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sasa-gay-yo · 3 years

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Just Us (Chapter Sixteen: Scars)

← Chapter Fifteen

At first, it was a little pain here and there. I would be handing someone their coffee and it would hit me, but not enough where I’d recoil. It was manageable and no one really noticed it besides me. This was usual too, nothing out of the ordinary. At night, I would get pains in my chest from thinking too hard, but of course, I thought it was just that. I would think over and over again about the green cape, it would give me a headache too. It was just my body overreacting. That was my explanation.

Then, I dropped the coffee on my own hand, a small burn festering where the liquid had hit. The customer seemed concerned as I grabbed my chest and let out a groan. This time it was sharp, but it didn’t leave for a minute or two. I feigned that I was okay to the man, and went into the back holding onto the wall and taking deep breaths till it didn’t hurt anymore. I’d begun wrapping my hands again too. Without the rose balm, they started peeling again, and at this point, I didn’t have the time or effort to go to the capital and try to seek out the stuff.

Jonas commented on it too. The way that I started rewrapping my hands. I told him that I was fine, but then he witnessed the chest pains too. That made him worried.

“It’s almost summer, usually your hands are better this time of the year.” He lifted up the bags of wheat flour onto the backroom shelves as I had to rewrap my left hand after getting the bandages wet.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I was used to not working as much, but now since the café is back to normal my hands have to get used to it. Business is going to flatten out though, with the upcoming shortage.” With my right hand, I passed him the tag to put on the stock boxes and went to pick up a smaller box with my half-wrapped left. As soon as I got the box off the floor, a sharp pain hit my chest and I dropped the box on the floor, making the stitches open and spill sugar all over the floor. I was too busy holding my chest and coughing to even care about the lost money at this point.

“Eva!” Jonas was next to me in seconds, trying to lift me up to standing. When he realized that wasn’t going to work as I was doubled over in pain, he pulled up a chair to let me sit. He kneeled in front of me after, trying to look at my face to see what was happening. That was when he saw me gripping at my chest.

“I-I’m o-kay,” I said through gasps as I was trying to mentally get rid of the elephant that was sitting on my chest, “w-w..water?” He nodded quickly, running back into the café to get me a glass. I heard the faucet running and Jonas say something to a customer before bursting back in. The back of the door hit the wall with urgency, and it echoed against the brick walls of the supply room. At this point, I had one hand gripping my leg, the fabric of my skirt bunched up in a fist, and the other hitting my chest to get some other stimulus going. Either way, I couldn’t drink the water. We just sat there in silence, my heavy breathing filling the room. I could tell with each passing minute, he was getting more and more concerned. My concern was growing too since this was the longest the chest pains had ever stayed. I didn’t know how long I had been sitting there when the pain got to a bearable point, but I knew it wasn’t like the previous thirty-second pains I’d get throughout the day.

“What the hell was that?” Jonas finally said as I reached down to the full water cup. This was an indication to him that I was better, at least for the time being.

“It usually,” I took another gulp of water to try and settle the dull pain, “It usually isn’t this bad.” His eyes widened and I knew I was going to get a lecture next.

“You mean you’ve had these multiple times?! What is it?!” I shook my head, finishing the rest of the glass. The cold helps the pain go away. Another stimulus. I found out a few days ago that if I put an icepack on my head or my chest, it starts to help the pain.

“I don’t know. I just get pain in my chest sometimes. I was planning to ask Hange about it when she comes back.” He seemed unhappy with my answer.

“You get chest pains? When? Are you stressed? Did you eat? Are you sure it’s your chest?” I stood up, brushing my hands off. There was no time to answer his questions as I knew there were probably four or five people outside the stockroom door waiting to order.

“I’m really fine, Jonas. When Hange comes back, I’ll take it up with her.” Again, he was unhappy with that. He was going to try to drag me to a doctor pretty soon if I kept brushing it off, but there was nothing else to do. I didn’t know why it was happening and it never happened before. As he said, it was probably stress… but about what, I had no clue. I just walked back out the door, cup in hand, and took the next person’s order while I expected Jonas to finish stocking the back room. Like I predicted, the next day, Ben was at my door with Jonas early in the morning. They knocked loud enough to wake me up and I greeted them at the door my eyes puffy and in my pajamas. The café wasn’t open, and they knew where the key was to open the door. They were just making a scene to make a point.

“We’re taking you to a doctor.” I rubbed my eyes, making sure to not scratch them with the wrap I’d put around them to sleep.

“I don’t need to go to a doctor.” Both of them shook their heads at the same time and Jonas pushed himself in, saying something about how they wouldn’t leave till I came with them.

“We set up an appointment for you in thirty minutes anyway. Get dressed.” Ben followed in and sat on the chair across from Jonas. It was like a mirror image, both of them with their arms crossed and frowns faced towards me. Even on the way there, their faces didn’t change. I tried to tell them over and over again that I was fine, and the chest pains were nothing to worry about, but they wouldn’t listen.

“That’s what Dad said before he ended up in the hospital. You need to get it checked up, I’m not letting it happen to you too.” I rolled my eyes at Ben's care.

“I’m not related to him, so I think I’m fine. I’m not going to develop heart failure at twenty-seven.” Again, they didn’t listen as they walked behind me, making sure I couldn’t stop or escape from them. I looked for an exit multiple times too, but at one point Ben had his arm around me almost strangling me to make sure I didn’t leave.

Truth be told, I hated going to the doctor.

Sitting in the tiny room, waiting for him to call us to his office was even more of a pain than my chest issue. I hated betting inoculated, I hated having people probe at my stomach, and I hated every time they would prescribe me some sort of salve for my hands and it wouldn’t help at all. The doctors in Trost were useless in my opinion. If anything, they were going to poke and prod and find nothing wrong with me. Then I’ll have a bill to pay and nothing to show for it. My legs were bouncing up and down just from waiting for so long. It was a rest day, why were we waiting this long for this old doctor to tell me nothing? I just wanted to go back and sleep more as I went to bed when the sun was rising last night.

“Flynn?” All three of us stood up, and I turned to glare at the men who pulled me here against my own will.

“I’m going back on my own.” Before they could protest, and after I lightly kicked Jonas in the shin so he would sit down, I walked back into the office. It was always the same room. The doctor had his own desk and you would sit to the right of it where all his tools were. He would listen to your heart, have you breathe here and there, poke you, and then miraculously have a cure from all of that. I didn’t trust doctors.

“Miss Flynn, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you here and as a patient. How is the café?” I put up a fake smile for Dr. Los. He was a nice man, but he was a doctor. All doctors are bad in my book. Besides, he would always prescribe me something for my hands that would burn and never worked. I bet that’s what he thought I was here for.

“Well, it wasn’t on my own will to come back here, Dr. Los.” He seemed confused but got a tool out to do a routine check-up while he asked me what was wrong. I could already see him setting up the balm to mix.

“Why were you forced here today? Deep breath in.” I took a breath as he put something on my chest to listen to my heart. Convenient.

“I’ve been having chest pains recently.” He sat up and looked me up and down, his face finally showing his confusion. He reached over and listened to my heart once more for a longer period of time. The look didn’t drop from his face.

“Well, your heart sounds fine and you don’t really have any visible symptoms. All I can see is that you’re tired. Perhaps it’s just stress on the heart from overworking?” He turned to his desk to write something down and I just shrugged.

“I personally don’t think it’s that big of a deal, but Ben and Jonas both think it’s something. I was also going to consult with one of my friends who studies… body systems and functions, but they pulled me here first.” He rubbed his chin with one hand, looking down at his notes.

“When you get chest pains, what are you usually doing? Strenuous activity?” I shook my head.

“One time I was cooking, the other I was in bed and just woke up. The most recent time, yesterday, I was just talking to Jonas about something and it started. They’ll come for only a few seconds, a minute at the most, and then go away. It also helps if I apply something cold to my face or chest.” He nodded writing that down in some unreadable script before turning back to me.

“How painful are they usually?”

“Most of the time it’s just an initial shock and then dull enough where I can function well. This past time with Jonas it took a while for the pain to subside.” His hand went back to his chin.

“And you said you were doing anything taxing or strenuous to the body or brain?” I looked up at the ceiling and thought about that one. I guess when I was talking to Jonas, I was thinking about Levi, but that didn’t seem to be a reason. While at night time, when I got the chest pains, I was thinking about Levi, but I think about him all the time in bed and they don’t always come. Then, I’d just get them randomly at the cafe and splash myself with hot coffee or flour. There was no correlation.

“No, nothing, Dr. Los. Nothing that I don’t normally do.” He went and wrote down something again, before bringing his notes with him to look at the shelves of medicine behind his desk. Great, something else that won’t work.

“Have you been overly stressed recently?”

“Not more than usual.” He looked over his shoulder at me as he reached for a jar of some powder.

“And how much stress is usual for you?” I had to give that to him, that was a good question. I had to think about how to quantify my stress level to answer him.

“Every day I try to wake up with the sun to go put pastries in the oven. I clean and stock the shop. People come in around seven in the morning and I serve them until morning rush stops at ten. I get deliveries, prep more pastries for lunch and early dinner. During that time, I serve people who come in and out until it gets heavy from eleven-thirty to one-thirty. After that, I clean for a second time, restock from back to the front, talk to people who come in and out, and then get the pre-orders ready for early dinner. Around four, people come in for early dinner orders and pick-ups, people order pick-ups for tomorrow, and then I close at five. The rest of the night, I’m cleaning and prepping bread or pastries for tomorrow morning. I find time at night to sit and read or talk to Jonas, then I go to bed and do it over again. I don’t know if I find stress in monotony, but when thinking it over, I’m not stressed much Doctor Los.” He sighed and started mixing something together on his little sterilized table and left me in silence to think about my routine and all the things I left out of it. I don’t sleep until an hour before the sun is supposed to rise. I stay up all night with restful thoughts. No medicine could fix that, so why worry him?

“Hearing your daily routine, I think your chest pains come from fatigue. Your skin color also isn’t too good, which shows how tired you are and maybe a disconnect from your liver. I’ll make you some pills here that will help you sleep, but if the chest pains persist, I encourage you to go to a doctor in Mitras who specializes in central issues. There’s little I can do here with the supply shortage. I’m sure you understand.” Even with millions of people going, Trost and the rest of the walls were slowly nearing famine again. All the tell-tale signs were there. Wheat and flour bags were getting smaller and more expensive, food was going away quicker, and soon everyone would have to limit themselves to one meal a day to survive. Even the café sales were going down and I was making smaller and smaller batches daily. People were naïve to think the only reason we had famine before was the refugees' fault when we’ve lost most of our land to the titans. There’s barely any land to farm in Wall Sina, so they have to rely on the farms around Wall Rose, just waiting for when the titans learn how to break through that wall too. It was a delicate situation.

“Thank you, Doctor Los.” I took the glass bottle he handed me and walked out after saying goodbye. Jonas and Ben stood up right away and they seemed a bit relieved I came out with a bottle of something.

“Lack of sleep and stress. He said to take these every night.” I held up the bottle and didn’t bother stopping as they followed me out.

“That’s all he said? That doesn’t make sense. You were doubled over in pain yesterday.” I shrugged, waving to a café regular as we passed. Maybe I’d pick up Elias and June on the way home.

“I’m not the doctor, Jonas. You can go back and ask him if you want.” My voice had taken on an annoyed tone. They took me to the doctor, the one I told them I didn’t need to see, and now they’re unhappy with the results. It’s almost as if I told them this would happen.

“Did he say anything else about further treatment?” I looked over my shoulder at Ben, who was still concerned. His concern was more valid, however, since this is what happened to Mr. Flynn. One day, he was fine, the next he was keeled over having a minor heart attack in the middle of the café. I could see a hint of fear in his eyes.

“He said if it didn’t get any better I should find someone in Mitras.”

“We can’t afford the doctors in Mitras.”

“Well, we won’t need to go to one anyways.”

“Ev-”

“I’m fine, Ben.” He huffed as we reached the café and I was thinking about utilizing one of these pills to go back to sleep on my day off when I saw two familiar figures standing at the doorway, horses already tied up. A little pain hit my chest again, but this time it couldn’t have been because of whatever illness I had.

“Commander Erwin, what brings you to our café today?” Ben was the first to greet him as we walked up, bowing to both Erwin and Hange. Erwin bowed back and looked over at me. The last time we had seen each other was on that expedition a few months ago. The weather was now warmer, indicated by only having on their cut-off jackets. Why had Hange brought him on an off day? She always comes on Thursdays.

“We wanted to come to talk to Eva without being an intrusion to the business. I hope that is fine with you, Eva.” I smiled up at him as Hange came over to put an arm around my shoulder.

“Of course, Commander. You two can go back home now.” My eyes narrowed at the two men, hoping they would get the memo to finally leave me. I knew that if Erwin and Hange hadn’t shown up, they would have stayed to lecture me about my health. Jonas would have also morphed it into an excuse to lecture me about getting over past lovers and trauma. Jonas glared back at me but knew he couldn’t take precedence over Erwin or Hange. I kicked him out so Hange could stay over the other time.

“We’re having fish for dinner tonight if you want to come, Ev.” I nodded to Ben and he hauled Jonas over to turn back home. Jonas’s face told me that he’d press me to talk about this later, so I’d better come over for dinner.

“What’s in the bottle?” Hange grabbed it from my hand and inspected the contents. She could heal a titan bite, but she knew very little when it came to apothecaries. I told her the whole story as I unlocked the café and put down chairs for us to sit.

“Chest pains?” She asked again to clarify and I handed them both a cup of morning coffee, nodding. The glance she gave Erwin didn’t go past me.

“Yeah, but it’s bearable. Maybe it’s the weather too. The doctor said everything seemed fine, but I just looked tired.” Erwin took a sip of his cup.

“I will say, with due respect, every time I see you, whether a glance or a meeting like this, you do look more and more tired. Your color has changed too.” I said down, picking only a glass of water to drink. There might be a chance I still want to go to sleep after this, so I shouldn't indulge in coffee.

“I guess I am more tired than usual. If business keeps going down though, it won’t be a horrible workload anymore. At the beginning of the summer, everyone wanted fruit. We’ll see if the sleeping pills work.” Hange learned forward.

“So, you’re still not sleeping well?” She was more up-to-date on my ailments, and I could see Erwin’s eyes change when she said that. This was a recurring problem. I just held my water cup in two hands, trying to use the coldness to keep the dull sensation that was growing at bay.

“Yes,” I mumbled. She sat back and crossed her arms, seeming like she was assessing the situation at hand.

“Because of the pain or because of…” It felt slightly uncomfortable that Erwin was here to hear everything. Besides Hange, he was the person who probably had the most contact with Levi. Were they telling these things to him? Or, rather, did he not care? I didn’t want to be stifling him when he still didn’t want to have anything to do with me.

“The second reason, yes.” It was even quieter than my first yes, and Erwin’s eyes sparkled in recognition. He could have guessed the second reason, regardless if he knew or not from Hange. He cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry to bring up Captain Levi not knowing your remaining opinions on him, however at the least, he seems remorseful.” My heartbeat went a bit faster when he said that, giving me some sick form of hope. I gave up though. If he really was remorseful and regretted his actions, he would be back here sitting at his table. Even after he tried to give me his cape, he never showed up.

“Well, if he’s so remorseful, Commander, then he can come himself. He’s had plenty of time.” They both shifted in their seats uncomfortably again. This was the second thing that made me feel uneasy and the pain in my chest act up again. I was trying my best to conceal it.

“Captain Levi has been dealing with certain things and is unable to come.” Erwin sounded terse and professional, which told me he was hiding something. It was insincere.

“Has he been dealing with it for a year-and-a-half?”

“Have you been dealing with this for a year-and-a-half?” Hange gestured to my chest and I grabbed it instinctively. They didn’t answer my question.

“No, it only started after the day we encountered you at the Trost gates. Back then, it was nothing, but now it’s…” Erwin sighed.

“We should tell her now.” My panic shot up after that, seeing their somber faces. Hange was looking at Erwin to make sure she heard him correctly. It was an order, not a suggestion. My hand gripped my chest harder as she turned to look at me, pushing her glasses up.

“Someone in the capital had given conflicting information about Levi. Conflicting criminal information. He’s been having to go back and forth, proving his innocence with each visit. Something happened recently, and he started getting migraine attacks as well. He sat out of our last expedition, but the capital sent MPs to come and take him back while we were gone. Apparently, there have been shocking developments on his case, enough to detain him. He’s yet to come back, but there have been reports given to us about his condition. While they verified that he isn’t hurt, he’s been stricken with migraines. That's what the report said. We haven’t been allowed to go and see him until a later date.” My blouse was balled up in my fist and I could feel another one coming. It was slowly creeping into my chest, the dull pain growing larger and larger with each hard beat of my heart.

“What criminal information?” It was urgent, and she looked at Erwin again before telling me. He’d given her a nod of approval. I quickly drank water, holding the cup to my chest to try and alleviate the pain. This was more urgent.

“Murder.” The cup dropped onto the floor, breaking into three pieces. I had to use both hands to grab at my chest. Hange was up first, coming to feel my temperature before putting her hand on my chest.

“Irregularly fast, heart skipping beats, unable to breathe. Just like Levi, Erwin.” I tiled my head back and let out a groan of pain, not being able to breathe anymore. This was the worst it had been. It was harsh. Biting. My heart felt like someone had stuck their hand in my chest and was squeezing it as hard as they can. My body was going cold though. I couldn’t feel my legs or my hands, and grabbing at my chest did nothing. All I could do was look at the ceiling or Hange, trying to get confirmation of my condition. My hearing went next, only being able to see Hange yell something to Erwin as he dashed off behind me. What was happening to me? Another sharp pain came, and my body threw itself forward. I would have hit my head on the edge of the table if Hange didn’t stop my body’s descent. This time, she took me to the ground with her, trying to get an easier angle. She had her head on my chest, listening to my heartbeat and tapping it out with her finger. It scared me that I couldn’t feel the sensation of her tapping on my thigh. I could just see it happening. I could only see. I couldn't feel or hear. When Erwin put a rag on my head, probably wet with cold water, I still couldn’t feel it.

I didn’t know why my body was reacting this way to hearing news about him. I hadn’t seen him in months, we haven’t exchanged words in length, and yet I was rolling on the floor in pain because of what Hange said. It had to have been my body reacting, not me. It couldn’t be me. My body must have just found a trigger point in Hange’s words, and released this pain for me to handle. It couldn’t be because of him. He didn’t care about me, so I didn’t care about him. Not this much.

A hand went to my face, pulling it so I locked eyes with Hange. She must have realized that I couldn’t hear, so she mouthed her words slowly.

‘You’re. Coming. With. Us.’

I didn’t have the ability to protest, and even if I could have, I wouldn’t have. Levi was gone, yes. He wouldn’t be at the HQ. I would be fine. I wouldn’t have to lock eyes with him again. I wouldn’t have to pretend like it didn’t hurt to think about him. To look at him and remember. He wasn’t there. I wouldn’t have to pretend. Not this much. Not like I normally do. Another wash of pain came over me, this time making me go into a fetal position, knocking the towel off my head onto the ground. At this point, I was having an out-of-body experience. Something was making me feel like I couldn’t control my body, and I was only to wither on the ground and watch from above. The only reason I knew I was still grounded was the fact that every thirty seconds, my heart would spasm again, causing me to let out a shout in pain. I heard my shouts loud and clear. Everything else was drowned out by them. Even when Erwin lifted me up in the air or put me in front of him on his horse, I was already so far gone in some primordial state that I didn’t notice. He had my face towards his chest, sitting with both of my legs over the side of the horse. This way he could probably control my shouts of pain when I couldn’t.

At some point, my heart felt like the hand instantly crushed it. It was right outside of the gates of Trost when I lost consciousness. The hand around my heart squeezed as hard as it could, and it felt like it popped the organ as easily as a balloon. This was the most painful, and I hated that my body kept me awake to feel it. It felt like my heart was forcefully exiting through my throat encompassed in a shout I couldn’t hear. I lifted my face to the sky, feeling only the sky collapse with me. Rain hitting my face as I fell backward. My eyes forcefully closed, all the strength in my body had left along with the yell, and I felt like I was floating. The pain left immediately, or rather, I was finally numb enough where I wouldn’t have to deal with the spasms of my insides. With one more huff of air, I was out. Blackness. No sound. No sensations. Only darkness welcomed me into a light, pain-free embrace.

His body was above, molding to mine. His lips were doing the same. Molding to my own, slipping a tongue in and out. I could feel my lungs call out for air, but I didn’t want to let him get away from me so soon.

He would be leaving tomorrow.

Finally, he lost air, and broke apart from my lips, leaving only a centimeter of space, filling it with our breaths. In the time he had to breathe, he grabbed my leg, pulling it to wrap around his hip. His hand stayed there on the side of my thigh, not daring to slide closer to the rest of my body, no matter how much I wanted him to. I wanted him to do it. Do it all. After tonight, our domestic bliss would come crashing down, and I wanted this last night to solidify what we’d been doing these past few weeks.

His lips were on mine again, his other hand weaving its way through my hair. My hands were wrapped around his neck, playing with the fresh undercut I’d given him in the bathroom moments prior. He moaned into the kiss when I pulled on the longer locks, and I tried my best to press my body back up into his. To feel every curve and ridge of his abdomen. It was my way of trying to let him know it was okay. I was willing. His lips detached from mine, leaving me breathless, as he continued his assault on my jaw, and then my neck, and then my collarbone. Going lower and lower. I moaned loudly when his mouth glanced over the one spot on my neck, his hot breath and tongue tickling my skin. He pulled my hair back, opening my neck up for an easier assault, and his hand reached down, playing with the buttons on my shirt. Well, on his shirt. He used his teeth to lightly scrape my collarbone, making me light on fire inside.

“Levi,” I moaned loudly, trying to grab at his shirt, two buttons already done, to take it off completely, “Please! Let me feel you,” I begged. All in one moment, his body froze on top of me and almost laid down on top of me, not hard, but enough so that I couldn’t reach to pull at his shirt again. With his body completely on mine, I could also feel the arousal tempting him pressed into my lower thigh. Yet, he was still, only his head in my neck.

“I… Not like this.” He sat up on his knee between my legs, arousal still evident as he looked down at me, one hand tightly grabbing onto the back of the couch to gain self-restraint as he looked down at me. Even like this, he looked godly. Messy hair, shirt pulled out of his pants showing the top of his chest, face red, and eyes blown wide; I reached for his pants, but he grabbed my hand, tangling his fingers into mine again. I sat up too, back resting on the arm of the couch.

“Levi, it’s fine. It’s your last night here. I can make you feel go-” He shook his head, cutting me off.

“I don’t want my first time with you to only be because it could be my last.”

“Please be safe. Please.” I had his face in between both of my hands, trying not to shed a tear. The early morning wind was whipping around us as we stood outside my door. The sun was barely over the horizon, permitting Levi to be able to show such physical affection outside the four walls he’d found so much comfort in over the past few weeks. I could see it in his face, too. He wasn’t hiding anything. He didn’t want to leave.

“I promise I’ll come back alive. There’s so much still left to do, Eva.” There were no jokes, no smiles, no laughs. Nothing was humorous about this situation. This was the first time I’d ever sent him off in person. The first time that could possibly be the last time.

“You have to come back.” He put one hand over mine, nodding.

“You have to write.”

“I will.” He removed my hands from his face, holding them by my chest. He was relishing in a final touch, and I could he was contemplating something. He was conflicted about something, evident by the crease in his forehead. He wanted to say something.

“Eva?” My eyes were always boring into his. Trying to see what he really wanted to say to me. We only had a few fleeting moments left.

“Levi?” He took two more seconds before shaking his head, pulling me into a hug. I took in his scent one more time, wrapping my arms around his middle.

“Please be safe. For me. I know it’s a normal expedition, but anything could happen. Especially since it’s a long one.” When I thought he would pull back, he didn’t. He held me there, swapping body heat. The only thing I could hear were our hearts, beating in sync as the seconds we had left passed. Time was passing too fast. Once he pulled back, I knew by his face that he was leaving.

“I’ll see you after, Eva. Like always.” I nodded and he smiled. It was fake. Something to make me feel better about this situation. I had no idea how the wives and families of the Scouts were able to do this every time; letting your lover go off to imminent death every month like clockwork.

“Like always,” I repeated, and he leaned in, giving my forehead one soft kiss before turning down the stairs. The warmth still lingered, and I watched as he put his hood up, no turning back, and left down the street. When I raced to my window to be able to see him, he had turned once more, looking up at me through the glass. He nodded, like he always did, acknowledgment I was there, and then mouthed something to me that I was unable to read. Before I could give him a confused look, he turned back around, walking down the street and turning, making me lose sight of him.

I awoke when my whole body jumped, landing down on hardwood. A horse neighed, and when I opened my eyes, all I saw was the blue sky.

“Oh, you’re up!” I looked to my left jumping in fear, finally able to hear Hange again. The pain was gone. Relief. I lifted my hand up to rub my eyes and noticed the excess tears I had to wipe along with it. I was laying in the bed of a cart, Erwin and one other blonde man driving while Hange sat back with me.

“H-Hange?! Where…?” The landscape was familiar as I looked around. In my haze, I was trying to remember where we were. I’d been here before.

“Okay, now, before you get mad or freak out, I need you to promise me you won’t get mad or freak out. Remember what Erwin asked you before?” I narrowed my eyes at her, not knowing where this was going. She was most likely referring to our first meeting, Erwin and I, but that was almost two years ago. Still, I was curious and I sat up to promise.

“I promise?” Again, her face went back to serious, pushing her glasses up and looking down at me. This made the dull ache of chest pain reappear and I instinctively grabbed at my chest, only to see I was dressed differently. Someone had changed me into more formal wear, a dress combined with a shawl hanging off my shoulders.

“Today is Levi’s trial. In front of the Premiere. They got an anonymous tip that Levi had murdered someone important while in the Underground. Originally, we thought this would just be a ploy for defamation of character, but now it seems someone in the government wants to take it further.” I sat up completely, sitting on a bench across from Hange and getting a clear view of both men upfront. My heart was beating fast now, not in pain, but with anxiety. They wanted to kill him. He’d predicted this.

“What do you want me to do?” It must have surprised all of them, my willingness to do something for Levi. While I was still angry and annoyed and confused, I wasn’t going to let him die on the government's chopping block. Even the new man, blonde hair and stubble, looked over at me, impressed in a way. There was also an ulterior motive. If I saved Levi, I might be able to talk to him. To yell at him. To finally do something.

Hange reached into a bag next to her and pulled out a card that I hadn’t seen in years.

“You need to testify in Levi’s favor. You’re the only one who can be confirmed as a member of the Underground at some point in your life. If they believe you as a primary source, they cannot press more charges on Levi. Frankly, we think the only reason this has come forward is that they don’t think we have someone like you on our side.” I looked at the card, rolling it over and over in my hand. A picture of my old self was looking up at me, young and bruised. The day I was issued this ID was the day after Mr. Flynn found me. A marker of my original status, and one that I’d forgotten after getting a regular, forged Trost Citizen ID.

Underground Citizen ID

Maria [No Last Name]

St. Sina Orphanage

“You want me to lie to the government about my time in the Underground?” Erwin spoke up next to me, clearing his throat before reminding me of my promise.

