barnaby Lee.

Throughout the course of the entire summer, Laurent had no received a single letter from him. It was as if, suddenly, Barnaby had vanished from the surface of the Earth. Or, as Laurent was thinking, as if he, himself, had vanished from the surface of the Earth. As if Barnaby had forgotten about him, had told himself he wasn’t worth it in the end, and the worst was that he didn’t even had the decency to end whatever they had via a letter. 

Whatever they had, he was using that phrase because he simply couldn’t find any other words to use. Friendship? They had more than that, ever since their date at the end of their fifth year. Love? No, they never kissed. And now it would probably, most definitely, never happen. You lost him. You lost it all. What did you do wrong? Everything, probably. It’s just as your dad tells you! No one will ever love you, not with how you currently are. A sob threatened to break through his lips, but he miraculously succeeded in holding it back. Instead of sitting on his bed and crying, he simply slipped the letters under his pillow. He’d read them later.

He didn’t have the time then, because it was time for his shift at his aunt’s bakery. Thank Merlin, I’ll have something to do to take my mind off this shit.

* * *

“Turn that frown upside down!”

Cyril Colin, Laurent’s cousin, was an all too optimistic guy, and at that very moment Laurent was finding himself feeling deeply annoyed. What does he know about what is going on anyway? I didn’t tell him shit. He has no business to try and comfort me. Of course, in another state of mind, Laurent would have appreciated that gesture, but right then the only thing he wished for was to be left alone, and to focus on the croissants he was baking.

In the face of his cousin’s silence, Cyril pouted, and insisted: “C’mon, Laurent. You know you can tell me everything, right? You’re here for me, it’s only fair that I should be here for you. So what’s wrong? Is it related to a wi--”

But before he could finish that final word, Laurent had shoved the first thing that landed in his hand, a macaron, in his cousin’s mouth. “Hush! Don’t say that word out loud, you know it’s supposed to be a secret!” And just like that, the conversation was over, much to Laurent’s joy.

However, by the end of his shift, Laurent still only held one wish: to curl himself in his blankets and to sink into a deep, dreamless sleep. Oh, yeah, that sounded just like paradise, at least to him. This is so ridiculous. Why am I so affected by Barnaby not sending me any letter? It’s not like he’s… my boyfriend or anything.

But that is something you wish for dearly, don’t you? a wicked voice whispered into his mind. You want to touch his hands, to touch his lips, to be his. Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe he figured out just how of a terrible guy you are. Remember what your father said: you act without thinking, and in your eyes the devil slumbers! That must be true, right? It surely is, since Barnaby’s left you!

SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP.

And all of a sudden, it felt as if his throat was closing right up. He was suffocating, suffering, hurting, and only one thing became his priority: to get the hell out of here and get some fresh air. 

Even if he still had fifteen minutes left on his shift and should have waited until he was done, it was as if his body had a mind of its own, shaky fingers untied his apron and let it fall to the floor. Before he could even realize what he was doing, he was standing outside of the bakery, his cousin’s voice faintly calling for him from the inside, worry painting each of his syllables. He hated that. He hated that Cyril always felt the need to worry over him. I’m fine, Cyril. I’m fine, I keep telling you that and you won’t LISTEN. But the truth was, Laurent wasn’t feeling alright. Not at all. He was just too proud to admit it to himself --too proud to come to terms with the fact that he was truly affected by Barnaby’s radio silence.

Too proud to admit that you’re in love.

“Damn, did you just come back from a marathon or something? You could have warned me, I would’ve come with you. Y’know I love running.” That voice. That all too familiar voice. No, it couldn’t be. Wait. Could it be? No. I spoke to him on the phone last night. Surely, he didn’t come all the way here… or…

As he raised his head and locked gazes with the man standing in front of him, it felt as if his heart was about to burst. Not because of the sadness that had been piling up over it, but because of the pure, bright joy that had suddenly taken over. With a sigh of relief on his lips, he threw his arms around Oscar Whelan.

If people declared Laurent King to be mischief incarnate, that only meant they had yet to meet Oscar Whelan --trouble incarnate. Any ounce of chaos put a smile on his face, every action of his was a mere result of his impulsivity, and his entire aura said one thing and one thing only: ‘let’s run away, you and I. Let’s flee this world and build our own’.

At least, that was what it said whenever Laurent was with him, so he came to assume that it was the same with everyone else.

Born a Muggle, Oscar had known Laurent ever since childhood. They grew up together and he’d been the shoulder Laurent cried on when his mother gave out her last breath. Following her funeral Oscar had brought him to this family’s small apartment where a sleepover without any actual sleep had taken place. Through comforting words and gentle laughter, Oscar had done everything in his power to make Laurent’s smile come back, while also helping him deal with his grief.

When his Hogwarts acceptance letter came, Laurent had been overwhelmed with the wish to tell his friend everything, but he knew very well that in no way that could happen. Instead, he told him that his father had decided to make him a student in a strict boarding school, and that as a result he was meant to leave for ten months, ever year for the next seven years. Are you serious? Oscar had exclaimed. You mean, like, a boarding school with uniforms and such? Lying to his best friend had been the worst thing for Laurent, but he was also well aware that it was for the best. If he were to reveal the existence of the wizarding world to someone outside of his family, just what would possibly happen? Oscar wasn’t a loose lipped person, but no risks could be taken.

No, that’s a lie. A risk had been taken, but an entirely different one. By hiding his true life from Oscar, Laurent had harbored the fear that a wall would build itself between them, separating them and preventing them from fully understanding each other. From his perspective, that imaginary wall would only lead to one outcome: the destruction of his friendship with Oscar Whelan, and that was something he knew he couldn’t possibly handle.

Years had passed and the wall still had yet to make its appearance. But Laurent had kept on fearing, and at sixteen years old he was still terrified. Even with Oscar currently hugging him close, the anxiety related to losing his friendship sprang forth and threatened to take control of his brain.

How unjust, that I cannot tell him everything!

After several minutes of silent hugging, Laurent pulled away at last, but his hands remained splayed on Oscar’s chest to feel his heartbeat. His friend’s arm, wrapped around his waist, provided him with unimaginable comfort. “What are you doing here?” Laurent’s eyes were pretty much filled with question marks at this point, and Oscar could only smile.

“C’mon now, Lau. I know you. When you called me yesterday I felt something was wrong, so I took it upon myself and decided to pay you a visit. Least I can do, right? Though I gotta admit, the thought of stepping into your bakery was also very enticing.”

“It’s not my bakery, Oscar.” Laurent giggled. “It’s my aunt’s, you totally know that.”

“Right. Otherwise you would have added many more flowers for decorations. You should talk about it to your aunt, I’m sure it would look great.”

Oscar’s words remained in Laurent’s mind: When you called me yesterday I felt something was wrong. Yes, Laurent had spoken to him on the phone, but never had he mentioned the letters or anything else related to them, for that matter. Had he sounded that sad? He almost wanted to ask, but decided not to.

“Are you done with your shift?”

“Only a few minutes left. Had to get out to get some fresh air.”

“Well, that’s exactly why I’m here, Laurent. To give you some fresh air. Finish those minutes left, I’ll wait for you here.” But he was smiling. Smiling, because he was seeing the glint of mischief already floating in Laurent’s eyes.

Laurent couldn’t help but smile back. “How about we go now, mhm?”

* * *

They spent hours together, and Laurent hoped that this day would never end. Because, finally, he was reunited with his friend. Finally, things were feeling less heavy, and he knew all too well that the distress would return as soon as it had left if Oscar were to leave. He obviously had to, at some point, and thus Laurent was mentally preparing himself for it. At least, he will be left with memories --wonderful memories to cling into. He would lie on his bed and replay them; hearing their laughs again, tasting the ice cream that Oscar bought for him again… and listening to their conversation again.

As he walked through the city with Oscar, a smile curled his lips when he remembered a conversation which occurred only a few minutes ago. They had been sitting on a bench, in Laurent’s favorite park because of its many trees, and he had decided to tell Oscar. Not the whole wizard business, obviously, but bits and pieces of the life that he had never told him about.

His new friends, for example.

“You have Penny Haywood.” He had told with a smile while still eating his ice cream. Caramel, his favorite flavor. “She’s, like, the sweetest girl ever, I’m telling you. Rowan’s is the best nerd, he helps me studying whenever I struggle with something. At some point, he even practically held me hostage in the library so I could finish my paper! My only focus was to walk around the school, take a breather… but Rowan had other plans in mind. Tulip is the greatest prankster, I think you’d like her. I know I do, she’s one of my closest friends. And--”  The words had died out, however, as he had realized that he had been just about to mention Barnaby Lee.

Oscar had noticed the sudden change of atmosphere. “Something wrong?”

So much. I’m so worried, Oscar. No! I can’t tell him about this. It would be… too complicated. He shook his head. “Nothing, I just… I just feel bad I never told you about them sooner” Lying by telling the truth, what a funny concept. “…about anything related to my school, in truth. It… it must suck, right?” Yes, lying by telling the truth, because he wasn’t telling Oscar the real reason behind his sudden change of emotion, but he was still talking about something that was truly bothering him.

Besides, he had to mention it at some point, right? He had to address his insecurities regarding his friendship with Oscar, the magical thing he cherished dearly, or else it would truly turn to dust.

Much to his surprise, Oscar giggled and gently nudged him. “You can tell or not tell me whatever you want, Laurent. I’ll never take it personal.” He suddenly paused, his brows knitting together in worry. “You… you didn’t tell me all of this because you felt like you had to, right? Because that ain’t right.” Laurent had been unable to not smile.

“No, not at all. I wanted to tell you about ‘em. You’re my best friend, after all. As you said, I tell you everything I want.” Maybe it had been a shadow, but he believed Oscar’s smile had wavered at those two words: best friend. Why, exactly?

He was still thinking of a reason, but he snapped back to reality as he realized that it was getting late. The sun was beginning to set, coloring the sky with beautiful orange and pink hues, and offered a sight that never failed to take Laurent’s breath away. He stopped in his tracks to just look up at its splendor. To memorize all of that beauty. Oscar did the same with a smile on his lips. 

“Beautiful, right?”

“Yes, it is.”

“I can show you something even better.”

Laurent raised an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

Teasingly, Oscar placed his index over his own lips. “Curiosity is a bad thing, Laurent King~”

“Says the most curious guy I know!” And just like that, his worries were gone again.

* * *

Oscar insisted that they waited until the sky turned black and, once it did, Laurent let himself be guided by his friend, holding his hand and trying to figure out just what he had in mind. That, however, was the problem with Oscar Whelan: You never knew exactly what he was planning. Every second with him felt like a toss of the dice, with no idea as to which result you’d get.

