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onecanonlife · 3 years

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Wilbur wakes up one morning to find white in his hair. This is—irritating, for several reasons, but that’s all it is. An annoyance. A distraction.

There’s nothing deeper at work here. There’s nothing wrong at all.

(Or, the stresses of the presidency give Wilbur a white streak of hair earlier in canon, and somehow, this serves as the cry for help he can never bring himself to make.)

(word count: 6,249)

(first part) (third part) (fourth part)

——————–

Part Two

He tries to pen a letter to Phil. It’s more difficult than he remembers.

Dear Phil, he starts, and that’s good, that’s fine. All is well here in L’Manberg, he continues, and that’s good too. But from there, he’s stumped. What next? What does he tell him about? This is the part where he’d launch into a cute story, something Fundy got up to, or some trouble Tommy caused. But nothing comes to mind. Nothing recent, anyway. But the last letter he sent to Phil was—a month ago? Two, now? So he needs to write, because Phil’s far from a helicopter parent, but he still likes to know what he’s up to. Will still worry, if he gives him a reason to.

So, he needs to finish a letter. Needs to stop procrastinating.

He could write about Niki’s bakery. He can’t remember if he told Phil about it or not. He probably hasn’t, not if it’s truly been that long since his last missive. So he sets his pen to work, scratching out a few more sentences, and he reminds himself that he doesn’t need to be overly verbose. Phil doesn’t need an essay. Just a paragraph or two to assure him that he and everyone else are well, that he’s having fun, that he’s thriving.

Telling him about the bakery will work for that. Except, then, after a bit, he ends up writing, It eases my mind to visit. Truly, it’s one of the only places I let myself relax, and—no. No, that won’t do. That will make him sound as though he’s stressed, and he doesn’t want Phil to worry about that. There’s nothing Phil can do about it, and he couldn’t stand it if the admission led his father to think any less of him. He’s not going to—to start complaining to him. That would be ridiculous.

So he scratches the line out and continues on, except then, he writes, I worry that I’m shirking my responsibilities, but then, I’m probably doing that anyway, simply by virtue of not being, and he stops before he can finish that sentence, because, no. Simply, no. He is absolutely not telling Phil that.

He bites his lip. He’s already scratched out enough that he’ll probably need to start an entirely new draft anyway.

He sets the tip of the pen to paper.

I’m exhausted, he writes, but my mind won’t allow me to rest. Too many shadows in too many dark corners, I suppose. Too many thoughts circling. It’s like a hurricane in my head, and I should be in the eye, but I think the storm wall has caught me. I’m tossing in the air, at the wind’s mercy, and I’m afraid of what will happen when I fall.

I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know why I ever assumed that I did. And I feel afraid, because my inadequacies are failing everyone around me. I have to protect them, have to keep them safe, but sometimes I close my eyes and see everything aflame, or I see Dream and his friends flooding into the Final Control Room. We were betrayed, there. I’ve never told you this, but we all lost a life. Me, Tommy, Tubbo, and Fundy. I couldn’t do a thing to stop it. Somehow, I never thought that dying would be terrifying for me, considering who my mother is, but it is. I was so scared, and I still am.

I think I’m a disappointment. I think that if this country fails, it will be my fault, and it will only be right if I go down with it. My people have little faith in me, and they’re right not to, but I can’t bring myself to step down, because at the end of the day, I’m addicted to the power and responsibility. I’m nothing without it. If I can’t manage this, then how can I deserve the trust and faith that others have placed in me?

Most days, I think that everyone hates me. Most days, I think they’re right to do so. I can’t trust anyone. Not completely, not fully, no matter how much I love them. I feel very alone.

He stops writing. Reads it over. Feels his lips quirk up into a wry smile. He’s certainly not sending that.

But the smile fades away after a moment. He supposes that he hoped writing it all out would make him feel better, but if anything, he feels more tired. Drained. Wrung out. Blank.

He fishes around for a new, unmarred sheet of paper.

Dear Phil, he writes, All is well here in L’Manberg. The city is thriving, and my people are well. I really do want you to visit sometime—but not yet, of course! We’ve been having a spot of trouble with creeper holes lately, and I don’t want that to be your first impression. Between you and me, it’s just a little bit embarrassing.

It’s been a while since I last wrote. I do apologize for that; I don’t know where the time goes. There’s always so much to be doing, and I’m more and more thankful for this chance every day. It’s a lot of fun, having a country of our own, and we’re all working to make it as good as it can be. You should see Niki’s bakery—you haven’t tasted heaven until you’ve tasted something Niki’s baked, I swear. She’s a goddess, really, an essential pillar of our society. Baked goods make the world go round.

Tommy and Tubbo are well, and getting into just as much trouble as usual. Fundy grows up more and more every day. I’m so proud of them all.

Be careful of undead infants, and tell Technoblade I said hello, if you get the chance.

All love,

Wilbur

He sets down his pen and rereads. He’s satisfied with that, and more importantly, Phil will be as well. Now all that’s left is to let the ink dry and—

“Hey, boss man,” Tubbo says, opening the door to his office without knocking. He startles, violently. “How’re things coming?”

His heart shouldn’t be racing. It’s just Tubbo. But he came in without warning, which is—irritating. It’s irritating. That’s what it is. He feels himself flushing, just slightly, but surely it’s annoyance.

“There’s a lot of ‘things’ you could be referring to,” he says. “Are you going to be a little more specific?”

“Nah,” Tubbo says, meandering further into the room. But it’s not a regular meander, it’s a Tubbo sort of meander, which means that he’s here for a purpose. He just doesn’t want to reveal it just yet, or perhaps he’s figuring out how he wants to approach it. “Just wanted to know about general things. Big, vast things. Deep things.”

“Deep things,” he repeats, nodding. “Not much of that going on at the moment. Not a lot of deep things in paperwork.” He pulls the nearest sheet of paper closer to him; technically, that’s what he ought to be doing, not writing letters to a father that’s worlds away. He scans the words; it looks like something complicated about trade, something that sets his head to pounding already. The words swim, like they’re dancing, like they’re taking glee in the way he can’t comprehend them.

“I thought there were lots of deep things in paperwork,” Tubbo says, and he looks back up. “I thought that’s why the print is always so small.”

“Maybe,” he says.

“It makes sense to me,” Tubbo says. “Wilbur, is your hair really white?”

He freezes. “What?”

“Niki said that your hair is turning white,” Tubbo says. “Like an old man’s.”

Anger flares. He thought—he didn’t like that she found out about it, but he at least thought he could trust her with it. Thought that she would keep it to herself, that she wouldn’t let it spread to others, to others that might take it and try to use it as a knife to his jugular. But here is Tubbo, and Tubbo is so obviously staring at his hair, eyes flicking across his forehead and around his ears, and he won’t see anything. He double-checked when he arrived at the office; all of the white is under his hat. But he doesn’t like that Tubbo is looking, that Tubbo is actively trying to see, that Tubbo is treating him like some kind of curiosity, and that Tubbo surely must have some sort of opinion and that opinion cannot be anything but—

“Niki said that hair can turn grey or white if a person is very stressed,” Tubbo says, casually. “Are you very stressed, Wilbur?”

Oh—oh, fuck. Is that actually a thing that happens?

“I told her, it was a bad dye job,” he mutters, glancing back down at his paper. The words remain incomprehensible, but he’s not focusing on it. He nudges his pen with his finger, latching onto the light clicking sound it makes as it rolls and then comes to rest.

“Yeah?” Tubbo asks doubtfully. “What, were you trying to dye your hair white?”

He grits his teeth. “Was there something you needed, Tubbo?”

“Nothing I needed, really,” Tubbo answers. “I just wanted to see how you’ve been doing. Seems like forever since you came out of this office. Do you live in here now or something?” He keeps talking before Wilbur can reply, which is just as well, since he might as well live here, considering the state of his room. “And I think I’ve got a new design for a TNT cannon. Kind of streamlined, you might say, if you wanted to check it out. But I think you should just come and hang out with me and Tommy sometime. You never really do that anymore.”

He has a few feelings about TNT cannons. He doesn’t think about TNT too often, because when he does, his mind fills with fire and smoke, and his heart starts beating faster, climbing into his throat, and he wants to run, wants to run far and fast and away, wants to sit and shake until his body can’t move anymore, even when he knows very well that nothing around him is exploding, that his country is secure and his friends are safe. But some days, he can’t so much as smell smoke without a memory rising up to overwhelm him.

Once, he found himself zoning out in the middle of a conversation, a nearby campfire taking him far away from himself, and be barely returned in time to cover for his lapse.

He’s not a fan of TNT cannons, and he can’t bring himself to pretend to be, not even for the sake of Tubbo’s enthusiasm. And—

Hanging out with him and Tommy sounds nice. He misses them, he admits, and some part of him misses the old days, the first days and weeks and months on the server, when it was them and a dream and his fingers dancing on the frets of his guitar, his voice strong and steady and hopes high on the wind, words ready at his lips and Tommy a force of chaos at his back and Tubbo clever and quick by his side, and he just—misses it. Misses them. Misses it all, misses the days before so much was riding on his shoulders.

But he hasn’t the time.

“I’m sorry, Tubbo,” he says, and tries on a smile. “I’m a bit busy right now. Take a rain check?”

“Sure,” Tubbo says, and shrugs. “Later, then. You say that a lot, though, do you know that?”

He winces. Tubbo smiles. He means no harm. Probably. He thinks he would know if Tubbo meant him harm.

And then, Tubbo leaves, and the tension leaves him all in a rush, leaving him—exhausted. Exhausted, and near tears, for some reason, but he blinks those back. That can wait. He doesn’t cry in his office. That’s unprofessional; anyone could walk in on him, and then where would he be?

What was he doing before Tubbo came in?

Right. The letter. He glances it over, scoops it up, and tucks it away in an envelope. He’ll chuck it at the next crow he sees.

---

It’s Tommy who barges in next, a day later, though at least this time, he’s somewhat expecting it. Because if Tubbo knows, then Tommy knows. That is simply the way of the world. He has a difficult time imagining anything ever coming between those two, even information that would be better kept to oneself.

“Why the fuck is Tubbo going on about your hair, then?” Tommy says, with no preamble, and despite himself, Wilbur smiles. That’s Tommy, all the subtlety of a charging bull. And the question is just as irritating as it was yesterday when it came from Tubbo, but he’s more prepared for it this time. He looks up from his work—work that he’s actually doing, at the moment, and he feels rather proud of himself for it—and meets Tommy’s gaze squarely.

“I’ve had an unfortunate encounter with some hair dye,” he says. “The hair dye won.”

“What the fuck?” Tommy says, but there’s already a laugh in his eyes. Good. Tommy is fairly easily deflected, he’s learned. Because Tommy looks up to him, he knows, and that means he’ll willfully look away from any evidence suggesting that perhaps he is not worthy of admiration after all.

It makes him sick, the way he’s thinking about it. Makes him feel like he’s using Tommy, somehow, taking advantage of his affection, when really, that’s the last thing he wants to do. Tommy is his little brother, his little brother by choice, by years spent on the road together, by hushed conversations in the dead of night as the stars bear witness, by all the little intricacies they’ve learned about each other as time continues to pass. Tommy is his little brother, which means it’s his job to protect him, as best he can. He’s done a piss-poor job of that lately. Tommy only has one life left now.

So he can’t fail him again. And perhaps it’s selfish of him, but he doesn’t want Tommy to think he’s failed, either. If it ever turns out that Tommy hates him, he thinks it might kill him.

“Can I see?” Tommy asks, and he prepared for this, too, braced for it. With a long-suffering sigh, he sweeps his hat off his head and angles his face forward, letting Tommy take a good look.

“Satisfied?” he asks.

“Holy shit,” Tommy says. “How the fuck did you manage that?”

“Very impressively,” he says, and puts his hat back on. He’s sure to tuck all the white back under it. It’s a practiced motion, by now. “Or perhaps not very impressively, as it were.”

“Well, it looks sick,” Tommy says, and Wilbur glances at him immediately. He doesn’t seem like he’s lying. He seems almost—impressed? But he sees him looking right away, and immediately backtracks. “Sick as in disgusting, obviously. It makes you look old. Like an old, old man.”

Tommy’s joking, of course, is all bluster and smoke, no fire. But something in his chest stings, and he realizes that the words hurt, and more than that, they hurt because it’s an echo of what he tells himself. He doesn’t like to look in the mirror anymore—though he never did to begin with, actually—but he is well aware of what he looks like. The white hair is just one more symbol of his failing faith, his lack of ability to handle the job that he set himself out to take in the first place. He should be able to do this, and yet, he can’t, and the white hair—well.

After what Tubbo said, it can only mean that he’s weak. Physical proof of his incompetence. That’s really the only way to look at it.

“Shut the fuck up, child,” he says. “Why don’t you go and find a juice box to drink?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Tommy says, and the song and dance is familiar. Tommy rolls his eyes at him—the disrespect in this house is unbelievable—but he turns to go, and that means that Wilbur’s won.

What he’s won, he doesn’t know. Some more self-disgust, maybe. That’s what it feels like.

Lying to Niki. Lying to Tubbo. And now, lying to Tommy. What a stunning specimen of humanity he is. Working through them all like he has a checklist.

And then, Tommy stops in the doorway and looks back.

“Wilbur?” he asks. “You really are alright, aren’t you?”

And that gives him pause. Tommy’s not supposed to ask him that question. If anything, he’s the one who’s supposed to be asking Tommy that.

“It’s just that,” Tommy continues, “I don’t see you around so much, these days. Except for when there’s a problem, and you come out to try and solve it with, with your words and shit. Diplomatic shit, innit? You do that, but you don’t just—you never come to just spend time with us anymore, like how it used to be. And I just sort of miss that, you know? So I was thinking that maybe we could try and do that again, sometime soon? Just, hanging out, like the good old days?”

The good old days.

He doesn’t quite have the heart to tell Tommy that the good old days are long over, that they have been long over since the day Sapnap came to arrest them all for starting a drug empire and the forest around them was set ablaze, since the day they declared independence from the Dream SMP, since the day he in all his naivety declared that all they had to do was ignore the conflict and it would pass them by, since the day he was proven so very, very wrong. Since the day he learned that as much as he values his words, his diplomacy, his efforts toward nonviolence, some people only recognize power in iron and steel.

Since the day he watched his men, his comrades, his family die around him, and knew that he led them to that fate. Since the day Tommy traded his life and then his discs for their independence, and he knew that he couldn’t do a thing to help.

The good old days are long gone. The good old days belong to a different version of him, one that was young and hopeful and stupid, one that had no idea what he was getting into. And he likes to think that he’s still hopeful, that he still strives for a better future, but—

He’s learned. Nothing comes easy, here. There will be no more halcyon summers. The days are getting colder, and there will be no more rest.

“Sure,” he says, and this lie tastes far more bitter than all the rest. “I’d like that.” He gestures at his desk. “I’ve been really busy, but I would like to spend time with you. I’ll let you know when I can, alright?”

And Tommy believes him. He sees it in his answering smile, and he hates himself.

“Sounds good, big man,” Tommy says. “See you later then, yeah?”

“See you later,” Wilbur agrees, and then Tommy, too, is gone. He’s alone in his office, with his duties and his thoughts, and neither of them are kind.

Not that he thinks himself deserving of much kindness.

---

He waits two weeks before visiting the bakery again. It’s not completely intentional; he doesn’t have much time to get away anyhow. But part of it certainly is. He doesn’t want to come again so soon, doesn’t want to know how Niki’s going to look at him, doesn’t want her to poke and prod at something that isn’t important, that is a minor, irritating detail. He doesn’t want to discuss it, and he thinks that Niki might try, so he stays away.

But not forever. He can’t bring himself to take so drastic a step, even if his visits are a bit of a distraction. One that, perhaps, he can’t really afford.

So he steps inside and immediately wants to backtrack, because Niki’s not the only one here. Fundy and Jack Manifold are both sat at the counter, and both of them are looking at him now, having swiveled in their seats to watch his entrance. And that means he can’t leave, because if he leaves without saying anything, they’ll ask him why he did that, and he’ll have to make up something to avoid admitting that he’s been a little bit terrified of interacting with people lately. Because absolutely no one can know that.

Because it’s stupid. Pathetic. He’s pathetic, and he’s become quite accustomed to that word. It seems to live in his head now, like it’s made a nest in his brain, a little roost. Pathetic. Everything he does feels pathetic to him, and probably to everyone else around him.

“Oh,” Jack Manifold says. “Hi, Wilbur. Didn’t expect you in.”

Fundy doesn’t say anything. Just blinks at him, tail swishing. He finds that he doesn’t know what to say. But he needs to think of something, some reason for being here, and if he can manage it, some excuse for extricating himself quickly. The silence has gone on just a little too long, and he’s been standing in the doorway for a full five seconds now, and he needs to come in completely because it’s weird, what he’s doing, and they’re going to call him on it.

And then, Niki pops her head between the two of them, leaning far over the counter, resting practically all of her weight on it.

“Wil!” she says, and smiles. “I’m glad you came! I’m making honey bread, and I know you like that.”

And just like that, he relaxes. Not completely, but to ask that of him would be to expect the impossible. It’s enough.

“I do,” he agrees, and steps further in, letting the door close behind him. “Seems I have good timing.”

The tension in the air—imagined or real? He’s not sure—dissipates. Jack grins at him, raising a glass of—probably not alcohol? He doesn’t think Niki keeps alcohol stocked in here, or at least, none other than the cooking variety. Might be milk. And Fundy still doesn’t say anything, but his tail keeps twitching, and his eyes keep darting between him and the empty stool next to him, and he really hopes that’s an invitation, because that’s how he’s going to take it.

He slides onto the seat, letting his coat fall behind him. His hat, he keeps on. He’s not laying his face on the counter today. Not with other people here. He probably wouldn’t have anyway, tempting though it is. He always feels sleepier in here. It’s probably the warmth.

But he won’t fall asleep.

Niki’s gone back over to the ovens, inspecting her bread. He can smell it on the air, fresh and sweet, and his stomach twists. Has he eaten today? He’s not sure that he has. Though he definitely did yesterday—evening. He thinks. Definitely. A couple apple slices shoved in his mouth, swallowed without really tasting them. But it counts.

“What have you two been up to lately?” he asks. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Not too much,” Jack Manifold answers easily. “Mostly been hanging around Tommy and Tubbo. Getting into mischief, you might say. Nothing too serious or anything!” he is quick to add, seemingly remembering exactly who he’s talking to. “Nothing—I mean, nothing illegal, no, sir. Not us. But, you know, it’d probably be best not to share the details.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Fair enough,” he says. “As long as it’s not something that I’m going to have to clean up later.”

“We’ve already cleaned up,” Jack says.

“Good.” He looks at Fundy, and affection blooms in his chest, sudden, almost overpowering. His boy’s grown up of late. He can barely remember it happening. It seems that only yesterday he came up knee-high, and now, he’s a man in his own right. But still his little champion, always. “How about you? I know we haven’t been fishing yet. I’m sorry—you know that’s the first thing on my list when I finally get a bit of time.”

Fundy glances away. “I know,” he says. “I’ve been fine.”

“I’m glad,” he says, and Niki saves him from having to say anything else—though why he thinks of it as a rescue, he isn’t sure—by walking back over and placing some bread on the counter before them.

“Fresh from the oven,” she says, “so it’s hot. Be careful.”

It smells nothing short of divine. Niki smiles, pleased, as Fundy and Jack reach for a piece right away, and he isn’t far behind them. Though he tries to be a little more neat about it than the other two are being. The way they’re digging in, he’d think that they’re starving. Frankly, he can’t blame them for it, not when it’s Niki’s food on the line, but he still tries to have a bit more decorum.

“Niki,” Jack says, mouth full, “you are an angel among mere mortals.” Fundy doesn’t say anything, but his tail is swishing happily.

Niki rolls her eyes, and takes a bit of bread for herself. “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” she admonishes. “But thank you, Jack.” And then, her gaze drifts to him, and he finds himself stiffening. For no reason. It’s Niki. It’s just Niki. He trusts Niki. She’s basically his best friend, and he’s comfortable here. He is. This is a place of safety, as much as there are such places to be found. Safety, true safety, is not a thing that exists, not really. But here is as close as he can get to it.

Why can’t he let himself unwind?

Is it because Jack and Fundy are here? He hopes not; that wouldn’t be fair to them. They are his countrymen, his citizens, and more than that, Fundy is his son. What would that say about him as a parent, if being around his child makes him nervous? Not just nervous in a I-hope-I-don’t-fuck-up-my-kid way, but in a I-don’t-feel-safe-here way?

But his shoulders are stiff, slightly hunched. He can’t force them down. So he has to hope it’s not too obvious, that the lines of his coat disguise the hard set of his posture, a stance that indicates he thinks there’s a threat, if they know how to read him right. Which they shouldn’t. They shouldn’t.

“How about you, Wil?” Niki asks, and he takes another bite of bread. Small, so as not to get crumbs everywhere, and he swallows before answering.

“It’s as good as always,” he says. “Do I have to say it?” Though it sits heavier in his stomach than usual, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“I’m glad,” she says. “It’s been a little while since the last time I saw you. You are eating properly, right?”

It’s concern, not an accusation, no matter how misplaced. The question shouldn’t raise his hackles. But it does, and all that’s left is to keep it from showing, to keep it from his voice.

“Of course I am,” he says, and before he can get anything else out, Jack laughs.

“Wouldn’t do to have our president starving on us,” he says, and his voice is light, full of laughter, joking. It’s a good thing that Jack feels comfortable enough to joke with him. He’s glad, because—he doesn’t know him all that well, definitely doesn’t trust him, not yet, but Tommy and Tubbo seem to like him, so it’s good that he’s fitting in, that he’s found a place, that he likes it here. Though liking isn’t always enough to stop the betrayal before it comes. He ought to keep a closer eye on him, just in case, but—that wasn’t the point of this.

The point is that, joking or not, Jack is completely right. It wouldn’t do to let his eating habits interfere with his duties. He’s already weak; is he going to add malnutrition on top of that? Never mind that he often doesn’t feel like eating, these days, that he really only has an appetite when he’s here, in the bakery. He needs to keep his strength up so that he can get things done. And he can’t force himself to sleep, so that problem is out of his hands, but he can force himself to eat.

Jack couldn’t have known what he was prodding at, of course, when he made the comment. But he takes another bite of bread anyway. It’s tough to swallow, even though it tastes delicious. He doesn’t know why. He’s never had an issue eating Niki’s food before. He hopes this doesn’t become a pattern.

And he hopes it’s not because there’s other people here. It would be an explanation, at least, but not one he likes. The implications there wouldn’t be—good, to say the least.

“Jack,” Niki says quietly, admonishingly, and he wishes she wouldn’t, because he doesn’t want Jack to examine what he’s just said, to analyze it as anything other than a joke. So he musters a smile, a quirk of an eyebrow, and Jack grins back at him.

Safe territory. Level ground, even footing. Relatively speaking.

And then Fundy pipes up.