“When we asked if you were willing to protect Levi or any of the Scouts, this is what we meant. Protect them against the government. If they can hinge Levi’s life on a false pretense, we can stretch the truth in our favor as well. You said before you would be willing.” It sounded like an order coming from his mouth. There would be no way to get out of here, even if I wanted to. They had already accepted the fact that I would be used to secure Levi’s freedom.

“I agreed when we were in a relationship, Commander. Now, we’ve left each other on bad terms. Why are you so sure I’ll accept?” I could see him smile out of the corner of my eye. So did Hange.

“Squad Leader Hange started regularly visiting your café because Captain Levi ordered her to.” My eyes widened, looking at Hange who just nodded. Her arms were crossed and she leaned back in a smug position like she’d successfully hidden this from me for a long time and she was proud.

“And because you still slip packets of peppermint tea into my bag before I leave for the HQ. And because Levi keeps asking about your health. And because you still cr-” I held up my hand for her to stop, knowing what she was about to say next. Most of what she said didn’t surprise me, because secretly inside I was always trying to convince myself of his reasonings. I tried to convince myself that he still cared and still loved me. I had to hide my relief when Hange said those things, but still, I wanted Levi to say it to my face. I needed him to say it to me now.

“I’ll save him.” The blonde man smiled slightly, then turned back to direct the horses on the curve of the gravel road. We were only a few minutes out of Wall Sina. Erwin was the first to speak after Hange’s shriek of delight.

“You’ll be questioned in front of most of the MPs and Commanders of other branches. The Premiere is a very… He’s a very interesting man. He has his vices, and beautiful women are one of them. He’ll be more inclined to listen to you because of that. Yet, there are guidelines for what you are to say.” I turned to look at Erwin, who was now turned completely to talk to me, “You cannot mention you and Levi’s current position. You only know him from the Underground and left a few years before he was taken. The murder they are trying to pin on Captain Levi was when you were the age of seventeen. You have to convince them you were in the Underground then.” I thought about how I would do that. My ID card was issued a few days before I left, and Mr. Flynn was the one who snuck me out to the surface. There would be no official records of my leave. That could turn out to be a good or bad thing.

“Second, you have to answer all the questions short and sweet. You cannot upset the Premiere or that will give him more of a resolve to hang Levi. While Zachary is on our side, he still is being pressured from the inside to handle Levi. No one likes people from the Underground, and they might treat you with disgust. You cannot let that get to you, under any circumstances.”

“Does the government know of my existence? Right now. Do they know I’m coming?” He shook his head.

“No, we think not. We only thought of this option yesterday, that’s why we came for you. Levi himself has no idea you’re coming to defend him, we just told him not to worry.” I put the blanket over my bare legs, realizing now why I’d been put into such a dress. Persuasion.

“They’re going to ask me if I was a prostitute, aren’t they?” It was the common question women of the Underground were asked. It was only countered by the fact I was twelve when I left, but now I’d have to lie. How was a girl past the age of fourteen supposed to survive alone in the Underground? There was only one conclusion people drew. I could see Erwin sigh and his body tighten up.

“They’re going to ask you many things. That being one of them. However, you need to vouge for Levi’s character. You need to convince them that he wasn’t a murder and that you were with him when you were seventeen. If they believe your alibi of him being with you the whole time, their fake claims have no base.” My heart started beating fast as the walls came into view.

“What happens if it goes wrong?” Erwin turned back around, ready to greet the guards with his travel permit.

“Don’t let it.” I looked to Hange who gave me another reassuring smile before looking out in front of the cart. It was resting all on me. That’s what the smile said.

When we entered, everyone was silent. It was only another twenty-minute ride into the capital past various inner towns. During this time, I was thinking about what I would say. Not only would I have hundreds of eyes on me, but I would also be seeing Levi there in a vulnerable state. I couldn’t imagine what his reaction to my presence would be, but it was anything but positive. I’d have to keep those emotions at bay while I was anxiously lying his way to freedom. I stepped up into a formal carriage as we got off the cart, ready to enter Mitras. As soon as the driver closed the door behind us, I was aware of how small these were. I was aware of how close we were to the central courthouse in Mitras and how close I was to standing in front of everyone. I gripped my stomach this time, feeling it twist and turn at the thought. One wrong move and everyone would be at fault. If they find out I’m lying under oath, I would die too. Erwin would be punished. Levi would die. I was the one who was holding them on my shoulders. When Erwin had requested this service of me, I never knew this was the extent of what he meant. Betray the government in person for us. Risk everyone’s life for us. Is this how they felt on a daily basis? Is this the trust they had in each other? In me?

“This is Miche Zacharius, by the way. He’s the second to Levi in skill and is one of the only people to hurt Levi. One time he shoved his face into the ground.” I looked up at him and nodded. He nodded back and sniffed once.

“You smell nervous.” His voice was smooth, but I was more surprised at what he had just said to me. Hange only laughed, a reassuring hand around my shoulder.

“He has a really good nose!” Her laughing didn’t reassure me.

“I-I’m… I’ll be fine soon. Just let me process.” I whispered, almost feeling embarrassed that he’d called me out like that. All three of these people had faced and killed titans, watched their comrades die, and now here I was afraid.

“You can’t show them that you’re nervous in the courtroom or they’ll use that against you.” I was aware now that all three pairs of eyes were on me. It felt like they were looking at me like some sort of child. I was acting like one yes, but they could have at least cut me some slack. I wasn’t used to doing any of this.

“You’ll get used to this, Eva. Once you acquire a general disdain for the government, it’s easy to lie.” Erwin lifted up the curtain to see where we were on the way to the courthouse.

“You’re saying I’ll have to do this again?” Both of my arms went around my stomach at the thought. If I was already about to puke the first time, why was he so confident there was going to be another time. And another. This just made all three of them laugh, again like I was a child, and I just stared down at Miche’s boots who sat across from me.

“You’ll be fine. Just… Just think of another emotion to fuel you. You’re mad at Levi, right? Go in there mad at him, not nervous. Displace your emotions.” I opened one eye and looked at Hange out of the corner of it. She was really trying to help me, but I was psyching myself out too much for it to work. The carriage slowed, and soon the door opened. Standing outside to greet us seemed to be ten or twenty MPs and another bald man. He was older but smiled warmly as Erwin stepped out.

“Don’t act nervous,” Miche muttered before stepping out behind Erwin on the tiny stairs that were placed for us.

“Let out a silent scream before we go. That always helps to pump me up!” Again, I looked at her out of the corner of my eye but paused for a few seconds before doing what she said. It didn’t help the feeling of need to throw up, but it did relieve some sort of knot in my stomach. Before I could say anything, Hange stepped out of the cart and I knew I was next. People were staring inside at my figure, trying to understand who else they could have brought.

“Okay. Okay. Displace your anger. You’re angry. You hate the MPs. Think of Duran. He’s a dick. He’s an MP. Fuck them. Yeah, fuck the government. Let’s go save, Levi. Yeah. Yeah.” I stood up, and as soon as I took a step out of the carriage, all eyes were going to look at me, that positive attitude I had sunk inside of me. Why were there so many?!

“And who is this?” The old man looked at me as I walked up next to Hange.

“E-Evlynn Flynn… sir.” I bowed once and he just smiled again. It reminded me of Mr. Flynn, which calmed my nerves a tiny bit. He was on our side. I could tell that.

“This is Commander Dot Pyxis of the Garrison Regiment.” Pyxis reached out to shake my hand and I took it tentatively.

“Nervous,” I heard Miche behind me whisper, which made me straighten up. This was showtime now. I couldn’t be scared like I was in the carriage. No, I was scared, but I couldn’t show it. It was for Levi. Levi would be yelling at me now. Saying how weak I looked. I needed to straighten up and act like I knew why the fuck I was here. I was confident. I was going to win.

“Evlynn Flynn... You broke one of my Trost Captain’s noses.” That made me freeze up, and I also let out a noise of fear. Fuck. How did he know that? Yet, he only laughed at my reaction.

“It’s alright, it’s alright. He needed it, I believe. Come this way, the trial is about to begin.” He transferred his hand onto my shoulder, pushing me to walk next to him leaving Hange, Miche, and Erwin behind us.

“Evlynn Flynn. An interesting name for an interesting person. Why did Commander Erwin bring you here today? He’d only alerted me about your visit, but not the reason for.” I couldn’t look back at Erwin to search for an answer now. Everyone was watching. MPs were lined up, knowing what was happening inside the military building, and looking directly at me. I was the key witness today and the one who was most out of place. Everyone was wearing a military uniform with their respected emblems, and I was in a sundress, a cream shawl wrapped around my arms. Even if I wasn’t here to testify, I would still be getting stares.

“I’m here to defend Captain Levi, Commander.” His smile didn’t waiver and he just nodded, opening the door for me so I would walk into the building. Upon entry, there were even more people lined up against the walls, waiting for entrance into two wooden doors. Those had to be the courtroom.

“Well, I wish you good luck today, Evlynn Flynn.” Pyxis walked off, and I stood there, waiting for instructions from Erwin. I didn’t have the heart or courage to move from the position I was in. Everyone was looking. I was a surprise. I was unknown. Who was this girl that Commander Erwin was talking to? I was afraid, but I had to swallow it down so Miche didn’t remind me.

“Pyxis is on our side as far as we know. You assaulted a Garrison official?” I knew Erwin was trying to lighten up the mood, finally seeing that he needed to as well. I was still staring at the doors, not knowing what was behind them. Duran had described the military court as brutal and never-ending. His words were now echoing over and over in my head. What a horrible voice to have in my head minutes before I was going to lie to his precious government.

“I… yes. A punch. Just one. He was being very annoying.” Erwin and Miche both huffed once at this because the seriousness of the situation didn’t allow any laughs. Hange however, had positioned her arm around my shoulders again. It was for comfort.

“Well, don’t try to assault any more today,” she whispered, tracing my line of view with her own, “Levi is in there right now. He’s chained to a pole in the center. When it’s your turn to talk, you won’t need to move unless they ask you to come to the floor. If they do, you go around to a small gate and they’ll let you on the platform, only in front of Levi. Don’t let him distract you. When you walk into the courtroom, don’t look at him, only when we’re standing. He knows better than to prolong it, but he might have lost a little self-control while contained. Can you do all of this?” The doors opened, one by one, and soldiers started flooding in. We would enter last as Levi’s defendants, right to the front row. I took another deep breath, letting it out like in the carriage. Still, I wanted to throw up.

“Hange, I feel like I’m going to pass out.” She took her arm off of me, starting to walk in when Erwin prompted us. One more smile came to me before she turned back to her serious face. Erwin was the last one to the door and stopped to turn to me and nod. He would wait for me so I could walk in next to him, trying to block my body from everyone’s view. If I could hide behind him, even a little bit, I would be okay. I told him this in the carriage. So, I joined him a the door, walking in and seeing the exact scene Hange had described. Their eyes were on me again, but this time I felt the intensity of an extra pair. I couldn’t look like Hange said, but I felt them on me. All the way over to his right side, I felt them.

“Erwin, is there an excuse for me to leave yet?” I could see him out of the corner of my eye as we turned to join Hange and Miche at the front of the small fence, blocking us from the platform. Even when Erwin’s body was in my peripheral, I could feel the stare. I could see his hands, shackled behind the post.

“If you’re fast, you’ll get out in thirty minutes tops. I’ll buy you dinner and supplies you need for your café if you pull this off. Is that enough motivation?” My mouth dried up, turning to press my middle against the top of the wooden fence. He stared right at me, not hiding any emotion. He was angry. It was directed at me. His eyes were wide and furious that I’d walked in here today, knowing exactly what Erwin’s plan was. I tried to keep my eyes neutral, but they softened a bit, pleading with him. Let me do this.

“I’ll give him a month off. Now, look ahead. You two are obviously staring at each other,” Erwin whispered, again almost like a command, and I gave Levi one more glance before turning to the empty chair of the Premier. Levi didn’t. He was still looking right at me, and I grabbed my heart as a small pain popped up. No, I can’t do this here. Not here. The chest pains can’t come now. I pulled my shawl around me, trying to get anything to block the intensity of his stare. My skin was heating up, regardless of how far away we were. He needed to stop. Stop looking at me. Please.

The doors behind the stand opened, and three people walked out. One of them was Premier Zachary, and I could instantly tell who. He ascended the tall stand and went to sit in the middle chair, the biggest one, shrugging off the military jacket he had on. The only thing that indicated he was the Premier was the red sash across his chest. When we sat, he rolled up his sleeves and looked at the papers presented in front of him. Everyone went silent, and he looked down at Levi who had shifted his gaze. Thank you. Thank any one. I couldn’t deal with the intensity of his eyes like this. Not after so long.

“Captain Levi. You are here because you’ve been charged with first-degree murder of a Garrison Captain who patrolled the Underground during the year of eight-hundred and twenty-seven. Because of your status as a Captain of the Scout Regiment, we have agreed to try you with military precedents. The sole decision of your death in my hands,” He pushed his glasses up, almost groaning at the last statement. My heart, again, started beating out of my chest, and no doubt those next to me could hear it. In my head over and over, I was giving mantras of encouragement. The man was so high above me, I was afraid. Afraid of his stare. Afraid of the moment he called out my name, “The Scout Regiment has also been given the privilege to transfer interrogation to a witness as to testify that Captain Levi is innocent of this murder charge. Those opposed to this have not spoken up, and therefore will now not be allowed to be recognized. I wish, also, to finish this case by lunch, so please don’t make this difficult. Commander Smith, you may present your witness.” That’s when all eyes went to me again, and this time, I grabbed at my bottom of my shawl to try and conceal how nervous I was. I just stared directly up at Zachary trying to concentrate on him. The only three people in the room were me, him, and Levi. No one else was there. Only us. I couldn’t be nervous. My voice couldn’t waiver. I needed to be strong. For him. For Levi. I need to do this for him. For the Scouts. I can’t kill titans, or save the world, but I could do this.

“Our witness is Evlynn Flynn, who grew up with Captain Levi in the Underground. She was there with Captain Levi at the designated time of the murder and can bring Captain’s name and reputation to light.” Zachary linked his fingers together, finally locking eyes with me. I could see the small tint of enjoyment when he was finally given professional reasons to stare at me like the others in the military.

“Miss Flynn, thank you for joining us. I’m sure the operations of the military are unknown to you, so I will guide you through this questioning with ease if you comply. Do you have any proof that you were once a citizen of the Underground?” Hange held the ID up behind me, and Zachary motioned for someone to come and give it to him from far away. I still didn’t waver. My gaze was directed at him. Displace your feelings. Be angry. Like Levi. Be angry. Seem sharp. Seem unwavering.

“Miss Flynn, I’m sure that this is not your real name, yes?” That’s when Levi’s eyes snapped over to me again, and I took a gulp. This was what he wanted to know. The information that previously was eating away at him because I wouldn’t tell him my real name out of fun. Now he was going to learn what it was so close to death. This wasn’t how he wanted to learn it, I know it wasn’t. This wasn’t how I wanted him to learn it either. Either way, I wanted to be the one to say it aloud. I wanted to be the one who learned it from still.

“Maria, yes. Only Maria. I now go by Evlynn, so please refer to me with that name, Premier Zachary.” It was a light smile at my tone, and I even surprised myself. I didn’t stutter or waver as I had with Pyxis. I sounded confident only because I took initiative. I told Levi, not Zachary. I would have to feign the same confidence throughout this whole trial, even if my fist was throbbing with how tight I was holding my shawl.

“Miss Flynn, I’ll call you that, yes? Miss Flynn, how do you know Captain Levi?” I cleared my head, running through the story we’d built in the carriage. I held up my hands, still wrapped in bandages.

“When I was young, I was put in an orphanage, only to care for myself. I would wonder at night and suffer at the hand of those in the Underground. One night, when I was eight, Captain Levi saved me from being burned by one of those such people. My hands are the only token I have in remembrance of that night. From then on, Captain Levi and I became friends. Supporting each other.” I took my hands down, continuing to squeeze my shawl with one hand. This was the only place on my body that I would outwardly display my fear.

“Are there any reasons to believe that you and Captain Levi have gone beyond the bounds of mutual friendship, and therefore put an ulterior motive with your testimony?” I didn’t look at Levi when I said this, knowing some way it would hurt. It would hurt both of us, but it was payback. Payback for when he did it to me.

“I have never had feelings for or sexual relations with Captain Levi. By the time I was of the age, I was taken from the Underground and cared for by a friend of my father's. This is where I received my new name, Premier.”

“And at what time did you leave the Underground, Miss Flynn?”

“The year eight-hundred and twenty-nine. Right before I turned nineteen.” That was the preliminary to the next question he asked. I didn’t even know why he would have needed to know such information from anyone, but to him and to others it seemed important. Apparently, what a person does with their body must display their ultimate moral character.

“And what jobs did you take to survive in the Underground?” I felt the growing interest of the crowd of men surrounding me. So did Levi. That’s why his glare increased, looking around him. He finally spoke up.

“I see no reason for that question to be asked, Premier Zachary.” For a second, Zachary’s glance switched to him before returning back to me.

“By Captain Levi’s reaction, I may assume that the job you had taken in the Underground was… less than-” I cut him off, which in hindsight was a bad idea, but I didn’t care. I had my own image to protect now.

“No, Premier, I worked alongside Captain Levi and our friends at the time. I was not a prostitute.” Something in my words made him smile again, just subtly, before looking down at the papers in front of him, my ID tossed to the side. I was growing bolder to him. I was growing more acceptable to be in the position I was in.

“Were you with Captain Levi on the day of the murder?” Erwin stated that this was a trick question before. I couldn’t say yes or no, as it would indict Levi. I had to work around it.

“I was with Captain Levi for the entire year of eight-hundred and twenty-seven.”

“And were you present when Captain Levi murdered the Garrison Captain in question?” This would also hurt me. If I didn’t work around this question, I would be thrown in jail as an accomplice.

“As I stated, I was with Captain Levi for the entire year, and he never murdered anyone. The claims are false.” He withdrew one hand, flipping the pages of the report. He knew there was no evidence to support the other side, but there had to be some internal pressure to get rid of Levi.

“Come up here, Miss Flynn. I want to look at your face closely as to access your claim.” Just like Hange told me, the crowd parted so I could go to the small gate, letting me onto the platform. Levi and I looked at each other once, the anger still in his eyes, and I turned around to look up at Premier Zachary. Still, I could feel his gaze on my back. I could feel everyone's’ gaze. I was finally in the middle on display for everyone to see. Zachary leaned down to look at me closely, that perverted undertone still there. I knew there was another reason he wanted me to come forward, and I pulled the shawl tighter around my shoulders to block his view.

“You stated that Captain Levi never murdered anyone while in the Underground. Do you know what will happen to you if that claim turns out to be proven false?” I hardened my gaze up at him and found it much easier now to direct anger. He had me up there to intimidate me, but also to look me up and down for his enjoyment. There was no other reason. He could see my face clearly from behind the bars, but my body was blocked by Erwin just enough. It was a tactic so no one could see me shaking with anxiety. Now, that was gone and replaced with disgust at his lingering eyes.

“I have no worry, Premier. Captain Levi did not murder the Captain you are referring to.” The sun came through the window, making his glasses reflect it. The glimmer in his eyes was also it's most prominent.

“How can we be so sure to validate that you and Captain Levi were together in the Underground? It’s filled with all kinds of people. How did the coincidental meeting occur in such a large space? Give me definite evidence, Miss Flynn.” I paused. This wasn’t a question I was prepped for. How was I supposed to get him to believe this Levi and I were together in the Underground when we absolutely weren’t? My silence seemed to confirm for the opposition that the Scouts were lying. I had to think of something quick, or I would lose this. My heart started racing, my mind muddling with ideas and sounds.

“She’s being used by the Scouts!”

“Are you sure that ID card is even real?!”

“How can someone like her be from the Underground?” I closed my eyes, trying to drown out their words. Think. Think. Think.

“Order!” Zachary called out, making me jump. This was the first time I’d shown any nervousness, and it was at the worst time possible. I need to have confidence. I needed to think of something.

“Hange!” I called out and turned to face her, “As the Scouts medical officer, you’ve seen Captain Levi’s bare skin multiple times. If we showed you, would you be able to identify the cause of each scar or damage to the skin?” She stepped a bit forward, not knowing what I was thinking.

“I could be able to identify every one that he received while under my care in the Scouts. However, there are numerous others that he’s received in the Underground that I would have no idea their origin.” I turned around to Premier Zachary, ready to release my full plan.

“I can confirm any scars that Captain Levi received in the Underground. Give me paper and a pencil, I can write it down, and then Captain Levi can confirm my writing with his words. This way you can see that I was in fact with Captain Levi in the Underground.”

“How does this confirm anything?” He leaned forward again, interested in my plan.

“I was the one in the Underground who cared for his wounds. I should know every single scar on him. This confirms my presence as well as how long I stayed with him.” A Garrison member stepped forward.

“Premier Zachary, how do we know that these two haven’t started a relationship outside of their time in the Underground? I’ve had reports from multiple Trost Garrison members, including the Captain, that they’ve seen Captain Levi and Miss Flynn regularly interacting in her café.” My eyes narrowed at the member who had spoken up, most likely prompted by the person who wanted to see Levi killed.

“Captain Levi started coming to my café only three-and-a-half years ago and would come once every six months to visit if he was permitted to. I wouldn’t call this regular. What I would call regular was the fact that those same Garrison soldiers would abandon their posts daily to play cards inside of my café from morning to late afternoon, all while trying to coerce me into giving them free drinks for fulfilling their duty to the people. Perhaps you should tell those soldiers to concentrate on their jobs and not me, soldier.” When I turned back to Zachary, his smile had grown, and he looked quite happy at the situation at hand. No other member stepped forward to speak, and I think my surge of anger amused him enough to let this whole thing proceed.

“Miss Flynn, I’m sorry for the incompetence of the Garrison soldiers in Trost. We will proceed with your plan. Squad Leader Hange, please proceed in marking the scars of Captain Levi’s torso that you know of.” He motioned to a guard to open the door for Hange as another unbuttoned Levi’s shirt and pulled it down to the shackles. There he was shirtless in front of everyone, now looking right at me. I knew we were both thinking of the same thing as Hange went around inspecting him. Thinking about the same moment we shared almost a year-and-a-half ago.

He had been reaching up on the top shelf of the kitchen cabinet when I observed a long and thin scar across the base of his stomach. I pointed it out to him, asking him what had occurred for him to get such a long scar. Then, even when he protested, I lifted his shirt up a little more to see almost every inch of his skin covered in white lines or even bigger marks. I wondered how I didn’t notice before, and because he was so annoyed at my hands, claiming I was tickling him, he took off his shirt and sat me down on top of the kitchen counter.

“I’m only going to go through them once, so pay attention.”

“Premier Zachary, I’ve finished assessing Captain Levi’s torso.” When Hange cleared the way, he was still looking up at me expectantly. Each scar that Hange had recognized, she’d put down a piece of medical tape, leaving me with over a dozen more to remember. Good thing I was paying attention. Someone handed me a pad of paper and a pencil, and I walked near Levi, crouching down to meet his eyes, right in front of his face. That’s when the talking started. Everyone seemed that it would be fine to deliberate my success as I wrote everything down with diligence.

“Why the hell are you here?” Levi hissed at me, low enough for me to hear as I studied his shirtless torso. If this were any other situation, I would have blushed like I always did. Looking at Levi’s figure had always been a treat since he never let me see it for long, but now there was only pressure; pressure to remember his words and get everything right.

“To save you,” I whispered back, shoving his body to the right so I could get a good view of his ribs. That one touch made something stir inside of me, even if it was meant to be mean. His body was hot to the touch, and it had been so long since I’d been able to feel his skin. I could tell I had the same influence on him as he hid a groan. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye almost amused by his inability to hold himself back in front of the entire military regiment stationed in Mitras. However, I didn’t care about the others. Right now, there were still three people in the room. Levi, Zachary, and I. My closeness to Levi’s skin soon started to affect me as he was able to sit up, looking right at me as I inspected the scar on his lower stomach.

“Knife fight when you were thirteen. You almost lost.” I mumble, touching two fingers to the scar like I had done before. This made him take in another harsh breath, and I removed my touch to write it down on the piece of paper, location and all.

“Did you have to strip me in front of everyone?” He whispered again and this time I gave him a small smirk before standing up and turning back to Zachary.

“Here is the list. All thirteen scars that Squad Leader Hange didn’t mark. All with locations and most with timestamps, Premier.” I handed the pad to his helper, and they ran it up to him. He ran one finger over the list and looked again at Levi, ready to quiz him with random locations. My heart picked up again with anxiety. If I had gotten one wrong, we would be done for.

“Captain Levi. The scar on your left shoulder, right below the collar bone?”

“Fell through a roof at age twenty-one.” Zachary leaned back, the same sickening smile starting to form. I had gotten them right.

“Small oval scar right below your left pectoral muscle?” Levi now shifted his glance to me, trying to remember what he told me. There was doubt in his face. Had I really put all of this to my memory? Was I that devoted to him to remember all the scars he had?

“A bullet wound. Age of seventeen.”

“Finally, the long scar just above your waistline?” The one I touched. The one I first made him mention to me. I saw it flicker in his eyes again. The emotion I had always assumed was pain. It wasn’t pain. This time I confirmed what it was. It was Levi registering just how much one person could care about him. It was disbelief. Disbelief that after all this time I still remembered. After all this time, I still came here and risked my life in front of the military for him. How could one person do all of that for him?

“Knife fight when I was thirteen.” Premier Zachary let out a booming laugh, knowing that the fake claims had been bested by someone the military had no knowledge of. He was laughing because it was so amusing to him, my presence. My existence. One girl from the Underground had bested someone. They were going to be watching me now. I was added to the list of people they needed to destroy right then and there. Yet, pride welled in my chest.

“As we can all see, based on the ages that Captain Levi had received the scars, and the knowledge that Miss Flynn here has of these things, she would also have known if Captain Levi had murdered any Garrison member. I have full trust in her words, as they were sworn under oath. Therefore, I declare Captain Levi not guilty of the claims presented against him. If anyone dare oppose my word, speak now.” The courtroom was silent, only filled with someone putting Levi’s shirt back on him before getting ready to release his hands.

“Then, I declare the court dismissed.” He hit his gavel twice and the courtroom’s noise increased ten-fold. Everyone was talking about this girl from the Underground who had just saved a Scout Captain. Everyone was talking about whether or not they agreed with the verdict. I was just staring at Levi as they let him go, leading him through another door to perhaps give him back and confiscated items.

“Eva!” Hange yelled, running over to me now that the platform was free for anyone, “You did great!” She grabbed both of my arms, pulling me into a hug, and as she did this, the reality of the situation hit me. All the emotion I was holding back came crashing through, and she had to hold me up for a minute.

“Hange, I really feel like I'm going to pass out.” She laughed, hearing me say that again, and then when I was stable enough she let go. All of them were smiling at me, even Miche. I’d done what they needed me to do.

“Miss Flynn?” A deep voice sounded behind me, and I turned, pulling the shawl tight around my body so he had no chance to look like he had on his stand.

“Premier Zachary,” I bowed, “Thank you for your verdict.” He smiled, laughing once or twice before continuing.