They stopped in front of a huge building that Laurent recognized as one of the many gymnasiums of the city. Pulling out a pocket knife from his leather jacket’s pocket, Oscar got to work, quickly succeeding with picking the lock and granting them access inside. Luckily, no alarm system began to blare, and Oscar turned proudly to Laurent, offering him his hand once again. “You trust me, right?” The fact that Oscar had picked locks frequently was not only apparent from the skill he had demonstrated, but also from the absence of shock from his friend.

Now, Laurent was having a faint idea of what his friend had in mind. And without hesitation, he reached for his hand. “Of course I do, Oscar.”

And that was how they found themselves in the gymnasium’s public pool, moonlight spilling inside through the windows and reflecting itself on the calm water. A beautiful sight, truly, one that rendered Laurent still with wonder for a moment. Oscar was right. It’s so beautiful.

“You’re crazy.” But the joy in his voice was impossible to not notice.

“Love you, too.” Oscar replied as he began to undress.

Laurent was quick to do the same and, once they were only in their underwear, he realized just how cold the air was, and how much colder the water would surely be. Oscar probably had made the same realization, because his wicked smile graced his features once more. With the moonlight illuminating the side of his face, he almost looked ethereal. Like a dream. A dream that Laurent found most comforting.

“I dare you,” Oscar’s said, voice filled with challenge, “to jump.”

Oh, you’ll see, Oscar! Laurent immediately turned to look at him, fists on his hips in an attempt to make himself look more intimidating. “I dare you to jump. Wait, no, double dare you!”

“Oh, is that the game you want to play, Laurent? You know I love games.”

The teasing, the stifled in giggles that their voices were containing, it all reminded Laurent of the many blissful moments they had spent together ever since they met, moments he'd missed dearly at Hogwarts. After months of being without his best friend, everything was now falling back into place. He had Oscar, everything was alright.

That wonderful chaos he loved sharing with him had also made its comeback, it seemed, as Oscar suddenly reached for him, his arm wrapping around his waist and bringing him closer --much closer. “You brought this upon yourself, Laurent!”

And with Laurent’s roaring laughter filling the air, Oscar jumped, inevitably dragging his friend along with him.

They broke out of the water’s surface, laughing, splashing each other; and, before Laurent knew it hot tears were streaming down his cheeks, for a reason he knew all too well and yet didn’t dare admit. Oscar realized he was crying fairly quickly, and swam closer to wipe them away. “Did you really not enjoy that at all?” He was telling this to make him laugh, it was evident in his gaze.

And it worked. Laurent giggled, then sniffled and nodded. “Yup, truly terrible.” A smile came, but he decided, at last, to tell him what has been haunting him. “I just… have a friend from school ignoring me. A friend I like a lot, and… and it sucks.”

By saying it out loud, finally acknowledging his feelings, it felt as if a huge weight was lifted off his shoulders, and he could feel himself breathing with much more ease. Oscar’s features softened, and his hand landed on Laurent’s wet shoulder. An awfully comforting touch.

While Oscar Whelan usually talks an awful lot, at that very moment he was silent as he hugged Laurent closely. Despite how little they were wearing, Laurent found himself unbothered. He’s my best friend, it would take much more to bother me.

And so, they hugged, and soon enough Oscar was whispering to him the lyrics of his favorite song. Ground control to Major Tom. Laurent let that song lull him into calmness, into total peace, and his eyes fluttered shut as they both stood still in the pool, surrounded by water. Calm, soothing water.

Maybe hoping wasn’t such a bad thing. With his friendship with Oscar, he had the hope --the belief-- that everything would turn out alright. That Barnaby would talk to him again. That he would be allowed, somehow, to love him. Those thoughts soothed him to the core.

They sang quietly.

For here am I sitting in a tin can,

Far above the world,

Planet Earth is blue,

And there’s nothing I can do.

* * *

Never write to him or even speak to him, again. Or I’ll kill him.

Barnaby’s grandmother words had kept ringing in his ears ever since the beginning of summer. He sat in his room as the moon shone bright in the sky, and caught himself staring at it.

And hoping.

Hoping that things will turn out alright.

And that he’ll soon, somehow, be with Laurent again. To touch his hands, to touch his lips, to be his.

But hope is a futile, useless thing. Isn’t it?

Flames of Nirvana, ch 1

Hello there, everyone! I’ve wanted to join the fandom and the Levi love bandwagon for the longest time, and since quarantine started I was like why not. So I wrote this bad boy (all day every day for the past month and a half might I add) and I hope you guys like it! The story is all written out, and updates will be every Sunday.

TW: This story will contain strong language, canon-typical violence, implied/mentions of rape, mentions of suicide, abuse, suicide attempts and explicit sexual content. It is manga compliant up until chapter 128, so there will be spoilers!

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23990044/chapters/57707902

Summary: In the heat of a never ending war, Levi finds himself recruiting a compromised spy. But the war outside is nothing compared to their own inner battles, and hand in hand, they find the strength to conquer them one by one. And the world follows.

Pairing: Levi x Reader

Chapter 1

Levi swirled the tea in his cup pensively. It was still so strange to him, how the Marleyans drank their tea – sweetened and diluted with milk, leaving little room for the subtle, herbal flavors. He’d spat it back into the cup the first time he tried it, and in the following months, the Eldian Captain adopted the habit to request his tea plain, as much as it attracted odd glances from shopkeepers.

This particular teashop, however, was quite to his liking. Quaint, small enough to be peaceful, yet spacious enough to allow him to blend in with the other customers without being recognized, despite the telltale scars on his face. The tea itself wasn’t exactly what he remembered from home, but it came with free cookies and the Eldian old lady who usually brought his order was sweet, bubbly and never disclosed the fact that she knew exactly who he was.

Levi’s identity wasn’t as much of a problem as it used to be when the remaining Scouts permanently relocated to Marley’s capital, but there was still a level of dissent among the Marleyan citizens. After all, Eren’s near genocide had yet to be forgotten, and the new war put a wholly new strain on Marleyans’ views on Eldians.

Taking a tentative sip of the hot brew, Levi sighed. In his own way, the Captain had wearily come to terms with the fact that Eren had turned into a lost cause, yet he still couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe the idiot wouldn’t have done what he did if he’d been aware that peace still wouldn’t be an option. Yes, the Colossal titans would have crushed Marley.

What would have happened once they reached Starke?

It didn’t matter now, Levi mused. Whether the Starkans would have been able to fend off was irrelevant. What mattered was that this technologically superior nation suddenly entered the war and helped the Jaegerists seize control of Paradise Island; now, they’d joined forces against Marley and Hizuru, seeking the so-called spread of ‘civilization’ and ‘evolution’ through conquest.

Any hope that Levi might have had about seeing the carnage come to an end had been squandered.

“Is the tea not to your liking, my dear? I was excited to get this new mix, but I know you’re a fussy one,” Matilda, the shopkeeper, stopped by Levi’s table. Her mouth and eye crinkles spoke of a lifelong determination to smile, even though Levi knew better than to assume she’d led anything but an easy life in the Eldian ghettos. She’d never spoken to him of family, and the Captain had never asked.

“It’s not bad,” the brunet replied, taking another sip. His prosthetic fingers felt strange around the steaming mug – they couldn’t feel heat. “What was it called again? Robos?”

“Rooibos,” Matilda smiled, wordlessly setting another plate of sugar cookies on the table. Levi lifted a hand in protest, but the older woman shushed him quiet. “It’s on the house. If you’re worried about your silhouette, why don’t you share them with the pretty young lady back there? She’s been looking at you since you came in, and I don’t want to be insensitive but you do look like you could use some company.”

She winked to indicate precisely what kind of ‘company’ she was implying, and subtly tilted her head towards a table on the opposite side of the establishment, where a lone young woman was eating a bowl of soup. Levi met her E/C eyes as soon as he glanced her way and was inwardly surprised that the girl didn’t immediately avert her gaze. Instead, she held his stare for a few intense seconds, after which her eyes suggestively flitted to the seat in front of her.

Levi served the oblivious, but well-intended shopkeeper a half-hearted scowl, yet the Captain rose from his chair, having understood that the woman’s interest was not in any way hormonal or sparked by recognition. Matilda still leapt for joy – after all, Levi normally arrived and left alone, except for the rare occasion where he agreed to bring Hange or his former squad with him for an unnecessarily obnoxious lunch break. The bubbly shopkeeper took great care not to forget the cookies, setting them between Levi and the mysterious lady with a much too enthusiastic smile.

“So what’s your deal?” the brunet got straight to the point, leaning back and crossing his legs. Contrary to what he was expecting, the young woman broke into a quiet fit of giggles.

“You’re as charming as I’ve heard. You really must be the famous Captain Levi Ackerman.”

Though relieved that she hadn’t said it loud enough for the entire shop to hear, Levi snorted in annoyance. He really didn’t want to blow his only precious break with one of those air wasting assholes who liked to coat their point in useless pleasantries.

“Oi. Just spit it. What the hell do you want?”

The girl gave him a cool smile that lasted just a second too long for it to be natural, before resuming her eating. “Well, I… you don’t know this, but you saved my family when you coordinated the evacuation from the outskirts during the Rumbling. I wanted to thank you and… maybe treat you to some lunch?” she asked shyly, curling a strand of hair behind her ear in what appeared to be a coy gesture. However, Levi got a glimpse of the device attached to her ear and understood her message. She couldn’t be straight with him – she was being listened to.

The Captain downed the rest of his tea and politely asked Matilda to come over. “I guess I wouldn’t mind it. I’ll have what she’s having.”

He endured the conversation the girl seemed to produce out of thin air and ate his cauliflower soup diligently – even though, whoever she actually was, she was weird as fuck for liking something so bland. He figured that some of the questions she was asking were being dictated to her through the earpiece, so Levi offered vague or fake answers, silently hoping that whatever her plan was, she would get on with it faster.

“Oranges, you say? I don’t think I’ve ever had them,” the Captain commented almost absentmindedly, yet the woman’s eyes lit up with genuine joy and what seemed to be relief.

“Really? Never? You can come by my parents’ orchard anytime and you won’t leave without a full basket,” she laughed. “Actually, here, I’ll write you the address. If you have the time and, of course, if you want to… you can visit me. All the exotic fruit in the world won’t be enough to repay you, but this is the least I can do,” she opened her little bag and ripped a piece of paper from a notebook, scribbling furiously. “Not to mention… I’ve really loved your company. You seem to be a very gentle man, Levi. Can I call you Levi?”

“Be my guest,” the brunet replied, stuffing the paper in his pocket without looking at it and leaving their consumption’s worth of cash on the table. “You can make it up to me with that fruit basket,” he said when the girl began to protest, making her flash another one of those fake smiles. If she hadn’t made it obvious, Levi doubted he would have been able to tell, yet now that he knew that all her reactions were fake, he couldn’t help but dislike that forced smile on her otherwise beautiful features. Questions about who was employing her and what she was trying to gain from her interaction with him were swirling in his mind at miles per hour, way more interesting than any mundane topic of discussion.