“Hey, Wil,” he says, and Wilbur wonders, suddenly, where he picked up the habit of calling him ‘Wil’ or ‘Wilbur’ more often than he calls him ‘dad’. Not that he minds it, but it’s curious. Could it be from him? He himself calls Phil by his name more often than not. Perhaps it’s genetic. But then Fundy continues, “Is your hair actually, like, turning white?” and Wilbur is no longer interested in thinking about little details like that.

He’s tense again. Tense enough now that they can probably see it, even without looking too hard.

“Why is everyone so interested in my hair, lately?” he asks. “It’s just hair. Grows out of everyone’s head. Except for yours, Jack Manifold.”

“Point,” Jack Manifold agrees, but there is a gleam in his eyes, behind his glasses, that says he too is interested in the direction this conversation has taken. Not ideal.

“It’s just that,” Fundy persists, “it’s a little bit weird, right? If it’s turning white like that? Is that normal?”

“It’s not ‘turning white,’” he says, which might be a mistake, because he’s lying through his teeth, now. “It was a bad hair dye incident. Nothing you need to be concerned about.”

Jack laughs. “How’d you manage to fuck up hair dye that badly?” he asks, and the way the question is phrased is irritating; he doesn’t want Jack to start thinking he’s an incompetent fool who can’t dye his own hair properly. But he’ll also take this line of questioning over the other, so perhaps it balances out.

Except then, Niki splays both her hands on the counter. Any earlier levity that she had is now gone.

“Is that so?” she says. “That’s not what you told me.”

His heart is pounding again. He really, really hopes that he’s not developing a condition of some kind. He’d know if he were having a heart attack, wouldn’t he?

“I’m pretty sure that is what I told you,” he says, and Niki shakes her head.

“No, you told me that it wasn’t dye, when I asked,” she says. “And then you said that it was, but you were lying.”

She doesn’t sound angry, which is perhaps the worst thing about all of this. She doesn’t sound angry that he’s lied to her, taken advantage of her trust and fed her a blatant falsehood. Her voice is calm, matter-of-fact, and there’s a glimmer in her eyes that isn’t annoyance or betrayal or any of the other emotions she should be feeling. Instead, it’s concern. That blasted concern again.

He doesn’t deserve it.

“Really?” Jack says. “Huh. Well, what’d you do that for, then?”

He’s changed his mind. The worst thing about all of this is that there are other people present. That he’s not alone with Niki, which would still be an undesirable situation, but manageable. Jack Manifold and Fundy are both here, staring at him, expecting answers that he doesn’t want to give, and Fundy—

Why is his son looking at him like that?

“Why are you all so pressed about my hair?” he demands. “It’s hair. You don’t even see it.”

“I mean,” Fundy says, “like I said, it’s just kind of weird, right? I don’t think hair just turns white for no reason. Not unless you’re really old, which you’re not, I don’t think. So I guess we’re just curious about what the reason is.”

He doesn’t want to talk about this. This isn’t why he came here. This place, this bakery, these people, it’s supposed to be an escape from his responsibilities. The only one he allows himself, even though he knows he shouldn’t. It’s the one place where he doesn’t have to think about his own failings, where he can relax a bit and let himself be, if only for a little while, but here they are, pushing him on this, and he doesn’t want it. Doesn’t want to be reminded of his incompetency. And they don’t know, can’t know exactly what they’re doing to him, but—

He slams his hand against the counter, sudden emotion boiling over. They all jump, the three of them. Niki’s eyes widen, and Fundy’s ears press back against his skull.

“Then don’t be,” he snaps. “Leave it the fuck alone. It’s really none of your business, is it?”

There is a moment of silence. The only sound is the crackling of furnaces.

“I guess not,” Fundy mutters, and he realizes what he’s done.

He’s just snapped, lashed out at his friends, his countrymen, his son, and for what? Because their questions are stressing him out? He should have turned around and left the moment he saw them in here, no matter what they would have thought, because this is worse. This is so much worse than that, and now he feels like an absolute shitstain of a human being. What kind of person gets so fucking upset over questions about his hair?

“I’m sorry,” he says. Too little, too late. “I didn’t mean—” Fundy is looking at him. They all are, and suddenly, he can’t bear it. Not any longer. “I’m sorry. I’ve got a lot of work to do. I really should be going. Thank you for the bread, Niki.”

It’s painfully transparent, and he is very aware of the fact that it’s the exact same way that he rushed out of the bakery when he was last here. Except this time, there are more people here to witness his shame.

History repeats itself, he thinks, bitterly. History repeats itself, and it only gets worse.

But he’s not staying here. He can’t. He just—can’t. Because he feels very upset over such a stupid little thing, and he’s upset that he’s upset, and now he’s upset other people, and he can’t stay here any longer, because if he does, the gods only know what’s going to fly out of his mouth next.

“Wil, please stay,” Niki says, but he’s already standing.

“Be seeing you all,” he says, and the door isn’t far, but it feels like miles, because he can feel their stares burning into his back as he makes his exit.

“Aw, wait, Wilbur, you don’t have to—” Jack starts, but he’s out the door. He’s out the door, and he lets it swing shut behind him, and the words cut off. He doesn’t have to listen to them. So if Fundy says anything, he doesn’t hear it, and he wonders why that makes him feel so much worse. Worse than he does already, which is no mean feat.

His stomach growls. He’s hungry. How many bites of bread did he take? Two? Three? Not enough to be filling. But somehow, he already knows that if he seeks food elsewhere, it will turn to ash in his mouth. And he can’t go back, not after the scene he’s just made, so he’s going to have to be hungry. Which is fine. He’s fine. He’s fine, even though he’s just fucked everything up, and he rather thinks he might not be able to show Niki his face ever again. So, no more bakery. No more safe place, and wow, he is being a dramatic fuck, isn’t he? But he can’t help himself. He never can.

He should have known better from the start. There is no such thing as safety. No exceptions. He should have tried harder to remember that. And he’s not angry, not anymore, not really, because they weren’t aware of the hornets’ nest they were stirring up; rather, he’s angry at himself, for losing control, for letting himself react, for not being able to handle a simple question with the poise and calm that is expected of him as president.

For being weak. That’s what it comes down to. His weakness. Persistent, and now, persistently on display.

He does a lot of screaming into his pillow that night. It doesn’t help. And sleep, it seems, is determined to continue its avoidance, so the night stretches long, and even his tears eventually run dry.

---

The next day, Niki comes to his office.

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lunawritingspaceoxoxxx · 3 years

Text

Unresponsive II

Three months

Three

Three months

Y/N thrived in the art world, their first displayed piece expressed the raw feeling of losing a love that was so exciting and heart racing and trying to manage in this bland, cold world. They glanced out towards the concrete jungle, watching people hustle and bustle around; single mothers, business men, ladies of the night, etc. They sighed, walking towards the canvas, rubbing their face as they tried to create anything from this creative funk. They knew this was coming from the trip to the falling out with Jennie, suppressing it until they couldn’t anymore, breaking down from just feeling absolute shit from just everything, they cried for their lost friendship, for Damiano, for everything that they sacrificed to get her. When they first started dating Damiano, they were in college for communications and journalism and for the most part, they enjoyed it for the most part and they thought it was going to stick for the most part and then they met Damiano. He came through like a hurricane, tearing through their world and showing them more than just their little small town as he sent pictures of places that he toured at, sending love letters and expensive jewelry.And they cherished every single one, keeping them in a small box underneath their bed, unable to stand even looking at them. Y/N rolled their neck as they pulled off their shirt, tossing it to the side as they grabbed a paint can as they stared at the blank canvas in determination.

TWO WEEKS LATER

“‘Up and coming painter,Y/N L/N, has been hospitalized at New York’s mental hospital. They’ve been experiencing vivid hallucinations and long periods of mania, breaking the glass of their high rise apartment. One theory is giving a little bit of insight to why they’re acting like this, some say she hasn’t been sleeping well or sleeping at all. They recently did a painting stream and you won’t believe this, for almost 30 hours. Some say that they didn’t move either, to eat or relieve themselves, so they potentially have an eating disorder as well.’'

Ethan scoffed as he changed the channel, tossing the remote to the side. “Lo sa ancora (Does he know yet)?” Ethan questioned as he opened a bottle of liquor, pouring himself a glass along with Thomas and Vic. “No, but he’ll probably know soon, you know he kept tabs on them. I don’t know why though, I’m pretty sure that they’re over with.” Damiano stepped through the door, looking worse for wear as he stomped through the room, taking the swing of the bottle. “Damiano….” “Just don’t. I don’t want to hear it, I know they’re in the hospital and-” “Dude, we’re just wondering if you’re okay, we don’t care about them-” Damiano stopped as he glared at Thomas, bending down in front of him. “I don’t give a shit how I feel, but you’re not going to disrespect Y/N in front of me. You can do it anywhere else, but around me.” Ethan quietly watched him as he slammed the door shut. “Maybe he’s onto something, he knows them better than us, maybe they’re nice.” Vic spoke up after a while, rubbing her neck as she felt an insane amount of guilt. She knew that Y/N knew that, and the rest of the band didn’t like them. They were so different from Damiano’s partners, none of his partners were foriegn, Y/N was an American and they did things differently than they do. “Are you okay, Vic, you look like you have an idea that none of us are going to like.” Vic was going to make this right and help these two useless lovebirds. “Pack all of your shit, we’re going to America.”

“What do you mean they’re not here? Where could they go?” The receptionist stared blankly at three before grabbing the phone. “If I knew that, I still couldn’t tell you because of HIPAA, if you don’t leave, I will call security.” They quickly stepped out of the building, disappointed as they looked at themselves. “Okay, so we’re going back home right?” Ethan looked done with everything, glaring at the paparazzi that made their way down the street. “We’re going to look for them, I’m not giving up, Damiano is close to shutting down completely and leaving the band. We owe it to him to at least help him either get back together or help him move on.” Vic realized during the ten-hour flight how well Damiano was doing much better with them in his life, they actively made sure that he was eating and remembering important small details. They were a match made in heaven and according to Vic, everyone needed someone to manage in the cruel world. “I know that they have a friend named Jennie, we just have to find where she’s at.”

“The world hasn’t been too kind to you, hasn’t it?” An older man glanced towards the backseat, frowning as he occasionally watched his child sleep. They looked exhausted and ready to throw in the towel from this brutal boxing match. He remembered them, crying into the phone, on the verge of a panic attack as they tried to form a coherent sentence and the next thing he knew, he was on a flight headed to New York. He knew that after the death of their mother, his wife, that they weren’t okay, but it was their senior year of high school and they got into a very prestigious school. They just kept going and going, no time to grieve and he was surprised that it took them so long to do so. As a father, he wanted to protect them from the outside world and yet, he couldn’t be there for them and it frustrated him so much. He pulled into a dirt road, sighing as they made their way down that familiar path. “I just want you to be happy again, just have this snarkier, larger than life attitude, and enjoy yourself. If you didn’t know, I’m proud of you and I’ll make sure that you know that for the rest of your life.”

“So you’re that Måneskin? Not going to lie, I thought Y/N was lying about him, you know? They seem a little...off the rails.” Ethan furrowed his eyebrows at Jennie as she basically walked around naked. “Is there another Måneskin band that we don’t know about? I’m getting sidetracked, where is Y/N? I know they had a breakdown and I thought in America you had to stay there for three days so?” Jennie just looked at the other woman, shrugging her shoulders as she walked into her kitchen, dancing to trashy pop music. “I really don’t know and I really don’t care, I didn’t consider Y/N as my friend. When they came to New York, I just took advantage of that, they were from the South. They came here and wanted to make all of the friends, wanting to get close with everybody and you know what? I could see them, slowly crack and not be their cheerful self and -” “God, no wonder they acted like that, they have you in their right ear, being a negative bitch and making themselves feel like shit.” Thomas spoke up as she pouted, making Ethan and Vic wear a puzzled look on their faces. “How are you making this about yourself? They’re obviously not in a good mental state, don’t make this about you.” Ethan shuffled uncomfortably in his seat as he looked around, coughing awkwardly. Jennie raised her eyebrows at them before she opened the door, pointing out. “Get the fuck out of my apartment and never come back. You’re lucky that I became friends with that hillbilly freak, no one else would ever deal with them.” Once again, they were stumped, they had no leads and they were pretty much ready to give up and call it a day. “...Vic, why are you doing this? Be honest with us, why do you feel this urge to help them? What have they done for you to help them?” “Because Damiano..has become a better person because of them, he’s been worse than this before. He would sleep around, not caring about who he hurt in the process and he was just sinking further and further. Then Y/N came along, they became friends and it took months of Damiano being called out for him to change and during that time frame, he fell in love with Y/N. ...I was jealous, he was more open with them than me. I’ve known him longer than anyone else and it was painful for me to hear him express his dreams and feelings to someone else. I wanted him to express himself with me instead of trying to act like he’s okay with whatever he was dealing with. That’s why I despised them, my jealousy got the best of me and it clouded my judgement.”

2 MONTHS LATER

Y/N watched the fields of corn as they seemed to continue on, never ending as the days went on. They were mounted on their childhood horse, Luna, as they explored the unchanging surroundings around them. Everything was the same, albeit, it really wasn’t, people passed away and some left to bigger and better things and the town that they grew up with just faded away. It was a ghost town, hardly anything stayed in town, all of the mom and pop shops shut down as the older generation retired and their children didn’t want to run a store. Y/N was lucky to have such great parents and allowed them to explore and learn everything they wanted to know. They never held that against their parents, they knew that just being the weird kid would have been sheltered because they knew how society treated children who didn’t fit into the norm. ”Whatca thinkin about?” “Nothing really, just relaxing, thinking, I don’t know what else to do, I don’t want to go back to New York quite yet. I don’t want to paint..it just reminds me of him, and losing him was the second worst pain that I've dealt with. I remember when mom died and I just pushed myself through, buried myself in my college work and...Damiano helped me decompress, I lost my rock and I’m pretty sure that he doesn’t want to see me. His group just won Eurovision and they’re getting international attention…” Their father watched them carefully, walking next to them. “Let me ask you a question, why did you and Damiano fight? Let’s start from there.” Y/N stopped Luna as they spun around to face the older man. “We fought because I traveled all the way to Rome and got drunk for two weeks. I thought we were going to spend time together and he would take me to see his favorite places-” “Did you tell him that? Before you confronted him?” Their father gave him that same look that they loved to give. Y/N had this bad habit where they'd daydream about important conversations and not have those said conversations in real life, they looked away shamefully. “No...I didn’t” “You know men are dumb as rocks, you need to tell us everything or we won’t pick up on hints that you drop. When your mother was pregnant with you, she would constantly get mad when I didn’t do things which led her to getting a chalkboard to let me know what I needed to do. Good communication makes a relationship thrive and survive, you can’t be silent and expect him to come to you. Now, do you want with this information, there’s someone who would love to speak to you.” A car sped down the dirt path, unfamiliar with this terrain, stopping as they rushed out of the car. “How did he even..” They urged Luna to slowly make their way back inwards, nervously glancing back towards their father, he only nodded as he urged them to continue on.

“Excuse me? I’m looking for…” Damiano trailed off as he watched them slowly trotted over to him. “..How did you even find me?” “Honestly, I spent hours upon hours looking through our facetimes and I just wanted to see you...I have so much to say and I just….Ti amo e voglio essere con te(I love you and I want to be with you), I’m hurting when you are and I realized that I can’t imagine myself without you. You’ve been there when I was at my lowest and you know me so personally and I don’t want to lose you.” Damiano grasped their waist as he pulled them into his chest. “Damia-” “No, let me talk first, you were absolutely right, we should’ve talked about what we should’ve done when you visited. I was stupid to think-” Y/N covered his mouth, shaking their head, “No, I’m partially to blame as well, I didn’t communicate what I wanted and I ended up causing a scene and I embarrassed you in front of everyone and your bandmates probably hate me even more.” Damiano wasn’t even listening to what they were saying, unable to focus on anything else but them, he quickly took their face in his hands, eagerly kissing as he ran his hands along their body, gripping their hips. “You weren’t listening to a word I said, did you?” “Diavolo, no(Hell no), you’re too distracting for me to focus.” He chuckled, pulling them closer to him, smirking when they gasped. “Don’t give me that look, I’ve always wanted to sleep with my amore on their childhood bedroom, let’s make that into a reality, shall we?”

#damiano david x reader #maneskin x reader #gender neutral reader #if you want some smut let me know

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ethanharli · 3 years

Text

Requested: On wattpad.

Pairing(s): Aizawa x Gender-Neutral Reader.

Warning(s): Angst/Comfort, Platonic relationship, Teacher/Student, Cursing, Triggering stuff, it ends in fluff I promise.

A/n- I'm sorry if this wasn't exactly what you asked for :(

__________

"Egotistical brat."

"Narcissistic little shit."

"You did a good kid, keep up the good work" Mister Aizawa's words caused a smile to grow on my face as I looked over my test scores. Knowing that even though they meant nothing to my parents, they at least made someone else proud of me, and that was enough to keep me determined to work harder. However the word's from earlier still echoed somewhere in the back of my mind like a pesky little fly you just can't get rid of. It caused my smile to slowly fade away as I leaned against my desk, watching everyone else leave for the day while I stayed behind, dreading the fact I'd have to return home to them. Home was never my safe space, not even my room made me feel secure in that god awful place.

Both my parent's were born quirkless, so when I was born they automatically assumed I'd be quirkless to, but it seemed that it merely skipped their generation and onto mine, so when they found out I had a quirk they despised me. They only seemed to hate me more when I told them I wanted to become a hero, and if it wasn't for my grand-parents recommending me I wouldn't even be in Yuuei right now. So home was filled with constant mental abuse, but at school I had my friends and Mister Aizawa, the one adult that made me feel like I wasn't a complete failure of a child. He's like the parent I always wished for, but could never have, not if my parents have anything to say about it..

Shrugging off my thoughts I took a deep breath and slung on my backpack, heading my way back home.

"There's always tomorrow."

------

"Smug little bitch."

"You're nothing more than a spoiled rotten pest."

My feet dragged against the ground as I made my way to my seat, my eyes slowly drooping from the exhaustion that weighed down on me. My neck burning from the way my mothers hand gripped it the other night while my bandaged arms burned from how I practically scratched them raw. At least it was winter time, so I could easily hide the bruises and bandages under a turtle neck without anyone asking any questions. "[L/n], are you okay?" My body swayed a bit as I looked up at Mister Aizawa, giving him a faint smile with a slow nod. "I'm alright Sir, just didn't get much sleep last night" At least that wasn't to far from the truth. It was due to my parents constant bickering that I stayed up late, and it was my misfortune that got me caught by them when I came down the stairs for a drink.

"Then go rest in the nurses office, but you'll be catching up on whatever classes you miss after" He grumbled under his breath while my smile only seemed to grow as I picked up my things and slowly brought myself up to my feet, nearly toppling over if it wasn't for the fact that Mister Aizawa had caught me by the arms, helping me steady myself. "And [L/n], take care of yourself okay?" The concerned gleam in his tired eyes nearly caught me off guard, as my breath hitched, having to hold back the tears that threatened to spill from my eyes from the simple fact that my teacher cares more then my parents ever would.

"Yes sir!"

------

"You're a fucking disgrace."

"You'll never be a hero! Not a good one at least."

My eye's stayed glued to the basic cream colored wall as the doctor looked over my scratched up arms in silent horror, and I couldn't help but wonder what kind of damage has been done as he set to work and tried his best to patch me up. It's been a few weeks since the day my parent's finally decided to get physical with their abuse, and they managed to beat me bloody and bruised, and ever since then I could never seem to get any rest nor could I actually have any peace while at home. So my stress and panic levels just kept rising until I decided that scratching at my arms made the best stress reliever, it got so bad that I even did it without thinking. However the ambulance was called for me while I was getting groceries, I had started bleeding through my bandages and jacket while I was there, and as much as I tried to stop them one of the shoppers still managed to call the hospital.

"What's the name of your parent or guardian? We need to let them know you're here" The doctor looked at me with a small smile as he wrapped up my arms, but the thought of my parent's nearly caused me to scratch at my arms again.

"You'll never amount to anything."

"Your mother and I didn't even want you."

My brows pinched together in silent thought, hearing their words repeat through my head like a broken record as I spoke, "A-Aizawa, Aizawa Shota." I felt bad mentioning him, I didn't want to bother my teacher so late at night, but I'd rather deal with his disappointment then watch my parents lie their way into getting me back home just so they could hurt me more. I couldn't do that, No.. I wouldn't be able to handle that, knowing that these doctors might believe them over my own words cause I'm just a 'child,' even if the evidence is clear. So when Aizawa walked into the hospital room with a slightly annoyed and tired look I couldn't help but break down.

"You're nothing but a bother to us and your teachers."

"I'm sorry.." The tears slowly slid down my cheeks as I wiped at my eyes, trying to stop the tears from flowing.

"You worthless piece of shit, do you really think anyone cares about you?"

"I'm so sorry.." But they just wouldn't stop as a choked sob slipped past my lips, feeling the bed dip a bit besides me.

"No one wants you, so just go fucking kill yourself."

Aizawa gently placed his hand on my back and let me rest my head on his shoulder, feeling even more tears cascade down my cheeks from the comforting gesture but I couldn't help but break more while in his embrace. "I won't pressure you, but at some point you're gonna have to tell me what happened" The familiarity of his gruff tone helped settle my nerves as I nodded my head and pulled away from his embrace, making sure to take a deep breath and keep my gaze fixated on the ground. "It's, it's home.. My parents they, they don't like me very much so they.. They take their anger and frustrations out on me.." After that I explained everything the best I could without trying to scratch my arms or bursting into tears again, and Aizawa just sat beside me and listened.

"How about.. I take you in?" His question caught me off guard and I couldn't help but stare at him with wide eyes. "N-No it's okay! You already have to put up with me at school.. I wouldn't want to bother you at home too" I couldn't help but twiddle with my fingers as I spoke, not wanting to be more of a nuisance then I already am to him, but he merely ruffled up my hair and stood from his seat beside me, "It's alright kid, I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't okay with it."

"A-Are you sure?"

"Mhm."

"Th-Then yes please!"

#aizawa x gender-neutral reader #aizawa shouta #bnha aizawa #aizawa x reader #bnha #mha #aizawa platonic #aizawa shouta x gender-neutral reader

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sasa-gay-yo · 3 years

Text

Just Us (Chapter Ten: Request)

← Chapter Nine

“We only have a bag of flour to give you this time.” He handed me a bag smaller than any ones they had before. I knew this might be the last time they would give me anything for my bread, so I took it without any word, but not without a nasty look. The cloth tied around my mouth hid my frown from him as I looked down at the small bag that even had a hole in it. This wasn’t going to make more than twenty loaves and I knew I was quickly running out of my own supply. I had tried to use my extra money to stock up as harvest came, but the price of wheat flour was so ridiculous, only the government could afford it. They bought most of the stock themselves and were hiding it. This small bag of flour was probably scooped out of a big box as they laughed in tricking me.