“I admire your ability to speak with confidence in front of an unknown crowd. Not even many soldiers could do what you did today.” I stayed bowed, hiding the amount of skin he could look at.

“Thank you, Premier.” He handed me my ID card, and I looked down at it once more seeing the child looking back at me. If only she could see me now.

“I was going to comment on the fact that you knew how long Captain Levi’s scars went below his pant waistline, but I decided it wasn’t important. Next time, be mindful.” I stuttered only then and there, feeling the smirks of the three behind me. They were going to get the wrong idea.

“I-I… I am not anticipating a next time, P-Premier.” He smiled lightly before grabbing my hand and shaking it.

“Whether it be here in the courtroom, or perhaps a military ball, I wish to see you again, Miss Flynn. You interest me. Well, I am off.” He let go of my hand, not letting me even react to what he had just said. All I know is that my stomach dropped and a feeling of dread came over me. That was him telling me he was going to be watching.

“Well, um… Eva, I’m sure you would like to talk to Captain Levi after your exchange.” I tried to hide my blush from Erwin and the rest and nodded. I needed to talk to him after my revelation and after what I was told coming here. I wanted to know the real reason he decided that he needed to be separate from me for so long.

“Eva, Eva, Eva,” Hange whispered in my ear as we walked to a wing I remembered as the offices, “Did you and Levi do what I think you did?!” Her voice went up at the end in excitement. My blush got deeper, and I was thankful Miche and Erwin were in front of us because of the information I was about to give Hange.

“No, we haven’t. The only reason I knew about Levi’s scars was that I forced him to tell me once. Nothing like that, Hange.” She frowned, sad to not hear any juicy details she could poke Levi with later. We turned into a hallway that I was familiar with and Hange again took her arm off of me.

“We have some other paperwork and things to do, so I’ve instructed them to bring Captain Levi to his room while he’s waiting to be cleared. We will leave tomorrow morning. Make sure no one… catches you two.” Erwin gestured to the door I remembered, Levi’s name plaque still right above the handle. Again, I hid my face with my hair, walking into the empty room. When Erwin closed the door behind me, I all but collapsed on the desk chair. I put my head in my hands too, recalling what just happened.

“I lied to the government. They know who I am now. By the walls, I'm so done for.” I pulled my face back, looking down once more at my ID. This stupid thing I had no idea why I kept just saved both of us. This stupid little kid, not smiling, and a bruise under her right eye just saved me.

“Imagine if I knew where I’d end up back then. I’d probably just stay in the Underground.” I put the card on the empty desk, sitting back again. The room smelled like him, just like it had before. He’d been staying here regularly from what Erwin said, and I could tell. Before, the scent was only on the bed and very faint. Now it was all over and giving me a headache. I’d tried too hard to not give in to the temptation of the shirts he had left me, but the number of times they ended up in my hands at night made them lose their smell quickly. This was the first time in a long time I’d been overwhelmed by it and I closed my eyes, trying to concentrate my thoughts. I was trying to summarize the events that happened, but it was of no use. All I could think about now was him. All I could think about were the extra injuries on his skin, red and fresh. The ones that everyone just pretended not to see. They had hurt him here.

“Thank you, I know where my room is. You trapped me there for weeks.” The voice outside the door made my eyes snap open, and I turned so I was facing the window. It felt like an hour before the knob turned and the door opened, quickly closing behind him. Again, I felt his eyes on me, but this time I could feel it at its full intensity. There wasn’t any trial, any other man, or any outside force that I had to concentrate more on than him. The one-and-a-half-year-old needed conversation was going to happen now.

“Look at me.” I didn’t move, even though it wasn’t a suggestion. I just stared outside of the window, watching a white bird fly by. He sighed, and this time asked.

“Eva, can you look at me?” I just turned over my shoulder, looking at him once then turning back. The emotion was there. The disbelief. It made me swallow hard and remember everything I had to go through the past year-and-a-half. I was the one still in disbelief of what Hange had told me.

“D-did you really order Hange to come to the café every month because you couldn’t?”

“Did you give her peppermint tea every month and tell her to say that she was the one who bought it?” I put my hand over my mouth, holding the whimper trying to come from it. This whole time. This whole time was a lie. All the emotional turmoil I went through was for what?

The chair turned, and I was centimeters from his face. This was the closest we had been for so long, but I wasn’t able to look him in the eyes anymore. He put one hand under my chin, lifting my face up so I was looking right at him. This time, there wasn’t disbelief. There was a look that sent warmth throughout my whole body. It confirmed that, yes, this whole time we’d been lying to each other about the feelings we still felt. All those words he told me before leaving me were all lies.

“I told you to look at me,” he whispered, his breath fanning over my lips.

“I am.” It was all of two seconds before he leaned down and crushed his lips onto mine in a frenzy. A year-and-a-half. That’s how long it had been since we last held each other. Since we last talked. Since we last felt the person’s warmth on top of us. How had we stayed apart for so long? He forced me to stand up, away from the window, and pressed me to the nearest wall. One arm was above my head while the other was holding the back of my neck, trying so hard to have no space between us. I threw both of my arms around his neck, trying to do the same. There was no time to be apart now. It had been too long.

“The way you acted back there. To see you stand up to all of them in the courtroom. When you talked back to the Garrison Sergeant. So confident and strong. To protect me like that. So powerful. You have no idea what that did to me.” Both of our breathing was ragged as he pulled back to give me that affirmation, “The whole time you were next to me. Touching me. I wanted to lean down and kiss you right there. In front of everyone so they would stop looking at you like a piece of meat. I was so tempted to let everyone know you were mine.” He brought his lips down on mine again, lost in some sort of power lust. I was drowning in it too. I didn’t care how he’d made me feel previous. I wanted to forget everything that happened before. Being in his arms made me forget.

“Reward me,” I whispered out as he began his assault on my neck and my now easily accessible collarbone. He laughed in my ear, his breath sending goosebumps down my spine.

“I’m not going to have my first time with you be in this musty ass barrack either, brat.” I groaned, and he pulled back completely, straightening out the hair that I had messed up. He looked me up and down, having time to now register what I was wearing. The shawl had fallen somewhere on the floor and I had nothing to cover myself from his wandering eyes. Even if he had just taken my breath away, I still felt exposed.

“I’ll reward you by sleeping with you. Tonight. I haven’t slept in a long time, and I’d rather have you in my arms when I do.” A huge smile broke through on my face, knowing this wasn’t a reward, but one way for him to apologize. It made my heart skip a beat. He was finally going to do it. I just nodded quickly, having no words to say. When I did this, he smiled. A real smile. A smile that seemed to be brighter than the sun shining through the windows. He grabbed me, pulling me towards him and burying his face into my neck. The position we had always taken before.

We would figure everything out later. Every nuance. Every secret we had kept from each other. Right now, all that mattered was holding the other person and making up for the time we missed. Making up for the number of times we could have kissed on the couch while the sounds of Trost faded in the distance. Right now, we only cared for the other person. The person we'd missed so much that it was turning into pain. The pain wasn't being together, the pain was always because we were apart.

“I missed you, Evlynn. So much.”

Chapter Seventeen →

Chapter Masterlist

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lady-of-the-lotus · 3 years

Text

“I’m trying,” says Xue Yang bitterly. “I’m trying, and it’s still not good enough for you.”

Xiao Xingchen sinks his fingers into the dirt. Crawling over his cheek is a beetle, moving over his lips, trailing along the curve of his nose.

Xue Yang watches the beetle’s process, the muscles in his jaw growing tighter and tighter, fixating on the insect as it nestles in the dip of Xingchen’s left eye.

“I’m trying,” he repeats, and Xingchen thinks of the tongues, of one particularly small tongue at the end of the row, and hears himself saying, “You’re not trying very hard.”

Xuexiao - E - AO3! - Read on Tumblr - Ch. 1 - Ch. 2 - Ch. 3

Chapter 4 - Rot

Xingchen wakes to Xue Yang bending over him.

He shoves him away, scrambling backward. “Get off me!”

Xue Yang settles back against a tree. “Don’t do that again. What if I hadn’t caught you?”

Xiao Xingchen manages to roll over onto his side, getting a better look at Xue Yang. Xue Yang is stripped down to his inner robe, face streaked with blood, crimson liquid seeping through the green silk at his side.

He grins weakly down at Xiao Xingchen, teeth red. “One of those fuckers got me,” he says ruefully. “Guess I shouldn’t have shown off so low on blood.”

“You didn’t have to kill them all. And you killed some townspeople too, I saw you…”

Xue Yang’s head droops forward, as if he’s too weak to keep it upright. He doesn’t seem to have heard Xingchen at all. “Lend me a hand, will you?”

“I can’t move…”

Xue Yang groans. “Figures.” He slides over, sprawling over in the grass beside Xiao Xingchen, and lies still.

Xingchen rolls over as much as he can and laps at the blood running from the gash in Xue Yang's side. He drinks until he’s strong enough to sit up. Xue Yang is still unconscious, lying in the exact position he fell in.

With clumsy hands Xingchen cuts bandages from an extra robe in the qiankun pouch. He washes his wounds as best he can with the small amount of water left in the canteen and binds them. Finds a medicinal pellet in Xue Yang’s sleeve, makes him swallow it, places a rolled-up robe under his head.

He sits up with Xue Yang all night. He’s surprised when Xue Yang opens his eyes at dawn and begins to struggle to his feet.

“Well, that was fun,” he says. He’s on his hands and knees, as if too weak to get all the way up. “But let’s not do that again for a while, shall we?”

“How do you feel?”

“I’m fine. I’m always fine. I'll go find some water."

“Don’t strain yourself.”

Xue Yang eyes Xiao Xingchen narrowly. “Is that supposed to be sarcasm?”

“Am I ever sarcastic?” Xiao Xingchen lies down. It’s obvious they won’t be traveling today.

“Let me put down a blanket for you.”

Xiao Xingchen shakes his head, inhaling the dirt beneath his cheek. There’s a blowfly crawling across his temple, just visible out of the corner of his eye. “I prefer this.”

“But—”

Xiao Xingchen closes his eyes.

“I won’t be able to give you blood for a few days. Or anything else.”

Xiao Xingchen nods slightly.

Xue Yang shoos the fly off Xingchen’s face. “I’ll wake you up as soon as I can.”

Xiao Xingchen could get up and bring Xue Yang the water, if he wanted to, but it’s been too many days without yang and he has no will to stir. Besides, he likes lying on the ground and doesn't want to get up. A dead tree frog lies a foot from his face, and he spends the morning watching a trail of ants swarm the bloated carcass, mesmerized by the endless black dots as they march back and forth through the grass.

He’s asleep when Xue Yang returns, and wakes late the next day. Xue Yang is sleeping beside him, face white, chest barely rising and falling.

It’s because of me, Xiao Xingchen thinks groggily. Because of me he’s too weak to heal, to seal his meridians and stop his bleeding…

What if Xue Yang were to die...?

Oddly fitting, rotting side-by-side for eternity…

But he reaches out, lays a cold hand on Xue Yang’s throat. Either he hadn't taken enough blood the day before to return him to full strength, or the blood isn't working as well as it used to, becuase his fingers are too numb to sense a pulse.

Xue Yang stirs at his touch. “You need something, daozhang?” he murmurs.

Xiao Xingchen closes his eyes again.

It’s morning when he next opens them. He’s lying on his stomach, one arm extended, something sharp digging into his back.

Pain in his ear, something tearing at his hand.

A snapping sound.

Rustling of bushes, feet thudding on the forest floor, the whistle of a blade cleaving the air.

“Get off him! I’ll fucking kill you—”

A bird-like squawk, a whirl of black feathers. The smell of blood. Something cradling his head, touching his ear, his hand. The sound of muffled cursing.

Xiao Xingchen drifts off.

It’s night when he next wakes. Xue Yang is on top of him, planting a soft kiss on his forehead as he slides out from between Xue Yang’s legs. They’re surrounded by a wall of reeds and grasses, the air heavy and sweet, a stork winging its way past the moon.

“Welcome back,” he says. “Here.” He lifts Xiao Xingchen into his lap, holding his arm to this mouth. Xiao Xingchen dutifully sucks blood from his veins, sensation flowing back into his limp body.

There’s relief on Xue Yang’s face as he lays him back down on a blanket covering the damp ground.

Xiao Xingchen sits up. His limbs feel oddly… loose at the joints. He looks around, keeping his left eye closed. A half-dozen yellow talismans are pinned to his robes.

“Every little bit helps,” says Xue Yang, reaching for them. “Or doesn’t help, in your case. Here, I’ll—”

Xiao Xingchen reaches up to brush him away, and freezes.

The little finger on his right hand is missing.

Nothing but a bandage-wrapped stump.

Raising his gloved hand, Xue Yang grins at him. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “We match now.”

Xiao Xingchen stares at his missing finger. “How...how long was I asleep?”

“Two days.”

Xingchen glances up at the moon, shining brightly down on their little clearing in the tall grasses. “There’s a full moon. It was waxing last I saw it. And—is this—we were in a forest—”

“Three days.”

“Three weeks.”

Xue Yang folds his arms defensively. “I woke you up as soon as I could. I almost thought you wouldn’t wake at all, I’ve been trying for days—”

“Were are we?” Xingchen's sounds strange, and he reaches up to touch his left ear as he speaks. There’s nothing there, just a soft, slippery ridge of missing flesh.

“Fine, so we flew a mile or two or hundred or whatever.”

Xingchen looks around. Laid out on a second blanket are rows of—

“Are those tongues?” he asks. His voice is strangely mild, emotions still deadened. Slowly he begins removing the talismans from his clothes.

Smiling to himself, Xue Yang settles back, tossing his knife in the air. “Would you like to see them?”

“Why…why are they all laid out like that?” And dozens of small animals, too. Water rats, birds, frogs.

Xue Yang nudges one of the talismans with his bare foot. There’s one pinned to the smallest of the tongues, and dozens more lining the neat rows of tongues and swamp creatures. “Do you want to hear?” he asks, and dives into an explanation without waiting for a response. He’s always animated, but he comes to life as he explains the talismans he’s created, how he devised them, and his current experiments.

“…keep them fresh, and they are fresh, except…”

Xiao Xingchen only half-hears him. He’s too busy watching him, the moonlight lighting up his far-too-pretty-for-what-he-is face, and thinking, not for the first time, about Xue Yang’s immense wasted potential.

What could Xue Yang have accomplished had he only been taught properly? Been guided down the proper path? Given a solid cultivation foundation and the opportunity to channel his genius and creativity for good?

What could he still accomplish?

Xue Yang is explaining how he fixed Xiao Xingchen’s shattered soul and channeled his qi into Xingchen’s corpse. He’s using his hands to speak, drawing shining red symbols in his own made-up alphabet as he explains what, even from the limited amount Xiao Xingchen absorbs, sounds brilliantly innovative.

Perhaps it was a good thing he had never had a formal education. From what Xingchen has seen since leaving the mountain, education, after a certain point, is just another way to enforce a set way of thinking, inhibiting free thought and encasing minds in narrow little boxes. A traditional cultivator couldn’t have accomplished half of what Xue Yang had achieved.

Xue Yang has stopped talking. He seems to be waiting for a response.

“That’s very impressive,” says Xiao Xingchen, vastly understating things.

“For a demonic cultivator.”

“For anyone.”

Xue Yang’s grin nearly wraps around his head, then winks out like a snuffed candle. “Doesn’t matter. I failed.”

“They look fresh to me.” Xiao Xingchen takes a closer look. “There are extra tongues.”

“I killed more than just the bandits, remember? You were all bent out of shape about it.”

“Do you want to pick a fight?”

“If you’re disgusted by the tongues, just say so.” There’s no trace of animation left on Xue Yang’s face. If anything, there’s an odd dead look in his eye as he sits cross-legged across from Xiao Xingchen and stares unblinkingly at him. “Don’t pretend to be interested.”

“I am interested.”

He doesn’t understand why Xue Yang throws this knife suddenly, spearing one of the tongues, or understand the sudden nasty change in Xue Yang’s tone. “Know who that one belonged to? That old man with the fucking eggplants!”

Xiao Xingchen shakes his head. “You needed it for your experiments.”

“How do you know he wasn’t alive when I took it?”

“I…I suppose I don’t.”

“Then stop faking it!” Xue Yang snaps. Xingchen wonders how long this has been building inside him and what spurred it to finally erupt. “Stop faking it all just because you need me right now! I knew you were a hypocrite, but I thought you were at least an honest hypocrite—”

“I’m not—”

“Liar! Were all those things you said in the inn just lies too?”

Xiao Xingchen can’t remember exactly what he said. Something about not wanting him to be hurt—

Xue Yang produces another knife from his sleeve. He seems more comfortable with a blade in his hand. “I was an idiot for believing you, I knew it at the time!”

Xiao Xingchen looks at the extra tongues. Xue Yang follows his eyes.

“I saved them all from those bandits, so if a few people got in my way, what of it! They would have been dead without me, I saved them, their lives belonged to me—”

Xiao Xingchen looks down at his hand, runs a hand over the bandage covering his finger stump. “I saved your life; does your life belong to me?”

“Had you killed me back then, think of all the lives you could have saved! For all we know that old man with those stupid eggplants would have gone crazy and poisoned half the town; they should be thanking me for killing him!”

Shaking his head, Xiao Xingchen pushes aside the blanket so he’s lying on the swampy ground and breathes in deeply. All he wants to do is sleep. Shut out Xue Yang’s voice. Sink back into oblivion, nestled in the tall sweet-scented grasses…

“I’m trying,” says Xue Yang bitterly. “I’m trying, and it’s still not good enough for you.”

Xiao Xingchen sinks his fingers into the dirt. Crawling over his cheek is a beetle, moving over his lips, trailing along the curve of his nose.

Xue Yang watches the beetle’s process, the muscles in his jaw growing tighter and tighter, fixating on the insect as it nestles in the dip of Xingchen’s left eye.

“I’m trying,” he repeats, and Xingchen thinks of the tongues, of one particularly small tongue at the end of the row, and hears himself saying, “You’re not trying very hard.”

Xue Yang hunches forward, a curtain of hair covering his face, digging his nails deep into his scalp and pulling his hair hard enough to hurt. He looks up through the curtain with red-rimmed eyes that almost glow in the eerie orange moonlight.

“Fuck if I care,” he says. “I’m going to go get some water.”

“Xue Yang—”

“Oh, just shut up! I should have left you unconscious!”

Xiao Xingchen turns over on his back. Better this way. More of his body touching the earth. “Are you coming back? Or are you going to leave me here to rot?”

“You’ll rot whether I leave you here or not—”

And suddenly Jiangzai is out, and Xue Yang is hacking at the tall grasses around them. He lays waste to the walls of reeds before falling to his knees, supporting himself with Jiangzai, teeth bared, breathing heavily.

Xiao Xingchen watches him without moving or flinching.

“Well?” he says as Xue Yang stabs the earth with his knife, raking a deep gash in the moss-covered soil. “Are you coming back?”

“Right, you need me!” Xue Yang stabs the ground, slashing it again and again with his blade as if trying to make it bleed. “How do you like it, daozhang, being bound to someone you hate?”

“I don’t hate you,” Xiao Xingchen says quietly. “Do you hate me?”

“I wish you had stayed dead, I wish I had never brought you back—”

All Xingchen can feel is pity. Xue Yang sees it in his eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that!” he snaps. “You say you don’t hate me? Fucking liar!”

“I don’t hate you,” Xiao Xingchen repeats. “I don’t know why, but I don’t.”

“How about this, then? I killed your precious A-Qing!”

“I know,” Xiao Xingchen says quietly.

Xue Yang drops his knife. “You know?”

“I saw her name on the talisman. I guess you were telling the truth about needing a name, and actually learned how to write it..."

“And you don’t…you don’t care?”

Xiao Xingchen closes his eyes. “Of course I care.”

Xue Yang grabs his wrist, shaking him, forcing him to look him in the face. “And,” he grins, “whose eyes do you think are in your head?”

A chill creeps down Xingchen’s spine as he reaches up to touch his eye.

Xue Yang is laughing now, a manic laugh he doesn’t seem to be able to control. “Just giving you back what was yours! I killed him before you woke up. Tossed him in the same ditch I tossed A-Qing. I’d say he wasn’t yet cold when you opened your eyes, but he’d been cold ever since you stabbed him through the heart!”

And suddenly Xingchen needs to feel. Needs to be choked by the shock, the hate, the grief.

A-Qing and Song Lan deserve it.

He wrenches his wrist away from Xue Yang. He’s weak, but Xue Yang’s fingers slide easily off his slippery, waxy skin. He shoves Xue Yang on his back and straddles him, the mere sight of Xue Yang lying beneath him in just a thin inner robe activating his muscle memory, his cock springing to life.

“Ah, there’s the daozhang I remember! Want to go over to the marsh? You can half-drown me again—”

“Shut up shut up shut up—” Roughly, he thrusts into Xue Yang as Xue Yang continues to giggle, not bothering to take it slow. Tears slip down his face as he thrusts into him, splashes of blood on Xue Yang's chest. "Just shut up—”

“Ah, see, this is what I’ve been missing all these weeks—”

“Stop talking, for once in your life, just stop talking—”

“I’ll do you one better: I’ll do my hair up all stupid, and you can pretend I’m Song Lan.” Xue Yang laughs harder, as if this is funny, body shaking beneath Xiao Xingchen's. “You ever fuck him like you’re fucking me?”

“Be quiet!” Xiao Xingchen thrusts harder, trying to shut him up, but Xue Yang only arches his back flirtatiously, one leg raised onto Xiao Xingchen’s shoulder, a demented smile plastered over his face.

“Was that a yes, daozhang?”

He closes his hand around Xue Yang’s throat. “Stop talking about him, and stop calling me that!”

“You fuck him in your fancy free inns? Pin him down and pour filth in his lily-white ear?”

“Stop talking—”

Xue Yang pries his fingers from his throat. “Were you the one to corrupt him, or did he corrupt you first? You seduced him, didn’t you? Just look at you, you’re like a dog in heat, there’s no way you didn’t make up some perverted priest ritual just to get your di—”

Xiao Xingchen slaps him across the face.

Xue Yang reaches one hand up to splay over Xiao Xingchen’s chest. “Did Song Lan like that? Did you choke him too? Bite his lip so hard you could suck his life out through it?”

“I never so much as touched him!”

“Too bad. He wasn’t a bad fuck for a corpse; was probably a lot more fun when he was alive—though knowing him, he was just as boring when he had a tongue—”

Xiao Xingchen freezes, then turns Xue Yang onto his stomach and fucks him from behind. He doesn’t want to see his grinning face, doesn’t want to pretend this is anything other than a necessary interaction, two animals rutting in a swamp out of necessity—

Xue Yang is still laughing.

Xingchen pulls Xue Yang’s robe down over his shoulders down to his waist. Digs his nails into Xue Yang’s back, leaves long scratches in his scarred skin. Several blackened fingernails come off in Xue Yang’s flesh, and his fingers feel loose where Xue Yang pried them off his throat. He spreads his purple-red hands over Xue Yang’s wiry muscles, pressing him down into the damp, fetid soil.

“Disgusting—”

Xue Yang stops laughing and Xingchen comes abruptly, the sigil on his chest glowing brighter as he fills Xue Yang. He pulls out with a shamefully wet sound, bloody cum oozing out of Xue Yang and dripping to the grass.

Xue Yang rolls over onto his back and Xiao Xingchen, suddenly weak with exertion and the flood of new emotion, falls forward on his hands, framing Xue Yang.

As his palms hit the earth, his head snaps forward slightly, and suddenly one eye goes dark.

Xue Yang scrambles out from under him. A look of shock has frozen his face. He cups his hands, staring.

An eyeball lies nestled in his palms.

Xingchen reaches up to touch his left eye.

It’s empty.

Xue Yang’s mouth opens and closes a few times. “I—I should have sewn it in better—”

Xiao Xingchen pulls his robe closed and holds out his hand.

Xue Yang drops the eyeball into his cupped palm.

“What’s happening to me?” Xingchen asks quietly.

His emotions are in full bloom, but somehow instead of anger, or horror, or shock, all he feels is resignation over what's happening to him and regret over what he'd just done. Knowingly done, unlike that time in the stream...

Silence, just the rustle of the tall grasses in the warm evening breeze, a distant splashing in the nearby marsh, a trill of a night bird.

“I think you already know,” says Xue Yang finally. Slowly he reaches into his sleeve, pulls out a long white bandage, and ties it at an angle over Xingchen’s eye socket.

“Now you look almost like your old self again,” he says.

Xiao Xingchen holds him at arm’s length, swallowing hard. “Xue Yang, how—how long have you known?”

“Rather roguish, your new look. I like it.”

“Xue Yang…”

“I can try sewing the eye back in, if you’d like, but I don’t think it would take…”

“Is that what you were doing these past few weeks? Trying to stop me from rotting?”

Xue Yang winces at the word “rot.” He squirms away from Xiao Xingchen, sitting facing the swamp. Xiao Xingchen wonders if Xue Yang chose this spot to hide the smell of his decaying flesh.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says. Xiao Xingchen can hardly hear him. “Didn’t work, clearly…”

He lies down, his back to Xingchen.

Xingchen lays beside him, resting a hand on his arm, his eyeball still enclosed in his other hand. The skin over his knuckles is very thin, with small gas bubbles rising under the delicate bones along the backs of his hands and soft purple lines running up towards his wrist. Blackened lesions mottle his skin, eating down to the bone in some places, and his remaining nails are brownish gray.

He starts to remove his hand, but Xue Yang reaches up, closing his gloved hand around it.

“I didn’t mean to kill A-Qing,” he says, so low that Xingchen has to strain to hear him. “She just bled out so quickly after I cut her tongue out—she was trying to bring cultivators—I tried using a talisman, but it…it clotted the wrong blood…”

“There’s no excuse you could possibly give to make me forgive you for what you did.”

“I turned her into a sentient fierce corpse.” Xue Yang turns, mangled hand still on Xiao Xingchen’s rotting one, and looks at him. “She’s out there somewhere. That was the truth. Practically alive…”

Xiao Xingchen closes his remaining eye. He hates how that does make a slight difference. “Did you truly abuse Zichen?”

“I cut his eyes and tongue out, if that's what you mean.”

“You know it’s not.”

Xue Yang wrinkles his nose, gazing up at the scraps of cloud drifting past the full moon. “I never laid a finger on him. He’s not my type.”

“And was that the only reason?”

“What are you getting at?”

Xiao Xingchen is suddenly tired. So very, very tired. Dealing with Xue Yang is like dealing with a pet fox who keeps killing his chickens. “You understood what that man in Tanzhou did to his wife was wrong,” he says, "at least on some instinctive level. Unless you were simply guessing at how I’d feel on the subject and using it to excuse yourself.”

“Right, wrong, it’s all the sa—”

“Don’t start that again. You knew it was wrong despite the fact that many people wouldn’t think so. You—”

“I’ve killed children.”

“I know.”

“I’ve made you kill children.”

“I know.”

“And you don’t care?”

“Of course I care.”

“Then say something better than ‘I know’!”

“There is nothing I can possibly say to that that would express how I feel.”

“Why is killing children worse than killing any other person?” Xue Yang bursts out. “They would have died in another fifty years, at most. So I sped it along a little!”

“Is that truly how you feel?”