The Captain made a point of ignoring Matilda’s cheeky grin as he led the young girl towards the exit and reciprocated her goodbye wishes. As she walked away, sundress flowing with the wind, Levi remained there for a while, a foot in the shop and a foot outside. After making sure no one was observing him, he fished out the note.

Once he read it, his hand flew straight to his own earpiece.

“Hange, get all the brats ready. We’re moving out as soon as I get back to base.”

“It’s still warm,” Hange said, her hand gripping a coffee mug. “They must have just fled.”

“Shit,” Levi cursed in frustration, dropping his rifle. The information the woman had given him was true – upon breaking into it much too easily, this produce farm was indeed a concealed military establishment belonging to the Starkan army. The note had also informed him that the Starkan commander, Victor Baal, would be present, so Levi had prepared an entire assassination operation at the speed of light – which made the complete bareness of the place even more of a disappointment.

It was also annoyingly pristine and unassuming at a first glance. The small room they were in looked like nothing more than a quaint, family-style common area, with hand-crafted rugs, a large wooden table and an attached kitchenette, where the coffee kettle still rested on a gas stove. Levi’s former squad, now led by Jean, as well as Reiner, Pieck and Annie had needed to very nearly demolish all the hidden chambers in order to discover the vast array of training areas, supplies and, most importantly, technological equipment.

“They appear to have left all equipment behind, including fuel and computers,” Armin confirmed as he walked back in, Jean, Connie and Mikasa following suit. “There is a massive storage room below us, fully equipped. At least that’s a good thing, right?”

“If they’re not laced with explosives that’ll paint the walls with our brains, then yes. Terrific,” replied Annie, who had given up any and all exploration upon realizing they’d been outrun, and was lounging casually on one of the chairs. Mikasa glared at her for the sarcastic way she’d talked to Armin, but the blonde merely rolled her eyes as if to say there was no other possible response.

“I already asked Magath to send tech support our way. Until then, if there’s nothing else, I suppose we can’t do much other than try not to get too depressed,” Hange sighed, rubbing her temples. Despite her words, the cat-and-mouse chase this war consisted of was really jarring – they’d finally gotten a good lead, they were so close, and they blew it.

All heads in the room whipped up, however, when one of the doors slammed against the wall. Reiner barged in, along with Pieck, both of them wearing distressed expressions.

“All of you need to come down to the storage room, now!”

“There’s weapons, Reiner, we know already-“

“I found a trap door,” Pieck interrupted. “We haven’t opened it fully yet, but… it smells like death.”

Upon walking into the spacious area, where the walls were laced with rifles and carefully attached explosive devices, as well as labeled boxes piled neatly behind pillars, the soldiers collectively covered their faces with their elbows. They were all used to the smell of corpses, but this level of decay and putrefaction could make anyone dizzy. Connie gagged almost instantly, not even reaching the top of the staircase before spilling the inside of his stomach.

“Do you need him for this?” Mikasa tilted her head towards her retching teammate while addressing Pieck. The brunette shook her head no, so Mikasa turned towards him fully.

“Connie, go and bring some wet rags. Take your time.”

“And clean that up,” Levi mumbled under his breath, upper lip curled in disgust. “Only other stench we need now is someone’s shit.”

Hange only graced her friend with a patient look, coughing into her fist. Her bespectacled eyes were inspecting the floor intensely, focusing on the small dent in the tiles. She hadn’t been in this room before, but it looked as though Reiner and Pieck had moved the asymmetrical tiles around in order to create the opening.

“How did you start opening it?”

“Better yet, how did you even see it?” Jean asked Pieck, holding the collar of his shirt over his nose. “Is that what happens when your face stays real close to floors for a long time?”

Severely unimpressed, the brunette merely pointed at the tiles lining the floor. They varied in shape and shades of grey, almost forming a pattern and yet not quite.

“If you press on them with your… hands, these tiles move. Also, the Starkans’ army symbol is a grey wolf. I figured I’d try arranging them to get that shape and… I got that small opening.”

Levi clicked his tongue. “So we’re going to have to play puzzle here?”

“No,” Armin replied, walking around the room with his eyebrows deeply creased in thought. “Based on the stench, and since we know that Starkans burn their bodies like we do, I think whatever is down there is a mass grave for prisoners and traitors. It would then have to be impossible to open from the inside, but-“

“Easy to access from the outside,” Hange finished his line of thought, very quickly deducing where Armin’s hypothesis was headed. “Also – have any of you found a possible way for an entire platoon to escape without being seen?”

Reiner huffed negatively. “You’re saying that’s what they used to flee?”

“That’s right,” Armin nodded, sharing a meaningful glance with his former Commander. “That makes it even more important for this trap door to open easily and quickly.”

The blond man crouched to the floor, his sky blue eyes gazing back and forth between the tiles with dashing speed and the wheels in his brain vigorously turning. No one spoke for a few pregnant moments, and they all held their breaths when Armin gently touched one tile, then pushed it with all his strength, huffing with the effort.

A loud machinery noise echoed in the room, and they all had to regain a sense of their footing as the floor moved with them. A gaping hole appeared in the floor, in the place of a grey wolf’s howling mouth.

“Holy shit,” Connie, who’d just begun his descent down the stairs, gaped. Instantly, though, he had to cover his nose and mouth with one of the wet towels he’d procured, promptly throwing the rest of them to his teammates as the stench became very nearly unbearable.

Levi turned his flashlight on and took the lead, overcome with a sense of impatience – after all, if the Starkans had escaped through this passage, there was still a chance they might be able to catch up if they moved quickly. “Let’s go.”

The first thing the Captain stepped on was a pool of moisture, and then something squelched beneath his foot. So much for shit being the last thing they needed. There seemed to be lightbulbs on the ceiling, yet inconveniently they weren’t functional. Levi pointed the light towards the wet floor and, unsurprisingly, he was met with floating bones, as well as feces and decomposed flesh that had not yet fully disintegrated.

It was a good thing Marley never had sewage overflows, though it might be a good idea for them to check for corpses – or the enemy - from time to time.

“They seem to have gone either forward or backward. Reiner, do you have any clues?”

“I’m not exactly familiar with the sewers, but my guess is they went towards the ocean. The other way leads to the water filtering facilities.”

“And they never mentioned having to filter human bones?” Jean replied bitingly. Out of all of them, he had the hardest time warming up to the idea that now they were working and living with their former enemies, still holding a grudge on Reiner in particular.

Reiner sighed. “No. But since a Starkan spy is what got us here in the first place, it’s safe to assume they have spies in plenty of other places, and they’re not as helpful as the one Captain Levi met.”

“I wonder what’s going to happen to her,” Armin voiced sadly, trying his hardest not to stare at the decay around him or reply to his own question.

Levi kept silent, but the matter was twisting his gut as well.

“Do you guys hear that?” Connie asked quietly, bringing the team to a full stop. Indeed, from a few meters away, they could hear… moaning?

“Oi! Is anyone alive in here?” he broke off into a sprint, despite his comrades reaching out to stop him. Mikasa darted to run after him, yet she yelped after tripping on a very sturdy obstacle. Her reflexes prevented her from falling, but she gasped loudly when the flashlight revealed what had tripped her.

A battered man wheezing for air.

“Hange, I need the first aid kit!”

“Me too!” yelled Connie, who was trying to bring the body of a woman into an upright position, wincing as she broke into a violent coughing fit.

“Same here,” Annie called out, her arms fully submerged as she lifted another breathing person from the filthy waters.

The soldiers scrambled to offer first aid, at the same time trying to figure out if there were any more survivors that needed it. Something caught Levi’s peripheral vision, causing him to leave Mikasa and Pieck to tend to one of the victims by themselves.

“Levi, is there anyone else?” Hange questioned, but the Captain didn’t reply, cautiously approaching a patch of rippling water. He turned the flashlight to its brightest setting, and the breath promptly left his lungs.

The woman from the teashop made eye contact with him immediately, just like last time, but now her bruised, swollen eyes showed despair instead of quiet confidence.

“…Run,” she choked, her voice barely coming out. Levi could see the extent to which she’d been beaten – no, tortured – even through the water and dim light. Her plea almost failed to register.

“Dammit. All of you, grab the survivors and head back!”

“-evi… no… run, now,” she begged again, and this time Levi fully understood the urgency in her tone. The entire corridor was slowly becoming brighter. Squinting, the Captain realized with utter horror what the source was – the bulbs on the ceiling weren’t light bulbs. They were concealed grenades. And they were all exploding.

“Move OUT!” he barked, just as the sound of the explosions caught up with the light. Levi threw the girl over his shoulder, momentarily unable to care about the state of her injuries, and ran back along with his comrades. A string of curses left their mouths when the corridor boomed, almost throwing them up into the air from the force of the sound alone – there was no way they’d make it in time.

The last grenade exploded, and everything turned white.

“Good call, Reiner,” Hange breathed, slumping against the carcass of the Armored Titan. Reiner simply nodded, not having the energy for anything else – protecting everyone from the explosion without bursting through the ceiling with his titan form had momentarily winded him.

“Oi! Are you alright in there? There was an earthquake in the entire capital!”

That was Magath’s voice, and it was safe to say most of them had never been so happy to hear him.

Thankfully, he’d had the insight to bring a medical unit as well, which promptly began stabilizing the four survivors they’d managed to collect. No one wondered if there may have been any more – there was little point in doing so, after all. Even the foul smell had been replaced with grenade fumes.

“They knew we’d figure the trap door out,” Jean sighed, holding a pack of ice over the minor head bruise the explosion had gifted him with. “Dammit. Every enemy we face, it seems like they’re always a step ahead.”

“And yet they obviously didn’t expect Reiner to have such good control over his titan form,” Pieck countered. “I really doubt they were planning to leave all this equipment intact.”

“That may very well be so, but so far it looks like we’re going to have to learn how to use it all,” Hange mused, feeling a rifle up. The tech support unit had, so far, confirmed her fears – this weaponry was more advanced than anything produced in Marley. Their allies from Hizuru would be of great help, but although they could measure up to the Starkans regarding their technological prowess, the two countries had very different methods and approaches. “Add to that the modifications we’ll have to make so we don’t end up being predictable… it’s going to take a lot of time and resources before we can actually use any of it.”

“Maybe not,” said Levi, surprising Hange to a degree. He’d been so quiet ever since they’d escaped the sewers – she knew something must have happened in there for the brunet to become so uncharacteristically lost in thought, and the scientist knew him well enough. She glanced his way inquisitively.