I walked out the doors of the stock yard, pausing as the soldiers carried out another covered body on the stretcher. I wondered if I could recognize the person if they showed me their face. I had started giving the people my own names and using the interactions I had with them to guess their positions in Shiganshina. Some refugees were nice and would have a conversation with me while I ate my allotted rations on the edge of the stage they set up. It was a precaution so the refugees couldn’t run and push over the food stand like they had done a few months previous. It happened on my day off, so I wasn’t there to see it happen, but the next day, a stage had already been built with stairs that forced them into single file lines. If they pushed each other, the Garrison now had an above view to punish and hit those who forced themselves in line.

I had conversations with some children and taught them a hand game from my youth to pass the time. Some of their parents would talk to me too, if they were young, and ask about the situation outside of the stockyard. Since violence had increased outside the barracks, they easily found a scapegoat and restricted the refugees to only the stockyard. It had no effect on the violence, but it seems the citizens of Trost found comfort in having someone to blame for the slow downfall of humanity.

The trio never talked to me. Their grandfather always greeted me with a smile in line and I would give him the four loaves of bread for the children. The boy, Eren Jaeger, would get into fights with the guards more and more, but he would always be pushed to the ground or saved by the girl. It reminded me so much of myself. Was he getting beat up because it was something to do? Maybe it was the only thing that would make him feel something throughout the day. I desperately wanted to approach them and talk to them, but I never was able too. As soon as I would spot them, they’d disappear to some place in the stockyard and the smaller children would crowd around me to play the “clapping game” as they called it.

Everyday I walked home alone, knife gripped in my pocket, I thought of what I would say to Eren Jaeger if he ever was thrown on my doorstep. He probably wouldn’t care for the pity of an older woman who had no relation to him. He also probably wouldn’t care about my time in the Underground and how I thought he acted like I did. I had made a game plan and everyday would go over it and tweak some parts. I’d have the trio help me make bread, talking to them about anything. Slowly, I’d tell them I was an orphan and maybe find some relation with them. The only adult figure around them seemed to be the grandfather and that made me wary because of the situation they came from. Their parents were no doubt killed by titans.

I took the cloth off of my mouth as I got far enough away from the stockyard and took a deep breath of the slowly freezing air. It was going to get cold again, but the farmers had predicted a nicer winter than last year. We’d be lucky to get any snow this time, but it was better because they could chance growing more late winter crops. I decided that for the end of the year, I might as well open my shop and keep the tradition of year-end and winter pastries, hoping people would buy even without the fresh fruit. Another motivation is that some of my supplies were going to go bad and I didn’t want to lose more money than I had already. People like something sweet when they’re going through a bad time, so I’d hope they’d want my sweets.

“Eva! Eva! Eva!” I looked up and saw Elias running towards me, paper in hand. He had a growth spurt over the summer and fall months, and now he was almost to my chin. His hair was also much too long, but he wouldn’t let me cut it because apparently the other boys at school also had hair like his. During summer and current late fall, I had taken them in pretty much everyday, commissioning them to make bread with me and giving them a few slices. Since Wall Maria had fallen, their parents had gone a bit crazy and so had a lot of other people in Trost. The Order of the Walls had grown into a huge following and not just a tiny cult anymore. They were going to build a church soon in the city square and the kid’s father was too busy with that to care for the proper needs of his children. I mended their clothes, helped them with homework, and even let them sleep on my couch when they got a little too full after dinner. Their parents didn’t even notice their absence when I brought them back home.

“Yes, Elias?” He pushed a piece of paper into my hands and I saw the hundred percent he had gotten on the spelling test we had worked on together. I was awful at spelling, but I knew enough to help him. We would use flour, spread out on the table, to practice spelling words. This past list was increasingly difficult and I had to even look at it again a few times.

“I got a perfect score on the spelling test!” his smile beamed up at me and made me stop thinking about the year-end and the refugees for a few seconds.

“I’m proud of you Elias. You practiced hard for this.” He started following me back to the café and I knew he probably would want to come in and do his homework on Levi’s table. It was funny that Elias had such an unconscious affinity for him. His favorite toy was still the horse, he would sit at his table and do homework, and he started drinking tea because I refused him coffee. When Elias sat at the table doing his homework, it helped to fill the void that was left.

Levi hadn’t returned in four months, almost five this coming Monday. The only thing I had was the button down and two letters he had sent before his work consumed him. I was waiting on a reply from a letter I had sent maybe three months ago. I knew that he was still alive and right outside of Trost, but only cadets would come in and out for refugee security. Everyday, I would hear them open the gates a six and I would open the window of my apartment, hoping to see him on his horse. I’ve probably watched the Scout cadets come into Trost so much, they must know my face by now.

I missed him.

Elias grabbed my hand unconsciously as we walked and broke me out of my thoughts for a second time. It seemed that there were three reasons I woke up everyday. The refugees, the kids, and the Scouts. It’s good that I had things to live for now.

“Can I do my schoolwork in your café, Eva? There’s a lot of people over at Daddy’s house today and June’s at the bookstore.” June had recently got an apprenticeship at the book binder’s shop as he had no sons to pass it down to. I had given him the recommendation and once he saw the knowledge June had about books, he accepted her in. She was mostly selling books to people, proving her worth to the book binder, before she got to learn the secrets. Sometimes she would bring back broken books he had given her and think of the ways she would fix it. I was surprised at how close she actually was in her guesses. However, her new job had left Elias to fend for himself and grow up now without his sister at his side. He would play with friends, but once they had to go home, he was by himself. I was happy to indulge him in anything he wanted to do since I was alone too. We’d be lonely together.

“Of course, Elias. We can go pick up June when she’s finished too.” That was good enough for him and he ran ahead, turning right out of the alleyway to get to the door of the café. I wonder who would fill my days once Elias was old enough to gain an apprenticeship. Jonas would be off somewhere delivering, the kids would be gone, and Levi would be on some expedition. Maybe I’ll get a cat.

“E-Eva?” I turned the corner and stopped walking to survey the scene. My stomach instantly dropped and I felt like I wanted to throw up. Why were these two here? Elias looked up and the tall, blonde man, instantly recognizing him. Their faces didn’t seem distressed and they were just leaning against the wall of the café, horses tied to the wooden posts. He can’t be gone, I would have felt it.

“Miss Evylnn Flynn?” He was the first to speak up and Hange kicked herself off the wall, wagging her finger at me.

“I knew you were lying to me! Both of you!” They weren’t sad or upset. He had to be fine, but why were they here and not him? I can’t say I wasn’t disappointed to not see him behind Erwin’s shadow.

“Miss Flynn, we would like to have a word with you in private?” Erwin gestured to the door of the café and I swallowed hard. Was I in trouble? Why is the Commander here to talk to me in private?

“Elias, you can go up to my apartment and do your school work on my desk. I’ll come up and get you when I’m done talking to the Commander.” Elias looked back at me, his eyes whimsical. He was pretty much meeting his hero and I was pushing him away from it. Erwin looked down at the boy and smiled. To pay him for listening, I’d ask Erwin to talk to Elias. If he had time to come and talk to me personally, he could spend five more minutes to entertain Elias.

“Can you do that for us, Elias? I promise it won’t take too long.” He nodded rapidly and Erwin reached down to fluff his hair. As soon as he was done, Elias ran up the stairs to my apartment, shutting the door with a slam. I’d have yelled at him if I wasn’t in this situation. My heart was speeding up and, if they could, my palms would be sweating.

“Miss Flynn?” Erwin turned and gestured to the café door again. I nodded once and walked over, unlocking the door and leading them both in. What could they want? My mind was running through a hundred scenarios. Most of them ended with something happening to Levi. The other popular answer was that I was somehow in trouble.

Once the door closed behind me, I got the nerve to turn around and smile at them. Hange’s presence made me slightly more comfortable, but this was the first time I had met Erwin. His energy was completely overwhelming and even if he looked nice, you could tell the amount of power he had. It was like the positive version of Levi.

“Can I get you two anything to drink?” I whipped my hands on my jacket, looking to the floor.

“Do you have any juice? I’m so thirsty, I barely had time for lunch!” I smiled a bit at Hange and walked over to the icebox I had. The only consumers of the juice were Elias and June, so it was nice to give it to someone else.

“C-Commander?” I asked, silently cursing at my stutter. How was he more intimidating to me than Levi had ever been? He smiled at me and nodded before sitting down at the center table. I picked out another glass bottle and took one for myself. Hopefully they liked orange.

They both were just staring at me, waiting for me to come and join them. I handed them the juice and paused for a few seconds before sitting down. They both seemed so relaxed and I was exactly the opposite. My hands were fidgeting under the table and I dare not look at Erwin. Levi would probably yell at me for how shy and weak I seemed to them. Hange even downed her juice and let out a big ‘ah’ as she slammed it down on the table while we sat there. Only then, I realized the thin film of dust on the table. If Levi found out I sat his Commander on a dirty table, it would be over for me.

“Miss Flynn-”

“Eva. You can call me Eva. If we’re going to be seeing each other multiple times, it’s better to be one first name basis.” He smiled a bit, probably to calm me down, and continued.

“Well, Eva… I don’t know how to begin this conversation, but I believe I can start by asking you what your relationship with Captain Levi is?” I blinked and looked at Hange. She was leaning forward, smiling at me, expectant at my answer. Had they found out? Was there a reason Levi might have told them about us? What if there’s only suspicion and I’m the one who outs us because I wasn’t careful? Was Erwin trying to intimidate me off of a hunch Hange had?

“Why are you asking?” I wasn’t going to give them a straight answer. Erwin smiled a bit, a genuine one this time, and put one hand up.

“We have no ill will with the conversation. Both Hange and I are just curious about the situation our Captain may be in. The way you answer, however, might lead to some concerns.” Well, that makes me not want to answer your question, Commander. I took a sip of my juice before sitting up straight again. If we were to have this conversation, it would have to seem like I was being truthful. My hands were still shaking as I sat them on my lap.

“What has the Captain said?” Hange almost jumped out of her chair.

“Barely anything! I’m aching to know how Levi is when he’s with you! Is he a cuddler? Does he know nothing about relationships?” My eyes widened at her answer and it made me believe that he had to have said something to them. But, why? Did they back him into a corner?

“I’m sorry to disappoint, but the Captain and I are only friends. I haven’t seen him in over four months since I closed my café.” Hange leaned back in her chair and laughed crazily. I was starting to see what Levi meant.

“I appreciate the loyalty you have to Levi’s and your private life, however, he has already informed us of you two’s relationship. We are only finding time now to come and visit, but we’ve known for a month.” I choked on my juice at Erwin’s words and wiped my mouth, swallowing hard.

“He… did?” It was squeak and that got Hange laughing even more. So, how did they know if they were being truthful? Erwin nodded and handed me a handkerchief from his coat pocket. I thanked him and wiped the leftover juice off my hands.

“He believed it best that, as the Commander, that I know about your existence for various reasons. Hange also happened to be in the room because she is the only person who has officially met you and vogue for your personality. I had no idea about your visit to the Scout Headquarters until yesterday and that is a security risk.” I nodded and tried to calm down my racing heart. It was… interesting to finally have someone know about our relationship. Especially the Commander of the Scout’s. It was also concerning that the one who gossips the most in the Scouts also holds that information. Levi had told me how Hange revealed weekly who was having sex with who during boring meetings.

“May I ask, what were his reasonings?”

“As Commander of the Scout Regiment, I am the first line of defense for my soldiers. I pledge to protect them as best I can within our job description. This pledge of protection goes to their families and loved ones as well. I believe it to be Captain Levi’s intention that you are also under this hedge of protection concerning this period of political and societal unrest we are currently experiencing. He told us about a recent mishap you had with the refugees in Trost.”

“Oh, yes, that makes sense.” He shifted in his chair and pulled out an envelope from his jacket.

“Another reason is that I have personal services that deliver mail much faster than the average carrier and much more secretive as well. Currently, the Scout’s are being monitored for reasons I cannot reveal to you. He believes, and I concur, that if your existence is publicized to the government, you could be used as bait or a bargaining chip. Some in the government are not happy with Captain Levi’s placement and rank in the Scouts and the repercussions of his past come back to haunt him. If not now, sometime in the future.” I took the envelope off the table and recognized Levi’s wispy handwriting. A response to my letter. This made my heart sing with joy. He hadn’t forgotten to write back, but he was pushed in a difficult situation that didn’t allow him to. I shouldn’t have doubted him so much.

“Did the monitoring begin around three months ago?” He nodded and I noticed Hange was looking between be and the letter. She’s very curious about Levi’s private life, and I couldn’t blame her. I had been that interested in him as soon as he walked into my café.

“There is information that the Scout’s have been given that can be perceived as a huge security threat if society gets wind of it. I also agree with the government’s judgement on that and am trying my best to limit security breaches in the Scouts.” That’s when the real reason they were here hit me. It wasn’t to deliver a letter and oogle at our relationship. I was a security threat to them. I was in trouble. My mind went back to the night Levi and I had before he left. Had he told them about that too? How much has he said?

“I see. That is why you came here today, I assume.” I looked him right in the eyes and he didn’t seem to have any anger in them. I remembered Levi and I’s conversation about Erwin. I wasn’t going to know at all what he was thinking until he specifically told me.

“I have known Levi enough to build trust with him. I trust him with information that is top secret and dangerous for society. If certain things get out, it could cause riots and more civil unrest as the expense of the Scouts. Levi has told me that you support the Scout’s endeavors the most out of any branch of the military. I hope that the support you have for us also translates into loyalty.” He didn’t blink, waiting for my response.

“He hasn’t told me anything of that nature, Commander. The only thing he has told me is that he cannot morally support whatever the Scout’s are doing at the beginning of the coming year.” Hange seemed to let out a sigh of relief and I even saw Erwin sit back an inch. I understood why they might be on edge about that. They have no idea how Levi is when he is with someone like me and I am someone who frequents the refugee camps.

“Yes, that seems to be a common theme among our officers. However, we do not have the power needed to fight back against orders directly from the government. I hope that once the plans reach the public ear, your support of the Scouts and Captain Levi doesn’t waiver. It would be a shame for the Captain to have a good thing leave him for something that he didn’t have a choice in.” I took another breath and noticed my heart was slowing down. I wasn’t going to be thrown in some dungeon and tortured for the information I don’t know. That made me feel better about this conversation.

“Now, I must plainly state the requests we have for you. They shouldn’t be unreasonable, but I will say this is the first time we’ve had someone of Captain Levi’s rank be involved with a normal citizen. I think you can see why we have the need to be cautious and explain common Scout things to someone who isn’t in our place. You could be a security threat if you do not know proper protocol.” That was only slightly demeaning.

“Yes, Commander. I do understand the need for me to know what I can and cannot do or say.” He smiled again and it amazed me the duality he had. He made you feel welcomed with his smile, and then completely intimidated with his status and demeanor.

“As you are in a relationship with someone who is given classified information on a daily basis, it can be possible for it to easily slip out of Levi when he isn’t thinking. We ask you not to repeat anything you hear from Levi, even if you disagree with it. There may come a time when people you know are involved or put in danger by the operations of the Royal Government, therefore I’m asking you to bear some of the pain of a Scout officer in these situations.”

“It seems you’re setting me up for the coming year, Commander… or at least you have a situation in mind currently.” Hange smirked and pointed at me.

“You’re smart, Eva. I can see how you might last around Levi’s.” I wonder what they think Levi and I’s interactions are. They probably don’t think I’m the one who makes him suffer with my words more than he does me. Imagine if they knew how much I made their Captain blush. I smiled thinking about it.

“The next request. As I extend my protection to you, I request you do the same to Levi and any Scout who is in need of assistance. Captain Levi was once a wanted man, and the government could easily turn their back on him if they deem it worthy of their agenda. There might come a time where you will have to shield or protect Levi or members of the Scout Regiment from the Royal Government. I’m best stating that, as someone in a relationship with the Captain, you may need to lie and commit treason for his or our safety. You are a part of the Scout Regiment now, and that is some of the responsibility that comes with it.” I sat there and thought that one over. It was a huge request, but not one that would easily deter me from Levi and the Scouts. I thought of the Garrison soldiers kicking down Eren Jaeger everyday, or Mitras not dispatching any MPs or food supplies to the districts struggling to stay alive. If I knew it was for the better, I could easily betray them. I owe nothing to the government.

“You don’t have to accept this right awa-” I shook my head and stopped him.

“No, I can do that. The government has never done anything for me. I can easily betray them for a cause and people I believe in.” This made both of them smile instantly.

“Levi was right, your loyalty and regard seems to be astounding, Eva. I believe he has found a fine woman to be with.” I looked down at my hands, trying to hide the blush with my hair. I don’t know why that compliment hit me the way it did, but people admiring our hidden relationship made me happy, I guess. Especially the Commander. It wouldn’t happen much more than this, so I should savor it.

“Am I able to make requests, Commander?” I looked up at him again when my blush subsided.

“Erwin. You can call me Erwin, and I will try my best to accept them. If it is something I cannot do, I will have to refuse. Our positions of freedom are very different, Eva.” I nodded and took another sip of my juice. There has been something bothering me since Levi and I had talked about Erwin.

“If you are asking me to put my life and reputation on the line for the Scouts and Levi, I must request that equally. I understand you cannot predict the outcome of expeditions, and I know we both know that Levi won’t die simply because of that. I’m specifically asking for you to protect him against the government.” He crossed his arms and I still couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“I don’t think I know what you mean, Eva. You can’t be asking me to commit treason for one soldier? I am unable to do that.” I shook my head at him and formulated my next sentences. I also had a specific scenario in my mind.

“If the government asks something of Levi that would lead to his certain death, no matter how it will help society, I want you to do everything you can to protect him from that fate. Refuse his service. Discharge him from the Scouts. Anything it takes. I know he’ll take it, no matter what they give him, but I want to be selfish for him. He’s too valuable to humanity to be lost in such a simple manner. ”

“It seems you’re setting me up for something, Eva… or at least you have a situation in mind currently,” he mimicked my words and it made me smirk a bit. We could play the same game with each other. It felt nice to be able to be on the same level with him right now unlike the last few minutes. We were bartering back and forth. I was in my element. I could never match his strategy or intelligence, but I knew how to make a deal.

“Secondly, give him more breaks. Every time I see him he’s tired and complaining about the amount of paperwork he has to do. I haven’t seen him in person in almost five months because of whatever you seem to be planning. At least a monthly break. You know how he gets when he’s overworked.” This made Hange laugh again and I noticed then how quiet she had been throughout Erwin’s requests. It made me think how intelligent she was as well. All the officers must be. She had her quirks, but she knew when to be serious.

“That… that is something I cannot promise you. I can try my hardest, but when we are as busy as we are now, I cannot let anyone slack off because their family requested it. You must see I have to be fair about it.” I frowned, not liking that answer, but I knew he wasn’t going to change that. I was being more selfish than I could be right now. I even had one more, morbid request to get through. This one was one that I had thought about over the last few months. What if.

“Lastly, if Levi does die, I want you to tell me directly, Erwin,” I looked up, locking eyes with him to make sure he knew how important this request was, “I won’t believe any random cadet or Garrison soldier who comes to deliver the news and I won’t believe it if I don’t see him come back with the rest. I’ll make up excuses and scenarios. I want you to tell me personally that he’s finally gone and let me go get his things from the HQ. If it comes from you, I know it’s true. It doesn’t have to be in person, a letter would suffice, but I want it directly from you Erwin,” my eyes were pleading for him to accept, “Can you do that?” He looked back at me after thinking for a few moments.

“Yes, I can do that, Eva. However, a letter can easily be copied and someone can steal my signature. If I do send you something… I’ll send it along with my bolo tie,” He pointed to the green orb on a cord around his neck, “I can’t assure how quickly the news will come, but you will be the first civilian to know. This request, however, I have no anticipation of needing to do any of this.” I nodded, accepting that answer. We both had equal confidence in Levi’s ability.

“Thank you… Erwin.” I sat up and looked to Hange, waiting for her to say something. She had been leaning more and more forward as I talked through my requests. She wanted to say something, but wouldn’t interrupt her Commander for it.

“Oh, it is my turn! I only have one request for you and then a ton of questions to ask you! Is that okay? I know you have the kid to take care of. By the way, son? Brother? Who is he?” I held my hands up and shook them ‘no’ when she said son.

“He’s just a boy I watch because his parents don’t. I take care of him and feed him. He has an older sister, too.”

“Ah,” Erwin nodded, “Captain Levi also told me you take kids off the street and give them a second chance. Is he one of those children?” I raised an eyebrow.

“No, he has a home and family. What else has Levi told you about me?” I didn’t know we were just giving out information about each other to people. Hange answered my question again.

“You own a café where he gets tea. It’s your past caretakers café. You were given it after he died. Uh, what did he say about your character? He said you’re fiercely loyal, which is definitely true, and that you’re very charitable, hence taking care of the kids. He didn’t say it all nicely like that, but I think you can guess how he said it.”

“He said something to the effect of ‘She has this awful part of her where she puts all her faith in anyone and takes in brats to give them a second chance’, which, I understand why Levi sees that as a bad thing, but I find it nice to be charitable.” It made me laugh for the first time, Erwin trying to mimic Levi’s tone of voice.

“My request!” Hange hit the table, like she just remembered that she had one to give. I wonder how crazy this one was going to be.

“I’ll try my best, Hange.”

“My request is that you make him happy,” My heart skipped a little when she said that and she continued after she heard no protest, “We don’t know much about him or the way he thinks, but we do know what he’s been through. The expedition before he met you, his two friends from the Underground were eaten by titans when he wasn’t there to save them. He was getting so temperamental and would blow his lid at anyone just like that when we came back. No one could blame him, he had just lost his friends to titans and he found out that he didn’t even need to. There are a lot of details, but I’ll leave that to Levi. Anyways, we needed to get him out of HQ, so I recommended this café because I think your strawberry turnovers are excellent! After he came here, he started to change. Mellow out as much as Levi could. All the officers started wondering why he’d changed so rapidly and we thought he was sneaking out to go drink himself to death. Then, I saw you at the year-end festival with him. I knew then it was you, and think of the amazing confirmation he gave me when he kept requesting me to go get you after his injury!” I felt tears well up in my eyes for some reason. I remembered how he looked when he walked in: tired from death. I didn’t know it was the death of his friends that made him that way, and here I was trying to tease him over some tea. I was such an idiot.

“I think you’ve made Captain Levi feel something he’s never felt before. He still acts the same towards us because he has to keep up this façade, but with you, I’m sure he’s completely different. Actually, he has gotten more relaxed around the cadets and makes them run a bit less. Slowly, your impact is breaking into his everyday life. So, my request is that you keep doing that. He’s a broken kid, but he’s found someone to heal him. That’s what he told us you do, isn’t it?” The way Hange was looking at me, I just wanted to cry then. I don’t think anyone’s ever said something like that to me. She’s putting me at such high regard for something that I so desperately want to do for others. It was a confirming moment telling me that I was doing something right.

“I-I promise, Hange.” Her smile grew bigger and Erwin slowly stood up, signaling her it was time to go. I stood up too, but held my hand up to him.

“Yes?”

“I have a last, small request for you, Erwin. That little boy, basically as Commander of the Scouts, you’re his hero. He’s starting to have this obsession with them ever since I got him this toy. If you could just talk to him for a bit and tell him about the Scouts? You know, minus the bad things?” He huffed once in laughter and agreed to do it. When I yelled to call Elias down stairs, he almost fell on his face when he tripped on the kitchen door. He looked up at Erwin expectantly.