“Why isn’t it how you feel? If you think about it, early death is a mercy! And once they’re dead, it makes no difference to them.”

“Their family—”

“I killed the rest of the family, too. The Changs, all dead. Villagers, all dead. Nobody to mourn them. And it’s not like I would have cared either way, but it wasn’t like I went around killing random children for fun.”

“I never said you did.”

“Entire families, gone, just like that!” Xue Yang snaps his fingers. “As if they never existed, so what difference does any of it make? Some of them should be thanking me. Dying of gout at sixty is worse than being killed quickly at twenty.”

"Gout isn't fatal."

“Missing the point, as usual. So they would have died of something peasanty like plague or gangrene. Really, dead is dead. I don’t understand why you care. I really don’t.” Xue Yang looks legitimately puzzled. “It doesn't affect you. It barely affects them.”

Xiao Xingchen shakes his head. Xue Yang is gazing at him intently, eyes burning with frustration, as if he doesn’t understand why Xingchen is just lying there calmly and listening to his poison.

“You knew what that man did to his wife was wrong,” Xingchen repeats, “meaning you do have something in you that points in the right direction, telling you right from wrong, something not reliant on law or social customs. And you simply choose to ignore it.”

“You think too highly of me. A first.”

“ ‘Highly’! Meaning you know it’s something desirable!”

“I’m just using your own shitty rhetoric. Are we done? I’m tired…” Xue Yang looks up at the moon again, filling his lungs with the fetid swamp air that, to Xingchen, smells sweet.

“No. Xue Yang, why did you hold onto A-Qing’s tongue all this time, and turn her into a sentient fierce corpse?”

“Because I—” He stops. “Getting sneaky, daozhang, throwing in these questions.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t call you what?”

Xingchen shakes his head. “Never mind. Why did you spend six years trying to bring me back, and the past three weeks camped out here on a swamp trying to stop me from rotting?”

“Stop saying ‘rot’!”

“Xue Yang, I am trying to understand you.”

Xue Yang is playing with the long tendrils of hair framing his face, not so much as looking in Xiao Xingchen’s direction. “Are we done?”

“Why did you leave Song Lan alone?”

“I didn’t leave him alone. Are you deaf? I cut out his tongue—”

“Xue Yang.”

“Well, he wasn’t you!” Xue Yang explodes. “Is that what you want to hear? You were coming back soon, I just…” I only wanted you. Perhaps even, I couldn’t betray you like that. “I kill people. I don’t hurt them. It’s not like I enjoyed hurting A-Qing.”

Xiao Xingchen can’t let such a blatant lie slip past. “You enjoy killing people. I have every reason to believe you enjoy hurting them as well.”

“That’s not what I meant by that.”

Xiao Xingchen wonders what Xue Yang went through while living on the streets, to make someone like him not want to “hurt” people in that way. He can imagine some of it. Xue Yang had practically told him, that night in the inn...

There’s an odd quivery look on Xue Yang’s face. As if realizing this, he gets to his feet. “Are we done? I’m thirsty.”

“Xue Yang…”

Xue Yang takes a step, wincing. “Be more careful next time, won’t you? I’ll be walking with a limp for a week.”

“Don’t do that, don’t turn everything into a joke or vulgarism—”

Xue Yang flies off through the grass.

Xingchen picks up A-Qing’s tongue and follows him. His legs are weak, but he pushes his way through the chest-high grasses, finding Xue Yang sitting on the edge of the water, arms wrapped around his knees.

Xingchen kneels at the edge of the water and buries his eye and A-Qing’s tongue in the soft sweet-smelling mud. It’s a beautiful warm night, the dazzling gold moonlight glimmering off the wide stretch of marshland. Dark clumps of tall, graceful reeds grow from the rippling water, with the hushed sounds of the night creatures carrying clearly over the water. The song of the crickets, the chirping of frogs. A stork strides through the water not a stone’s-throw away, gleaming white in the moonlight, and stars speckle the deep purple sky, brilliant and clear, here at the edge of the earth.

Xingchen imagines stepping into the shining gold water, letting it close over his head, envelope him, embrace him.

One more dead rotting thing…

“Does it hurt?” Xue Yang’s voice breaks the stillness. “Your eye.”

Xiao Xingchen touches the blindfold. He wonders if it’s the same one he used to wear, kept by Xue Yang all these years. “No.”

“Maggots hurt.” Xue Yang glances down at his gloved hand. “I know.”

Xiao Xingchen swallows. “I’m fine.”

“And your hand and ear?”

“Not much.”

“I shouldn’t have left you alone. Those vultures—”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Xue Yang rests his chin on his knees. He looks more worn-out than Xiao Xingchen has ever seen him, as if the gamut of the night’s emotions have wrung him out and left him empty. “I don’t know how to fix you,” he confesses, his voice almost inaudible.

Xiao Xingchen sits down beside him. He doesn’t think those words have ever passed Xue Yang’s lips before.

“I tried,” says Xue Yang. “I really tried…"

Xingchen looks down at his black-mottled hands. Even in the moonlight he can detect their soft, half-slimy, half-waxy coat.

As he watches, a fly lands on his hand, and another, and another. Or perhaps they had been there all along. He can hear the buzzing of the nearby insect life feasting on the swamp’s rot, drawing life from death, and he’s suddenly reminded of the fungus growing on the dead fox in the Coffin House courtyard, the writhing white maggots making a home in its carcass.

Creating something new.

“You’ve carried this too long on your own,” he says. “Let me take it from here.”

Xue Yang tilts his head slightly, eyeing Xingchen with dark-circled eyes. “You know how to stop the rot?”

“No. But Shifu will.” And she might be able to fix you, too, he wants to add, but doesn’t dare.

“And you know how to find her mountain again?”

“Promise me you won’t bring up your past grievances with her when you meet.”

“I promise, I promise!...” Xue Yang rests his head on Xingchen’s shoulder. He looks very young, small and almost fragile. “I promise, Xingchen…”

It’s the first time Xue Yang has used his proper name since he’s woken. It’s strangely nice to hear. Xingchen, the person, decaying as he is, instead of Xiao Xingchen, the daozhang.

They sit in the stillness, watching the golden moonlight reflected in the water as it moves along with the moon. Listening to the splash of the frogs, the rustle of grass, the call of the night birds.

Surrounded by the sweet scent of rot.

Xue Yang falls asleep with his head in Xingchen’s lap. Xingchen trails his withered purple fingers through his hair, along his jaw, letting his hand rest on his head.

He does not sleep.

He’s at home here, among the decay…

One more dead rotting thing.

They leave the swamp the next morning and travel across the open countryside. Xingchen is too weak to fly, but Xue Yang holds him when he can despite his own growing weakness. Xingchen needs more and more blood just to stay upright, needs Xue Yang’s yang every night, every morning, needs to rid himself of tainted yin, just to keep his mind half clear.

One night he forgets where he is, rises, wanders off, trips, falls.

“Xingchen!” Xue Yang helps him to his feet. “Be careful—”

Xiao Xingchen’s hand comes off in his.

The same hand Xue Yang had pulled him by back in the bandit village what seems like a lifetime ago, he remembers the next morning, after Xue Yang pulls out of him and settles back on Xingchen’s legs.

Xue Yang is staring down at him with a hazy look in his eye.

“I shouldn’t have grabbed on your hand like that,” he says, reaching out to touch Xiao Xingchen’s wrist stump. He'd bandaged it during the night, but dark brown juices have seeped into the still-damp material, staining it with sweet-smelling liquid. "I keep pulling at your hand—”

Xingchen closes his eyes. “It’s not your fault, and I can’t feel anything…”

Xue Yang presses his forehead to Xingchen’s. Xingchen’s skin is still slippery to the touch, still covered in rancid black spots where the reddened flesh has necrotized. “We’ll be there soon,” he says, “won’t we?”

Xingchen nods.

Xue Yang kisses him. He doesn’t seem to notice the blowfly eggs hatching in Xingchen’s mouth, the rice-like maggots living in his empty eye socket, the beetles in his nostrils, the flies that swarm his body and lay eggs on his oozing wrist stump.

Flies that settle on Xue Yang’s own face, attracted by the slimy rot rubbed off on his skin.

It’s late afternoon when they arrive at Baoshan Sanren’s mountain, days later, weeks later.

Xue Yang collapses to his knees at the foot of the mountain. He’s been too weak to fly these past few days, with deep purple circles under his sunken eyes and white hands that tremble as he fixes Xiao Xingchen’s hair every morning.

“Is that it?” Xue Yang asks, looking up at the mountain. “It’s nice and all, but—”

“Wait.” It’s grown harder and harder to speak, Xingchen’s tongue swelling in his mouth, his throat muscles growing soft and loose under the hot sun. “Here.” He fumbles with his white jade hairpiece, but can’t get it out. "I—this—”

Silently Xue Yang gets to his feet, slides the hairpiece out of Xingchen’s topknot, sets it in Xingchen’s hand. Xingchen covers his hand with his fingers before he can remove it, nodding at him.

“Magic hairpiece? I like it. I used to have a gold one that—”

“Shh.”

Xiao Xingchen nods again, stepping forward on legs held together with gauze. Holding the hairpiece, they step through the invisible barrier.

All around them the mountain bursts into sudden radiance, the tall spirit gathering grasses around them sparkling with gold light. The air is thick with curling mists, catching the golden radiance and diffusing it, surrounding them with a warm yellow glow.

Xue Yang opens his mouth as if it speak, then closes it.

“Come,” says Xingchen.

They walk up the mountain, wrapped in the glowing mists.

Just a little farther now to the spot he remembers so well.

A pretty forest glade, gently shaded from the sun. Tall spirit-gathering sparkling with gold light, soft green moss carpeting the bank of a small stream, tiny white mushrooms growing on the fallen logs. Slender trees bent to trail their leaves in the water, the air sweet and warm and lightly perfumed.

Just a little longer...

He stops when they reach the stream that flows up the mountain, flows up past that secluded forest glade.

He turns and touches Xue Yang’s arm, doing his best to articulate. “One last time, before things are set right.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to…”

“I want to.” Xingchen slips his robes off as they settle down in the grass. Xue Yang kisses him, heedless of the fact that his lower lip has been half eaten away by insects, showing a row of teeth in shriveled gums. The kiss is long and slow and deep, his hand slipping down between Xingchen’s legs.

Xingchen gently presses him down into the shining gold grass and lowers himself onto Xue Yang. They don’t need oil, his insides smooth and slippery with decay.

“Soon,” he says. “Soon...”

Xue Yang gazes up at him, one hand on his arm, breathing in deeply, as if he wants to fix Xingchen’s scent in his mind, remember the way he looks now, rotting and desiccated with maggots in his mouth, his eyes, nestling in the soft skin under his cock and under his arms. The tip of his nose eaten away, the bones of his jaw visible through the decomposing flesh.

Xingchen leans forward, sinks his teeth into the curve of Xue Yang's throat, and drinks.

The sigils on their chests glow brighter as he rocks forward, the blue and red spirit light mixing with the golden radiance around them.

He drinks deeply, taking more blood than he has in weeks, filling his throat with Xue Yang’s lifeblood as Xue Yang comes, filling him with his yang. He remains locked in place on top of Xue Yang, arms around him, lapping at the blood trickling from his throat. Xue Yang’s hand is buried in his loose hair, lips brushing the rotting purple skin of his throat, breath warm on his ear stump,

He can feel Xue Yang now, more clearly than he ever has till now. Feel his desperation, his fear, his desire to be—consumed—

He drinks until Xue Yang’s hand falls limply to the grass, his pulse slowing. Drinks until he knows Xue Yang is too weak to follow him.

He can drink him to death, if he wishes. Absorb all of him, the good, the bad. Take him into himself...

"Xingchen." Xue Yang moves slightly beneath him. “Take it all. Find her…”

Xingchen raises his head. He rises, draping his robes over the shivering Xue Yang.

“Don’t leave me here!” Xue Yang grasps at him, bloodless fingers clutching at his arms, crushing the small white mushrooms sprouting along Xingchen’s limbs. “Take me with you,” he says weakly. His eyes are bleary and sunken, lips gray. “I can carry you to Baoshan Sanren—”

“Shhh.” Xingchen kneels beside him, raises him up. It’s like maneuvering a large limp doll. “I’ll always be on the mountain.”

For the first time since he’s woken, he fixes Xue Yang’s hair, braiding the sides, looping it around the topknot, using his mouth as a second hand. He slides his white jade hairpiece into the topknot and lays Xue Yang back in the grass.

“She’ll find you, now,” he says. “She’ll know I sent you.”

Xue Yang tries to move, can’t. “Don’t—don’t—”

“Let her help you.” Xingchen kisses his forehead softly, leaving a smear of red on the ivory. “Don’t forget me, Chengmei.”

“Xingchen...I…” Xue Yang makes one last struggle, but the exertion is too much. His eyes slip shut and he lies stretched out in the spirit gathering grass, covered in Xingchen’s white robes, the jade hairpiece gleaming gold.

Xiao Xingchen removes the jade flute from the qiankun pouch and, naked, drifts along the stream, up the mountain, towards the glen. He’s feeling weightless, almost as if he’s floating. The light around him grows brighter as he nears the clearing, surrounding him, filling him as his legs give out and he collapses to the earth.

He lies on the mossy bank, green and black flute resting beside him, sunlight streaming through the trees. The wildflowers are in bloom all around him, their perfume mixing with the sweet smell of decay. The damp of the soil, the song of the trees, the deep roots spreading through the earth, all surround him. Flowers he’ll soon nourish, trees he will slowly feed, fungus he’ll one day nurture.

Consuming him slowly.

The earth hums beneath him, around him. Embracing him, enveloping him.

Welcoming him home.

The breeze has picked up, rippling through the grasses, rustling the trees, caressing his bare skin, soft and warm.

In the distance, he thinks he hears a familiar voice on the wind, calling his name.

Xingchen! Xingchen…

Smiling to himself, Xingchen sinks deeper into the earth.

The inherent eroticism of losing an eyeball atop your lover

liked it? AO3...or even spare a reblog?

#mdzsnet #xiao xingchen #xuexiao #heed the tags #the untamed #cql #theuntameddaily #fytheuntamed #fymdzs #katie after dark #Consume Me Slowly

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pparkerpoetry · 3 years

Text

Face Reality (Part 6)

Title: The More the Merrier (and a whisper of who he once was)

Summary: Tommy brings home one. Ranboo and Fundy bring another. Sam knows that his kids are going to give him grey hair by the time they all decide to settle down, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

(but the additions bring questions. questions bring up a past. the past is never a good thing.)

WARNING: brings up past suicide attempt

Part 1 Part 7 Masterlist

______

Tommy stood above a large obsidian grid, staring down at the hole that had once been his home. It was all gone, now, and he couldn’t even manage to summon tears. It was too sudden for him. Too new.

He hated everyone who had done this to him. He hated them all, how each one had abandoned him in their own way. He knew some of them didn’t have a choice, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

He hated Technoblade. He tried to, at least. He’d finally gotten back a small form of family, only for a second fuse to be lit. He was accused of stealing gifts, accused of betrayal for fighting for his home, fighting for the last connection to Wilbur, fighting for a place in the world that hated him so much. He hated his brother for making him fight when he should’ve been able to be a kid.

He hated Philza. Not his dad. He had been left alone, so young, with nothing to cling to but the promise of seeing his father again. A promise that was broken. A promise that was only fulfilled years and years later, once Tommy had been raised by war and violence, feelings numbed by loss and pain. Philza hadn’t been the one to raise Tommy, Wilbur was. And Wilbur was taken from him. He hated Phil for giving him the gift of flight, a constant reminder of his family that he would never be able to get rid of, that no one even bothered to find out about.

He hated Dream. He really did. Tommy had been manipulated, and broken down, and tricked, but no one had learned of it. He was alone, and Dream stood by his shoulder to oversee the ruins that he’d torn down. The ruins of what? Tommy’s life? His mind? His wings, messy and missing feathers from the explosions? Tommy hated Dream with a passion, but by then, the anger had gotten so hot that it numbed him. He felt nothing but the pulse of his heart that sometimes he wished wasn’t so loud. Maybe it’d all be easier if it stopped.

But, most of all, he hated himself. He hated that he’d just let it all happen, and he hated that he still breathed the air, however dusty and blood-scented it was. The only thing he felt that was stronger than the hate now was fear. Not for himself.

Where was Tubbo? Was he okay? He needed to get to Tubbo.

Tommy woke up in a cold sweat, breathing heavy. He was alone in his room, meaning that Fundy had probably gone over to Ranboo’s. He almost followed, but his mind was hazy and he needed someone else. He needed someone that wasn’t there, but maybe if he left-

Could he leave?

Of course he could. This wasn’t exile. Dream wasn’t here. Dream was in prison. Dream wouldn’t hurt him anymore. Dream couldn’t. Could he?

He needed to leave.

Tommy clambered out of bed, feet hitting the cold floor and he paced over to where he kept his boots. His hand ghosted over his coat, but he left it behind. He needed his wings out. The coat would slow him down. He got outside as quietly as possible, hoping that he didn’t wake up anyone. The grass was shining with dew, and it would’ve seemed almost mystical if he’d bothered to notice it.

Instead, he unfurled his wings. They weren’t in the best of shape, as they hadn’t been preened in a while. Had they ever been? He couldn’t spend time thinking about that. He needed to leave. Tommy paused for a moment, relishing in the breeze ruffling through his feathers before he leapt up and caught the wind, flapping his wings to gain height.

It had been a long time since he’d flown. He usually didn’t, what with Dream’s no-flying policy, but Dream couldn’t stop him now. He didn’t think anything could stop him. He needed to go.

Tommy ignored the large black prison that came into his view, and focused on the suddenly brisk wind that hit his face and made him cold. Maybe he should’ve brought that coat. He let his mind wander until his feet hit the snowy ground, making a slight crunch that shook him from his thoughts.

Maybe he was imagining it, but he could’ve sworn that he heard yelling as he neared Snowchester. The closer he got, the more a feeling of dread pooling in his stomach. As he got closer, he could hear it.

“Why now, after all this time?” That was Tubbo. Was he okay? Hurry. “I thought we were friends! I thought that everyone was peaceful! Why stop now?”

Another voice spoke up. “Well, Niki left, so I figured that it was over. But then, I thought about it. I acted. I faked everyone out, got an alibi. No one will even think I was here. I want to kill Tommy, but that would be too kind. But what better way to make him suffer worse, than by killing you?”

Tommy didn’t have time to register who it was before his blood ran cold. He broke into a sprint and burst into the cottage, throwing his wings out to protect Tubbo from the sword that was brought down. He didn’t have any weapons, but he needed to save Tubbo.

He felt the blade slice the feathers on his wings, and the soft trickle of blood that followed.

He opened his eyes and saw Tubbo, cowering, blood on his face and eyes shocked. He knew that whoever was threatening him was still there.

Tommy turned around.

Jack Manifold stood there, sword still loosely held in his hands.

“You want to kill me?” Tommy rasped, voice rough from the sleep that he’d woken from not that longs ago. “You’re gonna need more than a sword. I’ve tried.” Jack looked horrified, and Tommy managed a broken grin. “That was a while ago, though. Maybe it’d work now, but no matter how many times I killed myself back then, I kept coming back. Some cruel trick that Dream played, probably.” The blood was flowing from his wing heavier now, and the world was tilting. His brain was fuzzy.

He didn’t remember falling on the ground or when Tubbo moved to look at him, but it happened. Tubbo looked scared. He was saying something that Tommy couldn’t hear. Why was Tubbo sad?

“Don’t be sad.” Tommy mumbled. “Ask Sam to make you hot chocolate. It’s the best. It’ll make you happy.” Why was Tubbo crying?

__________

Sam didn’t expect to be woken up very early, and even if it was, he wasn’t expecting it to be Tubbo calling him. He reached across to the nightstand and grabbed his communicator, accepting the call.

“Hello?”

Tubbo sounded like he was crying. “Sam! Thank God, Sam. Tommy- Tommy’s here and he’s bleeding, Sam help him, please, Sam what do I do? How do I stop it?”

Sam was fully awake now, leaping to put on his shoes. “Put pressure on the wound, Tubbo. You need to breathe, bud. Where are you?” He heard Tubbo take a few deep breaths.

“We’re in Snowchester.”

Though Tubbo couldn’t see it, he nodded, and grabbed his trident. “I’ll be there soon, Tubbo, okay? Breathe. Do you want me to stay on call?”

Tubbo said that he didn’t have to, so Sam ended the call and left the house. He looked up and was grateful to the rain, which would let him travel much faster.

He reached Snowchester and didn’t stop running until he saw Tubbo and Tommy. He thought the wound would be on Tommy’s body, but instead, the blood was all dried on his feathers. Was he even qualified to work with wings?

Sam considered calling Philza, but instead he did some quick research, stuff about blood feathers, or something. He wouldn’t bother Phil. There was no reason to bother Phil. He didn’t particularly trust the winged man, either.

Tubbo was still shaking, so Sam knelt next to him. “Hey, Tubs, I need you to breathe. This isn’t as serious as it looks, okay? It’ll heal. Tommy’s going to be okay.” It would take time, but it would be fine.

Eventually, he got Tubbo to calm down, and he moved to Tommy. He had probably just passed out from exhaustion, because Sam had been noticing he wasn’t getting much sleep. The feathers that had been broken weren’t all bleeding, and the ones that were had slowed. Tubbo had done well in putting pressure on the wounds, so there really wasn’t much he could do, other than get Tommy back home.

It took some thinking, but then Sam began to move. Using some bandages that he’d brought, he folded Tommy’s wings and bound them into a sort of sling, then gathered Tommy’s long limbs into his arms. He stood up, and went to leave before he noticed Tubbo still trembling in a ball on the ground.

“Hey, Tubbo?” He waited until Tubbo looked up. “Do you want to come with me? I’ve got a spare room that you can stay in as long as you want.” Tubbo didn’t need to know that it was actually for him.

Tubbo stood up shakily, and nodded. “I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

Sam managed to hold Tommy with one hand, and held the other out to Tubbo. Slowly, they made it home, where they belonged.

When they opened the door, Fundy and Ranboo were waiting anxiously. They wanted to ask questions, but they stopped when they saw Tommy, passed out and thrown over Sam’s shoulder. There were more important things to worry about.

Sam put Tommy back in his bed, and went to tend to Tubbo. He had some cuts that he had been trying to hide, but Sam noticed that type of thing. He had to, with the collection of self-sacrificing people he was housing.

Once Tubbo was all set, Sam let him go to Tubbo’s room. They’d been separated long enough. Sam left and went to where Ranboo and Fundy were waiting, questions barely pushed down.

He answered them as best he could, but soon enough, he was passed out on his bed, ready to sleep for another few hours.

Being a brother- dad? Was exhausting.

_________

Tommy woke up, ears blearily looking around. A head of brown hair was tucked into his side, and as he laid there, the memories came flooding back. He sighed, and went to put a wing around Tubbo before realizing that his wings had been bandaged. He stifled a groan, but it woke Tubbo up anyway.

“Are you okay?” Tubbo asked, and Tommy winced. He hadn’t meant to spill his guts on everything that he had felt back then. He hadn’t meant to open old wounds.

“I’m fine,” Tommy smiled, but he could tell Tubbo didn’t buy it.

“But do you know it’s okay if you’re not?”

Tommy hugged Tubbo, melting into the hold. They stayed that way for a while, and they didn’t say anything when they felt their shirts getting damp or the way the other’s shoulders shook. They had each other, and they always would.

They always would. They were one constant in their lives, but had yet to realize that the other constants were waiting in the living room.

A few days later, once Sam had declared that Tommy’s wings had healed enough, Sam removed the bandages. He winced at how awful the feathers looked, though they had been cleansed of any blood.

“Hey Tommy, is it alright if I try to fix these? They look like they haven’t been organized in ages.”

“Sure, I guess.” Tommy shrugged.

Tommy didn’t know what he’d been thinking it would feel like. Even if he thought he did know, he would’ve been wrong.

The minute Sam had started laying feathers flat and just touching his wings, Tommy melted. He tried not to, but it just felt so nice…

Sam chuckled. “Do you like this?”

Tommy wanted to yell at him for making fun of him, but all he could do was let out a soft crooning and hope that he was still sitting up. His mind was already half put to sleep, but if he fell asleep the feeling would stop. He needed to stay awake.

He leaned into the touch a little bit too much, he supposed, because Sam called someone over for Tommy to lean on instead. He buried his face into the chest of whoever it was, and- was he purring? It was more a slight growl, but of contentment, and he gave a little whine when Sam stopped preening his wings.

He continued purring when the preening started again. Part of his brain thought he was making a fool of himself, but the bird part of his brain overruled it.

Eventually the actual preening stopped, but he complained so much at the loss of contact that he guessed they started up again, not actually doing anything, just stroking the feathers. Soon, his mind was gone and all he wanted was more of the nice feeling he felt. Was it safety?

When the movement of feathers stopped again, Tommy sleepily turned around. It was a little awkward, considering they were on a couch, but he curled into the side of whoever had been preening him. He didn’t even remember at this point, but he trusted them.

Sam looked down at the mess of blond hair that was on top of him. Not crushing, but it was unexpected. He couldn’t stop the audible “Aww,” that he let out, because the normally stoic young man had just turned to mush the minute Sam started touching his wings.

Sam knew that once Tommy woke up again he’d hate how vulnerable he’d been, but a part of him was just happy that it’d happened.

Tommy’s wings moved around Sam, and he could do nothing but grin widely. Maybe taking care of his boys was worth it, despite the fact that he’d go grey within a year.

Tubbo stood by, laughing, but lifted Tommy’s legs and sat down. Ranboo and Fundy joined later, though there wasn’t a whole lot of room on the couch. Ranboo squeezed in beside Tubbo and Fundy curled up over them, and they all napped in the lazy heat of the afternoon.

Sam almost drifted to sleep, and the thought that he had before he did was that there was one more person that he needed to save. His job wasn’t quite done yet. All in due time, though.

All in due time.

____________

It was another few days later when Ranboo got out of the house. He took Fundy with him, because they were working past their issues. It was taking time, but they were almost there.

They went into the forest to chat, just about their feelings in general, and it was a little cooler in the shade anyway.

“I just…” Fundy was saying, “I felt so upset, since everyone had abandoned me. We used to be such good friends and it really hurt when you took off too, only to return and be accepted no problem, when I had to fight tooth and nail to even hang out with them a little.”

Ranboo nodded. “I was really stressed out, since you were so angry and Niki was too, and I thought that I finally had people who cared about me, then I heard them talking about how they wanted to use me to their advantage. I figured if they didn’t love me, no one would, because they were the only ones to ask if I was okay after everything.”

Fundy looked pained. “But I did love you. I do.”

Some poor memory of a smile passed over Ranboo’s face. “You didn’t really show it though, did you?”

It was quiet, then, as they both sat in the grass, reminiscing of times that really weren’t better.

Fundy spoke again. “Maybe we should focus on the future rather than the past. Move on, work on forgiving rather than arguing whose right or wrong.”

Ranboo went to agree, when the sound of twigs snapping was heard behind them. A young man stumbled into their clearing clutching his side, only to collapse with a grunt. They saw the shock of blond hair and thought it was Tommy, but he was missing the telltale dark wings. Regardless, they rushed over and turned him over.