Despite his indifferent façade, the Captain’s eyes were fixating on the four survivors still receiving medical attention. The woman from the teashop in particular, though he had yet to reveal to his comrades that the small, nearly broken form currently getting bandaged from head to toe was the one who’d revealed this place to them.

“Maybe they can help with that.”

A shared look of surprise was shared amongst the group, with Magath silently snorting through his nose. “You think they’d be willing to help us?”

“Is that so far-fetched? We saved their lives, and their previous employers obviously haven’t treated them very well,” Levi said casually, arms crossed and back leaning against the wall. He then eyed his former foes pointedly. “The Starkans have been one step ahead of us all this time, and these four might be our one good chance to finally penetrate their defenses. Plus, it wouldn’t be the first time someone had a change of heart.”

Magath, Reiner, Annie and Pieck averted their eyes, the Captain’s point obviously striking a chord. Hange, however, was not entirely convinced, yet she didn’t question her dear friend’s suggestion in front of everyone else.

“One of them is conscious, sir,” a doctor came up to Levi, and the Captain turned around so fast Hange thought he would strain a muscle. He noticed that the other woman they’d rescued was sitting up against the wall, and the brunet’s shoulders minimally slumped, but he still approached her with a confident stride.

This time, Hange did dart after him.

“Don’t you think we should at least get them to a proper infirmary before asking them to join us?” she whispered aggressively, grabbing Levi’s arm. “Or maybe figure out who the hell they are in the first place?”

Levi raised a brow. “No and no. They’ll have the mental clarity to think of more reasons to refuse once they recover, and it doesn’t really matter much who they are. They’re Starkans. That’s already an advantage for us.”

“Kiyomi won’t like this at all.”

“Kiyomi should have admitted the Starkan forces were overwhelming her troops in Shiganshina before they seized control of the city. She may just have to deal with this as a small compensation, not to mention she isn’t due to visit for two months.”

Hange sighed. “Why are you so convinced about this?”

He didn’t verbally reply, but his eyes involuntarily flitted to the young girl from the teashop. Both of her arms had needed to be popped back into place, all of her fingernails and toenails were missing and there surely must have been a lot of internal damage that he couldn’t see, based on the severe bruises littering her entire body. Hange followed his gaze and drew in a sharp breath.

“…Is that her?”

Levi let her draw her own conclusions and knelt in front of the conscious woman. She seemed to be about his and Hange’s age, maybe a tad older, with a dark complexion, a sturdy build and the curliest black hair the Captain had ever seen. Her plump lips were dried out, with a deep cut that reached her chin and had needed stitches. It would likely leave a long scar. Levi felt a pang of sympathy – after all, he was lucky to have regained his eyesight, but the marks on his face would stay with him forever.

He opened his mouth, no doubt to very directly get to the point, yet Hange beat him to it.

“Hey there. How are you feeling?”

As always, she backed him up even when she didn’t necessarily agree with him. Levi gave the scientist a brief, but grateful look.

Dark brown eyes moved from one to the other, and the woman put in an enormous amount of effort to lift a brow. “…Like I almost died surrounded by shit.”

Levi let out a snort, and Hange shook her head, rubbed the bridge of her nose and rose to her feet. “I’ll… leave you with him. I think you’ll get along.”

She walked away, likely to inform their other comrades about what the plan of action was, which left Levi to grace the woman with a nod meant to inform her that he meant no harm.

“A long ass scar… short as all hell… oh, fuck me,” she chortled, bursting into strained laughter. Her Marleyan was a bit choppy and not at all as perfect as the teashop woman’s, but then again she didn’t seem like a proper type of person. “Don’t tell me you are who I think you are.”

“I am. And you are?”

“Anya. Anya Murphy. How the hell did y’all manage to find this place?”

Levi sighed. “With some… help.”

Anya squinted in thought for a couple of seconds, after which her face formed a grimace. “Shit. That’s what they were questioning that poor little thing for, huh.”

“They?” Levi prompted her further, to which Anya sighed, wincing at the sting of her injuries. He couldn’t tell for sure, but it looked like she’d been whipped.

“I don’t know how much the doll told you, but this is where the counter-espionage unit operated. So any and all unlucky bastards who did something behind big daddy Victor’s back would be dragged here, have all information tortured out of them and then be thrown in the sewers to die. Today was supposed to be me and a few others, but they’d barely gotten started when Victor dragged her in. Beat the hell out of her, she still didn’t talk. Then he got a call and ordered everyone to leave everything and flee. That includes me,” she said, gazing left and right. “And whoever else you managed to drag out of that hellhole alive.”

“So Victor Baal works directly with his counter-espionage unit?” Levi asked, ignoring the dread settling in his stomach. Increasingly, he felt like somehow this near failure of an operation was his fault.

Anya groaned in his face. “Listen man, I ain’t born yesterday. I am gonna work with you, I didn’t kill my entire fucking squad because I love Baal or his cocksucking Jaegerists. But for fuck’s sake, let me breathe, will you?”

In Levi’s book, that was a by-the-book success. Only when he agreed and rose to his feet did he notice the entirety of his former squad staring, with equally stupefied expressions.

Well, except Mikasa. She was more amused than Levi had ever seen her – at least since Eren died.

“Fuck are y’all looking at?”

“N-Nothing,” they stuttered collectively, reverting to their brat persona (as Levi liked to call it in the safety of his own mind) and scampered away. If the Captain was amused, he didn’t let it show – he’d never once reacted to anyone talking shit in his face, yet the brats still had the impression he would wreak havoc on the realm if such thing happened. It was funnier than it should be.

“Adam has agreed as well,” Hange appeared by his side.

“Who the fuck is Adam?”

The scientist gestured towards the older of the two men they’d rescued. He’d apparently gone right back to taking a nap after speaking with Hange, which was understandable considering the massive concussion he must have had, as well as his age. He looked well into his fifties, if not early sixties.

“Adam Tesla. He worked as a military engineer for the Starkans. He wanted to retire, but then realized that his wife had died without him being notified, and his two daughters were sold on the black market – he’d thought that producing weapons for the military would offer his family protection from Baal’s regime, but the army had conveniently ‘forgotten’. So he hacked all of their systems trying to find his daughters’ location, and ended up here.”

“You got all that from him in such a short time?” Levi asked in mild surprise, masking the sheer disgust the man’s life story evoked in him. For a nation that justified its ambition for dominance through a supposed spread of ‘modernity and civilization’, that sounded awfully primitive.

“You have your talents, I have mine,” Hange nudged him, her face turning serious after only a second of playfulness. “We should really head back now and let the tech team relocate all this equipment. I’ll take care of the other boy when he wakes up and you can talk to your spy.”

Levi sighed. “Right.”

Levi instantly knew the girl was awake, since she announced it by breaking into a very violent, rattling coughing fit. He tried not to wince – based on the medical report, she had several broken ribs. Breathing must have been painful as shit, let alone coughing.

Predictably, she keened in pain, gasping for air. The Captain rose from his chair and approached her bed, grabbing the glass of water from the nightstand. He pulled her up into a sitting position and went to make her drink immediately, but he was left blinking in stupefaction when she spat the liquid in his face.

Levi sighed.

“I’m not poisoning you. You need to drink water so you’ll stop coughing.”

At the sound of his voice, the girl opened her E/C eyes. They were bloodshot and squinting, yet he could tell that recognition hit instantly. She accepted the water this time, her features contorting in discomfort as she swallowed, and took a heaving breath while Levi carefully rested her head against the cushioned headboard.

“…Sorry,” she said hoarsely, watching him wipe the liquid off his face with a napkin. The Captain was a bit taken aback by the fact that she decided to speak Eldian, but somehow that made him involuntarily release some of the tension in his shoulders. It had been so long, after all, and even the former Scouts had taken to speaking Marleyan nearly 24/7 since it had become the norm.

“Don’t sweat it. I should have expected it.”

She hummed noncommittally, flinching as she tried to adjust her position in order to face him better. He couldn’t quite pinpoint the expression on her face, perhaps because almost half of it was bandaged, but it was something akin to deep regret – a stark contrast to the fake, but bubbly smile she’d greeted him with in the teashop.

“Did you all… make it?”

“Yes. And three other survivors we managed to rescue.”

“I see…Thank you,” the girl muttered, averting her gaze. “You didn’t have to… but I’m glad you’re all safe.”

Her Eldian was as perfect as her Marleyan, he couldn’t help but notice, but then again Levi figured he shouldn’t be so surprised – she was a spy.

“What’s your real name?” he changed the subject. He got the feeling that she required a much more delicate approach than Anya, so the Captain tried not to comment on matters which could very easily upset her further. It was plain to see – whatever had been done to her had left her in pieces.

“F/N L/N.”

Silence reigned for a while. Levi’s initial plan had been to make sure all four agreed to join their cause first and then deal with whatever happened afterwards – and yet, ever since he’d locked eyes with her in the sewers, there was a gnawing feeling in his chest that bothered him no end. No doubt, it would continue to eat at him until he received an answer, so the Captain decided to just throw it out into the open.

However, F/N spoke sooner than him.

“There is something you want, isn’t there?” she asked softly, and Levi realized she’d been studying his features. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll give you all the information I have.”

He sighed. “Before I get into any of that, I want to know one thing. How did the Starkans find out about what you did?”

His gut instinct had been right – F/N’s wistful expression turned into complete heartbreak. She closed her eyes and heaved a deep, yet uneven breath. Levi couldn’t take it back, however, so he simply waited for her to reply.

“I wasn’t sure at first… I planned every little thing and I was so, so careful. But I think I messed it up at the end,” she spoke, gazing into his eyes with a fragile inquisitiveness. “I should have kept you nearby until you were completely out of range. You said something through radio station after I left, didn’t you?”

Levi’s eyes widened minimally. He offered no reply, but he was beginning to understand the crucial error that had been made. That reaction was all the confirmation F/N required anyway.

“There were signal interceptors installed throughout the shop. I assume that your team employs codification, but it would only take the Starkan tech units a few hours to decipher it at most. I’m so sorry,” she shook her head, visibly ridden with guilt. “Your comrades almost died because of me – and for nothing. I guess Victor managed to blow up the base too.”

“…Shit,” was all Levi managed to say, his form hunching in the chair, forehead leaning into both of his hands. A wave of remorse and frustration washed over him – he hadn’t taken her seriously enough. He’d been approached by so many frauds in the past months, but that wasn’t an excuse. He’d allowed his mind to wander during their exchange, thinking of possibilities and motives, yet not safety. Only the contents of the note itself had revealed the actual significance of the risks this girl had taken, and then Levi had been too focused on acting upon the chance he’d been given to consider the danger of compromising her.