“Elias,” I put my hands on his shoulders, pushing him forward, “This is my friend Commander Erwin. He knows how much you like the Scouts and can tell you about it if you want…” I trailed off at the end, but Elias had already ran up to Erwin, looking up at the man three times his size.

“How big is a titan?!” I smiled as the two blonde haired boys sat.

Hange came over to the counter where I was sitting and hopped up there with me. I didn’t mind and made room for her, staring at the interaction that was happening in front of us. Elias was even showing him the toy I had bought.

“So… What does Levi think about the kids?” She so badly wanted to prod Levi’s brain and find out how he ticks, but she’d have to do it through me. Now that they knew everything, I’d guess I’d tell her a little bit.

“Levi bought him that horse. Elias doesn’t know it, but Levi said he wanted an eight year old boy to have what he wanted at that age. He’s only talked to June once I think, but he helped her win over some boys in her class. I don’t think he could tolerate Elias’s questions as much as Erwin is doing right now though.” She nodded.

“When you two have kids of your own, I think he’ll like them a bit better than he does other people’s kids.” I choked on the air and coughed loud enough that both Erwin and Elias stopped their conversation and looked over at us. Hange just waved them off and patted my back. Kids? He hasn’t even kissed me yet.

“Hange, we’ve only been together for a few months, and for most of them I haven’t even seen him.” She shrugged and gave me her crazy smile again.

“I don’t know, you two seem pretty compatible. Now, I haven’t seen you interact, but from what I can tell, you like each other enough. I’ve never seen someone hang around Levi as long as you have. Mark my words, you’ll have cute kids. I want to help name one!” I gave her a crazy look, willing her to stop talking about the topic. Imagine if she mentioned it to Levi, how irate he would be with her. I can’t even talk about sleeping in the same bed with him.

“Hange, we’re not-” Erwin stood up and patted Elias’s head again. Thank gods they were done. I don’t know if I could deal with any more of Hange’s future visions and questions. Is this how Levi feels with me?

“Hange, it’s time for us to get back. We have another meeting soon and Levi’s waiting to reprimand us for coming here when he said not to.” She puffed out air like she wanted to continue our conversation further, but hopped off the counter and walked to the door with Erwin.

“It was good meeting you, Eva. I’m sure we will have many more of these in the future.”

“Bye, Eva! Bye, Elias! Don’t worry, Eva, he’ll be home soon! Hold on a bit more!” Hange screamed as she walked out the door behind Erwin. I could still hear her gossiping as they got on their horses and rode off back to HQ.

“Eva, why did they want to talk to you?” Elias broke the silence as I stared at the door. Home. He’ll be home. Was I home?

“Elias, can you keep a secret? A super, super top secret that no one else can know?” His eyes widened and he nodded over and over again.

“Yes, I can. I promise!” I smiled down at him and ruffled his hair a bit more.

“Even Erwin doesn’t want you to tell this secret to anyone.” That got the boy more excited to know, and I knew it would keep his mouth shut.

“I promise! Tell me, tell me, tell me!” If Levi had already told two people, I guess I could too. What’s the harm in telling an eight year old boy?

“Captain Levi and I are together.” He pulled a weird face, sitting down at the table and pulling out his school work. His excitement immediately dropped away.

“That’s it? I thought it was going to be a fun secret, Eva.” This little boy is incredible. The first person I tell, and he could care less.

“You’re the only person in Trost who knows, Elias. It is a fun secret!” I tried to defend my relationship in front of the eight-year-old. I guess he was picky on which Scouts he liked.

“Eva, can I have some juice please?” I gave him an annoyed look as he completely skipped over the subject. I should’ve told June first and not a little boy who still thinks girls have cooties.

“No, you can have it after you finish your homework.” He groaned at my payback and shifted back and forth in his chair. I didn’t waiver and decided to ignore his pleas in favor of reading the letter I had been anticipating for months.

His handwriting was so nice and I wondered even who taught him how to write so well in the first place. My handwriting was awful because the orphanage had a limited budget for pencils and teachers. I could barely read cursive and only used it to sign my name. When I told Levi this is a response to his first letter, he had laughed at me in his reply, but wrote it all in print for me. Even his print was perfect. It made me annoyed, but they were pretty to look at in addition to their contents. They weren’t love letters by any means, but they were nice to receive and imagine what he was doing.

Dear Mara (This one doesn’t seem to fit your face, but it’s the only one I could think of),

As you requested in your last letter, for some reason, my daily routine:

4 AM - I am either up or wake up from an hour or two of sleep to take a shower. The water pressure is the best at this time as no one is taking one.

5 AM - I make myself tea, now, it’s the peppermint you sent me. I thank you for that, but now my tongue can’t stand any other flavor that’s not on par with it. I’ll light a candle and do some light paperwork and plan the morning workout for the cadets, waiting for the sun.

6 AM - The cadets have 30 minutes to get ready in full gear and come to eat breakfast until seven. I eat early, limiting the interactions I have with Hange as she’s loud in the morning.

7:30 AM - Training starts with a morning run and workout. They might do hand-to-hand after or work on ODM. Whatever I feel like sitting and watching that day, I make them do. On the days when they’re getting really annoying, I’ll make them practice ground maneuvers since it’s hard to kill titans with no trees. Recently, we’ve been starting to go over formations for the mission I can’t tell you about.

12 PM - We eat lunch, and recently it’s been bad. The food shortage has hurt our stock and I know the Garrison probably laughs at us as they get to eat meat. We ran out of meat last week.

From then on, the cadets have classroom work to do to memorize our signals and formations. I usually do more paperwork and we have officer meetings over and over again until dinner at six. After that, surprise, paperwork again. We went to the capital to get talked over again last week, so that was a break in my routine, but other than that I do paperwork until my eyes hurt, then I’ll go make more tea and take some biscuits from the canteen. Sometimes there are small disputes I have to settle, cadets to discipline, or one-on-one meetings with Erwin. Recently, he’s asked me if I want to create a Special Operations Team with the best Scouts for the next mission and beyond. I’ve been studying and reading over the files of each Scout. Maybe, you can help me form the team if I come across any trouble picking, but it’s not like there are many to choose from.

I plan to tell Erwin about our relationship soon. During our meetings in the capital, my position is always questioned and threatened by the four heads of the Royal Government. If they find out about any weakness, not that you are weak now that I’ve trained you, they might use that against me. If I tell Erwin about you, he can give you certain protections. Other than him, I have no intention of telling anyone else and it hasn’t seemed to come up in regular conversation. Hange always has something off to the side to say about you, and I suspect she knows something, but she keeps quiet around others. If she doesn’t keep her mouth shut, you might not hear from her again. Perhaps I will tell my Special Ops Team since trust is needed for a team to work, but that won’t be for another few months or even a year.

You asked me if I needed anything and currently, I would like a bit more tea, if possible. I’m limiting myself to three cups a day since my tea leaves are dwindling. I’m struggling without you and your tea, but I know you can’t ship yourself here through the carrier system. I was right about the cuddling… I miss it and it does make it difficult to try and sleep, knowing a much more comfortable option exists. I won’t go on more because I don’t miss your teasing. Hopefully, I will see you in the next month's time, but right now, it seems the Royal Government is about to monitor us. Going back and forth to you might harm you, and I won’t risk that. It’s helped, this feeling of missing you, by the cadets used for refugee security. It’s been reported almost everyday that a light-brown haired woman, no older than 30 with light green eyes leans out a window about a café with a red lettered sign and stares at the Scouts coming in during the sunrise. I knew right away it was you. I hope you’re getting enough sleep and not being irresponsible with the amount of hours you work on the refugee’s bread.

I must now go to another officer’s meeting in Erwin’s office to discuss something boring. I’d rather be helping you knead dough for a thousand loaves then sit in his office one more time.

My questions for you: Has the Garrison brought those brats you said to sponsor over yet? Have you decided to open back up the café? Has the girl gotten her apprenticeship? Have you told Jonas that if he touches you one more time while I’m going, I will break his fingers? You said you might cut your hair, is this true? Have you yet?

Till your next letter and next delivery of twenty grams of peppermint tea,

Captain Levi

Chapter Eleven →

Chapter Masterlist

xx Everyone say thank you to MAPPA for Levi and Armin’s faces <3

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x oc #levi x reader #levi x oc #levi heichou #captain levi #aot #aot levi #snk #snk levi #attack on titan #attack on titan levi #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin levi #original character

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victoria-daydreams · 3 years

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Of Vices and Virtues

Chapter Thirteen: The Ballad of Claudia Walker

AN: This is a continuation of the last chapter, so it’s still gonna be dark, but if I remember correctly this should be last chapter that’s like this.

Word Count: 5.1k

Trigger Warnings: physical/mental abuse, torture

Taglist: @azayamari

Chapter Fourteen: A Never-Ending Nightmare

"I can't do this," I breathed, before turning to Charles, shaking my head. "I can't do this," I repeated, putting my hand to my mouth as I backed away from the two men next to me. "I-I n-need to get out of here!" I exclaimed, clenching my eyes shut in an attempt to remove myself to escape the memories I've buried for so long.

I began to feel hot and dizzy. I felt like there were walls closing in on me and I had no escape.

"Calm your mind, Claudia," Charles advised gently, but I only felt the hammering of my heart in my chest intensify. "Claudia, look at me, you need to calm down. Claudia!" Charles grabbed my arms, yanking me from my own head and my eyes snapped opened. I began to hyperventilate, eyes focusing on everything and nothing as the telepath took my face in his hands and forced me to concentrate on him. "Claudia, you need to calm down or you're going to split your mind in two," he explained, his face twisting in pain. "Your mind is screaming so loud you're hurting me," Charles said through gritted teeth.

"Make it stop," I begged, searching his eyes. "Please, make it stop," I whispered, grabbing his hands and placing them at my temples.

Charles looked at me, his eyes wide and sympathetic, "Love, I've tried and nothing has worked. I push any harder and the results might be disastrous for the both of us," he explained, his hands drawing back to his own temples. "It's almost like your mind wants you to work through these unpleasant memories, because it's something that needs to be done," Charles' soft voice whispered in my ear.

"I don't want to remember," I gritted out, trying to stop the panic from rising in my chest even further. "Just make it stop," I whispered.

"It's okay," Charles coaxed. "You're going to be okay," he assured, gently grabbing both of my hands. "You just need to calm down,"

I ripped my hand out of his, focusing on something calm. What was calm?

"You don't know. You don't know what he made me do! You don't know what a sick bastard he was. I do," I breathed, my chest heaving.

Erik and Charles stared at me sympathetically and as a drop of water fell from my chin I realized why. I'd been crying. Angrily wiping my face with my hand, a frown formed on my face as the three of us were thrown into another memory. We were in a foyer of a house. I found myself turning my head from left to right multiple times, my breathing heavy and labored. Most people would love to have a house as big as this one, with the supposed openness and modern facilities that are pleasing to the eye. Yes, I can see that, but with the merciless and cruel encounters I have had here, I don't share the same opinions as the majority.

Truly, it was a nice space...one of which many would be proud of claiming ownership of, at least that of which I have actually seen. The floors were made of beautiful, stained wood and the walls painted a lovely crimson give an aristocratic aura to the house. At least, apart from the basement corridors that I know by heart. Those claustrophobic walls were a miserable gray and were accompanied by the dulled and creaky russet floor.

Two sets of footsteps echoed in the hallway moving away from us, unconsciously I began to follow behind them until I was standing on the backyard stoop. The light from the sun was shining brightly and it was almost an enchanting light. There wasn't a cloud in the sky that could block it's majestic rays. And there stood Professor Lewis and myself in the middle of his backyard.

"Claudia, I want you to use your telekinesis to lift each of the objects on the ground," Professor Lewis pointed to a tennis ball, baseball, basket ball, brick, and cinder block. The object grew larger and heavier. "Once you lift them, I want you to psychically push them into those baskets ten feet away. This will help you learn how to levitate and also toss objects of varying weight. It will also help you regulate how much power you need to lift certain weights,"

"I understand," she answered calmly, nodding her head as a smile appeared on her lips.

But she was anything but calm and enthusiastic. She was going into this kicking and screaming. She was nervous. Jumpy. Stressed. Frustrated. Lost. Found. Happy. Sad. She wanted to vomit. Her mutation was unpredictable and uncontrollable. That wasn't until a pair of hands placed themselves on her waist from behind her, almost grounding her in a way. Professor Lewis leaned down to her ear and whispered something that made the two of them laugh, and just before he released her waist Professor Lewis pressed his lips to her cheek.

"You'll do fine," he murmured.

I could feel the burning stares of Charles and Erik on the back of my head.

"He really played me like a fool," I whispered, shaking my head in disbelief at my younger self's stupidity and naivety.

"You two were together," Charles stated gently. "You were a couple," he added, his voice never taking an accusatory tone.

A humorless chuckled escaped from me, "And I have wanted to throw myself in front of a bus because of it," I confirmed, looking down at the ground biting my lip

Feelings of sickness, disgust, and shame spread throughout body as I remembered how readily I ate up his little praises. He gave me all the validation that I so desperately wanted as a child from my own parents. It wasn't long before his seemingly innocent compliments turned into something more; the lingering stares and touches to the kisses on my hand or forehead. And I foolishly allowed his affectionate gestures to escalate, thinking that I was in love with this man. So, when Professor Lewis declaration of love for me came out during a candlelit dinner I was so overcome with emotion from his "tenderness" that on the same night, I gave myself to him, willingly.

And that's when he had me ensnared, ensnared into his web of lies.

I was young and dumb and couldn't see the clear manipulation and grooming that was going on. No, I was too busy being a lovesick fool. He promised me that he would never, ever let harm come to me while I was with him, and I believed him. But everything he promised me was a dirty, filthy lie. I remembered.

I remembered every fucking thing he did to me.

"Did you love him?" Erik asked.

"Yes," I answered softly, turning around to face Charles and Erik. "But I had learnt very quickly that his love for me was all a facade," I recalled.

Just remembering that I had consensually slept with Professor Lewis made want to puke. I watched as Professor Lewis' backyard and everything around it seemingly disintegrated before us only for our surroundings to change into a small library. We were still on Professor Lewis' property, but it was a different time, a different date. If my memory serves me correctly then this is when I began to realize Professor Lewis was not the sweet, loving man I thought he was.

"You would be...in my mind?" Professor Lewis could see that she was wrestling with her own doubt and he was worried that her fear would get in the way of their training. At last, he saw Claudia nod in agreement, but her features were tightened in anxiety.

"Relax,"

Her expression was anything but calm, and he decided that it couldn't be helped. Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he pressed two fingers to his temple and pushed forward into her mind. Claudia knew the second Professor Lewis' mind merged with her own. The moment it happened, she was overwhelmed with such a sense of fear that it was difficult for her to think about anything else. She could feel him in her thoughts, and the foreign presence had such a sense of wrong to it that she gagged in disgust. It wasn't right. Her mind was her own.

"No!"

Claudia abruptly and backed away from her mentor, nearly tripping over the foot rest that sat behind her. Claudia wasn't sure whether her words were spoken aloud or inside her head, but the minute they were said she felt Professor Lewis withdraw.

"I can't do this," she couldn't meet his eyes, couldn't bear to look and see what surely would have been disappointment.

Perhaps he was angry with her for not following through. Before he had a chance to say anything to her, Claudia turned and fled from the room, not bothering to close the door behind her. But Claudia could still feel the lightest touch of Professor Lewis' emotions. And a sudden wave of anger bombarded her mind from the other side of the wall, making her gasp as one thought crossed her mind.

"There would be hell to pay for that," I stated, repeating the thought I had.

"Stand up!"

The sharp words made us all turn around, only for us to witness another memory of mine. We were standing in a small study, I watched as my twenty year-old self tried to force her body to cooperate.

She could feel the security guard's irritation before his hand came down across her cheek. She stumbled and nearly fell again, when hands caught her.

"Now, now, be nice. She's just a girl," the words were kind, but the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. It was Professor Lewis. He always had kind words for her, but his emotions didn't match up. She swallowed hard and moved away from him. The guard left them alone, like they normally did. "Now, Claudia, are you feeling better than yesterday? Will you use your powers again?" It was the question he asked every day.

She stared at him, tears swimming in her eyes, "Please, please let me go. I've done all your tests, you can keep the money. Please, just let me go!" she pleaded, tensing herself as his disappointment that barely covered rage washed over her. "Ah, Claudia, you disappoint me. What would your parents think of you, a college dropout?" he just sighed and rang his bell.

She closed her eyes as sobs wracked her body. Two security guards grabbed her roughly from the room, ignoring her squeak of pain as they gripped places where the shackles had dug into her skin and made marks.

"Take her to the lab,"Professor Lewis ordered, as she was dragged away.

I unconsciously rubbed my wrist and traced my the scars on my wrist, I turned away and stared at Erik and saw his jaw clench as Professor Lewis walked out his office, I looked over and watch Charles' horrified expression. Time seemed to speed up as if someone hit the fast-forward button. Now we were in the lab.

As my younger self came to consciousness, she barely had time to regain her senses before all she could think about was the intense, sweltering heat that slowly seemed to be eating her alive like some ravenous animal that had no control over it's appetite. Her blood boiled beneath her skin, bringing silent screams up her throat though she couldn't set them free due to the fact that her body refused to allow her control because of the drugs swimming around in her system.

Throat running dry from constricted sobs and body aching from the endless thrashing against her restraints, she laid on a metal laboratory table. Feeling the ever rising panic claw at the edge of her psyche, she made another attempt to get of the table and get out, as far away as she could, but the minuscule motion caused fire to spread in her muscles, and breathing came even harder.

Broken ribs.

Forcing herself to move, she brought a hand gently to her face, feeling dried blood there, from a gash near her hairline. Her shirt was also stiff with dried blood, caused by the blood that trickled out her nose. Moving to her abdomen, she felt the tender bruise that had been caused the last time she fought, and staring at her hands, she saw black and blue bruises mixed with dry blood.

"Well, well, look who decided to join us," an oily voice announced. "Hey Robert, the girl's awake,"

Turning her head, she saw the raven haired man known as David. Glancing at her with piercing grey eyes, he leered at her in a manner that made her feel dirty, effectively putting her on her guard, her focus sharp, despite the headache that was making her dizzy.

"Leave her alone, David," the other man named Robert commented. "Professor Lewis will kill you if you hurt her," he added, not looking up from his clipboard.

"I'm not going to hurt her," David sneered, inching closer, reaching out and touching her face. She flinched. "I just want to have some fun with her, that's all,"

"Your idea of fun won't be hers, David," the other man spat. "Go. Tell Professor Lewis she's awake," he ordered.

With a growl at being ordered around, the other male left angrily.

Our surroundings shifted again.

"So, you would abandon me, your fellow mutant, for a race that will try to destroy you?" Professor Lewis said menacingly, looking down at the girl before him. "You disappointed me again Claudia. I thought you were better, wiser. To think that I've given you everything since we met. A second home, education, training, and this is how you thank me. By disobeying me. Your parents would have been ashamed of you"

"B-Bringing up my parents doesn't work anymore, Professor Lewis," she stammered, mentally kicking herself for not being able to sound confident and strong. Every time she and Professor Lewis had an argument her voice would turn shaky, making him assume she was afraid of him.

And she was but her anger had the upper hand.

"That sounded very convincing," Professor Lewis snickered. "Claudia you care so much about humans, but have you forgotten that you have made humans beg for their death countless times?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Claudia glared at Professor Lewis, he wore a mocking smile on his face, "You made me do that Professor. I would never have used my power in that manner if it weren't for your teaching methods," she remarked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"You wouldn't have any power if it weren't for my teaching methods, Claudia,"

"Well maybe I would have preferred it that way, Professor," she retorted.

Professor Lewis' eyes narrowed, "I think we're done for now, we'll talk again tomorrow," He turned around and walked towards a liquor cupboard to get himself some nice scotch. "I'll tell that nice gentlemen, David, to escort you to your room," the amusement was clearly audible in his voice.

He knew Claudia hated David with every fiber of her being.

I watched as the memory faded to black, just like a movie I would see at the theater. This is what all this felt like, one long movie about my life. Then everything around us turned bright as a golden dust rippled in front of us horizontally in a tidal wave fashion until they both clashed at one another, meeting at the center.

Professor Lewis and Claudia were on the rooftop of one the many university buildings, leaning against the ledge as they overlooked the rather empty campus. Night had fallen and the moon had risen above the quiet campus grounds.

Oh God, not this night. This was the night that I knew there was a darkness within me, maybe it was always there, but lying dormant, or maybe Professor Lewis planted the seeds for it to grow within me. It was one year since I'd met him and with his training I had quickly learned to control my empathy and telekinesis, and found it necessary to teach myself how to build mental shields to block out Professor Lewis if I wanted to stay sane.

"You know what today marks Claudia?" Professor Lewis asked, looking over at her.

"I do not," Claudia answered, shaking her head. "Please enlighten me," she said, as the warm night air ruffled her hair.

Professor Lewis lifted his hand and brushed stands of hair from her face, "Today, is the one year anniversary of me being the luckiest man by meeting the most lovely and powerful creature on this planet," he proclaimed, running his thumb down her cheek.

A gloom yellow light glinted over the two, so Professor Lewis could maintain eye contact with the woman in front of him. A delicate smile splayed on her lips, as her brown eyes hold onto his.

"You sure know how to make a woman feel special," she snorted, turning her body to face him.

He turned his body as well, "My methods have made you stronger have they not?" he asked, arching a brow.

"Yes," Claudia answered stiffly.

Professor Lewis grinned at her, "Then that's all that matters," he agreed, as he placed his hands on Claudia's hips pulling her closer. "As a matter of fact, why don't you show me how far you've come since being under my tutelage," he suggested, still smiling at her.

"Fine," Claudia agreed mirroring his smile. "But, only because you're cute," she added, a wicked smirk now forming on her lips.

"Atta girl," he cheered, placing a quick kiss to her lips.

Claudia smiled, and while still looking right at him, she moved her fingers. Wisps of purple aura slowly slithered upwards Professor Lewis' body and his eyes widened as he watched the energy spread all around him. Professor Lewis couldn't move. He had forced her to use this side of her mutation over and over again to make it stronger and now it was used against him.

"Claudia, what are you doing?" Professor Lewis asked, and for the first time she seen an emotion that he never expressed.

Fear.

"I'm going to do what I should have done a long time ago," she answered, lifting her hand up and drifting Professor Lewis from the safety of the rooftop to dangling him over the ledge of the building.

"Please dear, let's be reasonable," Professor Lewis pleaded, sounding slightly shaky.

"No," Claudia answered simply, her smirk only widened as she read his emotions like an open book, confusion, fear, desperation. "You never offered me the same courtesy," she reminded, a humorless chuckle escaping her body.

"You kill me then what Claudia? You were nothing without me! You were nothing but a scared girl!" he snarled.

"I think I will manage without you just fine," She assured, flashing him a faux smile. "It's like said you earlier, under your tutelage I have grown stronger," she repeated mockingly, before releasing her hold on him.