“Purpled?”

He only responded with a groan, and Ranboo moved his hand to check on the clear wound that Purpled had been hiding. The hybrid sucked air through his teeth and hissed in sympathy.

“I haven’t seen Purpled in ages,” Fundy said worriedly. “How long has he been alone?”

Ranboo met the fox’s eyes, but didn’t acknowledge the question. He didn’t want to think about it. “I’m going to pick him up. We need to bring him back home.”

“Is that safe? Can he be moved?”

“We don’t really have a choice, Fundy.”

Purpled was far too light, once Ranboo had lifted him, and they went as fast as they could back to the base. If they had listened a little closer, or focused on something other than the injured boy, maybe they would’ve heard the slight noises of someone else in the woods behind them. Watching. Waiting. Following.

They made it to Sam’s house. Their home. Sam had seen them coming, and he saw something on the treeline behind his boys. He opened the door for them. “Get him inside, I need to deal with something first.” He had said, grabbing his armor and weapons.

He had locked the door behind them.

Sam walked into the forest a little ways, then stopped. “I know you’re here. You might as well show yourself.” It was silent except for the occasional gentle leaf blowing across the ground. He stayed for a moment longer before leaving. He would investigate later, if he remembered to.

Sam let himself fall into the routine of cleaning and dressing Purpled’s wound, and once he was done, finally breathed for a moment. He had to smile, because he was safe. His boys were safe. All of them. He’d saved them all, and he would let them have the childhood’s that had been unrightfully stolen from them.

When he left to tell the others that Purpled would be fine, he saw Tubbo asleep on Tommy’s lap, with Tommy laughing at him. Sam grinned and leaned against the door frame.

“I don’t think you can talk much, Tommy. You were gone the minute I touched your wings.”

Tommy spluttered indignantly. “That’s not true! I am a big man! I don’t need your help!”

“Would you like me to do it again, though?”

Tommy quieted and looked up. “Yes please.”

Fundy and Ranboo, who had wandered into the room, laughed at that, and so with permission from Tommy, all three of them began to groom his wings. Tommy was a purring mess within seconds, and the afternoon was spent waiting for their new addition to the family to wake up.

They all had questions that needed answers, but their family was more important.

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half-bakedboy · 3 years

Photo

Pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz Rated: General Summary: “I’ve recently found myself with a lot of time on my hands and since you don’t seem to have enough to romance someone,” Buck began, settling his drink on the table, “I think it only makes sense for someone to romance you.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh and shot back, “Yeah, and how are you going to find someone willing to put in that effort?”

“Oh, you’re lookin’ at him.”

Or… Eddie gets the romance he deserves in the form of fluff-filled dates with Buck.

For @911fluffweek - day seven: Free choice // Love confession

(read the final chapter on ao3 or start from the beginning)

The morning had sucked, to put it frankly. Eddie woke up late, sleeping through his alarm for the first time in years, and when he had barged through Christopher’s door, his son was anything but compliant. He took his sweet time getting out of bed, refused to brush his teeth or hair, and changed his outfit too many times for Eddie to count. By the time Eddie had gotten him in the car, they were going to be late to school and he didn’t even have time to call them and let them know.

He didn’t need the speech he got when he dropped Christopher off after the first bell and he didn’t need the sympathetic but still judgmental gazes of his team and his captain when he stepped into the station ten minutes after his shift started. He barely had time to eat the plain bagel he started toasting—his cinnamon raisin ones he kept at the station had gotten moldy since Buck had started making him breakfast more often than not—when the first bell of the day rang through the station.

His turnout gear was too heavy on his already fatigued body and as he ran into the first fire of the day, the heat was almost too much to handle. He had to carry a man twice his size out of the burning building only to be chastised by Bobby for ignoring a direct order even if it was for the good of the victim. Even Hen was tired of his bad attitude by the time they got back to the station.

“Oh, thank god,” she muttered as they both jumped out of the back of the firetruck, “maybe you can get the stick out of Eddie’s ass.” Eddie shot daggers at her, but his features softened considerably when the door slammed closed and he saw Buck standing in front of the open doors.

“Hey,” he said, walking up slowly, his eyebrows furrowed, “did we have plans that I forgot about?” Buck shook his head and raised up a coffee from their favorite sandwich shop a few blocks down the road.

“A little bird told me that you didn’t have the best morning,” Buck began, pausing to take in Eddie’s form. He was sweaty and covered in grime, the small bandage on his head standing out against his ashen skin. “They didn’t tell me that you were hurt. Are you okay?” Buck asked hurriedly, placing the coffee on the floor before cupping Eddie’s face in his hands. Eddie tried to keep him at arm’s length but Buck pushed forward anyway, inspecting the bandage as if he could see through the thick gauze.

“I’m completely fine, Buck. Just a little house fire injury. It could’ve been way worse,” he added, which did absolutely nothing to ease the tension in Buck’s shoulders.

“Chim, the next time you rat my boyfriend out, maybe mention that he has an injury?” Buck asked, causing Eddie to glare in Chim’s direction. He figured Chim was the tattletale but didn’t think Buck would call him out that easily.

“There will be no next time, you a—”

“Language!” Bobby shouted before Chim could finish. He turned to Buck and Eddie, hands on his hips with his captain face on. “Eddie, you’re taking a long lunch, and before you argue,” he held up a hand when Eddie took a step forward, “it’s either send you to the doctors to get checked out or make you take a damn breather. You decide.”

Eddie sighed and nodded. “Got it, Cap. Can I shower first?” He asked, gesturing down at himself. If he looked as gross as he felt, he’d need one before he could enjoy anything.

Bobby nodded which was all Eddie needed to dismiss himself with a quick peck to Buck’s cheek and the promise that he’d be back soon. It was like the entirety of his horrible morning was washed off of his shoulders while he scrubbed himself down, but he was sure it wasn’t only the showers doing.

Seeing Buck standing there was on the cusp of overwhelming. The second Eddie saw him, he wanted to be wrapped around him, covered in him, curled up inside of him so that he could make every frustration, annoyance, and sadness in him go away. Even the simple way Buck immediately inspected his injury, ignoring the way he probably felt and smelled after the high-intensity call, had Eddie’s stomach fluttering and the tension in his body turned to mush.

Eddie dried and got dressed as quickly as he could because all he wanted to do was spend the time he was allotted with Buck. He needed to tell Buck exactly how he felt at that moment and Eddie wasn’t one to hold back, not with anyone, especially Buck. It was a miracle that he had waited that long to say the three words that meant everything to him, ones that he hadn’t said to anyone besides Christopher in what was probably a year.

“I’ll have him back in an hour,” Buck shouted to the team as Eddie walked out, clean and happy. He sent everyone a wink Eddie didn’t quite understand before he grabbed the coffee from the floor with one hand and laced their fingers together with the other.

“Where are we going? I thought we could just…” He gestured to the loft but Buck shook his head and led him to his jeep, opening the door as he had on their first date.

“Don’t give me that look, Diaz. You act like I stopped being the perfect gentleman after all this time,” Buck accused, kissing Eddie’s cheek quickly before he shut the door.

As he got into the driver’s seat, Eddie said slowly, “This feels like a weird trap.” Buck scoffed and grabbed Eddie’s hand from his lap, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss but saying nothing else.

Eddie leaned his head back against the seat behind him because even if it was a trap, he trusted Buck. He had no doubt in his mind that Buck was doing something to get his mind off of the horrible morning he had and all it took was the knowledge that Eddie wasn’t in a good mood for him to drop everything. It was really that simple and Eddie couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Hey, Buck?” Eddie asked, keeping his head against the seat behind him but tilting it so he could look at Buck.

Buck glanced over with a small smile and responded softly, “Yeah?”

“I love you.” Eddie spoke quietly, barely above the low murmur of the radio Buck always had to have playing in the background, but he knew Buck heard him because he was pulling over to the side of the road almost the second the words were out. “What are you—”

“No!” Buck shouted and before Eddie could ask for an explanation, Buck was out of the car, slamming his door and stomping like a toddler over to Eddie’s side.

The second the door opened, Eddie said, “Buck, I am so confused.”

Buck continued to stay silent and grabbed Eddie’s hand, dragging him down the street. Eddie probably could have pulled him to a stop, but he was too busy trying to grasp onto the sliver of string holding his heart together, ready to snap any second if Buck didn’t love him back. He didn’t think that was possible. He had been so sure that Buck felt the same as he had shown it, proved it, on every occasion he could. Eddie wasn’t sure what he would do if—

“Oh,” Eddie whispered when they rounded a corner to a park they frequented with Christopher every so often. The picnic table they always sat at had a white, embroidered table cloth with plates that Eddie recognized from Buck’s kitchen set on top. There was a fake candle in the middle and the same bouquet of flowers Buck had gotten him on their first date settled beside it.

“It’s been weeks since we had been able to have a moment alone together, Eds,” Buck said, grabbing both of Eddie’s hands in his own and taking a deep breath. He stared into Eddie’s eyes and as if he had memorized an entire speech, cleared his throat and began. “I’ve been trying to plan this big romantic gesture that would blow all of our other dates out of the damn water but every time I had something in place, there was always something else in the way.”

“You don’t need to—” Buck squeezed his hands and raised his eyebrows, a clear threat in his features that had Eddie snapping his mouth shut but still unable to hold back the grin on his lips.

“As I was saying,” Buck enunciated pointedly as he pulled Eddie to the table and nudged him to sit, “there hasn’t been time for me to tell you how much you mean to me. I know we show it every time we’re together, but words? They mean a lot to me. I’ve never really been good with them. I stuttered as a kid and it was a constant struggle to get anyone to listen to me when I could finally speak my mind…”

Buck trailed off and glanced away like he was suddenly embarrassed by the admission that had Eddie warming up from the inside out. Eddie angled his head to catch Buck’s eyes and rested a gentle hand on his cheek, nodding to urge him on. He wanted to make sure he heard what Buck had to say, that Buck knew he was there to listen to him even if no one else ever had been. Buck shook his head and let out a huff of disbelieving laughter before he spoke again.

“The only words that have been swirling around my mind for the last few months have been about you. How lucky I was to have met you when I did, how fun it is to spend time with you, how immediately I fell in deep with both you and Christopher.” At the mention of his son, Eddie’s heart squeezed. Buck knew how much that would have meant to him. “Most importantly, how I’ve never quite loved anyone as much as I love you.”

Eddie’s cheeks hurt from the wide smile that he couldn’t even try to erase from his face. His stomach bubbled over like champagne finally released from the confines of its bottle and his heart pounded that steady beat that he was sure matched in time with Buck’s. He loved him. Buck loved him and Eddie loved him right back. Nothing could ever be as perfect.

“But then, you go and steal all of my thunder by blurting it out when I’m just existing,” Buck complained, clear exasperation in his voice that Eddie rolled his eyes at.

“Our entire relationship doesn’t have to be a competition, Evan,” Eddie argued, standing so he could hold Buck’s face in his hands and brush their noses together. “I know it started that way, with you seeing me as some sort of challenge to pass the time on your hands,” Eddie said softly but was interrupted by Buck shaking his head rapidly.

“Hey, that’s not—” Eddie chuckled and pressed a delicate kiss to Buck’s lips, smiling when Buck chased after his mouth like he needed more than that.

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Buck, because you’ve spent the last few months being everything I tried to run away from and everything I’ve needed. These big romantic gestures from your makeshift handbook were incredible, but I don’t care about anything other than the fact that I really, really love you, okay?”

Buck nodded and when they kissed, it was with barely contained smiles on their faces. It was awkward with too much teeth and laughter, but they were happy, they were in love. Every second spent with Buck, even when they were rushing around to get him back to the station, was a memory Eddie wanted to keep forever.

Eddie was looking for an escape when he moved to L.A. He wasn’t trying to find a family or a home for himself, only focusing on the future he could provide for Christopher and caring little for his own. He was searching for an easy way out and hoped it was the right thing for both him and his son.

Then he realized what’s easy is right and that began and ended with Buck.

#buddie #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911fluffweek #911 #911 on fox #911 fic #buck x eddie #eddie x buck #my writing #its over 😭😭😭😭#i am so emotional over this #thank you so much to everyone who kept up with it #im very proud of this little fluffy story #eddie and buck deserve everything good in the world #starting with each other

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michals · 3 years

Note

Hi I've just read your Luther and Vanya request and I just love it. Could I please if it's no bother to you request another one but it's them both as kids.

Firstly: Thank you! Secondly:

She tries to focus on the music but she can only play her violin so loud and it doesn’t drown out the sounds of running feet and chatter on the other side of the door. Vanya had specifically gone to the library just to get away from it, but dad’s in his lab so the others have taken free reign of the whole house. They only get thirty minutes of free time on Saturdays so there’s always a frantic nature to the games they play, all of them intent on getting as much out the half hour that they can. Today’s game is tag. Of course they didn’t ask Vanya to join, they never do.

She’s twelve and is used to listening to her siblings play from a distance, from wherever she’s sequestered herself. She’d used to watch sometimes, from the edge of their circle, hoping one day one of them will actually look at her and invite her to play. She has faint memories from years ago where she wasn’t always the odd one out, but that changed.

She sighs, she can’t keep her mind on the sheet music. If she’s going to do it she has to do it right, it’s not worth it to play badly. She packs up her violin, careful as always. When the half hour’s up the others have training but she’ll stay in her room, waiting for dinner.

The hallway’s empty when she steps out and the day dream that one of the others would be out here waiting for her, would grab her hand and pull her into the game, dissipates like always. She makes her way to the back staircase, away from the noises.

But when she turns the corner she’s slammed into by another body and thrown into a sideboard, sprawling on the floor as a bust of Copernicus rolls down the hallway. She lets out a yelp at the burst of pain in her shin.

“I’m so sorry!” a voice says above her and she looks up to find Luther staring at her with wide eyes. No wonder she fell so hard, Luther’s not just the strongest he’s also the biggest of them. She's always felt even smaller than she is next to him.

“You’re hurt,” Luther says like he’s surprised at the sight of blood starting to well up on her scraped shin.

She realizes she’d hit the edge of the sideboard, the scrape is about four inches long, the skin already turning red. Still she mumbles, “I’m fine.”

She expects Luther to turn away, run off back to the game, only he doesn’t. He takes a hesitant step forward, eyes still on her leg, brow furrowed. “You need a tourniquet.”

Vanya raises her eyebrows though the expression is lost on him because of her bangs. “Uhm, no, I don’t think I do.”

He crouches down by her and she’s thrown, she can’t remember the last time her brother was this close to her.

“Dad just taught us this, it’s basic first aid,” there’s a hint of excitement in his voice at getting to put one of dad’s lessons into practice.

She pulls her leg in closer to her, she’s wary now. She doesn’t want to be a practice dummy for him to try out dad’s teachings on. He isn’t deterred by this though, doesn’t even notice, as he starts to loosen his tie.

Vanya holds her hand out, “Luther, I don’t think- I mean, it’s not a big deal.”

He stops, tie in hand. Vanya is still waiting for him to get up, roll his eyes at her and stalk off, annoyed that she won’t let him help. But still he doesn’t, looks at her like he’s not sure what to do.

She’s never been the sole focus of Luther’s attention; she’d been dubbed ‘ordinary’ and that seemed to put her on the bottom of his list of things that mattered. He isn’t cruel but he also never cares enough to bother with her. That he’s here, making her his only concern, makes her feel important.

She unbends her knee and puts her leg out for him to see. Satisfied that he’s allowed Luther winds the tie around her calf under her knee and ties it carefully. He’s been well aware of his strength for years and has had to compensate, it’s made him surprisingly mindful. Vanya doesn’t know much about first aid but the knot is probably too loose to even do what it’s supposed to. She doesn’t say anything though.

He stands, asks, “Can you walk?”

She gets to her feet, puts some weight on the leg. The thing is is that it doesn’t actually hurt all that much, not nearly enough to not be able to walk on it. But she pretends, picks her leg back up like she can’t bear it. She shakes her head, “No.”

There’s a beat of hesitation in Luther and she worries that he knows she’s faking, but then he turns around, crouches down a bit. He’s offering to carry her. It’s her turn to pause, feeling kind of bad that she doesn’t actually need him to, but then steps forward, wraps her arms around his neck and he hefts her up, putting his hands under her knees.

He starts to walk when she remembers, “Oh! My violin!”

It’s a few feet away from where she fell, Luther walks over and without warning dips Vanya sideways. “Can you grab it?”

She tightens her one arm in surprise, then leans out as far as she can, fingers reaching for the handle. Luther has to tilt even more and she worries they’re both going to tip over and end up on the floor again. They must look so goofy, she almost laughs.

She manages to snag it and pull it up, settling it across Luther’s chest, he doesn’t seem to mind. “Mom’s probably in the kitchen,” he says as he begins down the hall.

Luther often carries the others like it’s nothing. He has no problem picking Allison up whenever she asks, Ben when he’s too tired after a training session, Klaus when he pretends he’s the injured one, dramatically flopping on the floor til Luther puts him on his back. But he’s never carried Vanya.

He’d offered so easily, like she wasn’t the outcast, the extraneous child, the sister he never thought about. She misses it in a way that doesn’t make sense to her – how can she miss something that’s never happened? But that’s the feeling in her chest as he carries her down the hall. Maybe she misses all the ‘maybes’, the ‘what if’s. And she feels special.

They’re halfway to the kitchen when Diego suddenly flies out from the parlor, stopping in his tracks at the sight of them. Vanya’s struck by the feeling that she wants to cry. Luther’s going to drop her cause of course it’s Diego and Luther doesn’t want to be embarrassed in front of him. She’s not special.

But Luther doesn’t, again doing the exact opposite of what she expects from him.

“What’s going on?” Diego asks.

Luther gives a shrug that makes Vanya shift, “She got hurt. I’m taking her to mom.”

“Oh,” is all Diego says, looking over Luther’s shoulder at her. There’s that blank expression that she always got from all of them back when she still bothered asking if she could join their games – like they simply never considered it an option, considered her an option. Even Five, even though she was closest with him, didn’t think twice about it, as if it was hardwired in them not to.

It’s then that Five bursts into the hall, jumping forward and slapping Diego firmly on the back and running off laughing.

“Five you j-j- Ugh!” Diego yells, pivoting on his heel and darting off after him, Vanya and Luther immediately forgotten.

Luther doesn’t say anything, just starts walking again. Vanya tightens her arms a tiny bit around his shoulders, thankful and weirdly possessive, like it’s her turn for Luther’s attention for once. Her heart sinks when they reach the kitchen.

“Mom?” Luther calls walking in. She looks up from the bread dough she’s kneading. “Uhm, Vanya got hurt.”

“Oh honey!” Mom coos, coming over and immediately catching sight of her leg. “Let’s get you down to the infirmary and we’ll patch that right up.” She smiles reassuringly, briefly touching Vanya’s shoulder as she goes by, leading them to the basement steps. And still Luther doesn’t put her down.

When they get to the infirmary is finally when Luther crouches down and Vanya slips off his back. She sets her violin on the floor and hops up onto the medical table. She sits and feels like she’s too heavy, that gravity’s too strong.

Mom bustles over to her, starts to wash the scrape. Luther stands behind.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, “I really didn’t mean to.”

She nods, accepting the apology easily, “I know,” she says.

He smiles, relieved, and she feels herself smile too, for a moment she feels special again – but it’s dashed at the sound of Dad’s voice.

“Number One? What are you doing down here?” He stands just beyond the doorway, his expression harsh as he takes in the scene.

“Helping,” Luther says in a snap, his tone changing to serious and sharp. “She got hurt.”

Dad looks over at Vanya and she can’t help the way her heartbeat picks up. She doesn’t know what she’s done wrong, what Luther’s done, but she’s sure it’s got to be something. Dad’ll find something.

But Dad turns, says over his shoulder, “Come along Number One.”

“Yes sir,” and Luther follows quickly behind. He doesn’t spare a look back as they go.

“Does it hurt darling?” Mom asks, patting her shin dry before she picks up the bandages. Vanya shakes her head.

When Mom’s done Vanya walks back to her room, waits for dinner.

#tua fic #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy fic #vanya hargreeves #luther hargreeves #blood mention?#sorry if i tag that wrong #this probably doesn't need to be as long as it is but at this point i have no control over that anymore #my fic

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twinklelilstarkey · 4 years

Text

Goodbye - Neil {TENET}

Pairing: Neil x Reader

Words: 1.5k+

Type: Angst

Summary: Y/N decides to leave after Neil comes back injured from a mission.

Warnings: Mentions of blood and death.

You walk back in the room and stare at Neil’s asleep state. He looks peaceful, just like any other night.

It doesn’t even look like he took two bullets onto his abdomen and isn’t laying in a hospital bed.

He had just come back from surgery a few hours ago, and he should be waking up soon, or at least that’s what the doctors said.

Your chest aches at the sight of all the cables connected to his body and the large bruise on his jaw. You had seen the large bandage that covered his torso when a nurse came to check his stitching, and you just can’t take your mind off of it.

You put down the warm paper cup with coffee on the side table and take your seat next to the bed once more. Your hands are freezing under the warm air of the air conditioner, shaking out of pure anxiety.

You stare at the ground while leaning back on your chair, deep in thought.

The beeping sound of Neil’s heartbeat is the only sound that surrounds your ears, filling the silence in the room.

The door of the room slides open, making you snap back to reality and look up at the nurse, who is already staring at you.

“Hi” She whispers with a quick and small smile.

You nod as a way to answer her, not giving out a smile back, before looking over at your fiancé, who is still very much quiet and not moving.

The woman walks over behind you to check on Neil’s IV and charts and you move your hand over his. His hand is warmer than yours but also not as soft, his calloused bits on his palm feel familiar to you but it has been so long that it also feels somewhat different.

It’s not the first time Neil has left for work without a word, especially during the night. But it’s the second time he ends up in a hospital bed, badly injured.

The nurse walks out of the room, taking a good look at you before walking away and you ignore her gaze.

Once the door of the room closes, leaving you in the silence once more, you move your chair closer to the bed. You lift Neil’s hand and lay it on your cheek, feeling his warmth against your skin, consuming the coldness of it.

Your gaze lifts over to his face and your eyes fill with tears.

It’s probably the tenth time you’ve cried over him and the amount of emotions you’ve been feeling ever since you’ve stepped in this hospital.

Your heart breaks and feels heavy every time you think about the call you received.

Neil’s coworkers told you exactly what had happened in the mission once you settled in the waiting room and also how you shouldn’t worry about him since “he’s strong”. But you can’t help it.

Your anxiety has been awful ever since he left, affecting your daily life profusely.

You couldn’t focus on your work; you couldn’t focus in conversations and just to make matters worse: your friends have been oblivious to everything. Making you seem like an awful person and co-worker to them.

A hospital call or even one from Neil’s workplace is something you prepared for every time he left, but the nausea and the pumping heart were still very much prominent when you got it.

A groan from the man next to you sounds.

“Neil?” You whisper while getting up from your chair and letting go of his hand to hover yours over his face.

You cup his cheek slightly to try and not hurt him and his eyes open slightly, making him groan, again, over the brightness of the lights in the room.

“Where am I?” He asks. His voice is hoarse, over being asleep for so many hours, but you tried not to pay too much attention to it.

You move back a bit as he opens his eyes and quickly let go of his cheek as you feel yours wet. You wipe your tears, ignoring how you possibly didn’t feel them earlier, and decide to answer him.

“Hospital” You answer, a little louder than before.

He tries to sit up but cringes once the pain courses through his body.

“Try not to move too much, you got shot twice on your side” You say.

You sit back on your chair as he grabs the bed’s little controller, quickly getting the hang of it and making it help him sit up, and you hesitate to look at him as he gets comfortable, making Neil notice.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“I should be the one asking you that” You say with a small fake smile, looking up.

Neil notices the slight puffiness under your eyes and bites his tongue to not say anything out loud. Not before thinking twice. He knows how much you worry, that’s one of the reasons why he’s usually so careful in his missions.

Luck certainly wasn’t on his side this time, and he is hating every second of the outcome of it.

“Have you eaten?” He asks, concern is highly noticeable on his tone.

You nod slowly and the weight in your chest heavies the more you look at him.

“Come sit” Neil says, moving his legs over to one side of the bed so you could take your seat next to him.

You get up from your chair and take a seat right where he petted the bed, facing him.

“How bad was it?” He asks in a whisper, “When I came into the hospital”

Flashes of the nurses red tinted hands against Neil’s soaked shirt and the faint deep red trail around the entrance of the ER run through your mind.

You take a deep breath before answering.

“Bad” You answer, feeling tears fill your vision once more, making you look away discreetly.

Neil, to try and grab your attention, moves his hand and puts it over yours. His body feels rather stiff with the pain, but he tries to hide it with the best of his ability so he can focus on you for just a moment.

He notices how your eyes stare into nothing as you think about something and gives your hand a slight squeeze.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore” You whisper, so faintly that Neil almost doesn’t catch it.

“What do you mean?”

You stare up at him, your eyes meeting in the quick movement. Your eyesight is affected by the tears, that fight to drip down your cheeks, but, in a way, you can still see him clearly.

“I mean about us”

Neil freezes in time as those words leave your mouth and chills travel through him.

“It’s the second time you almost died in these missions, Neil” You say leaving out a sob, but you quickly cover your mouth in hopes to control it.

Neil stays quiet.

“You walk out of our apartment without even saying a word and disappear for months, reappearing like this” You say, trying to compose yourself in the middle of the sentence, “We were supposed to get married next month-”

“We still can” He says, moving his hands to cup your face. Shock has finally left his body and he’s back to his senses, “Don’t do this to me” He adds, voice cracking.

You sob at his words, lowering your head almost as in shame in how much you’re breaking. “I need to” You say in a low tone. Neil pulls you closer and you continue to sob loudly as he tries to hold you.

“It’s for the best… For the both of us”

“No” He says shaking his head, “No, we can get through this together”

You look up a bit at him.

“I love you so much” You whisper, “And that’s exactly why I can’t deal with the thought of you getting killed when you step out of our home”

His thumbs run though your wet cheeks slowly as the two of you stare at each other, both heartbroken.

“The doctors said it was a miracle that you survived” You say with a sad smile, “And I’m so thankful that you did, but I really can’t, Neil”

Neil’s eyes glisten with the light as one of his hand move over to the back of your neck, making you feel the wetness of your tears still on his skin.

“Is there anything I can do to make you stay?” He whispers, breathing slowly to try and keep calm.

“No” You say calmly, “Because you are not going to stop working”

He stays quiet while listening to your voice and pulls you closer by the back of your head, making your foreheads meet and your noses touch.

“I love you” He whispers, and you fight your tears.

You close the space between you and kiss him. Your lips don’t move, but neither do Neil’s, they just press onto each other.

Both of your hearts shatter with the feeling of this being your last kiss and how you can just tell by the way it feels. Your lungs burn as you breathe in when pulling away and you wrap your arms around Neil’s neck, pulling him into a hug.

Neil leans his head onto yours when wrapping his arms around you and he breathes in your smell, trying to get it through his head that it will be the last time he feels it.

You pull away after a few seconds and look over at him. A tear falls from his eye as he looks up at you. You bite your lip, pulling the ring out of your ring finger and lay it on his palm.

You move back a bit and take a good look at him once more.