His gaze roamed her up and down, this time taking everything in. Joey, the other boy, had been lucky enough to get out of there with no injuries, and the other two had patterned, methodically attained wounds – whipping, stabbing injuries. F/N had been treated with no such methods – Levi had seen plenty of wounds before. He could reconstruct the entire incident if he put his mind to it: they’d started by ripping her nails off. Then they’d broken her arms. Then, in sheer anger and impatience, followed ruthless, aimless beating.

She’d trusted him with important information and that’s what she’d received in return.

“…The base and all of the equipment stayed intact,” Levi voiced. That seemed to snap her out of her haze, for F/N blinked in mild surprise.

“Oh.”

“The tech and engineering units have already begun their work on the equipment. We’re converting the establishment into a base of our own. All Marleyan employees in charge of water filtering are going through security checks. We managed to save three people who would have otherwise been dead and forgotten in filth. All of that is thanks to you. You have no reason to blame yourself for what happened.”

F/N stared, tears welling up in her eyes at his words. She wanted to say something, but her throat was too tight. Instead, she blinked the moisture away from her eyes and offered a small nod. Levi rose from his seat, fully intending to leave at this point – after all, it was the middle of the night and he needed to process this information so he could be functional once sunrise rolled along.

“Levi?”

He turned around.

“You really are a gentle man.”

with great power (elu spiderman au)

eliott has been saved by spiderman quite a few times for absolutely no reason. hopeless romantic that he is, eliott accidentally starts falling for spiderman somewhere along the way and doesn’t know what to do about it. obviously, there’s only one solution. he and his good friend lucas should pretend to date to make spiderman jealous. there’s no ulterior motives here, of course, just lucas helping a bro out.

aka eliott’s falling in love with spiderman, lucas is in love with eliott, and lucas is spiderman.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

ao3

no. 9 “You seem a little on edge.”

Lucas was giving Eliott the silent treatment, and even though grumpy Lucas was usually cute, this was just too much. If he had to see Lucas pouting or turned pointedly away from him for one more minute, he was going to explode.

They were at Daphné’s secret foyer party (Spiderman was notably absent, thankfully) and Eliott was determined to have fun, grumpy boyfriend aside. Yann kept pulling Lucas aside and talking to him fervently, but Eliott didn’t know what they were talking about. Lucas looked stubborn as ever, so Eliott knew Yann was never going to win whatever argument they were having. They’d both been stupid, the day before, and Eliott suspected Lucas’ silence had more to do with him knowing that fact than actually being mad, so Eliott just decided to give him some time.

He’d come back to school early in the morning to actually paint a mural, because he didn’t want to let Daphné down, and he’d decided on a simple Jackson Pollock inspired splatter paint mural with glow in the dark paint mixed in reading ‘infiltration’. It was a little bit of a risky move, but it would only be seen under blacklight, so the headmaster would probably never see the hidden message. If worse came to worst, he could paint over it as well.

Lucas looked beautiful (what else was new) in a fairly simple ensemble. The most he’d done, really, was paint two stripes on his cheeks, but they somehow accentuated his cheekbones in just the right way. It really was too bad they were both exceptionally stubborn. And petty, because Eliott had covered half his face with a mask that he knew Lucas would probably find alluring and sexy. 

He felt a presence at his side and turned to see Arthur, watching him watch Lucas. “Can I help you with anything?” he asked.

“Me? No, no,” Arthur said, then nodded to Lucas and Yann. “What’s going on there, though?”

“Fuck if I know,” Eliott admitted with a sigh, pouring himself another cup of whatever mess of beverages had been provided by Emma. 

“Trouble in paradise?” Arthur joked, but Eliott’s frown must have been too prominent for Arthur to not catch on to, because he sighed, placing a hand on Eliott’s shoulder. “If Lucas did something stupid, cut him a little slack. I know you probably know him better than I do, but he keeps a lot inside, you know? He thinks he has to be this person, put on a show, because he’s scared of people leaving him. I guarantee that whatever he did, it was borne of those insecurities, because we all have them, and we all have the worst way of showing them to people at times.”

Eliott raised his eyebrows. “How do you know all this?”

“I’m much more perceptive than people give me credit for,” Arthur said with a nonchalant shrug. 

Eliott wasn’t entirely certain if he wanted to know the things Arthur knew about him, but he asked regardless, “And what if I’m the one that did something stupid?”

Arthur studied him. “You didn’t, at least initially, but the reason you guys are fighting is the reason you work so well together. You’re two halves of a whole idiot, and whatever dumb thing Lucas said or did, you rose to it, and you satisfied those insecurities of his without realizing it, because you have insecurities of your own, and your biggest one is your fear of being alone. Funny how similar you two are, actually, Lucas fears being left, and you fear never having anyone to begin with.”

“What the fuck, dude?” Eliott was a little creeped out by how accurate everything Arthur was saying was. Was it all that obvious to everyone, or did Arthur just pay a little bit more attention than most? 

“I don’t know, man, I’m super high right now,” Arthur confided with a small giggle, “Baz and I were arguing about whether or not birds were real and I got a little too heated, so I figured you might need a nice Dr. Phil session. I can, like, feel your puppy dog eyes from across the room.”

“Birds aren’t real,” was all Eliott could think to respond to.

Arthur clapped his hands on both of Eliott’s shoulders, widening his eyes. “Thank you. That’s what I’m saying! Have you ever seen a baby pigeon? No, because they don’t exist. They’re government robots, originating in…”

Arthur rambled on about pigeons and conspiracies alike but Eliott started to tune him out when he accidentally met Lucas’ eye across the room. Lucas was still standing with Yann, but they weren’t arguing anymore, and he had a softer expression than he’d been carrying all night. The moment their eyes met it felt like electricity had zapped its way back into Eliott’s nervous system, waking him back up. He could tell Lucas felt it too, by the way his eyes changed in subtle, almost imperceptible, ways. Lucas looked like he was opening his mouth to say something, but then Baz crossed in front of Eliott’s field of vision, and by the time Lucas was in his view again, his eyes were trained on the floor. 

“…and then they’ll target the hedgehogs, probably,” Arthur was saying, and Eliot tuned back in, honestly forgetting he’d been talking that whole time. “Oh my gosh, what if they go for Lucas? You always draw Lucas as a hedgehog and whatever, so if they go after hedgehogs, they’ll go after him, oh, Eliott, what are we going to do?”

Arthur looked on the verge of tears and Eliott did not want to be the one to handle stoned Arthur crying about robot hedgehogs controlled by the government, so he passed him off to Alexia, the nearest person he knew within range of his current position. He felt like she’d probably actually appreciate his ramblings, indulging him enough to find a solution to not turn Lucas into a government controlled robot. 

When he’d finally extracted himself fully from Arthur’s hold, he turned around and ran right into Lucas. 

“Hi,” he said dumbly, taking off his mask. 

Lucas just looked up at him. Eliott really wanted to kiss him. Eliott really wanted them to stop fighting, if that was what they were doing. He couldn’t tell anymore, if he was being honest. 

Lucas’ eyes glowed under the blacklight, more so than usual, especially with their close proximity. Eliott knew that he’d probably already committed those eyes to memory, staring into them more times than he could count, but they were so effervescent, so real, so Lucas, that he got lost in them every single time. And that included the times before he’d known he was in love with Lucas.

“You finished the mural,” Lucas said, glancing over Eliott’s shoulder. It had barely been a full day, but Eliott nearly exhaled in relief when he heard Lucas’ voice again. It was softer than he’d expected, which pretty much confirmed his suspicions. 

Eliott turned to look at the mural, then at Lucas. “I did. It’s not exactly what I would have wanted, but…” he trailed off with a shrug. 

The intensity in Lucas’ eyes burned into his. “And what would you have wanted?”

“You,” Eliott said, and Lucas blinked, eyelashes fluttering in apparent surprise. Eliott continued, “I just wish we could have done it together. Without a paint fight.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Lucas said quietly, looking down at his feet. 

“It’s no big deal,” Eliott promised, because it really wasn't. He’d take a petty paint fight that they’d probably laugh about in the future over something more serious and final.

Lucas looked back up at him, a somewhat desperate look on his face. “It is. I’m sorry for overreacting and saying all those things about you and Spiderman and me and our relationship. I get a bit insecure about it all, the fact that you like me like I like you and that this isn’t just some big joke the universe is playing on me. I get scared of you leaving, like everyone else in my life does.”

Eliott put both his hands on Lucas’ face, brushing his cheekbones with his thumbs. The face paint Lucas had on smudged slightly under his fingers, but he didn’t think Lucas was too worried about it. “This is real, L, realer than anything I’ve ever felt. That’s why I get scared sometimes too, you know. Because as afraid as you are of me leaving, I’m terrified of never having someone in the first place to love me.” He stole Arthur’s words, because they fit like a glove he didn’t want to wear, but maybe he had to anyway.

“We’re really dumb, aren’t we?” Lucas asked, leaning into Eliott’s touch.

“The dumbest,” Eliott agreed. 

Lucas bit his lip, eyes dropping to the ground then back up again. “If we’re idiots, I’m glad you’re my idiot, and that I’m yours.”

Eliott dropped his eyes to Lucas’ lips just as Lucas placed his hands on Eliott’s wrists, fingers brushing against his skin and raising his heart rate with each movement they made. Their noses brushed first, and Eliott held back just enough to take the moment for what it was, two kindred souls reconnecting, finding their place in the world.

When Lucas got fed up with waiting and closed those final few millimeters between them, it was a softer kiss than Eliott had been intending, but it made him feel like he was in a movie. With the lights swirling around them, the music fading to the back of his mind, it was hard not to pretend that they were a part of something bigger, a story that crowds of hundreds or thousands might look at and think, yes, that’s love. 

It was, it really was. 

Two beautiful boys slow dancing to the rhythm of their own music, lost in every sense of the word, lost in each other. Kisses feather light but felt to the bone, a steady thrumming in their chests beating out ‘I love you’ in morse code, if only they understood morse code. The dizzying realization that someone right in front of you knew every part of you and decided to love you on purpose, flaws and faults and misunderstandings and petty arguments and mistakes aside. It took a lot of effort to attain that kind of love, but it was so effortless at the same time. Loving Lucas was the easiest thing Eliott had ever done. 

Then, inevitably, the crowd reappeared, the music returned, and the world was normal again, not knowing that somehow two boys in a secret high school party in France had stolen time for the two of them to exist in a reality entirely their own, even if just for a single second.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Eliott asked, because they were bound to be caught by the night guard at some point, and Eliott wanted to be far away when that happened. Also because Lucas was wearing far too many clothes and now that they were back to kissing Eliott didn’t ever want to stop, but their friends would be hearing the first excuse.