I watched as Professor Lewis dropped from our sights. There was an abrupt scream of terror from Professor Lewis before it was cut off as his body hit the ground with a sickening thud. My younger self causally strolled to the ledge and peered and we followed behind her. The sight was a grim a one.

Professor Lewis was surrounded in a puddle of his own blood, his limbs bent in unnatural ways.

"My God," Charles commented, his face ashen.

Laughter bubbled out of my younger self, and we turned to look at her, her shoulders shook with laughter.

"Goodbye Harry," Claudia said coldly and she walked away.

Turning her back against her teacher and her fellow mutant.

An earsplitting scream of horror reverberated the air, but not once did that seem to bother her, she continued walking and with a flip of her hair she slipped back into the building.

"I've never felt so exposed except with my time with Professor Lewis. What will they think of me now? Will they think I'm a monster? Will they-" I thought, and my breath quickened.

The world around us becomes clear once more and we're back in the library I collapsed, hyperventilating, gasping for air. I turned to my friends and I can't tell if their faces are those of pity or disgust. I pulled myself up, stumbling everywhere, and run as fast as I can away from them.

~~~x~~~

I could sense from Charles' emotions that he had approached my closed door, and waited outside for several minutes, until he tapped softly on the door, calling out gently.

"Claudia, are you in there? It's Charles,"

When he was met with no response, I could hear Charles tightened his grip on the doorknob.

"Claudia, I'm going to come in now. If you wish to be alone, please indicate so and I will leave immediately," Charles' statement was met with nothing but silence once again, so he turned the handle of the door, opening it slowly.

When the door had been opened, my back was facing him as I stared out the window blankly, tears flowing freely down my face. Charles stood in the entryway, before closing the door behind him. Stepping forward uncertainly and receiving no reaction at all from me, Charles walked across the room towards window I was facing, covering the area in several long strides. He knelt on his knees next to the bed so that he was looking directly at me.

I could tell Charles was unsure of what to say, so I broke the silence first, "You know I got away with the murders?" I asked raspily, finally looking at Charles.

Charles' furrowed his brow, "What?" he asked bewildered.

"Confusion is a funny thing, especially if you have the power to manipulate it. John was so very confused, he didn't know I was a mutant. So I exploited his confusion and I convinced John that it was a murder-suicide, James was friends with those boys at one point, but stopped hanging out with them once he met me. I told John that's the reason they killed him, and then I lied about one of the boys being the ‘freak’ and that he killed the trio out of bloodlust after killing James, shortly killing himself out of guilt," I explained, scooting over and patting the bed so Charles could sit on my bed.

Charles stood up and gently sat on my bed and reached out, softly wiping the tear streaks from my face with the pad of his thumb.

"Claudia, love, I'm so sorry-I-" Charles started.

"You didn't know?" I finished, raising my eyebrow expectantly. "Well, now you why I don't like people in my head," I stated, letting out a sigh. "I can't begin to describe to you the horror that comes with knowing that your mind isn't as safe as you think it is," I commented, briefly closing my eyes.

"I just never would have guessed these things happened to you, when we first met, you were so carefree," Charles explained, his hand now moving to my hair and stroking it.

"What did you want Charles? A big flashing sign, saying 'I've had a traumatizing life'," I retorted, tilting my head slightly. "Charles, there aren't many people who care about the plight of a colored woman in America, what makes you think they would sympathize with a black woman who's also a mutant?" I questioned, dropping my gaze to my hand. "I swallowed a bitter pill by coming to the realization that no one will truly care about me," I finished, looking back up at Charles.

"You're wrong," he corrected, he spoke gently, never breaking his gaze away from mine. "I care about you, and so does everyone in the mansion," Charles insisted.

He started rubbing soothing patterns on the back my hand with his thumb, Charles lifted my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles just as someone knocked twice before entering. The now familiar undercurrent of anger told me it was Erik. But I didn't want to move my hand from Charles', the warmth, the comfort, and affection wrapping themselves around me were too blissful to bring to an end. I turned my head to look at Erik, slipping my hand from Charles', I shifted from me laying on my side to pushing myself up to leaning the headboard.

"Are you alright?" Erik asked gently.

"I've been better," I answered, as Erik took a seat at the foot of my bed. It was silence between the three of us and I stared down at my hands, suppressing the urge to raise a hand to my lips and bite my thumb. "It's like you said Charles..." I stated, trailing off and the two of them looked at each other confusion.

"What?" Charles asked confused.

"The night you two recruited me," I began, looking between the two men. "You said, 'There is danger within me,'" I recited, looking at Charles and his eyes widened.

"Claudia I-" he started.

"I'm not mad Charles," I interrupted, shaking my head. "You're right. I've hurt people," I admitted, my mouth forming a thin line.

"We understand," Charles assured me, his kind eyes staring into mine.

My lips quirked into a small smile before I cleared my throat, "There is something that I should tell you two," I stated.

"And what would that be?" Erik asked curiously.

"When I killed those boys when I was younger, I should've been upset, but it was cathartic. I enjoyed it," I answered truthfully, my eyes shifting between them to gauge their reactions.

"They had just murdered your boyfriend in front of you, it's understandable Claudia," Erik justified.

"No, Erik, a normal person would swear to never use their powers in such a way again. But not me, I rather liked the idea of being able to control people. And when Professor Lewis-" I started.

"When he abducted you?" Erik asked motionlessly, cutting me off. "He used you, tortured you?"

"No Erik, I agreed to go with him. And that's a mistake I will always regret. He was one of us," I explained softly. "I thought I could trust him," I added, shaking my head.

"He was a telepath, like me," Charles stated looking over at me.

My voice and body and emotions becoming detached as I nodded, "He took it slow, got me to trust him, to love him. That's when he started the tests on my abilities. His favorite way was through illusions. In one instance, I was trapped in one of his illusions, thinking I was having the best night of my life with some handsome stranger after escaping from him, when I was really kissing one his lab assistants. The only reason the illusion, broke was because of the lab assistant lied, and I know when someone is lying to me. He strengthened my powers," I paused, taking a deep breath to compose myself. "It was brilliant, really," I finished, shaking my head side to side.

"It was a vile, manipulative, twisted, sick endeavor!" Erik spat. "He turned on his own kind!"

"His own kind," I repeated bitterly. "No. He wasn't one of us. A mutant, yes. But not one of us," I forced a smile, nudging him with my foot. "We're the good guys, Erik. Like Captain America, but cooler," I quipped.

Erik rolled his eyes, looking at me with a sort of spark I had never seen before.

"I have to ask," Charles started, breaking my concentration from Erik. "Was there ever an investigation?" Charles asked.

"Yes, it was a brief one, but it was ruled a suicide," I explained, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. "I hope you two don't think I'm a monster now," I sighed.

"Of course not," Charles stated sincerely, grabbing my hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

There was a knock at my door before it opened revealing Raven's petite figure. She looked at the two men who were sitting on my bed, and I felt a wave jealousy wash over me, which confused me.

"If you're not occupied, Charles, can we talk in private?" Raven asked, I didn't miss the emphasis on the word occupied.

"I wonder what's gotten into her now?" I thought.

Charles slowly let go of my hand, "Of course, Raven. We were just finishing our conversation," he answered, as he stood up and walked across the room to reach Raven. "Good night Claudia," Charles said, a smile on his lips.

"Night Charles," I responded, and Raven and Charles left my room.

It was just Erik and I now, "Now you know where the crack is in my perfect exterior, Erik," I stated,

Erik climbed further onto my bed till he was sitting next to me and gazed at me, "That's one enormous crack," Erik replied, repeating the same words I said to him. "But it only made you stronger," he continued, lifting his finger and gently trailing it down my cheek, the gesture sent shivers down my spine and goosebumps raised on my arms.

My eyes went straight for his inner forearm and the figures that had been inked into his skin, 214782. Numbers that had reduced an entire people into nothing but cattle. But markings. It was disturbing, and my hand reached out to touch his flesh in an attempt to stop my mind from racing. My fingers brushed his skin and he immediately grabbed my hand, his long, elegant fingers enclosing mine.

"Does it ever go away?" I asked somewhat rhetorically, motioning to his reaction.

Erik didn't answer.

"The pain, the distrust, the memories- I guess it never does, does it? Maybe it gets easier," I continued, pondering morosely. "Maybe it's the prospect of revenge that makes it so," I turned to him, motioning my head to the numbers engraved upon his skin. "Does it still hurt?" I asked softly, leaning my head on his shoulder.

"Every fucking day," Erik uttered, looking at the numbers and then shifting his gaze on me.

"Our resilience through all the pain we've been through, it's amazing we survived..." I trailed off, rubbing my thumb softly across his knuckles and then looked up at Erik. "Most people wouldn't have been able to,"

Erik smiled at me brilliantly, "Well, we aren't most people are we?" Erik questioned. "We're the future of the human race, Claudia," Erik finished, lifted our entwined hands and placed his lips on my knuckles leaving a lingering kiss.

I lifted my head from his shoulder and gently placed a kiss on Erik's stubble covered cheek, "Thank you, Erik, for being here tonight,"

Chapter Fifteen: A Love Supreme

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seasonsofeverlark · 3 years

Text

Beautiful Dreams

Author: @ameliaodair

Prompt: Katniss and the children are down with a cold. Peeta takes care of them. Brings them Lamb Stew and favourite baked goods. He draws colouring pages for the kids but all are colouring. He puts in a fall realted movie. As all who are sick are snuggled together in the master bedroom. Katniss says shes cold Peeta goes and gets more blankets walks out of the room to get more comes back and looks at his wife and children all cuddling together watching the movie and thinks how did he deserve this. [submitted by @katnissandpeeta125]

Rating: G

Author’s Notes: Thank you @eiramrelyat for betaing :)

Word Count: 1977

___________

“Thanks, dad. Katniss caught the kids’ cold and woke up feeling pretty miserable this morning,” I tell my father, explaining the care package I am picking up after placing the order at the butt crack of dawn. It is filled with all of her favorite foods; two pints of lamb stew, a dozen cheese buns, and half a dozen mini rolls of Mallorca sweet bread for the kids.

“The kids are feeling better, though?”

“They’re on the uphill slope,” I tell my dad as I climb into the driver’s seat of my car. “I better hurry up and get back before the kids destroy the house. I love you, dad!” I yell out to him before shutting the door behind me, and wave through the window as I pull out of the parking lot.

“Daddy, Daddy!” Stella yells excitedly as soon as I open the door. She runs up to me and wraps her tiny arms around my legs⎯ nearly knocking me down in her all too adorable Winnie the Pooh pajamas.

It utterly blows my mind at how easily children bounce back after being sick. I remember around a year ago when Stella had the flu. It only took her two days before she was running around, bouncing off the walls and full of energy. Yet, when Katniss and I were run down with fevers, it had been almost a week before we could muster the energy to simply lift our heads from the pillow. Thank goodness for our wonderful parents who live less than five minutes away, or I do not know what we would have done.

“Hey sweetheart, where is your brother?” I ask her, making my way into the kitchen to place the care package down on the island.

“In his cwib, daddy,” she tells me matter-of-factly, giving me a slight roll of her eyes as if I should already be aware of this information. Scooping Stella up, I raise her in the air and blow a raspberry on her belly.

“Why don’t we go check on him?” I ask her once her giggles subside, then I carry her into her and her brother’s room and set her down.

Lucas is sitting up in the corner of his crib, hugging one of his favorite stuffed animal teddy bears. At the sight of me, he erupts into the most adorable toothless grin, seeming to emanate an almost iridescent light in the process.

“Come on big guy, how are you feeling today?”

“Da-da. Ma-mee!” He chirps, grabbing onto the rail of his crib to steady himself while holding his stuffed teddy bear out to me. I reach in the crib to scoop him up, and the three of us make our way into the kitchen. We stop at mine and Katniss’s bedroom first, and I crack the door open, poking my head in to peek in on her. But no matter how sick she is, her hunter’s instincts are always as keen as ever, and she lifts her head groggily from her pillow.

“Peeta, are you okay, the kids—” She croaks, her froggy voice sounding no worse for the wear.

“We’re okay, I was just going to heat up some lamb stew. You want some?”

“That sounds amazing. Will you guys keep me company?” She whines in her sick throaty voice.

“Of course, just give us a few minutes and we’ll be in here.”

“Okay.” She moans and her head collapses to the pillow, gravity getting the best of her.

Once we are in the kitchen, I strap Lucas into his highchair while I heat the lamb stew.

“Daddy, forgot to get dressed!” Stella squeals, already trying to peel off her nightgown.

I pour the lamb stew into a pot and set it on the stove to simmer for a few minutes. “Honey, remember, we’re having a sick day, pajama’s only,” I playfully scold her, twirling around like one of her ballerinas to show off my own pajama pants.

“Do you guys want to watch a movie with me and mommy in our bed?” I ask Stella, raising my voice an octave near the end to make it sound more enticing than it actually is.

“Wif lots of bwankets and piwwow’s?” Stella beams, her eyes lighting up as if it’s Christmas morning.

“No—” I begin, frowning and pretending it’s a bad idea and my heart sinks when I see her eyes sadden a bit, so I quickly brighten my face with a radiant smile, “—with lots and LOTS of pillows and blankets!” I finish quickly and watch as her eyes return to their previous state of sheer excitement.

“And coworing, daddy?” she asks, already running into the playroom to collect her crayons.

Lucas is squirming in his seat, already bored of sitting there with nothing to do, so I hand him a wooden spoon to bang against the tray of his highchair. Stella returns with her container of assorted crayons, and I frown at her, wondering why she didn’t bring her coloring books.

I stir the lamb stew and test it out on my tongue, making sure it’s hot enough, and then give my attention to Stella.

“You forgot your coloring books, sweetie.” I point out.

“Siwwy daddy, you draw the coworings.” She grins, shaking her head and pointing to me.

“Oh, okay,” I concede, shrugging my shoulders.

One rainy day a few months ago, Stella was flipping through a coloring book, and noticing her frustration after the third time, I asked her what was wrong. With a disappointed face, she informed me that the coloring book didn’t have the specific image she had in mind, so I offered to draw it for her. Ever since then, Stella refuses to color in the pre-drawn coloring books⎯ preferring my sketches instead, which I suppose I should be proud of. My daughter does have exquisite tastes.

“I think it’s done, are you guys ready?” I ask the kids after scooping the stew into two bowls and placing them on the food tray. I remove the tray from Lucas’s highchair and pick him up to set him down on the floor.

“I’ll carry our food and drinks. Stella, will you help your brother? We’ll come back for the rest after we eat.”

I carefully pick up the food tray which contains two bowls of lamb stew, a plateful of cheese buns, and the sweet bread, then motion for Stella to follow me into mine and Katniss’s bedroom. When I look behind me to make sure they are not far behind, my heart swells with an inordinate amount of pride as I see Stella crawling on the floor next to Lucas. She’s making a game of having him chase her into our room, and I cannot help the ear-splitting grin that overcomes my face⎯ nor do I want to.

Katniss is already sitting up in our massive bed and has made room for the three of us to climb in with her. I hand her the soup and she takes it greedily⎯ lamb stew being her favorite. Stella climbs in first and scoots up to Katniss, then I pick Lucas up from the floor and swing him in the air and plop him onto the bed. He bursts into a contagious round of giggles that Stella catches for a moment.

Once the kids have calmed down, I climb in next to the kids and we all situate ourselves under the covers, getting ready to have breakfast in bed as a family. Stella grabs her own piece of bread and takes a bite into it.

“Peeta, will you hand Stella a napkin? I don’t want crumbs—” Before Katniss is able to finish, I already have a towel wrapped around Stella’s waist, ensuring that it will catch any pieces that do not make it into her mouth.

Katniss turns her head to meet my eyes and mouths the words ‘I love you.’ I can’t help but lean over the kids and plant a kiss on her forehead. “I love you too.” I tell her, meeting her eyes.

“Daddy, you fowgot me!” Stella mumbles with a mouthful of bread, glaring at me with those beautiful bright blue eyes that resemble my own.

“One for you—” I tell her, kissing her cheek, and then move to Lucas, “And one for you.”

I begin pinching off pieces of the sweet bread dipped in lamb stew and feed it to Lucas in between bites of my own.

“You guys want to watch a movie?” Katniss asks after turning her bowl up and slurping the last remnants of her stew.

“I want Winnie-Pooh!” Stella squeals, scrunching her shoulders up excitedly.

“Winnie-The-Pooh it is!” Katniss says excitedly, but I see her rolling her eyes behind Stella’s back. Stella is obsessed with Winnie the Pooh, and we have probably watched ‘Winnie The Pooh’s Season of Giving’ at least fifty times since the beginning of October. And since Lucas is too small to voice his opinion yet, Winnie The Pooh it is.

Once everyone has finished eating and are moaning over their full bellies, I clear the food from our bedroom and sit the food tray on the counter in the kitchen. I save the dishes for later, eager to return to my amazing family. Stella disappears for a moment, returning with her container of crayons and my sketch pad.

“Dwaw Pooh, daddy?” she asks me, her eyes so wide and blue⎯ how can I say no? I scoop her into my arms, hugging her tightly, and place another kiss on her cheek.

“Of course, baby girl.” I release her and she snuggles up to Katniss while I sketch her an image of the famous Pooh Bear. She accepts the picture and secures it on her clipboard and begins coloring away.

“No, Lucas, we don’t eat crayons, we color with them,” I tell Lucas, giving him his own piece of paper and showing him how to utilize the crayons. Fascinated with the array of colors, he begins fashioning his own masterpiece while we watch Winnie the Pooh.

Stella is exhausted by the time she has colored in every bit of white on her paper, as is Lucas. Tired baby that he is, he nestles himself onto Katniss’s chest, while her chin rests on the top of his baby-soft hair. She leans up to kiss the top of his head, inhaling his signature baby scent.

“Are you cold?” I ask Katniss, but I already know the answer as I feel her shivering next to me.

“I’m okay.” ‘Liar.’ I think to myself.

“I’ll be right back,” I tell her, popping out of bed before she has time to object and run into the playroom to search for her favorite blanket. The kids were making a fort a few nights ago, so it must be in here somewhere. It takes me a little longer than I expected, but I finally find it.

Scooping it up, I make my way back to our bedroom but stop myself in the doorway⎯ my heart fills with so much joy I think it may explode on sight.

Sitting before me on our bed is my beautiful, amazing wife, fast asleep and lightly snoring, with Lucas curled up on her chest just the way he did as 0a newborn. Stella is scrunched up on her side with Katniss’ arm securely around her back. And all three of them are fast asleep.

Standing in the doorway, witnessing this perfect family we have created, I grin from ear to ear, intoxicated with so much love, wondering how I got so lucky for these amazing creatures to be mine. I slip into bed next to them and kiss each of their heads before spreading the blanket out to cover all of us. And although reality can’t get much better than this, I fall asleep, awaiting beautiful dreams.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn #autumn 2020 #ameliaodair #submission #prompt

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secondpubertyscene · 3 years

Text

8.14.21

This year has been one of major change. In Octavia Butler’s Parable of the Sower, there’s this quote, “God is Change. Beware: God exists to shape and be shaped,” and I think for the first time since reading it, I get what was being said. While I subscribe to the idea that there is a higher power of some kind, I also believe that we (as in, us as individuals) have great power as well. That power lies in our ability to change, to grow, to persevere. This year has been one of major change, and we really have to talk about it.

It is easy to look at this last year and think, “Well, that fucking sucked” because frankly, it did indeed fucking suck. I could write you a list of things that brought me great pain this year, unbelievable, undeniable, unrelenting pain that still lingers now. But, see, the beauty of it all is that none of that pain happens in a vacuum. Along with the pain, I’ve come through it all with more wisdom, more compassion, more empathy, more gratitude, more peace, more love, and more confidence. I’d like to share how those things all are connected, but first I would like to acknowledge something.

While I don’t know for sure if this is just an American thing, it does seem very clear that Americans aren’t fantastic at processing grief, death, and pain collectively. We often are encouraged to suck it up, to shut up about it, to not make others uncomfortable with our tears and trauma. I believe this is in large part due to the fact that American Exceptionalism doesn’t quite allow us to acknowledge when our systems have failed us or when we are suffering in the “greatest country in the world.” I don’t intend on participating in that toxic positivity or to dismiss the seriousness of the year past. I simply intend on acknowledging the nuances of my experiences, the complexity of it all. Now, let’s begin.

Without recounting every moment in large detail (in part because that would be far too much and also because I don’t need to relieve my traumas today), the events of the last year have been as follows: 1) COVID hit, 2) I had a severe emotional breakdown that resulted in a short stay at the hospital, 3) my grandma passed away, 4) I broke up with my partner of a year, 5) I was officially diagnosed with adult ADHD (inattentive), 6) I got into a PhD program for sociology (fully-funded), and 7) I moved to Ohio (two weeks ago now). So much happened in what feels like a blink of an eye. When you’re a kid, you think a year lasts forever. Now, a year feels like a couple months!

Anyhow, all of these things had super intense negative impacts on my life and most of them had super intense positive impacts on my life. Let’s talk about how. I won’t say that COVID had any “positive” impact on my life, because it’s still currently making things difficult and it is still destroying lives (full worlds) every day. The emotional breakdown that I experienced shortly after COVID began, however, was the impetus for some of the greatest change I would ever make in my life. It began with new therapy, medication for the first time ever to treat my mental illnesses, and a new relationship with boundaries.

Out of this breakdown, I came to realize a few things. 1) I wasn’t really feeling most of my life up until that point. That isn’t to say that I didn’t feel at all or that I wasn’t aware of my feelings all the time, but to say that most of the time, I numbed everything out that was too hard to bear. I didn’t cry, I didn’t write, I didn’t even take the time to try to identify exactly what emotions I did feel. I just lived through it and waited until I felt better. Or, I would breakdown with rage and then feel better. Therapy, especially the group therapy I participated in for a couple weeks after leaving the hospital, changed that in huge ways for me.

Because I was able to sit in my pain, in my discomfort, I was able to actually work through some of my issues. I began to identify the areas in my life that made me genuinely unhappy and began to grant myself permission to feel disappointment. I granted myself the permission to expect more, to want more. I granted myself the permission to set boundaries without guilt or shame. I granted myself freedom. It is an ongoing journey of mistakes and back-peddling and trying again, but it is mine and I am proud of it. Had I not had that breakdown, I don’t know that I would be where I am now.

My grandma dying is one of the most painful things I’ve experienced and honestly, I haven’t dealt with it all the way yet. I didn’t get to say goodbye to her in person, I still am battling the feelings of guilt despite knowing that there likely was nothing I could have done, and my chest still feels heavy thinking about her. Even as I write this, I feel that pain. I know she is not truly gone and that she lives within me, but oh, I do miss her physical presence. The nagging, the phone calls, the hugs, the cooking, her soft hair and beautiful hands. I miss her. Because of her, though, I have been able to rehabilitate another relationship in my life. The relationship I share with my mother.

My mother is a lot of things, but for whatever reason I continually forgot that she too is a victim of hardship brought on by nothing but sheer luck. In this last year, she lost her mother, the man that she loved, multiple cousins, friends that went back to childhood, and who knows who else. She suffered a lot this year and she has suffered a lot over the course of her 61 years of life overall. For the first time, I have been able to really acknowledge her as a full being with a complex history and understand her as a person, rather than just as a parent. I’ve set new boundaries with her as a result, boundaries that have completely change the dynamic of our relationship and will continue to do so as we both learn more about each other. Gone are the days where she relies solely on me for emotional support or financial support. Gone are the days where she feels comfortable talking down to me and then expecting any kind of favors from me. She understands and respects that I am an adult, that I am independent, and that I can terminate our relationship should it get to a point where I feel unsafe again. While this might sound like a threat or even negative, it is in fact quite the contrary.