“Goodbye” You say.

“Bye” He answers.

You force yourself out of the bed and quickly grab your things from the chair.

Neil stares at you, as you do it, and once you walk out of the sliding door, not looking back, he moves his gaze towards a table next to him.

Exactly where your, now, cold coffee sat.

- - - - -

Hope you guys liked it!

#robert pattinson #robert pattinson x reader #robert pattinson imagine #tenet #tenet imagine #neil x reader #neil tenet x reader #neil #neil imagine #tenet imagines

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themoonlitsojourner · 3 years

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Chapter 2: Need you here ‘cause I’m a mess

Emotions are messy, unruly, and a complete mystery to Raven. But she can't leave her friend to endure this alone. Not once she sees the state Gar's in.

Emptiness. One word, but a whole world of hurt behind it. How can Gar feel nothing and the throb of his bleeding heart at the same time?

‘How.’ It’s the only question on his mind.

How could she? Did the months of teamwork and friendship, of welcoming Tara into their home with every reassurance and smile mean nothing to her?

Gar bites down on his lip and tastes blood.

Didn’t their nights spent stargazing, their shared glances and whispered secrets mean anything to her, when they meant the world to him? Was every shy brush of her hand against his fake? Was every kiss a trick?

He’ll never know. The worst part isn’t the betrayal. It’s the fact that she’s never coming back. She’s never coming home.

A scene flashes through Gar’s mind, the memory that plays over and over every time he closes his eyes.

A katana piercing the bandages wrapped around Tara’s stomach, the vicious twist as Slade yanks the blade from the last wound he will ever give his apprentice. Tara’s shocked expression as she collapses, Garfield’s terrified cry as he cradles his first love in his arms. As he watches her bleed out with every throbbing heartbeat and gasping breath. As Tara dies in his arms.

In just a few hours, she betrayed him and died. He lost her twice that day.

The anger Garfield worked so hard to stoke and feed fizzles out, replaced by the sharp ache of pure loss tearing through his chest like a wild beast, ripping into his heart and lungs until he can’t breathe. Why couldn’t he save her? Why wasn’t he enough?

Tears roll down his cheeks, soaking his fur as his shoulders tremble. He wants to stop, to take control of himself and shut down. Anything to stop the pain.