Lucas’ soft, lovelorn eyes softened even more, and his fingers were feather light as ever as he brushed them across Eliott’s eyebrow, then his cheek. He snapped out of the daze he was in for a split second, as if he was remembering something, then smiled serenely once more. “I would love to. I just need to use the bathroom quick, ok?”

“Ok,” Eliott said, “Do you want me to wait here?”

“I can meet you outside,” Lucas said hurriedly, lowering his voice. “Less questions from ‘concerned’ friends.”

Eliott laughed, pressing a small kiss to Lucas’ temple. “See you outside.”

“See you outside,” Lucas agreed, saluting him.

Eliott continued to chuckle fondly, meeting Imane’s eyes across the crowd of people as Lucas walked away. He blushed, even though he hadn’t been doing anything wrong. She should be glad he and Lucas got over themselves enough to have a conversation and get back to where things were meant to be. She simply raised an eyebrow and mimicked Lucas’ salute, and he flipped her off discreetly.

Once again he was struck with the loss of his jacket as he stepped outside into the night. It wasn’t terribly cold, but he hadn’t been terribly warm to start with and his face mask had been long since abandoned. He leaned up against the building, wondering how long Lucas was going to take, because he really, really just wanted to kiss him again and again.

The music and voices in the party got louder, or maybe the world around Eliott got quieter, and Lucas still wasn’t outside. He pulled out his phone, because maybe Lucas had gone to a different side of the building or something.

Eliott: hey i’m out front, where are you?

Lucas: Sorry, sorry! I’ll be right there, I promise

Lucas: Yann stopped me on the way back from the bathroom because Baz is drunk and he didn’t want to deal with him

Eliott: no problem just hurry plssss ;)

Eliott: i miss u

Lucas: Running

And he was, because a few moments later Eliott heard his footsteps, knew they were Lucas’ footsteps without even having to look, and Lucas burst through the doors, red faced and bright eyed. His hair was mussed up like he’d just been electrocuted, which was exactly how Eliott liked it. 

When their eyes met, Lucas bolted to him, wrapping his arms around him tight enough that Eliott gripped him back with equal strength, spinning him around once, twice, before settling him back on the ground and kissing his forehead, nose, cheeks, and lips. 

“Happy to see me?” Lucas teased and Eliott shushed him. 

“Just let me enjoy all that you are, please,” Eliott asked, brushing their noses together gently.

Lucas leaned back slightly, teasing him further. “Are you insinuating that you don’t enjoy every part of me all the time?”

“Ah.” Eliott tucked his hands into Lucas’ hair, twirling some of the ends with his fingertips. For some reason his hair felt slightly sweaty, and Eliott wondered how fast he’d run there. “On the contrary,” he continued, “I can’t get you out of my head.”

“Good,” Lucas said smugly, pulling Eliott into a kiss. “Because I can’t either.”

They made it back to Lucas’ flat, eventually, but not after a fair few stolen kisses and piggyback rides, and time spent looking up at the moon and wondering if she was looking proudly at them from her position in the sky, watching their lives tangle the way they’d been destined to tangle. 

🕷🕷🕷🕷

Eliott had been banished from the kitchen, so he was sitting out on the sofa trying to make small talk with Lisa while Lucas made breakfast. Most of their mutual friends had seen Eliott at various states of good and bad and everywhere in between, but Eliott had an extra soft spot for Manon, Mika, and Lisa who (with Lucas) had treated him like a member of their makeshift family long before he and Lucas had gotten together, fake or real. 

Eliott could hearing Lucas singing to himself in the kitchen and resisted the urge to go take a video lest he be kicked out of the flat entirely, but damn he wanted to. Lucas did not realize it, but he had the most beautiful singing voice Eliott had ever heard (not that his normal voice wasn’t already beautiful on its own). It was just another part of Lucas that Eliott had slowly fallen in love with over time not realizing that was what it was until he recognized it as the voice he heard in his sweetest dreams.

“You two were loud last night,” Lisa said from the other side of the sofa, eyes trained on the tv in front of them playing some rerun of a shitty tv show Eliott knew she couldn’t actually be very invested in.

“Thanks,” Eliott said, letting a smirk play across his features. He was shameless when it came to loving Lucas. 

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“Kitten!” Mika chose that moment to burst into the room in full Mika fashion, doing a double take at Eliott on the couch. “You are not the kitten I was referring to.”

Eliott laughed. “Your kitten is in the kitchen,” he supplied. 

Mika raised one eyebrow suggestively. “Isn’t he your kitten?” he asked innocently, and Eliott blushed needlessly. Kitten wasn’t the animal Eliott would have used, but the sentiment remained. 

“I’m his hedgehog,” Lucas said, entering the room with two plates of breakfast food. Mika tried to swipe one from him and Lucas ducked away rather gracefully, somehow not dropping either plate. He placed one on the table in front of Eliott with a wink before sitting beside him, shoving Lisa’s legs out of the way. She scoffed at him indignantly but Lucas ignored her, looking at Eliott expectantly. 

“Better than a PONI?” Lucas asked, and Eliott nudged him lightly with his knee.

“That was one time,” Eliott said defensively, taking a bite of the non cinnamon filled eggs. Yes, he’d experimented a bit the first time he’d ever made Lucas breakfast, and yes they’d both come to regret it, and yes Lucas refused to let him live it down. 

The door to the flat opened and Manon walked in, grocery bags in hand. She looked surprised to see Eliott there, and Eliott remembered that last she’d seen the two of them they were fighting. 

“Everything good here then?” she asked as she unwrapped her scarf from her neck and set her groceries on the counter. 

“Better than ever,” Eliott said, mostly to Lucas, who stuck his tongue out at him. 

“When did you guys get back last night?” Manon asked. She must have gotten back later than them, because Lisa had been the only one home when they arrived, and she was fast asleep, so they were able to take advantage of the relative emptiness of the flat. 

Eliott shrugged, exchanging a glance with Lucas. “Fairly early? We weren’t at the party long.”

“Wait, you weren’t there when Spiderman came, were you?” she gasped, scooting Lisa over more to sit with them on the couch. This was news to Eliott. Daphné must have gone crazy. 

“No, we weren’t,” Lucas said.

Manon widened her eyes. “Well, it’s not like he was there long or anything, but Daphné will be talking about it forever and ever.”

“What happened?” Eliott asked, trying not to sound too eager because Lucas had folded in on himself a bit at the mention of Spiderman. 

“Nothing much, like I said,” Manon explained, “But he sort of swung in out of nowhere, took a photo with Daphné, and left in a blur.”

“That’s weird,” Lisa chimed in from her side of the sofa, and Eliott couldn’t help but agree.

“Does that mean he goes to your school then?” Mika asked excitedly, stirring his coffee with a spoon. 

“I highly doubt it,” Lucas said hurriedly, just as Eliott had shrugged and said, “It’s possible.”

They both narrowed their eyes at one another, before falling into laughter. “You know him better than me I guess,” Lucas whispered under his breath, and Eliott faked another laugh, not sure if that was meant to be a joke or some sort of test. 

“Regardless, Daphné’s life is made,” Manon said. 

“Getting a superhero to come to your secret party is a pretty big feat,” Eliott agreed, noticing the way Manon’s face lit up when she talked about Daphné. 

Lucas must have noticed it too, because he asked, seemingly out of nowhere, “We should go on a double date with you and Daphné.”

Manon looked taken aback momentarily, before regaining her composure. “We should!” she agreed, then whispering conspiratorially, “She will have many dumb questions, though, be warned.”

Lucas laughed. “Manon, it wouldn’t be Daphné if she didn’t.”

“We’re trying to work on it,” Manon said anyway, standing up. “Is there edible food in the kitchen or did Eliott cook?”

“It was one time!” Eliott repeated.

“I cooked,” Lucas reassured her, taking another bite of his own food as proof.

“Thank god.”

Eliott resisted the urge to argue back, turning instead to his shithead of a boyfriend. “It’s really good,” he said, nodding to his plate.

“I know,” Lucas said smugly, and Eliott shoved his shoulder.

“I was trying to pay you a compliment asshole.”

“I know.”

Eliott had no choice but to kiss him senseless, smartass Lucas was so undeniably sexy to him. Not that any version of Lucas wasn’t, but damn. Lisa coughed loudly beside them to remind them she was on the sofa, but neither one of them listened to her. They’d be done kissing soon, surely. 

Or maybe not, Eliott was fine with that too.

“Lucas, we get it, you have a boyfriend,” Mika said boredly, and Lucas broke their kiss, leaving his hands on Eliott’s shoulders and frowning grumpily. 

“Manon has a girlfriend too!” he said indignantly. 

Mika spread his arms wide, looking around the room. “But she’s not here, is she?”

Eliott coughed uncomfortably, even though he knew Mika didn’t really mean it. “I can leave…”

“Oh, no,” Mika and Lucas said at the same time. Lucas’ eyebrows bunched together in the middle of his forehead as Mika continued, “You’re welcome whenever, Lucas is the annoying one.

Lucas let go of Eliott, rolling his eyes and flopping his head back on the couch. “Fuck off, Mika.”

“Gladly,” Mika said, stealing a bit of bacon off Lucas’ plate before he went. 

Eliott and Lucas settled back into each other, hardly noticing as Lisa got up with an exasperated huff as well, storming back into her own room. 

“I love you,” Lucas said quietly, in their newfound peaceful atmosphere.

“I love you too.” It was still surreal to Eliott to be able to say it so casually, both of them knowing they meant it from the bottom of their hearts. Even so, as Lucas’ body was tucked into his, he felt so far away at the same time. “You ok?” he asked gently. 

“Yeah,” Lucas sighed, not very convincingly. 

“We can go to the bench if you want,” Eliott offered, opening the door just in case Lucas had something weighing on his mind that he wanted to talk about. Eliott could tell that he did, actually, but he didn’t want to demand anything before Lucas was ready to open up. The bench was a nudge, though, just in case. 

“Let’s just stay here,” Lucas said, tracing the veins in Eliott’s arms. 

“Are you sure?” Eliott asked.

Lucas didn’t answer, which was answer enough. Eliott wrapped him up in his arms a bit more tightly, pressing his face into Lucas’ hair. “You know that you don’t have to go through anything alone, right?”

Lucas’ eyes shifted about the room, and Eliott could feel his heart beating irregularly in his chest. “I know,” Lucas said, but Eliott didn’t think he did. 

“I’m serious, L,” he pushed, and he watched as Lucas closed off further.

“Can you just drop it? Please?” Lucas pleaded, voice soft and distant. 

Eliott didn’t know what to say. He could tell there was something weighing on Lucas, but he didn’t want to become Lucille and act more like a parent than a significant other. This was why, in the end, he simply pulled Lucas closer to him, pressed a kiss to his forehead, and murmured, “Ok.”