We now share the belief that I deserve better from her and that my continued relationship with her is founded upon our mutual growth. That’s a beautiful thing that arose from us being pulled together by the loss of someone we both loved more than we maybe even loved ourselves. Thankfully, though, I have come to love myself more than anyone else on this planet. This newfound self-love and respect resulted in the severing of my relationship with my partner.

I won’t pretend like my ex was this horrible person because she wasn’t. She was kind, loving, intelligent, hilarious, unique, complex, and so many other amazing things. I still love her with all of my heart and have thought about her every single day since we broke up. It is not for lack of love that our relationship came to a close. The issue was that I needed more than what she could give. I needed someone who could really sit in my shit with me without invalidating my feelings jokingly because they didn’t know what else to say. I needed someone who could make me feel safe and secure, not fearful and insecure. I needed someone who understood boundaries as openings for futures, not closed doors. I needed someone who could show up for me the way I showed up for them, even when they hurt me, even when they lied out of fear. She wasn’t able to do that. She wasn’t able to stick beside me during the worst days of my life. She wasn’t able to see me beyond our relationship. When my grandma passed and our relationship was on the rocks, she made it about us. She didn’t stop pestering me about our relationship for long enough to give me support on losing someone who meant the world to me. I couldn’t trust her after that and I also realized, I wasn’t required to.

Boundaries in that relationship weren’t healthy. I felt unseen, unprotected, and sometimes even unloved. While I am sure that she has grown even more since we have parted, the reality is that when I ended things, I knew that doing so was the most fair thing I could do for the both of us. This is because I deserve someone who sees my value inherently. I deserve someone who takes the time to understand me, to love me, to see me. Not just see me and them together, but me as an individual separate from them. More importantly, I needed to be able to ask for those things without feeling guilty or bad. As of now, I still don’t know that she sees me as me, as a singular person, and maybe she never will. That is okay. I still love her anyway. I just love me more now. As a part of that love I’ve grown for myself, I also now have sought out more help for myself. This seeking of resources led me to realizing that I was ADHD and helped me change my life.

Being diagnosed with ADHD at 21 felt absolutely ridiculous. How could I be ADHD when I can sit still most of the time and have a pretty decent amount of impulse control? The answers came from my psychiatrist, breaking down the stereotypical understanding of ADHD and allowing me to find myself within the diagnosis. Finding the right combination of medication has been difficult, but what hasn’t been hard at all is finding more resources that help me manage my symptoms. It’s because of some of these resources that I am able to sit here and write this.

A huge part of ADHD is this perfectionist mentality that makes it nearly impossible to start or complete some tasks. Every time I sat down to write in the past, I told myself that I absolutely had to write every single day, once a day, or I should just not do it. When it came to this blog especially, I had so much shame when I failed to post for a long time or had a lull, that I would either consider deleting the whole thing to start over, or just never posting again. I realize now that those were just cop outs for my brain, that I can write as little or as much as I want because it is for ME. It doesn’t have to be perfect; it doesn’t have to be anything but what I need it to be. Waiting for perfection would have me waiting forever because it’s simply not how my brain works. Accepting that is a large part of how I got into my PhD program.

I’m not going to lie. I am still trying to figure out all of the feelings I have regarding this PhD program. I am shocked that I got in, shocked that I got full-funding, shocked that I am now in Ohio, shocked that I am in my own apartment, and overall shocked that I’ve made it this far in general. While I do not believe that I am stupid or not capable of greatness, I am realizing that I’ve always seen myself pursuing something more straightforward. When I was younger, I had a pretty clear idea of what I wanted to do even as those things changed. I knew what was required of me, I knew what I would ultimately do, and I took refuge in that. Doctors go to medical school. Chefs go to culinary school. Forensic anthropologists get masters degrees and do field work. It felt clear cut, straightforward, safe. This is uncharted territory. What do you do post PhD? What do you do DURING PhD years? I suppose I’ll just have to find out!

Anyhow, this year has been intense. Change is always present in our lives and sometimes it brings with gifts that we can only receive when we’re healed enough to take them. I’m hoping to keep healing, keep growing, keep loving, and keep going. I’m learning so much about myself and about the world. I’m loving myself more than I have in the past. I am incredibly proud of where I am. And I’m not done yet.

#personal blog #vent blog #black ftm #black transman #black tpoc #black mental health #personal writing blog #sociology #sociology phd program #covid #grief

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perriewinklenerdie · 4 years

Text

Evening conversations (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Open Heart, Ethan Ramsey x MC

A/N: Hello, hello, hello! How are we feeling, fam? PB delivered, we finally did it guys. I, of course, what else is new, couldn't help myself, and had to attempt a rewrite. Added some scenes cause I have no impulse control. Now, we have a few long weeks ahead of us, but it is 1) understandable and 2) so incredibly smart and good of PB to put the health of their people first. We live in hard times, the lives and safety come first. It will fly by, and hopefully, in the meantime, that scary situation is over. Take care of yourselves, guys.

AO3 link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23738884

Tag list: @paleweasels, @hopelessromantic1352, @kittykatchoices, @valiantlychaoticbarbarian , @radlovedreamer , @usuallyamazinglyaverage, @strawberrwess @palestazure, @cordoniaqueensworld, @universallypizzataco, @princess-geek, @faithhasnowords, @mightyfangirlofthefandoms, @drakewalkerfantasy, @timmagicktoad, @laceandlula, @greywitchyshots, @llamasgrl, @gingerjane15, @bucket-harrington , @marywrites-things , @ethanplaysfavorites , @mfackenthal , @betelgeusebee , @simsvetements, @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction, @buzz-bee-buzz, @owleyes374, @cora-nova, @aworldoffandoms, @l822, @cream-ray, @ughhhxjazzy, @silverlitskies, @justendlesssummerfeels, @togetherwearerapture, @desmaranj, @edgiestwinter, @friedherringclodthing, @daisy-ashton, @waytooattuned, @choicesgremlin , @lapisreviewsstuff, @the-soot-sprite, @writerapprentice, @chasingrobbie, @choicesobsessedd, @x-kyne-x, @thisperfectmemory, @drakewalker04, @rookie-ramsey, @jlynn12273, @thepinknymph @dr-brianna-casey-valentine, @a-i-n-a-a-s-h

Enjoy! <3

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Her shoulder comes in contact with Landry’s chest and suddenly her mind is quiet. No amount of shouts or looks thrown her way could puncture the fog that surrounded her for that one moment. It was nothing, and then all at once, it came with double the force, knocking the air out of her lungs.

Both of them tumble to the ground, Claire’s elbow digging into Landry’s ribs, a sharp pain radiating from the point of contact. Before she knows what is happening, a pair of hands grab her by her arms forcefully, fingers digging into her skin, and make a move to pull her up, when a voice booms over the field and next thing she knows, the weight on her back is eased.

“Don’t touch her, you son of a bitch.” His tone is chilling, filled with newly found rage that wouldn’t be easily explained if anyone asked why he was so quick to defend her. Luckily for him, the fight breaks out and his act of protectiveness gets forgotten by everyone but her, too stunned to participate in the insult fest that ensued as a result of her attempt to secure a win for Edenbrook.

It only stops when a very disappointed Naveen scolds them, breaking them all up and sending them on their own way. Claire was getting her clothes out of her bag when she heard his voice again, just behind her back.

“So? Was that worth dragging me down here?” Ethan’s words were slightly slurred, and as soon as she turned around to face him, she knew why. He was holding a cold bottle of beer to his cheek, the skin beneath the glass turning an ugly shade or purple. She winced, feeling a pang of guilt in her chest.

“I regret you getting hurt, but I don’t regret having you here.” She revealed, a proud smirk pulling on the corners of her lips when she thought about a crushing defeat that left Mass Kenmore licking their wounds. “I came to mess them up and I definitely achieved that.”

He smiled without humor, his eyes remaining emotionless. The lines of his face are even more pronounced under the floodlights over the field than normally, making him seem even more tired than usually.

“I got the feeling your head wasn’t really in it tonight.”

“It’s softball. My head was never going to be in it.” he responded matter-of-factly, looking past her. There was something in the way he closed himself off to his surroundings that worried her. Something was off, something was bothering him, and she would be damned if she didn’t try to help him, any way she could.

Her fingers brush against the back of his hand with the softest touch, raising goosebumps up his arm. It was all she dared to do in public, where everyone could see them and draw their own conclusions. Despite all that, the warmth of his skin against hers made her pulse jump, endorphins rushing through her bloodstream rapidly.

“I know it’s more than that. Talk to me, Ethan.” Her face fell, realizing how little they could keep from each other, despite their best efforts to keep things professional and keep their private affairs separate from their work. His gaze made its way back to her eyes, and the depth of his yearning is as strong as her own. When he speaks, its with the softest tone she’s heard from him in a while, almost like he didn’t care about all the other doctors that were passing them by.

“Not here.”

“Then where?”

His eyes flashed with something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. He finally let out a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing a bit. “… I suppose you could come home with me.” a muscle on his face twitched like he was about to smile, the line feeling too domestic, too familiar. “I have a new recipe I’ve been looking for an excuse to try.”

He was trying to impress her. He was definitely trying to impress her, she was sure of that. If not because of the way he said it, then because of the way he smiled when she asked, surprised. “You cook?”

“I do. Often. I find it very meditative, actually. It always helps me get my thoughts in order.”

“Okay, now I’m intrigued. Take me home.” She blurted out, then blushed a crimson red when she realized what her sentence carried with it. His lips curled into a warm smile, a reaction she didn’t expect, but wasn’t about to ask questions.

They separated briefly, for just enough time to shower in the locker rooms and change into their casual clothes. When they met again, they walked to his car, picking up their conversation about the patient they had earlier that day.

Ethan opened the door to his apartment, the space as clean and spotless as she remembered it to be. Her eyes got drawn to the view behind the windows, the curtains being thrown open only making it easier for her to watch how the lights flickered above the water.

She walked further into the room uncertainly, running her hand along the back of the couch. “So what’s this recipe you’ve been dying to try?”

“Georgian Stuffed Chicken.”

“On a random weeknight?” she asked, surprised that he was willing to go through such a meticulous process when they both knew they had an early shift the next day.

“Correct. Come over here.” He nodded, tilting his head towards the entrance to the kitchen, letting her go first. Following close behind her, he walked over to the fridge and then placed a full chicken and a bowl of butter in front of her.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Claire’s voice went up an octave when she voiced her concern. She did know how to cook, she was pretty good at it too, but measured up to Ethan, she was almost certain that she was a novice. He grinned at her slightly.

“Get massaging.”

Her moves were insecure and awkward, not entirely convinced that she was doing it correctly, and she was completely right, for she heard him laughing under his breath as he watched her struggle.

“You’ll have to do better than that. Rub it right in. Full coverage.” He instructed her, then turned towards his own work. His body seemed completely at ease and strangely content when he occupied himself with chopping ingredients and sautéing them in a pot.

“Ethan, just how long have you been a secret chef?”

“For about as long as I can remember.” He answered her question, wiping his hands on the towel he had by his side.

“As in… you had an Easy-Bake Oven?” she tried imagining little Ethan helping around the kitchen, the vision of it endearing more than she anticipated.

“As in my Dad liked to cook, and he let me help him with all the easy parts as soon as I was old enough.” He set the record straight, his face not revealing any emotions connected to the memories.

“That’s painfully adorable.” Claire giggled, leaning against the counter, her eyes focused on him. “Did little Ethan have a special apron? Or a little chef’s hat?”

“… No.”

The scent of their food being made filled the air around them, occupying her senses for a moment. Ethan turned back to the counter, chopping the cherries into smaller chunks. While he was working, he continued explaining. “My dad worked a lot. He took on extra shifts. The kind of thing single parents have to do to keep the lights on. One way I could help was making dinner sometimes when he was exhausted.”

“That’s pretty sweet. I guess you got good at it.” she pointed out, a sweet smile brightening up her face. A satisfied smirk made its way into his features.

“I make it my business to get good at everything.”

As she finished up with the chicken, Ethan added more ingredients to the pot, inhaling deeply, something weighting on his chest heavily.

“It’s missing something.” He mused, shaking his head after a second of thought.

“Did you check the recipe?”

“Recipes always tend to the safe side, flavor-wise. What would you add?” he asked, pulling out peppers and herbs from his fridge. She nodded towards the peppers.

“I should have known you’d want to add more heat.” He grinned, putting the herbs away and getting started on chopping the peppers.

“It’s not the only kind of heat I’d like to add…” she muttered under her breath, clearly enough for him to hear and understand. His gaze zeroes in on her, eyes meeting in a look of longing so intense it makes him weak in the knees. It lasts only a moment before it’s gone, with a deep breath, and then he’s back to being his self-controlled self, focusing on the cutting board once more.

“You make it hard to stick to my intentions, Claire.”

“Good.”

They both got busy with keeping their eyes on their food, but time went by and Ethan still didn’t say a word about what they were meant to talk about in the first place.

“So… are we going to talk about whatever’s got you so…” she extended her arms widely and Ethan sighed in defeat.

“I suppose I did promise you an explanation. The thing is… I’ve been avoiding my father.” He told her, and it felt as though he let go of a heavy burden. He’s always been on his own, dealing with his problems alone. Now, at least in that moment, he had her to rely on, and the way she looked at him told him that she was there to listen, and help should he need her to do so.

“But why? It sounded like you and him have a strong relationship.” She noted, trying to find the straightest line through all the parts she couldn’t possibly understand. Perhaps one day, she would be by his side to help him deal with it all, but today was not that day. Today, he needed her to just be with him and help him any way she knew how.

“I can’t stop thinking about what you and I talked about in the care that day we followed my mother. I always thought that Dad and I had a decent relationship for two people with not much in common.” He placed the knife back down on the cutting board, exhaling loudly before continuing. “But I’ve come to realize that I never tried to get closer to him. Because I couldn’t truly understand him.”

“Because he still loves your mom.” She understood what he meant with a somber realization, seeing past the façade of a strong man that was rarely rattled by missiles that hit him. He only nodded.

“That kind of unconditional love… I could never comprehend it.”

“He loves you unconditionally too.” Claire pointed out to him what was obviously there. In any other circumstance, she would try to get to the bottom of it, but it was clear what he meant, and they didn’t have the time to delve into it just yet.

“Everything in this world is conditional, Claire. Everything. My dad, he never pushes anyone. He never challenges anyone. He never demands anything of anybody.” He tapped his finger against the counter every time he pointed out a trait of his father, his face as blank as it could possibly be. “What my mother did to us, it’s like it didn’t matter. And I needed it to matter. I need what I do to matter.”

“I take that it’s not how your relationship with Dr. Banerji was.”

“The opposite. “ he smiled softly at the mention of his mentor that became a second father figure to him. A man that pushed him to be the best doctor he could be and was now pushing him to be the best man he could possibly be, even if Ethan himself wasn’t aware of what his friend was doing. “Naveen challenged me every single day. Still does. If I ever came up short of what I was capable of, he let me know.”

Her face fell when she put his words together with what she knew was a typical Ethan Ramsey reaction. “And you haven’t talked to your dad about any of this.”

“I have no idea how I’d start that conversation.”

“So you’re avoiding him altogether?” she asked, already knowing the answer. It was such a characteristic thing for him to do, and yet she hoped that she was wrong. But she rarely was wrong.

“Yes.” He breathed in deeply, stirring the content of the pot.

The perfect silence of his apartment is shattered by the knock on the door, and Ethan’s whole body visibly tenses at the sound.

“Just how long have you been ignoring him? Long enough for him to show up unannounced to make sure you’re still alive?” her eyes flickered between him and the door, a look of concern blooming on her face. His face twisted pensively.

“… I’d better go answer that.”

His own footsteps ring in his ears as he approaches the door. He counted the distance between him and his father, dreading the conversation that most likely would ensue the moment he opens the door to greet him.

He could feel the pleasant warmth on his back, in the place where Claire had her eyes on him, offering her silent support from afar. He took a deep breath, then answered the door.

‘Hi, Dad.”

“Thank goodness you’re here. I was starting to worry about you.” a relieved smile lit up his father’s face, his posture visibly relaxing as soon as he was sure that his son was safe and sound.

Ethan’s expression fell when he realized how worried he must have been. “Sorry, Dad, I’ve been…”

“Busy, as usual. Don’t worry, I understand.”

Alan stepped into the apartment, sweeping his eyes over the room, and then his eyes stopped at Claire and his movements halted instantly.

“Oh. But I see you have company… Hello again, Dr. Herondale.”

Claire smiled at him warmly, her eyes sparkling. “Don’t mind me, Mr. Ramsey. Pull up a stool and help us make fancy chicken.” Her comment made him laugh, his gaze shifting from the chicken on the counter to his son.

“I see a chicken that needs proper seasoning. Do you mind, Ethan?”

He waved his hand at his dad’s comment. “Add whatever you like, Dad.”

Moving around the room with comfortableness of a person that knew the area well, Alan reached into the cabinets and pulled out a few bottles of spices, spreading them over the chicken. “This chicken’s going to give us all a little punch in the jaw.”

Ethan kept his line of sight on the stove, refusing to look up and face the situation he was in. But then he felt warmth on his face and found it impossible not to look back at her. He was met with her smile and shining eyes.

Deciding to break the moment before he did something irresponsible, he took the pot off the stove and moved towards the counter. “Incoming.”

Alan and Claire stepped aside, observing as Ethan stuffed the chicken, then moved it into the baking dish. Ethan’s father cleared his throat. “So what exactly have you been busy with these past couple weeks?”

“Work. Same as usual.”

“… I see. It’s just that until recently, you always had time to answer my calls.” He pointed out, his face twisting with sadness. Silence fell upon the three of them, Ethan remaining quiet, unable to answer. Claire’s eyes find his own once again, asking a silent question. He shook his head, refusing to act.

“Talk to him.” she mouthed towards him, frowning. Alan noticed something was off, and he caught their little exchange.

“Am I missing something?”

Her eyes were still on him, still encouraging him to talk to his father like he should have done weeks ago. With a heavy sigh, he gave up and turned towards his father.

“Dad… I have to talk to you about something.” Ethan said, then turned towards her with tired eyes. “Can you handle the bird?”

Her hand itched to reach out and rest on his arm. She resisted the urge, instead nodding her head reassuringly. “Sure. You two go talk.”

Claire tried not to focus on their conversation too much, tried to give them as much privacy as she could, but one line reached her ears despite her best efforts.

“Love is complicated, Ethan. I thought you’d know that by now…”

In her peripheral vision, she was convinced she could see Alan looking at her, and then, a second later, a hot flash brushed against her skin. Ethan looked at her too, convinced she wouldn’t notice.

The conversation the two men needed to have was private. So much so that she felt as though she was intruding, despite knowing what the said conversation was about. Knowing all that, she decided to make sure that all in the kitchen was taken care of, and then started creeping towards the door of the apartment. Ethan’s worried voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Claire? Where are you going?” she turned around, nodding towards them both.

“Home. I think you two need some privacy.”

“But the chicken…” he was genuinely upset that she was leaving, which made her smile so widely her cheeks hurt. Winking at him playfully, she responded with humor in her voice.

“Bring me some tomorrow.”

She could see the war that was waging in his mind as he looked between her and his father before he nodded, relieved that he would have time to set things straight with his dad and still catch up with her later.

“Wait here, Dad. Claire, I’ll walk you out.”

“It was nice seeing you again, Mr. Ramsey.” She bid the older man goodbye, smiling at him widely. He reciprocated the gesture in kind.

“It’s always a pleasure to talk to you, Dr. Herondale. Get home safe and have a good night.”

Ethan led her out of the building, holding the door open for her.

“Can you get home okay?”

“Sure, I’ll call a car.” She shrugged, reaching into her pocket for her phone when she was stopped by Ethan’s hand. He rested it on her shoulder, his touch gentle and warm, and then turned her towards him.

“Claire…”

He pulled her even closer, resting his other hand on her cheek. His thumb caressed her skin, tracing the line of her cheekbone tenderly. When he spoke, his voice was low and filled to the brim with longing, not for the first time that evening.

“Thank you.”

“Ethan…”

It all felt familiar, the determination in his eyes, the certainty of his moves, the warmth of his touch. Without another moment of hesitation, he leaned down to make their lips meet, wrapping his arm around her securely. He couldn’t get her close enough, couldn’t hold her tight enough.

So many times, he imagined what it would be like to have her by his side again. So many sleepless nights he spent missing the heat of her body, the softness of her touch, the tenderness of her caress. Now that it was finally happening, he felt as though he was dreaming again.

He could feel the desperation in the way her lips moved against his, the fierceness and eagerness to bring him closer. It was everything he’d wanted to do, to have her close and keep her there. He wanted it to happen every day of those past months, every time she came near him, talked to him, argued with him. The fire was still there, simmering lowly, waiting for the circumstances to change so it could flare up again.

Their breathing got irregular, both of them trying to catch as much oxygen as they could. The intensity of the kiss was rising fast, threatening to destroy the scale. Every cell in his body was calling for her, to hold her, to have her, to bring her back home with him. She held him tighter, their lips coming together fast and hard, desperately trying to prolong the moment. His fingers grabbed the material of her dress that covered her back, willing to do whatever it took to hold onto her.

At long last, she pulled away from him, forcing herself to not dive right back into him. Their eyes met, longing in them clear as day. They still held each other close, unable to put even an inch of space between them.

“Ethan… what does this mean?” she muttered, her voice small and insecure. He felt a pang in his chest when he realized what she was expecting him to say.

“I don’t know.”

Ethan pulled her right back in, the kiss having an entirely different tone. Slow, soft and tender, filled to the brim with emotions he was beginning to understand and come to terms with. She kissed him back, her hands caressing the sides of his face.

“We’ll talk about it later.”

They were breathing the same air, electricity cracking all around them. The invisible force slammed them back together, his hands moving lower to grip her hips. She leaned backwards, kissing him hungrily, like she was never going to get enough of him.

Ethan’s lips left hers, moving along the line of her jaw, descending down her neck. The sound she made bordered on obscene, definitely not suited for the situation they were in currently, but he couldn’t care less. It did things to him, things he could definitely name, things he definitely wanted to explore with her, over and over again. But it wasn’t the time and place for it.

“Do you think-“ he leaned back for just a fraction of a second, but it was enough for her to reach for the door handle, pushing him back inside.

The corridor was dark and she slammed them against the wall, hiding them from the view. Tangling her fingers in his hair, she pulled tightly, a low groan ringing in the empty space around them. The thought of letting her go seemed impossible, and he had no idea how they were going to say goodnight.

Kissing her was intoxicating him, making him feel lightheaded. His hands wandered on her body, touching every part he could reach. With just the tips of his fingers, he brushed the skin of her legs beneath the hem of the dress she was wearing. A heavy sigh slipped out of her mouth, sending a shiver down his back.