Anything to stop missing her.

~~~

“He’s been in there all morning.” Richard sets the TV remote down and sends a worried glance at the hallway leading to the team’s living quarters. “Do you think we should…?”

“He doesn’t wanna talk about it.” Victor passes an empty soda bottle from hand to hand, never once looking up. He tried to reach out to Garfield again yesterday. When he returned, his expression told the others exactly how it went.

Raven’s gaze flicks to Koriand’r as the redhead sighs loudly and props her chin on her hands. “There is truly nothing we can do to help?” She sends Richard a pleading look, undoubtedly wanting to make Garfield another present. It’s a sweet thought, but ultimately futile. Just like everything else they’ve tried.

“Not if he won’t let us,” Victor replies. He finally lifts his head, turning to catch Raven’s eyes. “You tried yet?”

“I’ve been giving him his space.” He wouldn’t want to see me. Not if he turned away Richard and Kori. Not if he won’t even talk to Victor.

“It has been two days since he has emerged from his room,” Kori points out, voice and thoughts drenched in sorrow. She’s right to be worried.

“I’ll try.” Raven stands. “But I don’t think it will help.”

“Will it hurt?” Victor says quietly, gaze returning to his soda bottle.

The question is rhetorical, of course. Nothing could hurt Garfield any worse than what’s already happened.

With each step toward his room, the pain in Raven’s head grows. She closes her eyes and stops to lean on the wall, bracing herself against the waves of guilt, regret, anger, sorrow. And grief. So much grief, in every shade and variation she’s ever sensed, present all at once in a single boy.

Taking a deep breath, Raven centers herself. She closes the distance to Gar’s room and knocks on the door. No answer. Not even a rustle of movement. If it weren’t for the hurricane of emotion flooding from him, she might think the room was empty.

“Garfield,” she says to the closed door. “It’s Raven.”

Nothing changes. Not with the door and not in his mind.

She didn’t come before because he needed time to process and mourn. But now that she’s here… Garfield’s in too much anguish for her to just turn around and leave. He shouldn’t be alone with this.

“I’m coming in.” Raven’s hand rests on the doorknob for a few seconds, giving him a chance to protest. Silence. She opens the door and steps inside, shutting it quietly behind her.

The room is dim. The only trace of light seeps through the half-shuttered window, filtering between storm clouds and raindrops to drench the room in an even gray. Garfield lies on his side in bed, the covers tangled beneath him. He stares out at the downpour, expression distant and blank. Tired. Empty.

Raven closes her eyes again, just for a moment. Her head pounds, her chest tight and aching with the agony pouring from him like the rain from the sky. She forces herself to open her eyes.

“I don’t wanna get out of bed.” Garfield’s voice breaks the silence, raspy and flat. “I don’t wanna do anything.” His dull eyes trace a raindrop trickling down the glass. “That’s never happened to me before,” he whispers.

“I’m sorry.” Raven’s throat feels thick, like a knot has tied the middle shut, and breathing past it is difficult. Her thoughts slow and blur, a numbness settling upon her. This… this is how Garfield feels. The sensations that plague her mimic the heaviness of grief upon his chest, the darkness of apathy draining the color from his being. This is the extent of his pain.

If Raven had the words to comfort him, she’d give them freely. If she knew how to help, she would stop at nothing. But that is an ability her mentor Azar never taught her. A skill she’s never learned, despite the years spent surrounded by caring, whole people who do know how to soothe and comfort. It’s yet another area where she has failed them.

Dark streaks trail the fur on Gar’s face, marking the path of tears. Another falls as Raven watches.

“Why can’t I just hate her?” he chokes. “Why do I have to miss her?”

“Because you care, despite what she did. Because that’s who you are.” It’s the truth. She knows how to give him that, at least.

Garfield inhales shakily. “Yeah. And it’s how I got hurt.”

Without that openness and trust, you wouldn’t be Garfield. But even if Raven argues, she won’t be able to make him believe. Not when he’s still so deeply wounded.

She searches for something to say as Gar falls silent again. He crosses his arms and pulls his knees to his chest, curling into a fetal position. “There’s so much I never got to tell her,” he whispers to himself.

Watching him feels like an intrusion and there’s nothing she can do to help. Raven turns to leave and give him his privacy, but his voice stops her.

“Please.”

When she glances back, Garfield is looking at her for the first time since she stepped into the room. His emerald green eyes, normally so full of joy and mirth, are dark and pained. They reflect the ache throbbing inside him, the one pulsing in Raven’s head.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispers. “I don’t want to be alone.”

His words hit Raven like a shot to the chest.

After Tara left, in more ways than one, after what she did to him… He’s afraid to be left alone again. And he’s asking for Raven, of all people, to stay.

The pressure in her head builds until she wants to scream. “Let me get you something to eat.” She needs an escape.

Garfield’s shoulders drop. His head falls back to the pillow, eyes returning to the gray sky. “Sure.”

Just like that, any emotion in his voice disappears as he slips back under the numbness. Another dagger pushed into Raven’s heart. She shuts the door behind her with shaking hands, working to calm her breathing. His pain, his grief… It’s too much.

She walks to the kitchen without thought. Kori looks up hopefully as soon as she enters, Richard and Victor following suit.

“How is he?” Richard asks.

“Not good.” Raven wrenches the fridge open, searching for something Garfield would never turn down, not even in his current state. “He’s depressed.”

The word lies sour and dark on her tongue, the reality of it sending dread rolling over her. Sunny, ridiculously optimistic Garfield, depressed. Beast Boy, the light of the team, caught in the dark of his own mind.

Her fist slams down on the kitchen counter with a crack. “Curse you, Tara,” Raven hisses.

Sharp pain travels up her nerves, the sensation delayed by her anger. Feeling her friend’s wide eyes on her, Raven snatches a container of last night’s garlic tofu and rice out of the fridge and marches from the room.

No one will ever put Garfield through this again. Not on her watch. If she’s the one he’s reaching out to, then Raven will do whatever it takes to make him whole. To bring back the smile to her friend’s face and the light to his eyes. If it means hours of extra meditation afterwards to maintain her control, then so be it. It’s more than a fair price.

“I brought garlic stir-fry.” Raven sets the container on his bookshelf, next to a picture frame turned face down. Her gaze lingers there. It isn’t hard to guess who’s in the photo.

“You came back.” Gar glances at her, then away when she faces him. “I thought that was just your excuse to get away from the mess in my head.” He makes a finger gun and taps it against his temple. “Not that I blame you.”

A shudder runs down Raven’s spine. Her mouth goes dry. “Don’t do that.”

“I’m just joking.” His voice is small and quiet.

The dark part of Raven is angry that Tara will never see what she did to him, the shell she reduced him to. Gar cares more than anyone else can ever hope to, and Tara used that. Troubled or not, a victim of manipulation or not, nothing can ever change that truth.

Raven pushes the darkness back and locks it away in a far corner of her mind. Tara is not her concern now. Garfield is.

“How can I help?”

Gar blinks. “You can’t. Not unless you can take away the pain, like when I get beat up on a mission.” He laughs once, a bitter huff.

Raven steps forward. “I can’t.” She sits next to him on the bed. “But I can share it.”

Garfield’s eyes widen and he jerks to sitting, showing the first bit of life she’s seen in two days. “Raven, no.” His ears droop, his brow furrowing. “That’ll hurt you.”

“If you can handle it, then so can I.” The situation calls for comfort she doesn’t know how to give. But her friends do. So she mimics the way she’s seen Victor reassure Kori and cups Gar’s cheek, fingertips finding still damp fur. She lets her concern show, her lips falling into a frown. “And I’m more worried about you, Gar.”

His eyes glimmer. Just a spark, for just a second. “You called me Gar.” Slowly, he shakes his head, gaze still fixed on Raven. “You never use nicknames.”

Despite her teammates’ best efforts to the contrary, Raven always uses their proper first names. It makes it easier to pretend she isn’t as emotionally involved, as attached to them as she knows she is. It’s silly, honestly. She uses the nicknames in her head anyway.

“Yes,” Raven confesses. “I did.”

“I knew you thought it was cool,” Gar mumbles, curling up on his side again. But this time, he lays his head in Raven’s lap.

She freezes for a moment, scrambling to comprehend this new turn of events. Her hand ends up in his hair, so she tentatively smooths it, careful to avoid the knots. She’s never been comfortable with touch. It’s a strange and unfamiliar sensation to her, having experienced it only rarely on Azarath. But she tries to set that aside now.

“Promise you won’t leave.” Garfield’s vulnerable like she’s never seen him. So small and afraid compared to who he usually is. Or maybe he’s always hidden it well, even from her. “I just… I need…”

“I need you here.” His thoughts say what he can’t. “I need you.”

No one has ever needed Raven before. All her life, she has brought this world only darkness and the promise of death and destruction at the hand of her father. But somehow, Gar sees something different. That ability to find the best in people, regardless of who they are… it’s his greatest quality.

“I promise,” Raven answers. “I won’t leave.”

Closing her eyes, she bows her head and lowers the walls around her mind.

Emotions seep in, flowing from the broken boy with his head in her lap. Forceful, potent feelings, far stronger than any she’s ever experienced through her empathy before. They whip through her mind in blinding colors, mingling with and amplifying each other, complex and interconnected. When she lets herself appreciate them, they’re almost beautiful, despite the monumental effort it takes to keep them from overwhelming her.

Raven breathes carefully and slowly, the tightness in her chest returning threefold. Inhale… Exhale… The sound is her point of focus as she works to channel the pain from Gar and release it into the void her powers come from, allowing herself to be a conduit.

A hand reaches up to touch her cheek, the contact pulling her mind back to this world. Gentle fingers wipe away a single tear that managed to escape her control. “Rae…”

Raven opens her eyes to see Garfield watching her with concern. Just two days ago, he endured tragedy that no one should ever have to experience, trauma that would break most anyone. Yet he’s concerned for her.

“Get some sleep.” Raven brushes Gar’s hair from his face and he obediently closes his eyes, too exhausted to fight. She feels his tight muscles ease as she pulls the brunt of his emotions into herself, taking the edge off his pain.

The technique is beyond dangerous and it hurts. But if she can offer Gar any comfort, she won’t withhold it. No matter the ferocity of the storm within her.

As Garfield’s breathing deepens and he drifts into slumber for what she suspects is the first time since Tara died, Raven repeats her promise.

“I won’t leave you.”

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 3)

(Previous fic in series: Slow dancing in the Darkness)

(Next fic in series: The Sound of the Sword)

#just use the link to read the first chapter and the previous fic in the series #bbrae #beast boy #raven #garfield logan #teen titans #teen titans animated #teen titans animated series #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #mine #writing

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xbunnybunz · 3 years

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Daybreak (3/?) [Wolf Keum x Reader x Alex Go)

Summary: The day brings to you Alex Go, and in the night, Wolf Keum. Your past is inescapable. They build you up and tear you back down, but this is what you need to survive.

Genre: Romance, Angst, Drama

-----

When darkness creeps into the sky, you can see the shadows of a dwindling day inching into the room.

You sit hunched at your desk, a pen in hand and a notebook open before you.

Typed notes with yesterday’s date sit neatly in a pile, courtesy of your teachers. You had finished all the assignments that were given today, so the rest of the evening was yours-- and yet, you couldn’t seem to make anything of it, like always.

A laptop lay haphazardly on the bed as if thrown there. Papers and sheets littered the floor, a mixture of both typed notes and haphazard writing progressing into black and white scrawl.

You tightened your hold on the pen until your knuckles were paler than the paper. The other hand tapped impatiently on the table, waiting for something while staving off something else.

A mess, and you couldn’t fix it. You couldn’t get the wheel turning and you’ve been fighting it all night, but you have to think back on it again.

Purple hair, hazel eyes, red blazer.

It was like a curse. When you swallow, it feels like you’re choking.

“Ah, crap. Seriously?” You chuckle lowly, but its stale and drops like deadweight in the air.

A hand threads into your hair and you pull at it a bit, as if that’d help relocate lingering thoughts find a way back into confinement, as if it’d pull things out of your head that mattered.

You drop the pen and fold your arms up, dropping your head to rest on the desk. You peer at the phone beside your head, and tap the screen.

It lights up your dim room, and in the split second it takes your eyes to adjust to the brightness, there’s a glimmer of hope. But there’s nothing on the screen. No texts, no reminders, alarms, or missed calls. Vastly empty, making room for vast longing.

The sunset was gone now, reduced to a few straying rays of light. You flip over the phone and turn to the window. You wonder how you’d seem to someone looking in. Would you seem lonely? Could they tell you hadn’t felt whole since then?

Thoughts running in a circle, you can almost hear it again.

The beeping of a heart monitor. The clicking of shoes on white tile. Feigned hope and lies draped in white coats, hushed whispers, as if it didn’t matter that you knew the truth too.

Their words to you were no more than empty promises, false reassurances. They swam lazily, leisurely in your mind, giving you hope then snatching it away. The words live in your heart, reside there. Won’t let you forget.

His face plays in your mind, and you morbidly wonder what expression he made before the impact. Was he scared? Did he see it coming?

Eyes squeeze shut when you can feel the tears collecting again, pooling and forcing their way out in the sneaky way tears do.

Your hand clenches and unclenches, and you raise it and drop it again on the table, weakly, like the world’s shittiest attempt to muster anger.

“Why him?” You wonder, and hate the way your voice sounds fragile. “Why did it have to be him?”

The scent hits you again. Burning tire, sporadic blinking of a traffic sign, lights shooting through the night too much too late for you to do something. Anything.

“Haha, shit.”

The room is still. Nothing moves. An occasional car passes a ways from you, and the distant whirr of wheels on asphalt echoes through the nighttime air. It’s accompanied by a streak of headlights approaching, then fading into darkness.

It stays like this for a very long time, and you remain glued to the spot. The night is always stagnant. You always itch for something to distract you.

Your phone vibrates on the table. You tell yourself you won’t bother to check, but you do anyways. It’s just a reminder that your bill is due soon, but you barely have enough energy to be disappointed.

You eventually rise again, but the way your spine curves into your body, shoulders pulled close…

You see yourself in the mirror when you drag yourself to the bathroom and turn away in distaste. It’s no wonder Wolf hadn’t wanted to speak to you, it was almost like staring at a husk of a person. Disturbing and pathetic.

You knew you should probably stay away, or find some other way to feel better, but it was hard. Always was. And it was far easier to fall back into old habits, far more comfortable to keep making the same mistakes.

So you do.

You pull on the same heels, the same dress. Put on the same makeup, the same brand of lipstick.

The same routes, turns, and the same tinkering bell chime later, you are back in the same place you were a few days ago. It's just a dark shroud, heavy and suffocating, to hide in-- but you are back.

Comfortable, routine normalcy.

You slip into a stool by the bar. You liked this one, because you know the bartender thinks you’re cute and won’t card if you bat your eyelashes.

It was by chance you saw him a month ago, Wolf Keum, and you considered it the best stroke of luck in your life.

The luck seemed to stop short when you had one drink too many and ruined any chances of speaking to him. You supposed you deserved it, but it still stung more than you’d like.

You get whatever the fuck is the cheapest to start, but the bartender slides you a cosmopolitan anyways. You don’t complain because you know he probably won’t charge extra.

An hour passes but the hum of patrons never ceases. You love it here, you think. No one ever notices you, alone at the bar. There are too many stragglers to ever just pick one out.

Just like last time, there’s the clicking of utensils, the low murmur of conversation. It all fades to white noise in the background, and you’re relieved that your mind is slowing. Not completely, but almost pacified. Almost is always good enough.

Just when you think you’re smooth sailing, someone loudly pulls out a chair beside you. The grating sound of an old lopsided barstool dragging along unpolished tile is unpleasant, and the sharp noise reawakens sobriety.

You flex your wrists and send them a sour look, only to be taken aback when a familiar face takes a seat.

He doesn’t look at you but you know he’s just being sly.

You prop an elbow up onto the table and dip behind it, drink souring on your tongue, mirroring on your expression. What does he want, and what happened to his face? As if the mere glance you had taken hadn’t told you enough, you could see his hands on the counter out of the corner of your eye. Bandaged, lopsided gauze, and bruising all along the knuckles.

The bartender cards Wolf and he’s stiff about it. You don’t know if he’s irked you have a guest, or intimidated by his aura. You’re almost disappointed when Wolf pulls an ID out of his pocket. Of course he would have a fake.

He receives his drink promptly. But even when the bartender serves the other patrons, Wolf still doesn’t address you.

You wonder if he’s messing with you and give a small sigh. Your fingers find a lock of hair and twirl it absentmindedly, watching your face in the drink ripple, then vanish when you take a sip.

You squeeze your eyes shut and open your throat. It burns on the way down, when it settles in your stomach, and even when you stop drinking. You don’t really feel like staying any longer, but pride keeps you anchored to the stool.

And why should you leave? You were here first. You couldn’t be intimidated by petty tricks like this, not when you’ve seen worse from middle schoolers.

You turn your head away from him and look out the window. Wonder if it’s obvious you’re ignoring him. You can see his larger frame hunched over behind you, silhouetting yours easily. See him pick up his glass with his fingertips, downing the entire thing in one go. He throws back his head when he drinks, and you can see his adams apple bobbing with each swallow. Its rushed, and you wonder what’s got him worked up.

A car passes by outside, and the reflection is scattered. You turn back to your drink and swish the liquid, pretending to give a shit about the citrus peel inside. The motions feel strange with your left hand, but the right one is currently blockading you from Wolf.

He’s being awfully quiet, so you sneak a look at him.

His sharp gaze clashes with yours, and your heart leaps to your throat when you realize you were caught red-handed.

You clear your throat and set your cup down with a clink, dropping your right arm. You want to dish out an attitude to repay him for yesterday, but all you can muster is another quiet sigh.

“…Is there something you wanted?”

Your eyebrows pull together in a weak attempt to seem concerned, and when you pull up the corners of your lips, it feels like a thousand pounds.

There are bandages on his jaw, his neck, his nose, his forehead. Scratches everywhere else.

You feel for him, but the cool façade he puts up doesn’t seem to be looking for pity.

It was true he looked destroyed, yet the fiery spirit in his eyes burned bright, like coals crackling orange then splitting yellow in the fireplace. If you peered in for too long, they beckoned to you, dangerous but tempting.

He moves to answer you, and you’re mesmerized by the way his lips barely move when he speaks. He must not need to be loud to demand attention, you think. His fists do the work for him, which is ironic because you don’t hear him, too busy with staring at his face.

“I’m sorry, what?”

The corner of his lip tugs up a bit. He leans in closer and you can smell the whiskey on his warm breath, hot and wet on your face.

“You look like shit.”

Your body goes rigid and your throat closes. You’re not sure if it’s an adverse reaction to what he said, or a survival mechanism to avoid saying dumb shit that would land you in a hospital. The spite shoots into your gut, and it twists in irritation. If it shows on your face, he doesn’t react to it. You’re not sure if he’s too drunk to give a fuck about manners, or if he’s just like this all the time.

You scoff and wrap your fingers around your glass, clenching.

“So do you.”

He gives you a bit of a look, and it feels like amber eyes are slicing into your body, cupping your soul. You want to tear your gaze away, but he looks enchanting under the glow of the bulbs, hanging low. Eyes are half lidded, and it doesn’t help that hes angled himself to peer at you through his lashes, longer than you could’ve imagined. The alcohol induces a pink flush across his cheeks that seems to match the odd expression on his face.

You know he’s not trying to seem seductive, since his body language is still closed off. But when his tongue darts out to catch a drop of whiskey on his lip, you force yourself to look back down at your hands.

“Hah, fuck you.”

You grit your teeth and try to keep a straight face.

Did he sit next to you just to pick a fight? Why wasn’t he with his group of assholes? Were they waiting to ambush you?

You look up at him again, lips set in a grimace. “…Where are your friends?”

Wolf yawns to let you know he’s bored with your questions and doesn’t bother to cover his mouth. You want to shove him off the barstool but hold back for your own sake.

“Meeting. I didn’t go because the boss is a prick.”

You pretend to understand, but you don’t and he knows it.

“The Union, heard of it?”

You dig through the recesses of your brain and think you recall hearing some of the students at school gossiping about the “shuttle hatch,” so you tell Wolf that. He exhales a bit through his nose, and his lip quirks up again. He seems amused by something, but you have no idea what.

“Right. Shuttle hatch.”

There’s a long silence that stretches between the both of you after this, and it puts you on edge.

A minute passes into ten, into thirty. He doesn’t say anything else, but even though he sits there with an empty glass and a stomach full of whiskey, he won’t leave.

You’re beginning to feel like he’s testing you- challenging you, even. So you leave a sip of cosmo in your cup as an excuse to stay. You raise it to your lips now and then, and it’s lukewarm.

“What happened to your face?”

Wolf is distracted, eyes closed, face red and swaying slightly to the faint music over the speakers. You don’t think he’s even conscious until he speaks up, eyes still closed, body still swaying.

“Donald Na.”

His answer only served to confuse you more, and it definitely didn’t help that he spoke to cryptically.

“…Alright.” You mutter, not even attempting to hide your cluelessness. All these names and talking of bosses and unions confused you. It reminded you of a noir book you tried and failed to write, for obvious reasons.

Wolf understands the hesitation in your voice, “He’s my boss. The prick.”

Your head turns to him. He looks stupid swaying in the light with all those bandages on his face, but it was the face of someone far bolder than you, far less reservations. Even begrudgingly, you had to respect him for his audacity.

“Your boss did this to you?” When you ask, you forget to filter the worry out of it. It’s just a smidgen, but no doubt Wolf catches onto it immediately.

He peeks an eye open to assess your reaction, but you’ve stored it back in your sleeve in anticipation of this. He scoffs and closes his eye again. “Yeah. Fucker.”

You tap a finger on the counter, listen to your nail go click click click.

Talking to Wolf was like playing a game, it was just as enthralling as it was frustrating. Talking to people hadn’t ever been this hard, even after everything happened. The lulls in the conversation, the lapses in his sentences- there was a rhythm to it, a puzzle that felt like it’d complete you, too. You weren’t not sure how to describe it, but it feels strange, novel. Like you were scaling a mountain with no foreseeable end, but you wanted to conquer it. Wanted to show him, the whole world, you were still someone.

You scoff in response. “I don’t blame him. I’d sock you in the mug too if I had the chance.”

He shoots you a curious glance, but there’s light in his eyes, adrenaline rushing through his heart. You can see it in the way he shifts a bit in his seat, uncrossing then recrossing his legs.

“You have the chance now.”

You shake your head at him and purse your lips. When you speak, you can feel your heartbeat in your throat. “And give you the chance to throttle me after what happened last time? When hell freezes over.”

Wolf chuckles, it’s low, dark. Makes you nervous.

The hazel in his eyes is stirring now, like the tint of a cloud passing over splattered stars. When he smiles, he only uses half of his mouth to make a smirk, and it reminds you of the way a crescent moon curls, luminous, haunting, and almost sad.

“Are all girls this bitter after rejection?”

You entertain his dry joke with a dry laugh and clam up again. He doesn’t seem to care, but some tiny part of you wishes he did.

It was like playing with fire. Hot and destructive.

You both order another drink half an hour into the silence and finish it another half hour later. Now you’re just sitting here, both of you, seeping in the tension.

When your phone rings, it jolts you, not expecting the loud and obnoxious chime to be at maximum volume. The buzzing screen displays a name in big, bold letters:

ALEX GO

You look at the time above the name, 10:43PM. Your heart flutters once, twice.

Standing up from the bar, you push your drink with a sip left closer into the table.

“I’m going now,” you say to the air, in case Wolf isn’t listening. But he is.

When you glance at him, you just barely catch his eyes slipping from the phone in your hand to your blushing face.

There’s a wisp of something in the air, like smoke. Like jealousy. And then it’s gone.

He doesn’t respond and turns back around.

You feel almost disappointed, but promise yourself it doesn’t matter. But just before you head out, you hear Wolf speak again,

“Thanks.”

He pauses, like he’s pondering if he should explain why he’s thankful. Like he, himself, isn’t sure what he’s grateful for.

You understand him because you’ve felt it before too. You rest your hand on his slumped shoulders and give him a smile that you hope he can hear in your words.

“Get better soon, Wolf Keum.”

And again like last time, your heels click on mosaic tiles as you make your exit. The bell chimes, the door creaks, and hisses shut. The sound of the restaurant is drowned out by a peaceful silence. When you turn back to see if Wolf is watching, all you can see in the glass is your own gaze, peering back at you.

#weak hero #webtoon weak hero #WEAKHEROFANDOMUNITE #weak hero x reader #alex go #alex go x reader #wolf keum #wolf keum x reader #daybreak

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tw-anchor · 3 years

Text

41. Demonic Ninjas

Anchor

Stiles Stilinski x Original Character

Episode: 3x17; Silverfinger

Word Count: 7,055

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence + gore

Author’s Note: Sorry for the long wait. I hope you enjoy! Please make sure to reblog, like, and tell me what you think!

Masterlink in Pinned Post!

"His eyes were glowing."

Mr. Argent stared at Scott, though he didn't seem to be seeing him. The glint in his blue eyes made it look like he was traveling through time, recalling long-buried memories. "There was something almost ritualistic about it," he agreed with Scott as Allison continued to mop the blood pouring from the cut above his eyebrow. "Like it was looking right into his soul."

"That's the same thing it did to me," Isaac murmured, sitting in the chair on Olivia's left.

"That's what it did to everyone," Allison added.

Scott shook his head. "Not everyone, they only came after the werewolves."

Olivia clicked her tongue in disagreement. "They went after Lydia and me, too, remember?"

"Anyone with a connection to the supernatural," Mr. Argent said knowledgably.

"Then who was the guy they went after in Japan?"

Finally, someone asked the question that Olivia wanted to ask but had the patience to wait. She and Mr. Argent weren't the best of friends by any means, but they had a considerably better relationship than the end of sophomore year when he helped get Stiles away from his evil father. That was thanks to his actions that night and how close she, Allison, and Lydia had gotten. She respected the man—so if that meant waiting for answers until Allison could finish patching him up, she was fine with that.

Apparently those weird demonic ninjas had attacked Isaac the night before when he was visiting Allison for a late-night...chat. Olivia didn't know the specific details—though she would definitely pry them out of Allison later—but they did to Isaac what they did to Lydia and Aiden only hours before. Mr. Argent had found familiarity in Isaac's description of his attackers and had asked him and Allison to wait to say anything until he did some digging.

His digging led him to the Japanese mafia and from there...well, he was a bit bloody at the moment, so things did definitely not go as well as he would have hoped.

"A Kumicho," Argent answered, having already filled them in on the beginning of his story; when he first saw those demonic ninjas years ago. "A Yakuza boss. It was my first gun deal, I was only eighteen and it was supposed to be a simple exchange. Except Gerard left out the minor detail of the buyers being Yakuza," he scoffed and shook his head bitterly. "He wanted to see if I could adapt in the moment, testing my ability to improvise."

"Or your ability to survive," Allison murmured, her distaste for Gerard very apparent.

Mr. Argent didn't disagree with her but instead, chose to continue his story. "The moment the sun went down, they just materialized out of the shadows. They had swords, not curved like katanas but straight, black steel. Like ninjatos."

Olivia raised her eyebrows, mentally making a note to study Japanese weaponry when she had the chance. "What did they want?"

"To get to the Kumicho..." Mr. Argent paused for a long moment, more memories haunting his eyes. "They cut down every living thing in their way."

Isaac reached for his ear, running his fingertip over the marked skin behind it. "Did they mark him like they did us?"

Argent dipped his chin gravely, careful not to mess up Allison as she finished stitching him up. "Not exactly."

Well, they all knew what that meant.

"What was he?" Scott asked somberly.

"I don't know, but there might be someone who does," Mr. Argent revealed just as Allison finished up bandaging his stitches. "There were a few others who survived that night. One of them was a man named Katashi. They called him Silverfinger because of an unusual prosthetic."

Olivia's lips curved; if Stiles was there, he would have been gushing over a fake finger made out of silver.

"It looked like he was getting ready to take them all on himself," Argent continued. "I've known for a while Katashi was in the country; I spent yesterday tracking him down."

Isaac winced, gesturing to his forehead. "Didn't really look like he wanted to be found."

"Not particularly, no."

Scott glanced at Olivia and she cocked her head in response, both of them thinking the same thing. "Do you think he knows what they are?" Scott asked Argent. "Or what they want?"

"Maybe."

"What if he doesn't want to talk?" Allison brought up a good point; Argent had already been injured by Katashi's men. "What if he doesn't even remember you?"

Mr. Argent stood from his desk chair and approached an ornate wooden box settled on the side of his desk. "He'll remember this," he pulled off the lid, revealing a silver mask broken into four separate pieces. Scott immediately reached for a piece. "I know I didn't kill it, I'm not sure you can. But I slowed it down long enough for us to get out of there."

Scott held the mask piece out to Olivia; taking it, she asked Argent, "What was behind the mask?"

"Darkness," Argent answered grimly as she studied the heavy metal. "Absolute darkness."

Olivia was going to kill Aiden Steiner.

She didn't get any sleep that night, thanks to the demonic ninjas and the talk at the Argents' apartment, but thankfully, she did have time to stop by her house and change her outfit. It was then that she first crossed paths with Aiden, who had come over to make sure Lydia was all right. He had been weirdly cheerful as he greeted her and then followed her all the way to her bedroom. She had ignored him and thought he would go away while she changed; unfortunately she was wrong.

He waited for her outside her door and then followed her down to the kitchen, watching with her with a creepy smile on his face as she scarfed down a quick bowl of cereal. When he had asked her for a ride to school, she put the pieces together. Aiden was following her for some insane reason and she did not like it one bit.

Olivia did not make it a priority to spend time with Aiden—in fact, she could say that she went out of her way to avoid the first half of the former alpha twins. After spending five minutes with him alone, she realized that she had been right to; how Lydia could stand to be in his presence for more than a minute blew her mind. He would not stop talking, chatting about anything that caught his eyes on the drive to school. And then, when they finally got to school and she exited her car, he proceeded to follow her into the building, all the way to her locker.

"Why are you being so annoying?" she hissed at him as she dialed her locker combination. "I don't want you around me, I don't want you following me."

"I'm protecting you," Aiden insisted, leaning against the locker next to hers. "Listen, I don't want to be here, either, but Ethan decided that I was stuck with you."

"Stuck with me?" Olivia gaped at his audacity. "You're the one following me around like I'm Lydia."

"I wish I was stuck with Lydia."

"I can't stand you."

"Aw, the feeling's mutual."

Olivia clenched her fists, trying to have some control and not punch him in that ugly mug of his. It was hard, she wasn't going to lie, but at least Scott walked up to her, distracting her from her violent tendencies. Of course, Ethan was right behind him. "Ugh, you got one too?"

Scott wasn't pleased with his bodyguard either. "Yep," he sighed and stared at the twins. "You guys going to be doing this all day?"

Ethan nodded. "All day."

"All night," Aiden finished.

"Is this about being in our pack?"

"This is about you two being the target of demonic ninjas," Aiden refuted.

Ethan looked over at his twin, raising his eyebrows mockingly. "You mean the demonic ninjas that pulled swords out of their chests and completely kicked our asses?"

"Yeah," Aiden pointedly glared at Olivia and Scott. "Those demonic ninjas."

Olivia glanced at Scott and narrowed her eyes at him, silently telling him that he needed to take care of this. Scott inhaled deeply and told the twins, "We don't need you to protect us."

"They were looking at the both of you when the sun came up."

"And then they disappeared," Olivia reminded them. "Allison's dad thinks that they only come out at night. Last I checked, the sun's shining, boys."

Ethan didn't humor her. "Since this is our first experience with demonic ninjas, we're thinking we should play it safe."

"All day," Aiden insisted.

Olivia groaned and shared an annoyed look with her alpha. "And all night."

Scott shook his head. "Fine, whatever," he gave in reluctantly, knowing that while he had some chance against said ninjas, Olivia would need some protection that the former alphas could provide. "First, Liv and I have to talk to Stiles and let him know everything that happened last night...and that needs to happen without you."

"No," Aiden instantly denied while Olivia took out her economics book and shut her locker.

"Yes," Scott emphasized as Olivia rolled her eyes. "And I don't want you listening in, either. No wolf hearing."

"How would you even know?"

Olivia raised an eyebrow at Aiden, and fibbed just a little. Hey, if it would get the twins away from her and Scott, she didn't mind lying. "He's a true alpha," she pointed out. "You guys have no idea what he can do."

Her statement was firm and would have been so badass if Scott had kept his mouth shut. Instead, he sounded like a fourth grader when he boasted, "Yeah!"

Olivia gave him a deadpan look and grabbed his wrist, tugging him away from the twins in order to meet up with Stiles at his locker.

Stiles was already waiting for them, anxiously tapping his fingers against the metal lockers he leaned against. He looked like he hadn't slept in three days and Olivia inferred from the dark circles under his eyes that he probably hadn't. He was bundled up in a too-large hoodie and gray t-shirt that made his paler-than-usual skin contrast sharply.

His appearance honestly worried Olivia. When she had seen him at the rave the night before, he looked much livelier and healthy. He looked so sick now, and worse than that...panicked.

"There you are," he said, almost urgently, when they were close enough to him. "Olivia, do you remember those keys yesterday?"

"Yeah," Olivia said, worried about how serious he was.

Stiles nodded and started walking away; Olivia and Scott hurried after him. "Okay, and do you remember how you were kinda drunk and we were dancing and stuff and then we got something to drink?"

"What's going on, Stiles?" she sped up her walking so she could hold his hand; his skin seemed so clammy that it worried her even more.

"I just need to show you," Stiles brushed her off, letting go of her hand, and turned down the science hallway. He headed straight to lab where the message to kill Kira was written down, the one with the closet full of chemicals. "All right, so, you were talking about phosphors and the key having chemicals on it, remember? So, that made me think of the chemistry closet and the fact that someone had to let Barrow in."

Olivia paused for only a second as Stiles opened the classroom door and held it open for her and Scott to come through.

"It's gone..." he murmured, sounding utterly devastated, when he glanced at the board, noticing that the message about Kira was missing. That devastation was gone in an instant, replaced once more by urgency. "Okay, it doesn't matter, though, it doesn't matter. I still have the key."

Her mind raced as he tore off his backpack and searched for his keyring...Was Stiles saying that he was the one that let Barrow into the closet? It scared Olivia at how out of sorts he seemed, digging through his backpack like his life depended on it. Stiles finally found his keyring and all but ran to the chemical closet, pausing when he couldn't find the key he was looking for.

"What the fuck?" he swore at himself very angrily. "I had it. I had it here," he turned to Olivia and Scott with wide, frantic eyes that broke their hearts. "I had it here this morning. I swear to God, I had it this morning."

His hands were shaking so badly that Olivia couldn't sit still. She stepped toward him and took them between her own, holding them against her collarbone and pressing her lips to his fingers. It did something in the way of calming him down, making him slump into her until his head was resting on her own.

"This is the key you were talking about last night, right?" Scott asked skeptically, causing Stiles to look back over to him.

"Yeah," instantly, that bad energy was back inside again, bouncing around his body. "I showed it to you, right? Didn't I show you?"

"No, you just told me about it," Scott shook his head hesitantly. "I never actually saw it."

"But I did, remember?" Olivia was quick to remind her boyfriend when it looked like he was about to have a mental breakdown right in front of them. "You showed me. I remember it."

"Okay, but it's not here now," Stiles ripped himself away from her and stumbled toward the clean blackboard. "I was here a couple of hours ago and the message left to Barrow spelling Kira's name was right there on the board. It was in my handwriting and I had the key to the chemistry closet."

Okay, so, yeah...Stiles genuinely thought that he was the one to sent Barrow to kill Kira. Olivia bit the inside of her cheek worriedly as she stared at him. This all had to be the lack of sleep, right?

"So, you unlocked the chemistry closet so Barrow could hide in it from the cops, and then you wrote him a message to kill Kira?" again, Scott sounded skeptical.

It had Stiles whirling around on him in defense. "I know how it sounds, but look at this," he reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled ball of paper. It was an article about Barrow's initial crime. "This is the news report that came out about Barrow when they caught him, okay? About the shrapnel bomb that he used. See this? See what he did? He used nuts, bolts, and screws and then he hid the bomb and the detonator in a box that he wrapped as a birthday present..."

A trembling hand covered Olivia's mouth when she realized what exactly he was getting at.

"What does that sound like to you?"

Scott inhaled quietly, uneasily. "Coach."

Stiles nodded. "The joke we played on Coach," he confirmed shakily. "That was my idea, you remember? That was my idea. That's no coincidence, it can't be!"

Honestly, Olivia didn't know what to think. Yes, Stiles had compelling evidence, she wasn't going to deny that, but Stiles wouldn't do this. He wouldn't let Barrow into the school in order to hide from the cops while also leaving him with instructions to kill Kira. This was Stiles Stilinski, the man who cried during The Empire Strikes Back and who was ultra-ticklish under his chin. There was no way he would work with a shrapnel bomber to kill the new girl—one that he didn't even know.

From the hesitant look on Scott's face, it was clear that he agreed with her. "I don't want to sound like I'm trying to tell you that you're wrong," he said carefully, aware of Stiles' fragile state. "but I don't think you're trying to kill people either."

Stiles stared at him for a second before he looked back at the board, almost dejected, crumbled up the article once again, and whispered, "It was here. It was all here."

Olivia's heart positively ached. "Sweetcheeks," she pried the article out of his hand and intertwined their fingers in order to get his attention. "are you feeling okay? You look so tired."

Stiles blinked down at her. "Yeah, I'm fine," his continued whispers did nothing to assure Olivia of anything. "I just haven't been sleeping really."

Scott gave him a pitiful look. "Why don't you go home? Take a sick day or something."

"I'll go with you," Olivia offered. When Stiles nodded, she wrapped an arm around his waist and started leading him out of the classroom. They were halfway to the door when his legs almost gave out; if it hadn't been for Olivia, he'd be on the ground. "All right, nope, we're going to the hospital."

Scott gathered the rest of Stiles' weight, wrapping his other arm around him. "I'll help you take him to your car."

Stiles didn't argue about the hospital, which told them that he was really feeling bad. It broke Olivia's heart to see him like this—she decided then and there to talk to Noah and see if she could sleep over for a couple of days so Stiles would feel safe enough to sleep. She couldn't stand to see him so sick.

Melissa had been understandably concerned when Olivia and Stiles walked into the hospital when they were supposed to be in the middle of study hall. Once Olivia was able to assure her that there were no emergencies, involving them or Scott, they were able to get to business. Things were going well with trying to get Stiles in to see a doctor, until Melissa broke the news to them.

"Dr. Gardner's not back until next week," she said apologetically. Olivia sighed, knowing that Stiles wouldn't want to see any other doctor, especially one he didn't trust. "Do you want to try waiting for one of the urgent care doctors or..."