🕷🕷🕷🕷

Eliott turned around when he heard someone calling his name in the hallway, smiling when he saw that it was Imane. He slowed to let her catch up, greeting her with a nod. 

“How’s it going?” he asked. “I’m on my way to meet Lucas for lunch, but I’m sure he won’t mind if you join.”

“That’s what I’m here about actually,” she said apologetically. “Lucas told me to tell you he can’t make it, he and Arthur are testing a project in biology and need to use our lunch period to work.”

Eliott frowned. “Aren’t you his bio partner?” 

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Don’t remind me. It’s for Arthur’s project, Lucas offered his help a few weeks ago and Arthur just decided to take him up on it.”

Eliott considered this. “Sounds like Lucas,” he shrugged, and Imane nodded in agreement. “Want to go to lunch with just me then?” he asked.

She eyed him with the usual softness she reserved only for him, Lucas, and Sofiane. “Sure.” 

They didn’t stray far from school, because Imane had to get back earlier than Eliott did, but they settled in at a small cafe and Imane filled Eliott in on the bio project she’d been working on. He’d always known she was brilliant, but the things she was talking about flew so far over his head that he was too intimidated to stop and ask her to re-explain it all, in much simpler terms.

Lucas would have understood every word she was saying, Eliott was almost entirely certain of it, though he probably would have kept Eliott in the dark as well because he thought it was funny. 

“Is Lucas working on a project too, then? Or is he working with you?” he asked as soon as she finished her explanation. Maybe that was part of why he’d been so MIA lately, if this project was consuming a lot of his time. 

“We all have our own projects,” she said, “Lucas’ is very ambitious, so he should probably spend more time working on that than on Arthur’s, but he only listens to you, so anything I say goes in one ear and out the other.”

Eliott knew she was joking, but he felt compelled to say, “Please, Imane, I think you might be the only person Lucas respects as his superior.”

“His superior, huh? I’ll have to tell him you said that,” she said with a smirk. 

He laughed. “Feel free, I’m not sure it’s much of a secret.”

“You two are good, then, I assume?” she clarified, and he remembered that, like most of their friends, the last they’d seen each other Lucas and Eliott had been steadfastly avoiding one another. 

“Yeah, we’re good,” he assured her. “A little communication goes a long way.”

It was true enough, they had communicated a fair bit, even if there was still some things not talked about. Eliott was pretty sure all of his feelings were out in the open, he didn’t think he had anything to hide, hadn’t had anything to hide before, really, but with no worry of feelings for Spiderman he felt a bit freer in his love for Lucas. 

They never lied to each other, and they never hid anything from each other, except that they did. Sure, hiding the fact that they’d both been in love with each other wasn’t a harmful thing to hide, but Eliott did worry, in the back of his mind, if that meant they could hide a variety of other things. Like whatever it was that was weighing so heavily on Lucas’ mind. 

“Are you sure?” Imane asked, drawing his mind back to the present. It was quite annoying how perceptive she was. 

“I think he’s hiding something from me,” Eliott admitted, dropping his chin into his hands. 

Imane was silent for a minute, not quite the reaction he’d been expecting. He’d hoped she’d jump right into easing his worries. “What makes you think that?” she asked instead. 

Eliott shrugged to the best of his ability, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know. He’s been weirdly absent lately, even longer than we’ve been together, you know? And even when we’re together, it’s like he’s a million miles away at times. He keeps saying it has nothing to do with me, and he doesn’t want to talk about it, but if something’s bothering him I want to be there for him, the way he’s been there for me many times before.”

Imane was considering him carefully, and Eliott blushed, realizing he’d unloaded quite a bit of worry that he had barely allowed himself to consider fully. And he wasn’t worried, not really, but he was. He was worried. The last time Lucas had been distant like this, hiding things, was when he’d been struggling to come out, and Eliott knew what a painful time that had been for him. He hated to think Lucas was suffering again in silence. 

“I…” Imane paused, biting her lip. Eliott wasn’t sure if she knew something or if she was just struggling to find the right thing to say to him. “Lucas internalizes everything, we both know that, and I don’t think opening up comes easily to him, even though he trusts you more than anyone.”

“I know that,” Eliott agreed, “I just— I don’t want him to trust me halfway.”

“Have you told him that?”

Eliott sighed. “Not in such defined words.”

He wasn’t sure if defining his words would have helped much anyway. Lucas would probably just assure him that he trusted him, and then Eliott would allow himself to be kissed senseless and forget all about any hesitations he had. 

Imane bit her lip. “Look, I— and everyone— know that Lucas loves you more than he’s ever loved another person, ok? I really don’t think you have to worry about that at all, but he might be scared to tell you some things, worried about how you might react or if it’ll make you love him any less. He’s terrified you’ll walk out on him someday, just like his father, and though it may be an irrational fear, doesn’t make it any less scary to him.”

So he’d been told quite a few times recently. “But what could he possibly have to say that would ever make me think any different of him?” Eliott wondered aloud. He let out a rueful laugh. “Is he a government spy or something, leading a nefarious double life?”

Imane stayed silent, refusing to indulge his idiotic ramblings, which was probably a good move on her part. He felt bad venting his frustrations out on her, but it hadn't been his intention to do so when he asked her out to lunch, if that counted for anything.

“I wouldn’t care if he was a government spy! I wouldn’t care if he was anything, because he’s just Lucas to me, and just Lucas is more than enough,” he said softly, dropping his hands onto the table. 

“Then tell him that,” Imane said.

“I’m sure he already knows.”

“Probably,” she agreed, “But it doesn’t hurt to repeat the sentiment.”

He leaned back in his chair. “I guess…”

It was then that he thought to himself, this was what it was to be in love. Sure he’d been in love before Lucas, and he knew what love was, at least he thought he did, but love wasn’t always soft kisses and looks shared across rooms and hands and bodies and nights pressed close to one another. Love was worried conversations about the other, frustrated sighs, and paint fights, and always coming back to one another because it hurt more than anything not to. It was a choice as much as it was destiny. Fate may have led him to Lucas, but it was his choice to love Lucas that kept them together day by day. Love without purpose was the kind of love that was fleeting, never lasting longer than it began. It was the kind of love he’d had with Lucille, but everything with Lucas had been different from the very beginning. 

A stunning realization, one that caught him unawares, was that he loved Lucas differently than he’d ever loved another person. He loved Lucas with the same depth and intensity he did his favorite films, which maybe to someone who didn’t know him might not seem all that intense at all, but Eliott knew better. He knew that even when people disappointed him, his favorite movies would always be there, his favorite music, his favorite books. Lucas was like that, a solid force in his life that he always knew would catch him should he fall or should the world hit him a little too hard. 

That was why this all scared him, he was coming to realize, because it raised the question of what if Lucas didn’t see him in the same respect? He loved him, he loved him purposefully, that much Eliott was able to ascertain, but did he love him with that infinite depth reserved for the things that made people feel most at home, most comfortable in this wild, spinning world? Questioning was part of understanding, and communication, more often than not was the only answer. Idriss had been right all that time ago, Imane was right now, even if she hadn’t been so blunt about it. 

Eliott wanted Lucas to know the intricacies of his heart, and Eliott wanted to know the intricacies of Lucas’ heart. It was only a matter of whether or not he was willing to share. 

🕷🕷🕷🕷

Eliott: i feel like i haven’t seen you in forever

Lucas: Me too

Eliott: bio project?

Lucas: Something like that

Eliott: want help? or moral support?

Lucas: I wish… but I think I need solitude to get this to work

Eliott: yeah, yeah of course

Eliott: if you change your mind though, you know where to find me <3

Lucas: I love you

Eliott: i love you too

Lucas: I’m going to kill Arthur

Eliott: hello to you too

Eliott: should i be worried? 

Lucas: Lemme get back to you on that 

Eliott: your project or his?

Lucas: His

Lucas: I swear, for someone so smart he can be so dumb

Eliott: sounds like someone i know

Lucas: Yeah, Arthur

Eliott: pretty sure we both know i meant someone else ;)

Lucas: Yourself?

Eliott: fuck arthur 

Eliott: come over 

!! Message not delivered !!

Eliott: now    

Lucas: What????

Eliott: jesus fuck my wifi is shit 

!! Message not delivered !!

Eliott: what i meant to say was fuck arthur

Eliott: as in f off arthur not like go to town with arthur

!! Message not delivered !!

Eliott: and come over to my place

!! Message not delivered !!

Eliott: preferably now

Eliott: or sooner

Lucas: Eliott???????

Lucas: ??????????????

Lucas: Fuck Idriss

Lucas: Now

Eliott: you’re hilarious, do you know that?

Lucas: No, tell me

Eliott: well now i don’t want to

Lucas: Tease

Eliott: careful who you call a tease, lallemant

Lucas: Would a tease be at your door right now?

Eliott: wait for real?

Lucas: Let me in asshole I’m cold

Eliott: just for that…

Lucas: Eliott, love of my life, man of my dreams, please let me inside otherwise I will fuck Arthur

Eliott: love of your life, man of your dreams, huh ;)

Lucas: Dialing Arthur as we speak

Eliott: i buzzed you in a few minutes ago love, no need to get your panties in a bunch

Lucas: I’ll bunch your panties

Eliott: not quite the sexy talk i was expecting but we can work with it

Lucas: I hate you. So much.

Eliott: love you too

Eliott: now get your ass up here, i’m getting cold 

Lucas: You’re getting cold???

Eliott: hey, can i come over?

Lucas: Now isn’t a great time

Eliott: is it ever?

Lucas: What?

Eliott: sorry. long day.

Lucas: I can call you in a bit, if that works?

Eliott: don’t worry about it, i’m tired anyway

Lucas: Ok… the offer stands, though, in case you want to talk

Eliott: thanks

Lucas: Of course

Lucas: Sorry about the other day

Lucas: I should have been there for you

Eliott: what are you talking about?

Eliott: l, it’s 3 am go to bed

Lucas: You’re up, aren’t you?

Lucas: That’s what I thought

Lucas: Anyway, I’m sorry I wasn’t available when you needed to come over

Lucas: I should have been

Eliott: don’t worry about it, lucas, really

Lucas: I just feel like I’ve been such a terrible boyfriend lately

Eliott: you haven’t

Lucas: I have, though

Lucas: We go to the same school and we barely see each other, and then I’m anywhere but with you after

Eliott: you’re busy, i understand

Eliott: i can’t expect you at my beck and call 24/7 

Eliott: and vice versa, you know?

Lucas: I know. It would be nice if we could be, though, right?

Eliott: if i had my way you’d never leave my side

Eliott: not in a creepy way 

Lucas: Haha, I know, El

Lucas: Me too

Eliott: get some sleep, ok?

Eliott: there are no thoughts worth worrying that pretty little head of yours 

Lucas: Pretty, huh?