Ethan’s touch got more insistent, now gripping the soft skin of her thigh, pulling her leg up and around his hip, growling at the contact. Claire’s smirk was concealed by the darkness they were drowning in, but they knew each other well enough for him to know she was smug. Pressing against her, he elicited a desperate sound of her own, grinning against her.

He trailed off from her lips yet again, sucking on the skin of her collarbone gently, then leaned back and rested his forehead against hers. Their breaths were elevated, shoulders moving up and down rapidly. Any more teasing, and he would have to take her against the wall, which he didn’t want for multiple reasons, the main one being that he wanted to take his time. He waited so long to have her by his side again, he can wait one day more.

“Let’s get you that car.” He whispered and was met with a slight nod from her, the same thought process happening in her mind at the same time.

They waited for her ride to arrive, holding each other close and kissing each other from time to time. When time came for her to leave, she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him into her one last time, kissing him like there was nothing else in the world.

“Goodnight, Ethan.” She whispered, then got into the car. Once seated inside, she looked back at him, his eyes staring at her with longing. He followed the car with his gaze until it disappeared from his view.

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“You were gone for a long time.” Alan greeted him, leaning back on the couch with a knowing smile. Ethan stopped dead in his tracks, then scoffed and went to the kitchen to check on the chicken.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He tried deflecting the obvious question, to no avail, for his father laughed loudly.

“Ethan, you’re grinning like child that got candy. Can you honestly look me in the eye and say that it has nothing to do with her? Or something that happened while you two were gone?” a suggestive undertone in Alan’s voice made Ethan blush. He really was that obvious, so evidently taken with her that even his own father noticed.

“I- that’s not what we were supposed to be talking about.” He walked back to the couch, and his dad laughed a bit more.

“And you’re blushing! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this flustered. Makes me regret that I came here and interrupted your evening together.”

“Don’t. Claire is right, I do need to talk to you. It’s weighing on me, ignoring you like that. I want us to talk and resolve it.” Ethan sighed, running his fingers through his hair. His relationship with Alan was never stellar, but they made it work as best as they could. With his mother back, the pain he felt since he was a child came back to the surface, widening the chasm between the two men more and more with each day that passed.

“She’s got a good influence on you. Promise me that you will talk to her when we’re done here.”

“I promise.” He nodded, his eyes shifting to his phone, left on the table. His fingers twitched in a gesture to reach for it, but he caught himself just in time to stop himself.

“Text her. Now.” Alan advised, knowing that his son would not act on his feelings if he didn’t encourage him, one way or another.

“She isn’t even home yet, and even if she was, she won’t have time to respond right away.”

“Then ask her to call you when she does. Come on, you’re one second away from bursting.” He said with a clear indication that there was no point in Ethan denying or arguing the point his dad was making. Letting out an annoyed huff, he produced a short message carefully.

“There. Happy now?”

“You’ll thank me later-“ the ping of an incoming message interrupted his smug remark, both men looking on the phone, then at each other. Ethan, almost like he could read his father’s mind, snatched the phone before he could reach for it, causing the older man to laugh.

He could lie to himself all he wanted, but there was no lying to Alan. Ethan’s face lit up as soon as he read Claire’s message, and it was at that moment when he was finally hit with the reality.

“… oh god.” He muttered, leaning forward heavily. Turning to his dad, he tried to form a coherent sentence, but found it impossible. Alan put his hand on his son’s shoulder, offering a smile.

“Congratulations, son. You just realized what everyone else already knew. Including Claire herself.”

For the next two hours, they walked through all the issues Ethan had developed over the years. There was no way they could resolve it all in one night, but it was a good start. By the end of the evening, they had a solid foundation for their road to forgiveness.

Just as they stood up to end their night, Ethan’s phone started ringing. He jumped slightly in his seat, and then started breathing a bit heavier when he saw who was calling. Alan’s grip on his shoulder tightened briefly before started walking towards the guest room he usually occupied when he was visiting.

“Tell her, Ethan. You already know how you feel, it’s time to let her know too.”

“Thank you, Dad.” Ethan walked over to him, hesitating for just a second, before he hugged him tightly. Alan was stunned for a while, and then embraced his son, thanking silently for the universe placing Claire and Ethan on each other’s paths.

#ethan ramsey #open heart #ethan x mc #mc x ethan #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfiction #dr. ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #mc x ethan ramsey #fic #fanfiction

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noodlecupcakeswritings · 3 years

Text

Ownership - Chapter 24 (A Kylo RenxOC AU)

Cora Ardmore and Kylo Ren work for rival companies, but they don’t know that until after they spend the night together. Once their identities are revealed to each other it’s a question of who will cave first?

This fic is mostly porn, pure kinky porn.

Please leave comments, kudos and reblogs if you like it. If you would like to be tagged, let me know.

Warnings: No Cora in this chapter, Trauma Bonding, Manipulation, Snoke is an abuser and a manipulator, Language, Alcohol

Chapter 24

Kylo Ren

Monday rolled around quicker than I would have liked. Taking a seat in my office, I motioned for Mitaka to sit with me. He had his phone out, ready to take notes. Whilst Cora and I were on good terms and she seemed over what had happened at Phasma’s, I still felt the need to show I was sorry and make it up to her. “I want flowers ordered, red roses. And more of those truffles she likes. Maybe another bottle of wine too,” I instructed. Mitaka took note of them on his phone, nodding softly, “anything else, sir?” I’d ordered gifts like that for her before, I wanted to do something different. Something that would really blow her away.

“Maybe look at short luxury getaways too. I’d appreciate a list,” I added. “Of course, sir. I can have a list ready by the end of the day.” “Thank you.” Mitaka left, heading out to his desk and starting his search. Before I could get to work myself, there was a knock at the door. Snoke entered before I could call him in. Now I was on high alert. Snoke now only visited me when he wanted something. He smiled and sat opposite me. “Tarkin mentioned that the exchange went well,” Snoke began. “It went very smoothly, yes.”

“Do you think you could stay late tonight? There’s a shipment that will be collected from the men you met in Toronto. You won’t need to worry about security, that will be sorted. You just need to accept the money and make sure it goes smoothly again. If on the off chance they try to get greedy, I trust you’ll correct their mistake,” Snoke explained. That didn’t sit right with me. There would likely be much more of them, meaning I would be outnumbered. And if things went south, there was no way I could take all of them on. I had to do it regardless of how I felt. It would be a chance for more evidence to be gathered.

“Of course. I’m guessing security are in on this?” I asked. “Just the night guard. He makes sure the alarms are disabled and that the cameras aren’t recording. At least the ones that Kanji Klub know to look for. We have a few secret ones for insurance.” That caught my interest. If I could get hold of that footage, it would be evidence against Kanji Klub. “I’m guessing we have a lot of insurance measures in place with our more interesting customers?” I asked. Snoke smiled, “Sometimes it’s the best way to deal with such men.”

“What time are they due to arrive?” “Nine pm. They’ll meet you outside the warehouse shutter.” Snoke got to his feet with a soft smile. He re-buttoned his suit jacket and placed a hand on my shoulder. “I’m so glad I can trust you with this. I’d been meaning to bring you into the fold for a while, but I’d never known how to go about it. Tarkin thinks you’re too clever for your own good. Your clever yes, clever to have worked out something was going on but your someone I know I can trust, someone I could see running this place when I’m long gone.” Forcing a soft smile, I couldn’t help but feel a wave of guilt. Doubt crept in, and my stomach sunk.

Snoke left me to my work, only now I was being completely consumed by my thoughts. I couldn’t help but wonder if I was doing the right thing. If I could really go through with betraying this man. This man who was my boss, my mentor and a father figure. Snoke was more of a father figure to me than my own biological father. Snoke had given me my first proper home, was the source of my wealth, and without him I’d be nothing. I was in debt to the man; I owed him everything. But instead of repaying that debt, I was seeking to destroy him.

Was it even really worth it in the end? Was it worth losing my father figure, and friend? Would I even be able to fill his shoes as CEO? Would I be able to make the hard decisions that he had too for the good of the company? Snoke was only supplying to these groups, he wasn’t committing the same type of crime. Maybe it would have been better to stay silent about it all, instead of involving Cora. Because now she was in too deep to stop, not that she’d want to. Why the fuck was I even trying to rationalize Snokes actions and protect him?

Frustrated with myself, I left my office and headed outside for some air. Now was not the time to have doubts, I was already too deep to think about backing out now. Swallowing my guilt, I pulled out my burner phone and texted Cora. Can we meet for lunch? I’m going to need another one of those cameras. After a few minutes, the phone vibrated with a new message. Sure. Pick me up around 12:30. Now I just had to make sure Cora didn’t suspect my doubts.

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After lunch, I returned to my office with the camera already fastened to a button on my suit jacket. I’d text Cora again when I’d need her to start filming. Luckily, she hadn’t seemed to suspect anything was wrong. The last thing I needed was her worrying about me. Although she would probably be more worried about losing the story than anything. On my desk in plain view was a short list of luxury private islands. Mitaka as always had beaten the deadline, something he was good at. Pushing the list aside, I forced myself to focus on getting some kind of work done today.

Later around clocking out time for most of the staff, there was another knock at my door. Snoke, again. Only this time he was carrying a black leather-bound box with gold stitching and lettering across the front. He set the box in front of me with a soft smile. “I’d been meaning to save this for your birthday in a couple of months, but I felt now would be a more appropriate time to give it to you,” Snoke explained. My eyebrows raised in surprise as I read the words across the box. Teeling single malt whiskey. 37-year-old whiskey. Brewed November 19th 1983, the day I was born. This would have taken some tracking down and cost him a lot. The gesture was definitely touching, which only made me feel more guilty.

“Wow. Thank you. You really didn’t need to get me something so special,” I insisted. “Nonsense, your more than deserving of this. I only wish I could have gotten you more,” Snoke sat opposite me, “you know you’ve always been like a son to me, Kylo. If I had been lucky enough to have children, I only wish they would have turned out like you.” Avoiding his gaze, I had no idea how to respond to that. The nicer things he did or said to me only made me feel worse about this whole situation. “I’m glad our paths crossed when they did. Your parents were fools to push you away, even more so to never and try to reach out to you. But your better off without them, aren’t you?” Snoke continued.

My fists clenched at the thought of my parents, I remembered that night so well. The night that I left. Dad had told me he’d never wanted to see me again, and so far, so good. I was always the disappointment; they were never proud of me or showed much love or affection. So leaving them had been easy, and the fact they never tried to contact me had just made things easier in the long run. “I am. I’m better off here, with you,” I admitted. Snoke smiled, “I agree. If I hadn’t of found you, who knows where you would have ended up.” Probably stuck as a lance corporal until I was killed in action. I didn’t just owe Snoke everything; I owed him my life.

Snoke glanced at the clock and got to his feet, “I have to get going, I’ve got an important dinner meeting to get too. Thank you for agreeing to do this for me tonight and I’m sorry it’s on such short notice. I’ll catch up with you in the morning.” “Thank you again for the gift. It was very thoughtful.” Snoke exited my office, closing the door behind him. A few minutes later there was another softer knock at the door before Mitaka entered my office. I frowned softly and glanced at the clock; he should have clocked out by now. “You should be on your way home,” I mentioned. “I wanted to stay late, sir. Help you out with tonight.”

A small smile spread across my face, “you don’t have to do that.” “I want too. Even if it’s just to offer moral support. I understand what your doing is difficult for you, sir. I figured it might be easier if you had a friend by your side.” Sighing, I loosened my tie and unbuttoned the collar, “am I doing the right thing?” Mitaka smiled sympathetically, “you are, sir. And that may be hard to see at the moment, but once the hard parts are over, you’ll be sure.” “I hope so.”

Taglist: @sweetfictionalworld, @sweetsec-93, @cltex84, @jana-banana-fana, @neeharlow

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green-eyed-whumpster · 3 years

Text

My OC Universe: Rowan 118

Chapter 118 Summary: Rowan has another nightmare and Peter helps soothe him. (Tags: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @much-ado-about-whumping, @abitefullofeverything, @whump-me-all-night-long, @sky-or-something-idfk and @tears-and-lilies)

Trigger Warnings: PTSD whumpee, nightmares, mild self harm

When did I even begin feeling this way? Rowan glanced over at Peter as he lay in bed, head covered with a pillow he dragged over himself during sleep. Why couldn’t I be warned of this? Whatever it is. I don’t know if it even is love – but it’s maybe the closest thing I’ve ever experienced.

He restrained himself from moving over and doing what he had done with Cordelia. In hindsight it was an awful and creepy thing to do. He cringed at the thought of it.

They had heard from Cordelia, wishing them a merry Christmas, she left a message for Peter wondering how Rowan was faring now that she had left, and had also sent a pair of soft leather boots for him, which was good because his current ones were beginning to wear out. They had been made for work at the castle, where the smooth floors and clean surfaces wouldn’t erode them quickly, and the rougher wood floors and rocks outside were harsher on their soft soles.

He was grateful she hadn’t mentioned the incident to Peter, he didn’t know how he would face that embarrassment if Peter looked at him after knowing that. Especially now knowing how he felt about his friend. Part of him wondered if he should even mention it to Peter.

Peter woke up a few hours after Rowan fell asleep, he couldn’t explain why, he was perfectly warm, and he felt safe, and he didn’t have to go to the bathroom. It was odd.

He got his answer a few minutes later when Rowan began whimpering and thrashing in his sleep. It was painful to listen to the pained squeaks that broke from his lips as he twitched under the covers. Peter carefully slid out of his own bed and approached his bed silently, Olivia looked over to him, eyes wide and alert as he stood beside her, and he rested a hand on her head soothingly as he leaned over his head.

Rowan’s hands lifted to his face and Peter watched his skin dimple as his nails dug into the flesh and dragged down his tear-soaked cheeks, whining in fear and pain as his body curled up tightly into a ball.

“No! N…no…please!”

Peter couldn’t handle seeing Rowan in such pain anymore and placed his other hand cautiously on the boy’s scalp, smoothing his hair softly to try and avoid startling him awake. It was damp with sweat and tangled in Peter’s fingers as he tried to stroke it.

“Rowan,” He said gently. “Hey, hey buddy, wake up, please,” Rowan’s eyes startled open, bulging out of his skull before recognising Peter and calming down.

“Peter,” He gasped weakly, lifting his hands to wipe his cheeks. “Did-did I wake you?”

“No, no, it’s all right,” Peter soothed, removing his hand from Olivia to carefully brush the tears from his eyes. “Were you having a nightmare?” Rowan nodded as his eyes glassed up again.

“I’m sorry,” He whimpered, sniffling. “I’m sorry,” He didn’t seem to have anything else to say as he pulled himself up and Peter embraced him.

“Don’t apologise,” He said gently. “Was it a bad nightmare?” Rowan nodded against Peter’s shoulder and tightened his hands instinctively. “Do you want some company to help you go back to sleep?”

Yes.

No.

I-I don’t want to embarrass myself again.

“I-I don’t think there’s room.” He didn’t want to have to make a decision, he wanted to force Peter to determine an answer.

“I can fix that,” Peter released him and stood up, Rowan watched as he moved back to his own bed and crouched, grabbing the bedframe firmly before pulling it back. Rowan watched in surprise as Peter pushed his bed against Rowan’s and looked at him once more.

“Does this work?” He asked and Rowan looked from the bed back to him.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” He asked nervously and Peter nodded.

“Now you can have some space but won’t be so isolated, well, of course you aren’t alone,” Peter said and glanced at Olivia. “I’ll be here if you need me, now,” He finally answered, climbing back into bed and looking at Rowan through tired eyes. “Are you feeling all right?” He asked looking at Rowan – who was flushing violently at Peter’s closeness.

“I-yes, thank you,” He smiled slightly, and Peter nodded, gently helping Rowan lie back down and making sure his eyes were dry.

“We’ll keep him safe, won’t we, Olivia?” He said as he settled down beside Rowan.

“I know you will,” The boy murmured, and Peter looked over, proud of Rowan’s trust in him.

“Don’t worry,” He cooed, inching over and laying an arm carefully over his chest to secure him. “No one will touch you while I’m around.”

There was silence for a few minutes, Rowan kept thinking about how the weight on his chest was physical now, and not just a figment of his imagination. Peter smelled different, usually he smelt like wood shavings, pine needles and smoke, but since he had been inside for so long, he began smelling like the soap he used for the dishes and freshly washed fabric, and still smoke.

“Would you like to tell me about your nightmare?” Peter asked heavily, his eyes were closed but Rowan knew he was still paying attention.

“Do you think it could help?” He asked weakly. He also knew Peter wouldn’t suggest it unless he was trying to console him.

“You’re so tightly shut up; you would probably benefit from a little venting.” Peter reasoned.

“Maybe,” Rowan breathed.

“You don’t have to if it would make you uncomfortable,” Peter replied and rolled onto his back, his arm moving to gently grip Rowan’s bicep, ensuring contact remained despite moving.

“I’d like to, it’s just, they’re really weird.” Rowan said gently. “Like, they don’t make sense,”

“Dreams rarely do,”

“That’s true,” Rowan hesitated for a moment before shifting slightly closer to Peter, a hand resting over the one he held his arm with.

“I-I don’t know why, but we were sitting at a big table,” He began softly. “William was beside me, and even though I was in a chair he made me lean against him like I was sitting on the arm of his chair. I don’t know who else was there, but I recognised them all, you know? And it felt like, there was this weight on my chest, and it was so hard to breathe I couldn’t even speak.” His breaths became shallower at just the memory and Peter sat up, turning to watch Rowan as he spoke, thumb grazing Rowan’s hand soothingly. “Um, and I-I couldn’t move, and breathing was so hard, and these people were all talking about me, and they wanted to send me somewhere – I don’t-I don’t remember where, but it just…I was so afraid that all of a sudden I couldn’t breathe anymore, and I kept trying to get them to help, or endear to William, but they all just laughed at me and ignored me!” Rowan gasped as he finished and moved his hands to his chest to feel his lungs wheeze beneath them.

“I’m so sorry, Row,” Peter said gently, cupping his cheek and stroking the skin with his thumb.

“It-I don’t understand why I was so scared!” Rowan whimpered, tears spilling over his lashes and dripping down his temples. “It wasn’t even that bad!”

“You were placed in a situation in which you were powerless,” Peter sighed, inching closer. “That’s the most terrifying thing in the world, being powerless. And being unable to breathe, as well, no wonder you were affected by that.” Rowan nodded weakly as Peter’s hand stroked his skin and sniffed.

“Thanks, Peter,” He whispered, and Peter smiled in reply. “I feel…I feel bad when I think of William. I don’t know if I believe that he’s just, dead. There wasn’t any fanfare…it doesn’t feel real.”

“Cordelia would tell us if he was alive. You can’t let him steal any more of your life than he has already.” Peter said firmly, grabbing Rowan’s shoulder. “The bastard got what he deserved. And he isn’t allowed to ruin you anymore, all right?” Rowan nodded obediently and Peter smiled. “Good, are you feeling any better?” Rowan nodded again and swallowed the lump of tears in his throat.

“Yeah, thank you,” He murmured, and Peter squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. Rowan froze as Peter leaned closer to him, face looming inches away from his. Rowan slammed his eyes shut in anticipation and waited for whatever Peter was going to do, heart pounding out of his chest as he felt Peter’s breath rolling over his cheeks.

What is he doing? Is he going to kiss me?

Rowan paused as he felt Peter’s lips on his skin and waited, the kiss wasn’t where he was expecting it, and he was almost relieved under his disappointment. But of course Peter would kiss his forehead, it was such a caring action. Something a parent would do to soothe a child.

He was disappointed when the lips left his brow and cautiously opened his eyes, seeing Peter lean back and smile at him softly.

“You’ll be all right,” He said encouragingly. “If I can’t be there, Olivia will be, but I won’t make any efforts to leave you alone.” Rowan nodded as he lay down again, hand lingering on Rowan. To stop him from taking away the contact Rowan lifted his arms and wrapped them awkwardly around the one on his chest.

“Do you mind if I just…hold this?” He asked, glancing over.

“Of course not,” Peter replied, finally allowing his eyes to drift closed again. “Do whatever you’d like, I’m here now,”

Rowan flushed red hot as Peter settled in to sleep with his arm clutched in Rowan’s, fingers absentmindedly clutching passively at his skin in a weary attempt to soothe him. It was working.

#whump #medieval whump #my writing #oc #Rowan #Peter #Olivia #PTSD whumpee #PTSD dream #nightmares #therapy animal #comfort #forehead kiss

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thegizka · 4 years

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Swift as Wind, Soft as Shadow

Chapter 7: Future

Three days after the end of the war, Temari is preparing to return to Suna, but there's one task to complete in Allied Shinobi camp before she can return home with a clear conscience.

Inspired by ShikaTema Week 2019 Day 5: Surprise Gifts.

Note: Sorry it took over a year to get an update, but for some reason, this chapter felt like pulling teeth. I restarted it several times until I found something satisfying enough to continue the story. Thank you for your patience! I'll do my best not to take so long with the next update.

Read it on Ao3.

Temari wandered through the Allied Shinobi Camp. It was much smaller than it had been before the war. The Iwagakure and Kirigakure forces had already returned home, and the bulk of the shinobi from the other countries were rebuilding their villages. Gaara and Kankuro had left her to take care of Suna’s remaining matters in the camp.

Three days of collecting the final effects of the deceased and packaging them for delivery to their next of kin. Three days of gathering all Suna documents and securing them to return to the village. It was meticulous, emotionally draining work, but someone had to do it.

Right now, though, she had given herself a different assignment. As the camp settled down for the evening, Temari wove through the tents looking for someone. She hadn’t expected to see him here, but mentions of him and glimpses in passing were hard to deny. She had a few things to say to him before she returned to Suna tomorrow.

She pinpointed his spiritual pressure as the last streaks of golden sunset faded into lavender and blue. Shikamaru was sitting on a stack of crates at the edge of the camp, his head tilted back to look at the emerging stars. She watched him take a drag from a cigarette. Since when had he started smoking? That made her hesitate for a moment. She hadn’t been able to speak to him since the end of the war so she wasn’t sure what his mental state was like. She could only surmise based on glimpses and whispers, and the fact that he was here and not home. She shook off her hesitation and strode forward.

“Come with me,” she said in a low voice, hooking her arm around his and not breaking momentum.

“What the hell?” Shikamaru sputtered, resisting her pull. “Temari?”

“Obviously,” she grumbled. “Come on.”

“What are you doing?” he sighed, though he reluctantly plodded after her. She dropped his arm when she felt he wasn’t going to run away.

“Just come on.”

She could feel his eyes studying her with a mix of amusement and exasperation. She was thankful for the rapport they’d built over the years. A normal shinobi would never follow someone from another nation to an unknown location in the middle of the night. At least, normally they wouldn’t. Things were different now that they’d united to fight a war. Something had shifted in shinobi society, and it was both thrilling and frightening.

“How far are we going?” Shikamaru asked with a heavy exhale. The smell of tobacco smoke drifted around her, making her nose wrinkle involuntarily.

“When did you start smoking?”

He didn’t answer, so she glanced over her shoulder at him.

“Does it matter?” he sighed.

“I’m not judging you,” she said, which was mostly true. He’d been through a lot. She couldn’t judge if he had found his own coping mechanism.

“Then why did you ask?”

She didn’t answer. She wasn’t ready to admit that she was a little upset that she hadn’t known. Or that she thought there were better ways to deal with trauma. There were other things she wanted to say first.

“Okay,” she said instead, climbing over a mound of churned earth into a large crater littered with downed trees. “This should be good.” The war had altered the landscape, which was to be expected when literal gods took to the battlefield. Those proficient in earth-style jutsus had helped to clear the main travel paths and nearby settlements, but the world would carry the scars of this war forever.

“Now what?” Shikamaru asked, grinding what was left of his cigarette under his heel. Temari turned to face him.

“Fight me.”

“What?” he scoffed. She never broke eye contact. He looked tired. There were dark circles under his eyes and stubble on his chin. He looked worn and a little broken.

“Fight me.”

“You brought me all the way out here for sparring practice?” The attitude was leaving his voice. “It’s nearly ten thirty. You should be back at your tent getting ready for bed.”

“No, I should be right here fighting you. Now come on!”

“Why?” he demanded. “You don’t even have your fan.”

“I don’t need my fan to fight.” She punched, and he reacted on instinct, turning aside and blocking. She didn’t give him a chance to back away, pivoting to send her knee at his side, but he stepped into her and shoved her with his shoulder. She used the proximity to grab his arm and flip him, but he rolled with the momentum and brought her tumbling after him.

“Temari, what the hell are you doing?” he demanded while she kicked at him. He grunted as her foot connected with his hip.

“What do you think?” She rolled away before he could grab her ankle and popped up onto her feet.

“Why are we fighting?” Shikamaru was gritting his teeth, a sign that he was frustrated. Good. He hadn’t shut down his feelings.

“You tell me.” She kicked at him again and he dodged, but she didn’t slow down, keeping him on the defensive.

“Stop it,” he growled, trying to grab her next punch, but she pulled back before he got a good grip.

“Make me.”

“Why are you being so troublesome?” He threw a fake punch to throw off her rhythm, following up with a strike at her stomach, which she easily deflected.

“Why aren’t you in Konoha?” she shot back, glad that he was actually attacking her now.

“Why aren’t you in Suna?” he mimicked.

“Why are you smoking?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Why aren’t you sleeping at night?”

“How is it your business?”

“Why is it so hard to admit you’re in pain?” Temari kicked some loose earth into his face, distracting him long enough to kick the back of his knees and pin him down with his arm behind his back and her knee on his spine.

“Is that what this is all about?” he groaned. “Yes, I am in pain. Your knee is breaking my back.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

“What do you want from me, Temari?”

“I want you to talk to me,” she admitted with more emotion in her voice than she would have liked. “I want you to prove that you won’t let this eat away at you because I’ve been there, Shikamaru. I’ve lost two parents. I sat on my grief until it festered into an empty anger and a perverted sense of duty. I neglected my brothers. I neglected myself. All I focused on was not disappointing a mother I barely knew and a father who didn’t know me. That’s been a burden I’ve carried since I was three, and I still struggle with it.”

“Temari,” he said softly, but she cut him off.

“I’m not done.” She took a shaky breath. “I saw my father during the war. I came face-to-face with him for a minute, and you know what? I said nothing. After five years of wondering if he’s proud of me, if I’m living up to the legacy he left behind, I had nothing to say to him. Because he no longer has a right to my life. My mother doesn’t, either. They’re dead. I’m alive. My life is my own.

“Your father was a great man,” she continued. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t want him to be proud of you. But you’re still alive. You get to choose how to live. And part of that is choosing how you grieve. You can sit on it and carry it for the rest of your life, or you can let yourself embrace it and learn to move on. I think you know which is the better option.”

Temari focused on regulating her breathing while Shikamaru absorbed her words. She didn’t like talking about her parents. It brought a lot of mixed emotions and complicated memories to mind. But she also didn’t like not knowing if he’d be okay. Last time he’d lost someone close to him, it had taken time to find a healthy way to grieve.

“Temari,” he said in a low voice, and she braced for whatever deep conversation would be coming, “could you get off of me now? My arm’s falling asleep.”

She shuffled aside so he could sit up, shaking out the arm she had pinned.

“Did you really have to drag me all the way out here and fight me to tell me that?”

“I needed to be sure you would listen.”

He stopped his stretching to look directly at her.

“Temari, I’ll always listen to you.”

“When you want to, sure.”

“I’m serious.” He leaned forward, and she was thankful for the dim light which hid the emotions on her face. “We don’t always see eye to eye, but I value your perspective and your friendship. You tell me what I need to hear, so whenever you talk, I will listen.”

“So if I tell you smoking is a bad habit and you should stop, you will?”

“I said I would listen. I never promised to obey,” he chuckled.

“Well I still have time to change your mind.”

“What a drag,” he said with something like affection.

They lapsed into silence for a moment. Night bugs buzzed in the background, a promise that life would continue after the ravages of war. Despite the dim light and the fact that she had just opened up about her parents’ deaths, Temari didn’t feel uncomfortable. She and Shikamaru were well beyond the bounds of a typical friendship.

“So you are okay?” she asked eventually.

“Yeah, I will be.” He leaned back to look at the sky. The stars were blinking into recognizable constellations. “I’ve learned how to grieve and I know how to live while honoring those I’ve lost.”

“There’s no route to revenge this time.”

“That’s fine. I’m actually kind of glad. There’s been enough death and vengeance in the past few days.” He reached into his inner vest pocket. Temari expected him to pull out a pack of cigarettes, but his hand emerged holding the battered lighter that used to be Asuma’s. He fiddled with it in his hands but didn’t ignite the flame.

“Are you okay?” Suddenly he was looking at her intently. Even in the dark, she could feel the weight of his gaze and knew she couldn’t hide the truth. Memories of the war that had kept her up at night flooded into her waking thoughts. There were faces of shinobi she hadn’t known but whose deaths she had witnessed. There were her brothers, hurt and exhausted but prepared to fight facing their own deaths. There were the empty eyes of her reanimated father, bereft of pride and all but the faintest recognition. There were those desperate moments when she had felt Shikamaru’s life slipping away and been helpless to save him.

But they had won the war. Her brothers were safe. Shikamaru was alive and beside her now. In time, this reality would overcome those memories, and she would heal, too.

“I will be,” Temari promised, echoing his earlier answer.

He nodded, apparently satisfied with her response. He returned to observing the heavens and fiddling with the lighter, and she counted the stars while sneaking glances at him. Now that she had the time to look past the signs of fatigue, she could see the calm and intention in his features. The tragedy of his loss was still there, but it was different from what she had seen after Asuma’s death. She wasn’t worried that he would go rogue in an attempt to alleviate the pain. He was grounded and purposeful. Not for the first time, she was aware of how much he had grown and matured. Her heart swelled with a warm feeling that was both unfamiliar and intoxicating. She had to look away before it overwhelmed her.

“So you’re returning to Suna tomorrow, right?” he asked.

“I am.” Temari thought of her home and her brothers who were waiting for her. She missed the sand and the sun and the wind. “It will be nice to get back to something like normal.”

“Whatever that looks like now.”

“Yet another thing we’ll have to figure out.”

Shikamaru grunted in agreement. The lighter in his hand stilled. A moment later, he sighed and tucked it back into his vest pocket. He stood and stretched a bit before offering her a hand.

“Come on. There’s something I want to show you.”

Temari knew it was late, but it was only fair to go along with him after she’d hauled him all the way out here to fight. She let him help her to her feet. Did his hand linger on hers a little longer than necessary? Perhaps, but she didn’t pull away. He let go when he turned to lead her back toward the camp.

“How’s your mother doing?” she asked after a few moments of comfortable silence.

“She’s hanging in there,” Shikamaru sighed. “It’s not easy to lose the person you love.”

“You’re not in Konoha with her.”

“She doesn’t want me there. I have a job to do.”

Temari tried to see his face, but they were moving too fast and it was too dark to read his expression. Normally she’d expect families to grieve together, but the Naras came from different stock. Shikaku had always had a strong sense of duty, and his son had inherited that same will. Yoshino wouldn’t let either of them shrink away from their responsibilities, even when she was heartbroken, even when it meant sacrificing her family. She was the strongest woman that Temari knew, but even the strongest needed someone to lean on sometimes.

“I probably won’t be able to visit for a while. Give my sympathy to your mother. And look after her.”

“Yeah yeah, I know.”

“Shikamaru, please.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell her,” he promised. “You should write to her, though. She’d appreciate it.”

Temari didn’t think a few pages of writing would be sufficient to convey sympathy and comfort, but it was all she could do for now.

They slowed as they reentered the camp. Temari followed him towards the Konoha tents, her curiosity buzzing. What was he planning to show her? Had he intended to share whatever it was from the start, or was it an afterthought from their conversation and fight?

“In here,” he said, holding aside the flap of a tent. She hesitated a moment, aware of how entering his tent might be perceived by others. But there were few people around at this hour, and she and Shikamaru were known friends. She stepped inside.

Temari wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but his tent was decidedly plain. He lit the lamp hanging in the center of the small space, revealing a cot, a tiny foldable table and stool, and a travel pack. He hadn’t tidied his bed after last night’s rest, and he’d thrown one of his vests on top of his pack. There was just enough laziness evident to be on brand, but not enough to significantly hinder a speedy exit if necessary. She supposed her tent would look much the same, albeit tidier.

“Have a seat,” he invited, indicating the small stool. She balanced on the wobbly little seat while he dug through his pack to find whatever it was he wanted to show her. Her curiosity peaked when he pulled out two scrolls and a handful of papers, passing them to her over the small table.

“Take a look at these and let me know what you think.”

Shikamaru took a seat on the edge of his cot while she looked over the papers. They were covered in his somewhat lazy scrawl, and the edits and margin notes indicated he had revisited the text several times since first setting pen to paper. She raised an eyebrow at him, but he just gestured for her to keep reading, so she did.

Temari could feel his eyes on her as she made her way through the papers and scrolls. No doubt he was searching for any reaction to give him some idea of what she thought, but she was good at keeping her reactions neutral. Not that she wanted to disguise her thoughts from him. There was a lot she wanted to discuss in these pages, but she knew he would patiently wait for her to organize her response. She wanted to be thorough.

Several minutes of silence passed before she set the final scroll down on the little table. Temari looked at Shikamaru with his tired eyes and the weight of his grief with a new respect. She was impressed with his work, especially given the current circumstances.

“So?” he prompted, eager to hear her thoughts.

“It’s a good start,” she said, flipping through some of the pages, “a really good start. Have you talked to any of the kage about this?”

“Not yet. Like you said, it’s just a start. I want to get a more comprehensive plan outlined before submitting a proposal.”

“You don’t want to wait too long to get the process started,” she warned, drawing on her many years of Suna politics to inform her advice. “Cooperation between the nations could wane as we start returning to our villages. You’ll want to capitalize on the general goodwill as much as you can. And get Naruto to help when you talk to the other nations.”

“You don’t think I can convince them myself?” he asked wryly. Temari looked at him. He probably could. He’d earned respect throughout the shinobi world for his actions during the war.

“The kage like him,” she said with a shrug. “Plus it’ll mean less work for you.”

“Thanks for looking out for me,” he smirked. The way he smiled, strangely soft behind the amusement, made her feel warm. She looked away, letting the papers in her hands provide a distraction.

“A shinobi union of all of the hidden villages,” she mused quietly. Shikamaru had been thinking of the future even while dealing with the aftermath of the war. Reading through his notes and ideas, she could see the future he wanted to build. She wanted it to come true, and if anyone could make it happen, she was sure Shikamaru could.

“Suna will support the proposal,” she promised. “This is exactly the sort of thing Gaara would want to come out of the war.”

“Can I count on your help, then?” He shifted forward, looking at her intently. The earnestness surprised her.

“It’s pretty late,” she said. Suddenly she didn’t want to return to Suna right away in the morning. There was so much more work to be done.

Shikamaru burst into laughter, catching her off guard.

“I’m not going to figure all of this out tonight,” he chuckled, gesturing to the pile of paper. “But it will take me twice as long if I try and do it all myself. There’s also value in a contributing perspective that originates outside of Konoha. If this starts in collaboration, it would provide a better foundation for the shinobi union. I could use your help, Temari. What do you say?”

She remembered his promise to always listen when she spoke. He was offering her a place in the future he was building. Would she be up to the task?

“I say that I’m going to need a copy of what you have so far if you want me to help,” she decided. “Do you have an extra scroll?”

He grinned as he pulled the requested scroll and a brush from his pack and handed them to her.

“Glad to have you on board.”

“You’re just happy to have someone else to do the work,” she teased, starting to copy the main points of the plan onto the blank paper.

“Maybe, but you always say yes when I ask.”

She hated how confidently he said it but delighted in the implied trust between them. Still, she couldn’t be too predictable or she’d lose her reputation for being troublesome. She’d make an effort to keep him on his toes, whatever future they built together.

#shikatema #naruto #nara shikamaru #temari #kaze queen #my words #fanfiction #allied shinobi forces #the fic lives!!#sorry for the wait!#sawsas

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fictionfreakazoid · 3 years

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That post you made about our culture as lgbtq+ POC and liberalism/modernism is chef’s kiss. I must add I was very disappointed when I first saw the Marjan Muslim woman arranged marriage spoiler, because as a Muslim woman myself these tropes never reflect our true irl experiences. The resolution tonight was surprisingly somewhat not all bad to me. All we see in US tv shows is how inferior our practices are and how they can be ‘cured’ by their modernism for us to be truly happy. Yes some of our practices are problematic but it’s hard to just toss out our family who like Carlos phrased “are good people but not perfect “ for found family without the struggle of needing both.

I am a Biracial, Muslim and engaged to a woman. My parents know and we have had dinner with them. My mom is more welcoming (she is white) and my dad (he is black) is always happier to avoid any conversation about it. I literally stopped wearing a hijab at work & Ṣalāt al-Jumuʿah after the Nice attacks but almost everyday before work, during lunch etc I cry about it to a point where I want to quit because I am not fulfilled. Yes I don’t get to be a target but I want to celebrate my religion the way I please.That conflict phase is hard and most media gloss over it like it’s empowerment (remember Nadia removing her hijab in Elite?) .

Do they (911 LS) need to research more on Muslim and Islam representation? Absolutely!!S1 was very cringe but today I was left feeling somehow hopeful to give them a chance. I will probably get a lot of backlash for this but couldn’t they just hire a Muslim actress or consult with IRL Muslims?

I flesh it out because you gave me the stage lol, Again sorry for the bad English.

Salamu Alaikum sister! First of all, thank you for sharing, and I will always support you as my fellow Muslim and I’m glad there’s another lgbt+ POC Muslim watching the show! Also, I actually didn’t watch Elite because I heard about that specifically and I didn’t want to go through that painful “representation” again. This is kinda long lol sorry I like writing and I have a lot of feelings about this, so I’ll put a read more here

I didn’t see any spoilers of the arranged marriage before the episode, so watching the episode my dread just grew and grew and unfortunately materialized. However, a few years ago I became friends with a hijabi in my college class and she informed me that she was engaged in an arranged marriage. Obviously, this shocked me at first but then she further explained that it had been more of a matchmaking process where her parents showed her people, and then she got to choose. I was still uncomfortable with this because obviously she was still pressured to get married, but my mom talked to me about it later and was like well, how else are (Muslims) going to find a suitable spouse in a halal way if not by matchmaking or happening to find a person? And I have to agree that at least that form of “arranged marriage” sounded somewhat reasonable if it was truly still a consensual choice by both spouses. However, the form of arranged marriage they showed in the episode was strongly different than that and literally proved to be problematic in the episode. I know Muslims from several different countries, I know my relatives who literally live in the Middle East: none of them still do that or even did that generations ago and honestly, the practice isn’t that Islamic either if the choice to opt out wasn’t apparently given to them from the start, which it didn’t seem to be in Marjan and Salim’s case. Arranged marriage in that form is definitely part of some cultures, but not, to my knowledge, a part of the Muslim nor Middle Eastern/Arab culture at large other than the clearly and undoubtedly unislamic practices of forced child marriages. So clearly they did not actually base the arranged marriage on actual Muslim culture, although arranged marriages do still happen in our culture, I personally do not know of it being common in our Muslim, particularly Muslim American, culture to be in that form so my suspicion is that they really just heard that Muslim communities still have arranged marriage without any context and tried to put it in the show and act all woke about it. I know that Marjan’s actress isn’t Muslim (which is also problematic, I definitely agree with you) and I doubt they either consult any actual Muslims nor is it likely that they have any Muslims in their writing team, and if they do they will only choose the most liberal of their opinions that fit their ideas of liberalism/modernism and escaping stereotypes and that’s too much of a portion that they’re including in the show.

To continue to the part of the arranged marriage arc that I actually found reasonable: Marjan’s ultimate rejection of Salim. Despite some of the problematic ways they showed it, Marjan did strongly and visibly believe in Islam and its practices and was proud to be Muslim and defended it when the squad questioned any aspects of it. She also made it clear that she personally believed in it/had her personal conviction in Islam and that it wasn’t just something she pretended to follow along for the sake of pleasing her parents, which some Muslims, unfortunately, end up doing, particularly in this generation with exposure to “modernism”, which I still respect because that’s their personal journey and only Allah can judge and they as well as anyone else might end up coming back to Islam ultimately. Also, that can show that they weren’t really taught enough about the beauty of the true religion and not conservative/traditionalist propaganda of Islam, which is not just spread to nonMuslims through Islamophobic media but also spread to poorly Islamically educated Muslims ourselves, to have strong enough convictions for it, but again, their personal journey and I still respect them because true Islam teaches that you respect anyone even nonMuslims and that you always leave the door open and just try to educate and be a good example. Marjan seems to follow that same mindset as well because she is shown to be very accepting of others and their beliefs even when they don’t match hers, she just respects them and makes her boundaries clear. And to tie that back to the main point - that’s exactly what she did with Salim. Salim showed multiple signs of not truly adhering to Islamic values, first the alcohol drinking (which I also strongly admired the visible discomfort she had for that), the side relationship and then ultimately kissing her. She respected his personal decision to do those things, but she ended it when it became apparent that he expected her to do the same or at least tolerate it if she loved him. What I admired is that she put her foot down and said that if she not only couldn’t be in a commitment with someone who didn’t keep their commitments (which even plenty, if not most, of nonMuslims agree with) but also no longer had the same values or a tolerable amount of the same (Islamic) values she held. That along with other subtle signs of Marjan’s personal conviction to Islam are what make me still have at least some hope for the representation. Despite the terrible form of the arranged marriage they showed, they still showed that Marjan sticks to her beliefs and isn’t ashamed of them and is even willing to defend them, she doesn’t conform to just abandoning everything because she loved Salim, which is what the modernism ideology wants to promote. I also liked how they showed that it wasn’t an easy decision to make either - it was a clear choice for her, but it still hurt her and I like that they didn’t just shame her for that like certain modernist ideologies would’ve wanted to portray her situation (particularly because it would further Islamophobia, which let’s be honest is usually the goal for most nonMuslim media): either you abandon everything for love or you cut ties for things that you can’t agree with and feel nothing because your beliefs are strong. That ideology is so wrong and I’m glad the show portrayed that: it’s a struggle, and it hurts. I’m glad that they showed that struggle with a Muslim POC instead of just being like “Oh well her sticking to Islam makes the decision really easy and it wasn’t even a struggle because *shameful tone* religion means a lot to her, and they easily could’ve gotten away with that, but thankfully they at least did that for us.

I also really liked that they showed a similar struggle with Carlos, but instead of Islam, it was more about the struggle of being lgbt+ and also the love for your family despite their intolerance. (Personal) I literally went through an almost identical scenario to Carlos - I (regrettably) came out (as biromantic asexual) to just my dad and even though I specifically told him not to he later told me that he outed me to my mom. My dad was supportive and said that God made me this way and that true Islam says it’s ok, and although right now I’m still kind of uncomfortable talking about it with him because some of his opinions or understandings are kind of problematic/misunderstandings/stereotypes (i mean he literally outed me to my mom and who knows who else when I told him not to), but my mom... he literally told me she thought it was haram (not Islamically allowed) and that was the last time I discussed anything lgbt+ with my dad and I never even mentioned it to my mom myself. But they’re my parents, I love them and all my relatives and Islam, they’re all so important to me, but I’m also not ashamed of being lgbt+ and it’s a part of who I am. I’m in the closet in real life other than my parents and my personal best friend who is also lgbt+, but I wish I didn’t have to be. I struggle with it every day, I don’t feel safe or secure enough to be out, those words TK chose specifically struck a chord with me. Not only do I physically feel unsafe about being out, I know that despite being supportive of lgbt+ historically before colonialism, the Islamic community, even my family, would not only not be supportive of me now, they’d also be one of the sources of my fear if I came out. I love Islam, I love the community and my family and I know they have their problems, some of which are really serious, but they still have a lot of amazing qualities and they have helped shaped who I am. (End personal)

You know what’s ironic about the message modernism sends out against lgbt+ POC and also Muslims (particularly POC Muslims)? They say that being lgbt+ is part of who you are and you shouldn’t be ashamed of it, yet they promote that you should abandon your ideology, culture and family if they don’t support you, even though those can also be important parts of who you are. I know some people are forced/coerced to make a choice between at least some of those things because of safety and intolerance, and I respect that and my heart is out to all those who have been forced to do so, I easily could’ve been one of them. I know that they struggled with this stuff too, I know they likely still struggle with it. Modernism can’t make that struggle go away, as much as it tries to hide it under an easy choice. Our ideologies, our cultures and our families aren’t personal hobbies that you can toss out at any point because they have problems, modernism can’t and shouldn’t always try to “fix” them, they might have problems but a lot of times modernism tries to “fix” them without context and only out of disrespectful ignorance and prejudice, it’s not empowerment. Our ideologies, our cultures and our families have value not only in general but also to us personally, and just saying that they should be easy sacrifices is disrespectful. Both sides usually make it seem as though we can easily choose only one and can only choose one, but they’re usually both important to us. Neither of them are easy to give up, they’re a part of us, we don’t want to choose between them and we struggle with that every day.

On a more personal note to you, sister, I understand your fear of publicly wearing the hijab, it’s like the fear I have of being out. I’m so sorry you don’t feel safe enough to show your Muslim pride through your hijab as well. Allah (swt) knows you still love Islam and are not ashamed and are considering your safety, he will always take that into account. I support you and if you ever want to talk more about it, feel free! I know it sucks to have your family not really fully support your lgbt+ identity and all the aspects of it including your fiancee, who I hope makes you as happy as you deserve and respects you and all who you are. You are valid and I hope the struggle gets easier for us and things improve in the future inshAllah. Feel free to reach out any time, and let me know what you think!

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