Eliott: did i stutter?

Lucas: No 

Lucas: :)

Eliott: goodnight, loverboy

Lucas: Loverboy? Isn’t that you?

Eliott: you can be my loverboy too

Lucas: Ok <3

Lucas: Night, loverboy

Eliott: hey, lucas, can i come over?

Eliott: no crises, i just want to talk to you

Eliott: not a bad talk

Eliott: just like, talk talk

Eliott: i’ve just been putting this off too long

Eliott: ok that sounds like a bad talk but i promise it’s not lol

Eliott: i love you

Eliott: i’m coming over ok?

🕷🕷🕷🕷

It had been over a week since Eliott had spoken with Imane, and he knew that he shouldn’t have put off talking with Lucas for so long, especially since all he wanted to talk about was how much Lucas meant to him, but it was still a bit scary. And Lucas was still a bit unavailable. He hadn’t texted Eliott back that day either, but Eliott decided he’d take his chances, kick Arthur out if he had to.

He knocked on the door to the flat, checking his phone again to see if there was any response from Lucas. None. He bit his lip in disappointment, though he knew that Lucas had a habit of not looking at his phone for hours on end. 

The door swung open and Eliott was met with the face of his boyfriend, slightly out of breath, shirt on inside out. 

Eliott narrowed his eyes. “You weren’t fucking Arthur, were you?”

Lucas’ surprised expression softened as he melted into a laugh. “No, just got back from working out. Sorry, I just saw your texts, come in.”

The flat looked relatively empty which meant that Mika was probably at work, Manon was probably with the girls, and Lisa was probably sleeping in her room. Lucas led Eliott down the hallway, stopping right in front of the door to his bedroom. 

“You wanted to talk?” he asked a bit nervously.

“Kind of, yeah,” Eliott said, opening the door, because it didn’t seem like Lucas was going to. Lucas’ hand brushed against his as he went to sit on the bed, eyes darting around the room. “It’s nothing to be afraid of,” he assured him with a small laugh.

“What?” Lucas said, finally looking at him. “Oh. Um, yeah.”

Eliott furrowed his brows as Lucas sat tentatively on the edge of the bed. “Are you ok?”

“Why do you ask?” Lucas laughed with a false cheeriness. 

“You seem a little on edge,” Eliott said slowly, following Lucas’ eyeline around the room until he felt Lucas’ hand on his face and snapped their eyes back to meet again. 

“Sorry,” Lucas apologized breathlessly, “I’ve been—”

“Busy, I know,” Eliott said. Lucas shrugged, twisting his lips into a sort of apologetic grimace. Eliott sighed, taking Lucas’ hand in his and folding their fingers together. Lucas’ presence— or lack thereof— wasn’t what he was there to talk about. He had to focus, take Imane’s advice, remember all that he’d been thinking about since they spoke. 

“So, um, I realized something recently,” Eliott began, steady as he could, looking down at their joined hands. Lucas’ were rough and calloused, knicks and scrapes all over the back of them. They’d been like that for a while, but Eliott had never asked about it.

Lucas nodded at him to continue, and he did. “I was thinking about you, like I always do, and how much I love you and all that, and I know that you know I love you, but I know that we’re both still scared of being hurt. It’s in the nature of loving someone and allowing yourself to be loved to be scared of being hurt, but I just wanted to talk about why you don’t need to be scared of that, I guess. I don’t just love you because fate decreed that you’re my one true soulmate or because kissing you feels like coming home, I love you because it’s my favorite thing to do, and I want to do it. I want to feel it. Does that make sense?”

“I, uh, I think so,” Lucas said, looking slightly taken aback.

“I love movies,” he continued, even as Lucas looked a bit bewildered, “I love them even when I hate everyone in the world, because I know that even if they hurt me, it’s the kind of pain that I can handle, because the love is worth any trouble it takes to get there. That’s how I feel about you, I love you like a movie.”

Eliott wasn’t sure if he was explaining himself properly or not, but Lucas’ eyes were soft, and his thumb was tracing circles across Eliott’s palm, so all appeared to be going according to plan, even if the metaphor was a bit confusing. 

“I know there are things you aren’t telling me, but I just want you to know that I don’t care, whatever it is. Nothing could make me love you— or want to love you— any less.” He grinned, glancing down at the sheets, then casting his gaze around the room. “Even if you’re some government spy sent here from Russia, or a secret Prince in hiding from his home country, or—”

He cut himself off, eyes catching on something across the room, in Lucas’ closet. He could feel the blood drain from his face as he looked away from the closet, to Lucas, who’d followed his gaze. Lucas instantly looked petrified, etches of an adoring smile still ghosting his face. 

Eliott stood up from the bed slowly, like he might scare the object that had caught his attention away. Lucas sat frozen on the bed, watching him go until he found what he was looking for. 

His brown jacket, the one he’d given Spiderman all that time ago. Why did Lucas have it? There had to be a simple explanation. Maybe he’d found it somewhere, maybe it wasn’t Eliott’s jacket at all. Or maybe… Lucas had been with Spiderman this whole time? Had everyone been wrong to say that Lucas loved him, and the real prize had been the same as the one Eliott had yearned for not too long ago? Or maybe… Eliott didn’t want to allow himself to think it, didn’t want to believe that he’d been lied to over and over again. But there it was, in his hands, the answer he’d been looking for all along.

“Even if I was Spiderman?” Lucas asked, voice a gentle whisper from where he still sat on the bed, fear alight in his eyes. Every part of Eliott wanted to run over there and nullify his fears, wrap Lucas in his arms until he smiled, but no, he couldn’t do that. 

Eliott took one step back towards him, then two more. “Are you?” 

Lucas looked up at him, and he broke. Tears filled his eyes as he opened his mouth. “I can explain everything,” Lucas said in a small voice, so small it didn’t suit him one bit.

But suddenly, Eliott found that he didn’t want an explanation.

“I have to go,” he said, jacket in hand. He didn’t know what to do with it, should he leave it there, or should he take it with him? He threw it on, noticing how it smelled like Lucas, wondering how he’d never noticed that Spiderman smelled like Lucas. 

“Eliott wait!” Lucas called, following him out into the hallway. Eliott didn’t turn around, because he feared that if he did he would break as well. How long had it been? Had their whole relationship been built on lies and deceit? 

Eliott kept walking until he knew Lucas wasn’t following, right out of the flat and onto the street and to a place that he knew would always be there for him when his mind was a mess and he didn’t know what to do. He heard Lucas’ broken voice in his mind, replayed all the fervent glances and unexplained absences and moments with Spiderman where it had felt like they knew one another. 

He also remembered what he’d just been in the middle of saying to Lucas, about his love, about how he would love Lucas no matter who he was or what he could possibly have to hide. That was the thing, he did love him still, even knowing Lucas had been playing him from the start. He had to believe that Lucas loved him back, that there really was a simple explanation, and maybe he’d let Lucas explain it, but he still needed some time to gather himself into someone who was ready to receive that information. 

His phone buzzed once, twice.

Lucas: Eliott please

Lucas: Please come back Eliott. I love you, I do, I’m so sorry for not telling you

Eliott: stop texting me

He sent the message, pausing his walking and staring down at the screen. Lucas’ worst fear was coming true, he realized. He was leaving, just like everyone always left Lucas. There was a possibility that none of this had been real, but on the off chance that it was, Eliott had to say something before there was no going back.  

Eliott: i love you

Eliott: i just need some time

Eliott: i meant what i said

He shut his phone off, regretting and not regretting what he’d sent. His feet carried him all the way to the petite ceinture, and he knew Lucas would be able to find him there if he really wanted to, but he didn’t care. He slumped against the side of the bridge, pulling his knees to his chest, and burying his head between them, screwing his eyes shut. 

He didn’t know how long he stayed like that, thoughts swirling in his mind at a rapid pace, but he knew that it was dark now, he could tell by the amount of light behind his eyelids. Still, he didn’t open his eyes. He’d stay there all night if he had to, he just needed to make some sense of everything that had just been revealed to him. 

Footsteps startled him out of his stupor and he blinked a few times, trying to adjust his eyes to the lack of light. 

“Lucas?” he called out, but the footsteps went silent. He furrowed his brows a moment, listening as well as he possibly could, and hearing nothing but the sound of his own shallow breaths. A minute passed, then two, and he relaxed back against the wall. No one was there. He was alone, and he was still trying to decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. 

He blinked slowly, letting his eyes rest before he opened them again, breathing in and out slowly. Then, the footsteps again. 

“Lucas?” he asked, a bit more hesitantly, opening his eyes.

There was a blinding light, and then—

🕷🕷🕷🕷

Eliott was used to darkness and the terrifyingly simple solitude it brought with it. He was no stranger to monsters, knew that he had the worst ones of all inside his own mind sometimes, but he’d always come out of those fights victorious. Still, the darkness lurked, always waiting to bring him back to where it thought he belonged. Sometimes Eliott himself thought he belonged there.

He was used to the darkness, but somewhere along the way he’d gotten used to the light that came after, the beacon of hope that usually wore a face with wide blue eyes he could get lost in for days. But now, there was no light. 

Just the dark.

No blue eyes soft with reassurance, no wild laugh or tousled hair or calloused fingertips.

Just the dark. 

Eliott was used to darkness, yes, but he was scared of it now. Scared that this wasn’t the darkness he knew so well, the kind he’d beat in battle a million times over. He felt like a child, clinging to memories of a nightlight long since thrown away, struck with the realization that he was alone, and if the monsters wanted to attack, there was nothing standing in their way. 

It was dark, it was dark, it was dark.

Until it wasn’t. 

The light shone in Eliott’s eyes so bright he near went blind from it at first, holding his hands up in front of his face and squinting his eyes. A low, sinister chuckle emanated from the light, and he immediately knew that this light was darkness in disguise, that wherever he was was somewhere worse than anything he could have ever imagined. 

The initial shock of brightness cleared, and Eliott saw beyond, right into the impassive gaze of the man without a face.

“Well, well, well,” he said, “Long time no see.”

Eliott said nothing, not understanding, and not trusting his vocal chords enough to make any noise.

“You’re him, then,” the man continued. Eliott still didn’t know how he spoke, without a mouth, but that was the last thing on his mind at the moment. 

“I’m not Spiderman,” he eked out, voice raw and shaky.

The man with no face laughed, like gravel crunching under a car tire. “No, you are not. You’re something better.” The man with no face smiled and— wait, that couldn’t be right. Eliott blinked, wondering if he was seeing things, wondering if this was all a dream. Suddenly the man with no face had a face, and it was scarier than anything Eliott could ever have imagined. 

Eliott looked at a mirror image of himself, and heard his own voice utter words that shook him to his very core. 

“You are Spiderman’s demise.”