She trailed off when Stiles unwrapped himself from around Olivia and stumbled a few steps away from her. He looked like he was going to collapse or faint at that very moment. Olivia hurriedly took action, supporting most of his weight within seconds.

"Stiles?" Melissa hurried around the desk to take the rest of his weight. "Are you all right?"

"I don't know," his breathing picked up anxiously and he sounded so confused. "I guess—I guess not really."

Olivia's eyes stung when Melissa looked at her; it killed her that she didn't know what was wrong with Stiles. His tether was resting calmly in her mind, indicating no sort of trouble. What if physical sickness didn't manifest danger in that way, though?

"All right, kiddo, all right," Melissa nodded calmly, putting on a reassuring smile for both Stiles and Olivia. "Come with me, it's okay."

She led down the hallway and to one of the empty ER rooms, letting Stiles get settled in while she officially checked him in to the hospital as a guest. Olivia didn't know what to do as they waited for her to return; she settled herself by wrapping a warm blanket around Stiles and tucking it in tight, making sure he was all covered up. She must have seemed like a worried mother, but Stiles didn't say a word and instead, let her dote over him.

"All right," Melissa returned with a brand-new folder, already pre-filled with Stiles' medical information. "tell me what's going on."

"Um, I'm having blackouts, but not for that long. Sleepwalking, which I used to do a lot as a kid," Stiles listed slowly, tiredly. Melissa dutifully wrote down his symptoms, eyebrows just as furrowed as Olivia's. "I'm having some really bad anxiety."

"Panic attacks?"

"Yeah, a couple," Stiles confirmed while brushing his thumb over the back of Olivia's hand. "Oh, and I temporarily lost the ability to read but that might have had more to do with this giant magic tree and whole human-sacrifice thing."

Olivia's lips ticked up faintly while Melissa chuckled and nodded. "I recall something vaguely about that, yes," she moved on. "How many hours of sleep are you getting?"

"Eight."

Melissa raised her eyebrows at that. "A night?"

"The last three days," Stiles let go of Olivia's hand so he could count using his fingers; her breath had left her at his answer and now her heart raced as he shakily raised his fingers, probably too tired to count without them. "Yeah, definitely eight."

Olivia looked away from Stiles and watched Melissa as her expression contorted worriedly. She turned away from Stiles' file to walk over to the medicine cabinet, quickly unlocking it and pulling out a vial of medicine and a syringe.

"Been feeling irritable?" Melissa wondered, coming back to the table next to the hospital bed Stiles sat on.

"Yeah, possibly to the point of homicide."

"Inability to focus?"

"No, the Adderall's not working."

"Impulsive behavior?"

"More than my usual?" Stiles glanced back at Olivia, who put on a smile for his benefit. He clearly saw right through it, taking her hand in his once again. "Hard to tell."

"Vivid dreams during the day?"

Stiles turned back to Melissa, suspicious. "Okay, basically all of the above. Do you know what this is?"

"I think so," Melissa snapped on some plastic gloves and ripped the syringe from its packaging, filling it up with the medicine she brought over.

Stiles gulped as she approached him. "Uh, what's that?"

"Do you trust me?"

"When you're not holding a needle," Stiles answered swiftly, reminiscent of his regular self.

Melissa chuckled. "It's Midazolam."

Olivia recognized the name. "A sedative?"

Stiles looked at Melissa for confirmation. "Why are you giving me a sedative?"

"Because," Melissa carefully, yet swiftly, pressed the needle into Stiles' arm, injecting him with the sedative. "you, Stiles, are one profoundly sleep-deprived young man. You need rest and you need it now. Lie down."

Melissa gripped his shoulders and as she slowly guided him into a laying position, Olivia hurried arranged the pillows to Stiles' liking. She stood next to his head and stroked his hair, mostly free of its usual styling gel. In response, Stiles tried to scoot closer to her, though didn't get very far due to his quickly draining energy.

"Okay, how long's it take to—" he paused as his eyes started fluttering shut. "Oh, not long at all..."

Melissa smiled in amusement and carefully laid another warm blanket around him, tucking in the edges slightly. "Get some rest."

"Thanks, Mom," Stiles muttered sleepily, not even realizing what he had just done.

Olivia smiled sadly at Melissa when she faltered, staring at Stiles with wide eyes. With a comforting squeeze to Olivia's arm, Melissa slowly retreated from the room to give Stiles some privacy.

"Sleep well, Stiles," Olivia gently kissed her boy's pale cheek, ready to take Melissa's lead and let Stiles sleep. "I love you."

Stiles cold fingers wrapped around her wrist, tethering her to him. "Stay," he murmured. "Stay with me."

Olivia knew that she shouldn't but she couldn't resist Stiles when he was like this. He was vulnerable and how many times had he stayed with her when she was in his position? She couldn't leave him now. She didn't want to.

"I'll stay with you, always."

In the hours since Stiles fell asleep, Olivia's phone had been blowing up with text messages.

First, it was Scott. He told her that he was pretty sure that the demonic ninjas were after Kira too. She had no idea how he got that idea, and had told him so—so, Scott let her in on what happened the night before with Kira. Apparently she had some kind of aura around her that looked like a fox and because the ninjas were after anyone with a supernatural ability—no matter how unknown that ability was—he figured that they were after her, too. He wanted to protect her and Kira, so he told her the plan that he and Kira had to go to his house after school to outwait the night and the ninjas.

Olivia had to admit that it was a good idea. Recently, Dr. Deaton had put ash wood boards around the McCall's house. Melissa would be able to make a mountain ash barrier at the door that would put the house on supernatural lock-down, not letting anything out or in. She quickly agreed to head over to his house before the sun started to set, promising that she'd be careful in the meantime.

And then it was Derek who called for her attention, then. He had been splitting his time trailing her and Scott throughout the whole day and had overheard Scott's plan with Kira. He was just making sure that Olivia was going to be safe, and suggested that she get a ride home with Melissa from the hospital. Lastly, Aiden had somehow gotten her number, scolding her for going to the hospital without him or Ethan—she promptly sent him the middle-finger emoji and blocked his number.

She didn't want to leave Stiles but she knew that it was for the best. If those ninjas went through everyone to get to her, that meant Stiles was in danger by association. Without her around, he wasn't going to be targeted. He'd be safe. So, with a gentle kiss to the forehead and whispered promise that she'd be back when it was safe, she left with Melissa.

Olivia didn't know if Melissa was tense because of the danger that Scott faced or if something else was bothering her. Either way, the older woman looked incredibly stressed, her hands gripped tight around the steering wheel, and though she and Olivia were friendly, they weren't close enough that Olivia could just outright ask her what was up—no matter how much she wanted to.

Unfortunately, Olivia never had the time to gather her courage to ask Melissa what was wrong. As soon as they were pulling up to the McCall house, Melissa was swearing under her breath. To Olivia's slight amusement, she was cursing her ex-husband, who's car was parked out front.

"Jesus Christ, what's going on now?"

Never one to miss out on drama or hot gossip, Olivia hurriedly followed Melissa into the house. It was there that they discovered Agent McCall arguing with Scott while Kira stood to the side, looking like a wounded puppy. Olivia instantly went to stand by her, giving her a questioning look, but Kira just shrugged, wide-eyed.

"No, you're a gene donor, I got my hair color from you," Scott told his father calmly. Olivia was impressed; if she was in this situation, she would have been spitting fire. Then again, her father tended to get a lot more violent than Agent McCall. "And that's all I got. So, you're not allowed to play tough dad with me."

"Hey," Melissa greeted them cautiously, shutting the screen door behind her. "What's going on?"

Agent McCall turned to Scott and Kira with a stern look. "Maybe one of you should explain."

In all honesty, Olivia wanted to know what was going on as well, but now really wasn't the time. The sun was going down, and with it, their safety was in trouble. "Scott..." Darkness fell over the house and Olivia shivered, red and purple tethers lighting up her mental map. A slight shuttering sound, like some kind of bug, came from behind them—she didn't have to turn around to know that it was one of those ninjas. "Scott!"

It was then that Agent McCall spotted the shadowed figure. "Who the hell is this?"

He was pulling out his gun and stomping toward the ninja without waiting for a response. Scott yelled at his dad to stop and keep away from it, but the bastard was too stubborn to listen. In a swift move that went by far too quickly, the ninja pulled out his sword and impaled it into Agent McCall's shoulder.

"Dad!"

Olivia winced while Kira screamed and Melissa darted into action. She hurried over to where Agent McCall's body fell onto the floor and was dragging him out of the living room in an instant, bringing him to the hallway where she could keep pressure on the wound without being disturbed. The back door opened at the same exact time and Derek rolled in, his wolf features already on display as he growled at the imposing shadow figure.

"Liv, the ash! Do it now!" Scott shouted at her while he and Derek leapt toward the ninja.

Olivia ignored the ferocious growling and ran from the room, grabbing the jar of mountain ash that had been sitting on the table, waiting to be used. She got to the screen door quickly, pouring the ash out into a neat, straight line, before running back to the back door, creating a whole other barrier. Unfortunately, that was when the twins decided to jump through the windows in order to join the fight—that meant that she had to make a barrier around the broken glass and debris.

"Liv!"

"I'm trying!" Olivia shouted, pouring the rest of the ash out just as Scott, Derek, and the twins pushed the ninjas out of the house.

She ran back to the dining room, eyes on the screen door, just as one of the ninja's pressed its hand against it. The barrier held firm, repelling its touch with light blue energy that crackled against it. She inhaled deeply and made her way over to Derek and Scott, where they were staring at the back door, another ninja waiting just outside.

"All the baseboards are ash wood?" Derek asked Scott.

"Yeah, it was Deaton's idea," Scott confirmed before raising his eyebrows. "Where the fuck did you come from?"

"I've been following you," Derek answered like it was the easiest question in the world.

"For how long?"

"Since Ollie took Stiles to the hospital," again, Derek's answer was simple. When Scott looked over at Olivia for help, she just shrugged and went to her cousin, wanting a hug. Physical affection was not something that she and Derek dealt with often, but right now, she needed to feel safe and warm. She needed someone to hold her and be there for her while she was being strong for Stiles.

Derek wordlessly wrapped her into a hug. She didn't have to say anything, her chemo signals were more than enough to tell him what was going on. Still holding her, he led her back to the dining room where Ethan and Aiden were standing with Kira while Scott went to check on his mom and dad.

Kira stood at the screen door where Olivia had previously been standing, studying the way that the ninja was kept out of the house with the mountain ash barrier. Aiden stood next to her, staring down at her with a mischievous smirk.

"It's Kira, right?" Kira nodded silently. "You going to tell us what you are?"

"What?" Kira asked quickly, confused. "What do you mean?"

Aiden reached for her arm, smirking at his twin over her shoulder, and raised it. "Aiden..."

"Just watch," Aiden warned Ethan, his eyes flashing to Olivia, who went to take a step forward to rescue Kira. He abruptly pushed her hand against the barrier, watching as it pushed her flesh away, keeping her inside just like all other supernatural creatures—other than Olivia and Lydia. "See that? She can't go through it either."

Ethan hustled to his twin's side, glaring down at Kira. "So, what are you?"

Olivia sighed; she didn't know exactly Kira was—Scott hadn't made her privy to that detail—but she wasn't going to let the twins antagonize her like that. Sure, she didn't really know Kira that well and yes, she was some unknown creature, but Scott liked her and she got a good vibe off of her, too. Besides, compared to Ethan and Aiden, what harm could Kira possibly do?

Before she could speak up in her new friend's defense, Derek intervened. "She's a kitsune, idiot. Use your eyes, you can see it all around her. The younger ones give off an aura. She just hasn't learned how to conceal it yet, she probably doesn't know what kind she is, either."

"A kitsune," Olivia hummed, at least what Scott said about a fox aura made sense. She had read about kitsunes in the Hale bestiary—which, in her humble opinion was far more vast than the Argent's—and they interested her greatly.

There were thirteen different types of kitsunes but only a couple Olivia knew from the top of her head—celestial, wild, ocean, thunder, and air were the few she had studied more in depth. She found it interesting that there were so many types of the same supernatural creature, so many powers they held. Most were considered dangerous and powerful and while she could sense that Kira had the same kind of energy under her skin, she knew that she had hardly used it.

Like Derek had mentioned, Kira probably didn't even know what kind of kitsune she actually was. She doubted that Kira even knew she was a kitsune until very recently.

Kira glanced between Derek and Olivia with wide eyes before hurrying out of the room. Olivia briefly heard her call Scott away from his mom and dad before focusing back on her cousin and the two former alphas.

"Try to keep your hands to yourself," Olivia narrowed her eyes at Aiden. Even though she had only known Kira for a couple of weeks now, she trusted her far more than the twins—especially Aiden.

"I wasn't going to hurt her," Aiden retorted; Ethan, Olivia, and Derek all gave him skeptical looks.

"Not yet, you weren't," Derek replied snidely, firmly on Olivia's and Scott's side of the Kira argument. He trusted them, so he trusted her—end of story.

Aiden's lip curled. "Why do you think we're here, guys? For a study group?" he tried to convince Olivia and Derek of his Ethan's good intentions. "We're here to protect you and Scott, Olivia."

Ethan quickly added, "We're trying to fight for you."

Olivia twisted her lips and lowered her eyes. She recognized that the twins were fighting for them...but that was one good deed. It didn't compare to any of the bad things they had done, killing Boyd on top of the list. Boyd was her packmate, her friend, and she wasn't going to disrespect him by letting Ethan and Aiden into her life. She tolerated their presence for Scott's and Lydia's sake—that was it. That was all they were going to get from her.

"I'm sure you are," Derek spoke, stepping in front of his cousin in a protective stance. "I'm sure you'd kill for them. But are you willing to die for them?"

Olivia didn't want anyone to die for anyone, even the twins. Sure, she didn't like them at all, but she wasn't an evil person, she didn't want them to die. And certainly not while protecting her or Scott, because then she'd feel guilty about it and she didn't want to feel anything but hatred for the former alphas.

And Derek? Well, she especially didn't want him to die. It scared her that he was willing to do that to protect her or Scott, or even any other pack member. She couldn't imagine a life without Derek and she never wanted to—the thought of it caused her chest to physical ache. For the past seven years of her life, Derek had been more than a cousin to her; he'd been an older brother, her protector, a father figure when her own was off turning people into werewolves and murdering arsonists. He was one of the two most important men in her life, and with the other hardly sleeping and seemingly having a mental breakdown, she needed Derek to stay safe and at her side at all times.

She wished she hadn't become so paranoid. But, if she learned anything throughout this crazy year of her life, it was that people were never guaranteed a long and happy life. Erica and Boyd were proof of that.

Olivia turned away from the twins when they went silent and exchanged uncertain glances. Sensing her discomfort once again, Derek wrapped an arm around her shoulders and lead her into the living room.

"You're gonna be okay, Ollie," he spoke to her quietly yet reassuringly. "I won't let anything happen to you."

"I know you won't, but things aren't okay, Der," Olivia swallowed harshly, squinting her eyes hard enough that her head started to ache. She didn't want to cry—she wouldn't let herself cry. "Stiles—Stiles is in the hospital because he's so worn out, probably because he sacrificed himself to that stupid tree. We have demonic ninjas out to get us, you and Lydia already got hurt...We're not okay, nothing's going to be okay—"

"Hey," Derek shifted so he was grabbing her shoulders with both hands, forcing her to look up at him. His face was serious yet heartfelt and she was so lucky to have a brother that made her feel so safe. "Everything's shit right now, I get it. I know. But you're a Hale. You're strong. You're gonna get through this—we all are getting through this."

Olivia wanted to believe that, she really did. "Okay."

Maybe agreeing with him would manifest it into the universe.

Derek nodded and pulled her into a tight hug, pressing her face into his warm Henley. His familiar scent was comforting and eased her worries, though Stiles was still there, at the back of her mind, his tether doing nothing to suggest the actual danger he was in.

All of a sudden, the house shook. It wasn't an earthquake shaking the house, but it was, as they discovered when they went back to Ethan and Aiden in the dining room, one of the ninjas. It was banging on the barrier, trying to break through like Scott had once done against Jennifer.

Scott was a true alpha, one of the rarest creatures in the world, and he was strong, but for some reason, Olivia had a feeling these guys were stronger.

"What are they doing?" Scott asked as he and Kira rushed into the room behind her and Derek.

"Testing for weaknesses," Ethan answered, his eyes firmly held on the ninja.

As if the ninja though Ethan was daring it to do more, he once again banged on the barrier with his sword. This time, however, his buddies joined him. The house shook violently, dishes falling from the shelves and crashing onto the floor in the kitchen.

Knowing that a fight was about to break out, Olivia left Derek's side and went to Kira, taking a hold of the girl's hand. Kira didn't hesitate to squeeze her hand tightly, more than nervous about what was going on. Olivia waited for the moment the barrier fell and Derek, Scott, and the twins started the inevitable battle.

The ninja in front of Ethan held its sword against the ash barrier, slowly carving out a hole in the invisible forcefield. "Guys," he called, as if none of them were watching the ninja stick his hand through the hole. "we have a problem."

Scott glanced at Olivia. "Call Allison."

Olivia didn't hesitate, reaching for her bag on the table and ripping her phone out from inside. She tapped on Allison's contact and as soon as the ringing stopped, Allison answering her call, she didn't bother to greet her. "Allison, please tell me that you have something. They're here and they're trying to get in. They're strong, I think they'll be able to break through the barrier."

"Okay, okay listen," Allison's voice was strong and calm, putting Olivia a little at ease. "They're Japanese demons. They're called the Oni. They're looking for someone possessed, someone with a dark spirit attached to them. It's called a Nogitsune."

Scott, able to hear the call from his place next to Derek, looked over at Olivia sharply. "How'd she know that?"

"Know what?" she asked, confused.

"Liv, you there?"

"Sorry, Al. Yeah, what else do you know?"

"Okay, they won't hurt you. They know you're supernatural but once they do this check, once they realize that you're not carrying with you this dark spirit, then they won't hurt you," Allison spoke quickly. "I promise. All they're looking for is the Nogitsune."

Kira turned to her, eyes wide and fearful. "They're looking for me, aren't they?"

"I gotta call you back, Al," she hung up the phone and addressed Kira and Scott, thoroughly confused. "What are you guys talking about?"

"A Nogitsune," Kira explained quickly. "It's a dark kitsune. I'm a kitsune!"

Scott quickly walked over to them before Olivia even had a chance to react. "They're looking for a dark spirit," he corrected Kira earnestly. "And I know it's not you."

The house shook again and when Olivia glanced over at the screen door, she saw that the barrier was all but broken through. "Scott," they could talk about this later. "we have to decide what we're gonna do."

Scott nodded seriously and then turned to Ethan, Aiden, and Derek. "Don't do anything."

Aiden glanced at Derek. "Is he serious?"

"I said don't do anything," Scott repeated firmly and then addressed Kira and Olivia. "We're gonna be okay. Trust me."

Olivia nodded; she trusted Scott and she certainly trusted Allison. They wouldn't steer her wrong; Derek, Isaac, and Lydia had survived these Oni. So, why wouldn't she? She wasn't possessed, she wasn't a dark spirit. She was gonna be okay.

Olivia glanced at Derek and he nodded ever-so slightly, silently telling her that he agreed with her and Scott's decision. The barrier broke, the Oni stepping into the house one-by-one, and he stood still, his eyes following them as they walked over to her, Scott, and Kira.

As one of the Oni approached her, eyes blazing like a firefly, she felt frozen. She couldn't close her eyes, she couldn't breathe...all she could do was stare into its glowing eyes. As it reached its gloved fingers toward her ear, a burning sensation scarring the delicate skin behind it, her vision slowly faded to black.

(Gif is not mine)

#teen wolf rewrite #stiles stilinski x oc #stiles stilinksi x reader #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski fanfiction #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles stilinski x original character

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madasthesea · 4 years

Text

Trope: Jealousy

“You’re not my brother.”

Peter blinks at the little dark haired girl in front of him. He’d met Morgan a couple times, in the hospital with Tony. She’d been shy, but sweet, so this is unexpected. “Um, no, I—I’m not.”

Morgan eyes him for a moment, her eyebrows furrowed in aggravation. “Daddy calls you my brother, but you aren’t.”

“O-ok.”

Tony walks in then, his face creased in exhaustion and pain. The burns on his face pull down one side of his mouth in a perpetual frown.

But the heaviness is temporary. The second he sees Peter and Morgan his eyes light up, the frown twists up into a half-smile. He looks younger.

Peter’s heart flips in his chest at the sight, grief and gratitude in equal measure. Tony meets his eyes and his eyebrows crease like he can hear Peter’s thoughts. Tony takes a breath and opens his mouth—

“Daddy!” Morgan cries. Peter flinches as the moment is abruptly shattered.

“Hello, little miss,” Tony says, casually scooping her up into his good arm, propping her on his hip and kissing her cheek, making her giggle. “Have you been playing with Pete?”

They hadn’t been, really, but Morgan nods all the same. Tony carries her into the kitchen to begin lunch, leaving Peter alone in the living room.

Morgan roars as she brings her stuffed dragon down on the Lego castle Peter had helped her build. Peter fakes terrified screaming, making Morgan laugh.

Morgan seems to like Peter well enough when it’s just the two of them. She’ll play with him and watch movies, and on the rare occasion Tony and Pepper go out she’ll listen when he tells her it’s time for bed. But the second Tony is involved, Morgan gets fiercely protective of his attention and easily annoyed with Peter, as if he’s a babysitter who’s no longer needed once her dad’s home.

It’s not like Peter doesn’t know why Morgan doesn’t like him—she’s spent her whole life with Tony by her side every minute of every day and now suddenly Tony’s attention is divided. She’s an only child, she isn’t used to having to share. And she’s too young to know how to vocalize her jealousy to her dad. But it makes life pretty awkward for Peter. He can’t just turn down all of Tony’s invitations to visit, nor does he want to. He loves being around Tony, cherishes the time they spend together. But now, more often than not, it’s interrupted by Morgan throwing a tantrum or dragging Tony away to play with her.

Last week, Morgan had tried to follow them into the lab—where she knows she is absolutely not allowed to go—and had been so upset when she couldn’t come with that they had ended up foregoing lab time altogether and spent the afternoon having a tea party instead, with Tony and Peter sending each other baleful looks as they sipped their imaginary beverages.

It comes to a head the next weekend. It isn’t one of Peter’s scheduled visits, but the minor concussion and six inch gash up his back mean that he’s at the Stark cabin anyway, Tony having sent a suit to fish him out of a rain drenched dumpster.

“I’m fine, Mr. Stark,” Peter says for the umpteenth time as Tony vigorously dries his hair with a towel.

Tony hums in disagreement, barely listening. “’Don’t open a Med Center in Queens,’ Pepper says. ‘Peter will think you’re hovering,’ Rhodey says—”

“You are hovering,” Peter interrupts. Tony just keeps muttering.

“They aren’t the ones that have to fly to the city twice a week to drag an unconscious, bleeding, delirious Spider-kid all the way back to the freaking boonies—”

“I am neither unconscious nor delirious. And you weren’t even flying that suit, technically.”

“Stop talking and get your suit off, you need stitches,” Tony snaps. He tugs on Peter’s ear in annoyance, but the touch is so light it’s more of a caress than anything, belying the anger in his tone. He’s just worried. It would be more annoying if Peter wasn’t the exact same way.

Peter peels the suit off down to his waist, sitting at the kitchen island while Tony gets the supplies he needs. Peter can hear Tony washing his hands and when he does come and touch Peter’s back, his fingers are warm from the hot water.

Peter takes a deep breath and does his best to relax under Tony’s touch, rather than tense up in anticipation of the stitches.

“There you go, buddy,” Tony murmurs. His voice has entirely lost its edge now, his only concern making sure that Peter is well taken care of. “I’m thinking five or six stitches for this, not too bad.”

Peter snorts humorlessly, then curses as Tony pours antiseptic over the wound.

Peter keeps up a rambling narration of his day as Tony works, trying to distract himself. Tony responds between sutures as he threads the needle again.

He’s in the middle of the third stitch when Peter tenses half a second before—

“Daddy?”

It speaks to how often Tony has done this that he knows not to flinch. Instead he lets go of the needle and carefully pulls his hands away from Peter’s wound.

“What are doing up, little miss? It’s late.”

Morgan eyes Peter warily. She can’t see Peter’s back from her vantage point, but that also means Peter’s staring her straight in the face and can’t really move.

“I woke up and can’t fall back asleep without a story.”

“Go ask Mommy, baby, I have to help Peter with something,” Tony says, his voice soft. His puts a hand on Peter’s shoulder, warm and gentle, to assure him that he won’t leave him.

Morgan pouts. “But you always read me my story.”

“I know, but I can’t right now, ok? I’ll come up in a little bit to check on you,” Tony assures her again. Under other circumstances, Peter is sure Tony would round the island and pick her up and kiss her cheek to soften the blow, but his hands are almost certainly bloody right now, and he doesn’t want to scare her.

“But,” Morgan starts again, her pout growing even more pronounced as she glares at Peter.

“Morgan,” Tony interrupts, voice firm but not angry. “Peter needs me right now. Go get your mom.”

Morgan’s face screws up as tears start gathering in her eyes, loud sobs trailing behind her as she turns and flees up the stairs.

Peter grits his teeth.

“You can go,” he murmurs.

“Nope,” Tony says, his hands steady as he continues on to the next stitch. “Bleeding trumps crying.”

“What beats bleeding?”

“Dying.”

“Does that mean crying beats dying?” Peter asks, inhaling sharply as the thread was pulled tight.

“No.”

“This game doesn’t make sense.”

“Peter,” Tony warns in that dad voice that he perfected during the Snap. Peter glances back at him and sees his tight jaw, the way his brow wrinkles. He hates the thought of not being able to comfort his crying daughter as much as the thought of leaving Peter bleeding in his kitchen.

Peter wonders for the first time if this is hard for him too. Morgan isn’t used to having a sibling, and neither is Peter, but Tony has never been a parent to two living children before. And the way he loves is so devoted, so all consuming, Peter imagines that it’s hard having to prioritize needs when Tony’s instinct is to fix everything.

“You can go, Tony,” Peter says again.

Tony sighs, setting the suture tools down and looking up at Peter with a tired smile.

“She has to learn to share me sometime, Pete. Because if I have any say in the matter—and I do—you’re not going away any time soon.”

Peter avoids his eyes, feeling suddenly horribly guilty. If he was Morgan, and his brother-but-not-really came back from the dead, he isn’t sure how much he would like him either.

There’s quiet for a few more minutes as Tony finishes bandaging his back, then he rounds to the other side of the island, raising Peter’s chin with a finger.

“We’re all adjusting, Pete, but that doesn’t mean things were better before. I would rather have Morgan be a little jealous than go back to... missing you. Any day. Not even a question, kid.”

Peter nods jerkily.

Tony eyes him for another moment, then nods. “Alright, my love. Pajamas for you, I’ll clean up here.”

Peter stands, shaking his head. He wants to hoard Tony to himself, wants to ask for an episode of Star Trek to help him sleep, wants Tony to stay and stroke his hair and hum under his breath when he thinks Peter’s asleep.

But they’re all adjusting. And if Morgan has to share, so does Peter.

“Go check on Morgan,” Peter says. “I’ll clean up.”

He can tell Tony wants to argue out of principle, but his eyes dart to the stairs.

“Go on. Crying trumps cleaning,” Peter teases.

Tony’s face softens as he looks back at Peter. There’s so much gratitude and adoration on his face it makes Peter’s throat tighten with emotion.

“You’re a good brother, Peter,” Tony murmurs. He leans across the isle and pulls Peter’s head down so he can kiss his cheek.

Peter hums and leans into the touch. “Goodnight, Tony.”

“Night, kiddo,” Tony says, starting toward the stairs. “Don’t sleep on those stitches,” he calls over his shoulder.

Peter huffs, gathering together the soiled towels and medical supplies, moving around the kitchen like it’s his own home.

Morgan is in a bad mood the next morning, and her wary glances towards Peter have escalated into full on glares. Pepper and Tony both notice, having a silent conversation over the breakfast table that Peter can’t really understand. They spend the rest of the morning quietly putting together puzzles and coloring, but it doesn’t stop Morgan from breaking down crying no less than three times.

Finally, after lunch, Pepper takes her upstairs for a nap, whispering to Peter, “I’m so sorry, she must be tired,” as she does.

She is a bit more pleasant when she comes back, still rubbing sleep from her eyes. She even lets Peter help her build a tower out of Legos while Pepper and Tony make dinner.

It isn’t until they settle down for a movie together that Morgan’s temper really comes out.

Peter automatically gravitates to sit next to Tony, looking forward to curling into his side and dozing on his shoulder. Morgan, who’s already sitting on Pepper’s lap, frowns and crawls over Tony to take the available spot.

Peter stops short and blinks while Tony snorts. “Alright, little monkey, calm down,” he says, tugging on Morgan’s pigtail. She smiles up at him innocently.

Pepper shakes her head at her daughters antics, then holds out her arms to Peter. “Come cuddle with me, Peter, since Morgan doesn’t want to.”

Peter smiles and plops down between her and Tony and is instantly enveloped in a one armed hug from both sides. Tony’s hand lands in his hair while Pepper tugs him against her shoulder. He sighs contentedly, closing his eyes and savoring the feeling of family that surrounds him—

“No!”

Peter’s eyes fly open, jerking upright as he sees Morgan pushing herself away from her dad and standing on the couch, glowering down at Peter.

“You have your own parents,” Morgan snaps at him. “Just because they’re gone doesn’t mean you can steal mine!”

Peter’s jaw literally drops, more out of surprise than anything, but instantly a pang of hurt and grief echoes through his chest, making his breath come short. In the same second, Tony sits upright and Pepper gasps Morgan’s name.

“Morgan H. Stark, apologize to your brother,” Tony says, his voice serious and low.

“He’s not my brother!” Morgan yells, stomping her foot on the couch cushion.

Tony shoots to his feet, grabbing Morgan around the waist and hoisting her up against his shoulder.

Morgan screams, so high pitched it makes Peter’s ears fuzz out for a second. He can see Tony’s jaw twitch, but he doesn’t put her down. Peter knows that he isn’t hurting her—Tony would never, ever hurt his kids. Even in dire situations Tony is gentle with Peter and he’s certain that carries through to his daughter. But Morgan keeps screaming, tears pouring down her cheeks as Tony carries her toward the stairs.

Pepper watches looking torn, like she wants to follow, but instead she turns to Peter, reaching out and stroking his cheek with her thumb.

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry, I don’t know...,” She trails off. “Listen, to Tony and to me, you’re our son. Alright? Morgan’s just... not used to sharing us.”

“I know,” Peter says, his voice more hoarse than he had expected. “I know, it’s ok.”

Pepper looks at him for a moment. “Oh, sweetheart,” she sighs, kissing the top of his head. “How about some cocoa, huh?”

“Sure.”

As Pepper goes to the kitchen to get cocoa started, Peter hugs a pillow to his chest and lets his hearing tune in to what’s happening upstairs.

Morgan is still audibly crying as Tony tries to quiet her. Morgan’s bed creaks as Tony sits down.

“You don’t love me anymore,” Morgan hiccups.

“Oh, baby, you know that isn’t true. You know it isn’t.”

“You sp-spend all your time with P-Peter.”

“Momo, I’m with you every day. Peter only comes for four days a month and even then we all play together. Think maybe you’re being a bit dramatic?” Classic Tony. He doesn’t sugarcoat, just tells the truth in his uniquely humorous way.

“No,” Morgan whimpers.

“Morgan,” he hears Tony sigh. Morgan’s sobs quiet down at her dad’s soft tone. There’s the sound of shifting fabric and Peter imagines Tony settling Morgan on his knee.

“Do you remember your fourth birthday?” Tony asks.

Morgan sniffles. “Yeah.”

“What did we do?”

“We had waffles and went to the dinosaur museum and I got to open a bunch of presents,” Morgan says, perking up a little bit.

“That’s right. And I let you eat cake for dinner and I gave you as many hugs and kisses as you wanted,” Tony adds, and Peter can hear the smile in his voice. He hugs the pillow a little closer to his chest.

“Do you know why I did that?” Tony asks.

“Because you love me,” Morgan reluctantly admits.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I love you so, so much.” More shifting, the soft sound of a kiss. “Now, do you remember a few weeks before that, when we went to Peter’s tree and we brought him cake and Legos and we played Spider-Man all day?”

Peter knows about his tree. One that Tony had planted in his honor after the Snap, on the edge of the lake. Tony had taken him there a couple weeks after he was released from the hospital. They’d sat there talking for hours and Tony had held him like he hadn’t wanted to let him go.

“You cried,” Morgan remembers and Peter squeezes his eyes closed.

Tony’s voice is thick when he answers. “Yeah, I did. Do you know why?”

“Because you love him,” Morgan mutters, her voice sullen again.

“Because I love him,” Tony agrees. “And I loved him even when he wasn’t there. I loved him when you were born, and when you said your first word, and two weeks ago when you hurt your ankle and I gave you piggyback rides all day. Does that mean I didn’t love you then?”

Morgan sniffs again. “I don’t know.”

“Of course it doesn’t,” Tony assures her. “Because guess what.”

“What?”

“I love you when I’m helping Peter with his homework. And when we’re watching movies after you’ve gone to bed or working in the lab. You don’t just stop loving something when you can’t see it anymore, baby. When you love something as much as I love you, you love it forever. Nothing will change that.”

Morgan’s little voice is cautiously hopeful as she asks, “Really?”

“Really. The only thing that’s changed is that Peter’s here now, so we don’t have to be sad anymore.”

“I didn’t like it when you cried,” Morgan confesses. “It made me want to cry too.”

Tony’s next breath shudders as he exhales. “Well, we don’t have to cry anymore, either of us. Cause I’ve got you, and Mom, and Peter, and I’m really, really happy.”

“Then I’m happy too,” Morgan says with all the innocence of a child. There’s the sound of another kiss and happy giggles.

“Good. But you’ve still got apologize to Peter, little miss. You hurt his feelings.”

“Ok,” she chirps easily. The floor creaks as if Tony just stood up.

“I love you both with my whole heart, Morgan,” Tony says quietly with a sincerity that’s probably lost on such a little kid, but it makes Peter’s eyes prick with tears.

There’s a pause and then, “You can’t love us both with your whole heart, Daddy. That doesn’t make sense. You can love us with half your heart.”

“Well, maybe dads have extra hearts, huh?” Tony teases, his footsteps coming down the hall. “One for you and one for Peter.”

“Nuh-uh,” Morgan cries.

“Mm-hmm. And one for Mom and then another one for Uncle Rhodey and Uncle Happy and cheeseburgers.”

Morgan laughs, then pauses. “Really?”

Tony is assuring her that he’s telling the truth as they come down the stairs, Morgan laughing with her head on her dad’s shoulder.

“Alright, baby girl,” Tony says, making eye contact with Peter and coming toward him. “Do you have something to say to your big brother?”

Morgan nods as Tony sets her down in front of Peter. He retreats toward the kitchen, hovering where he can still hear.

Peter stares at Morgan for a minute and she just stares back, her head tilted to one side.

“I’m sorry,” she finally says. “I was mean.”

Peter flounders for half a second, not used to such candor. “Um, I forgive you.”

“Can you teach me how to climb walls?” She asks, once again catching him off guard.

Well, not really, but he can’t tell her that when she’s willingly talking to him for the first time. “... Yes,” he says. He’ll figure something out.

“Cool,” she breathes, then clambers onto the couch next to him.

Pepper and Tony come in just a moment later with cocoa, both smiling as they see their kids. Tony sits down next to Peter, putting an arm around his shoulders.

Peter leans into him, closing his eyes for a second as he savors the warmth.

Tony buries his nose in Peter’s hair and mutters, “Did you hear all that?”

Peter glances up at him, feeling guilty but Tony just chuckles. “Good, that means I don’t have to say it all again.”

Peter snorts. “Love you, too,” he whispers. “So much.”

Tony smiles, welcomes Morgan into his arms as she crawls into his lap. He kisses Peter’s temple.

“I’ve got the best family,” he sighs happily.

#Irondad and Spiderson #Tony Stark #Peter Parker #MCU #brotp: speaking of loyalty #my writing #fic #irondadbingo #that 'my love' was for you person that sent me the ask about it that I can't remember the name of right now

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arthurtristankingsmen · 4 years

Text

Night Talks

I made a little one shot of Mystery PoV in the hospital. It’s sad and a bit rough because I’m out of practice, but it’s the longest thing in a while so I’m pretty happy. Enjoy!

He could feel his gaze on him, even with his eyes closed. Something heavy settled on his chest, but there were some things he couldn’t run from forever.

Mystery finally opened his eyes, locking them with Arthur from where he’d curled into a tiny ball. He didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe too deep or shift or jostle the sheets. He was stone, small as possible and smaller still. A statue at the foot of the bed.

Arthur was drawn and pale, bloodless lips already trembling. His jaw locked tight and his throat bobbed with swallows, punctuated by his shallow, harsh breaths. He could hear the rabbiting of Arthur’s heart even from the opposite side of the bed.

He’d seen terror like that before. Years and centuries before, so very long ago. He’d seen men with that look, radiating with a fear so intense it rendered them silent as they drowned under it. It was the look they’d had, right before they’d fallen lifeless. Seeing it before had made him feel so smug. So powerful…

…seeing it on Arthurs’ face was a knife between his ribs. His ears pinned back, flat to his skull. An involuntary whine slipped out, half stifled.

Arthur came alive at the sound. His right arm moved to where his left should have been. His fingers fumbled with air, and he slipped on the bed, sucking in a breath and kicking up the sheets in his effort to sit up. To scramble away. He couldn’t get much further than the far end of the bed with the IV in his arm, but he stayed there, plastered and flat against the plastic headboard until it creaked in protest. He stared at Mystery with eyes crinkled at the edges with pain, so wide he could see himself in them and pupils blown. The room stayed silent, except the soft snores of Vivi as she slept in the chair beside the bed.

Mystery shifted the barest amount, and swallowed something thick and dense when Arthur’s breath caught. “…I can leave.”

Arthur’s gaze bore into him. “Wh—” He coughed, voice hoarse and cracked. “I—.” He looked down to his left, and the bandaged stump of his arm twitched. He winced and swallowed again and looked at Mystery, from the corner of his eyes. A sheen of sweat glistened on his skin and he swayed slightly. Another minute of silence.

His voice was microscopic when he found it. “…Why?”

It was such a small question, loaded like a bullet. Mystery’s gaze went to the sheets on the bed. “…There was something in the cave. A spirit—but a malicious one. I…I did what I did, to keep it from consuming you entirely.” Each word felt meticulous in his mouth, plucked with care as if any one of them might shatter everything.

Arthur’s swallow was audible. “Oh.” He slurred slightly from whatever was pumped into his system, and stayed was silent so long Mystery thought that was all he’d say. “I uh…” Arthur cleared his throat, “…I guess that—it makes sense. That cave—it…something was off. I—I don’t remember anything. Anything besides—. ”

Arthur cut off, but Mystery knew what went unsaid. “I am sorry Arthur…but you were right. There was something there. Something dangerous. We didn’t have time for a less…aggressive measure.” He rested his head on his paws, catching the way Arthur zeroed in on the movement in his periphery. “I didn’t want to hurt you. But… I had to.”

“Was it necessary?” Arthur blurted. “I—I just—I mean Vivi was there too—couldn’t’ you have gotten her? She has all those books on exorcisms and shit she could’ve—.” He curled forward on himself.

“…There was an immediate threat.” Mystery murmured. “I—had to.”

“Why?” Arthur asked, hoarse voice turning harsh.

“It wanted to do more than possess you for a time. It wasn’t like the others.” A whine paired with his words. “It was taking you over. It was too quick for assistance. Vivi was—distracted. It wanted to hurt everyone. I just did what I could. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I had to save you.” He had to save someone.

Arthur looked away. “I—sorry. I’m just…” He trailed away, palm covering his eyes. “…it’s. God, it’s so much. I—we’ve known each other a long time. I believe you I just—.”

“It’s not something you can just get over.” Mystery offered in a muted voice. “I know what you saw. What you must have felt. And your arm… I am sorry I had to put you through it.”

“It’s—alright I won’t say it’s okay I’m just—fuck. I don’t know—I can’t even process-- this.” He shook his head hard, wincing and grabbing his shoulder. His eyes were red-ringed and his nose was starting to run and give his words a nasal twang, but Mystery chose not to acknowledge it. “I mean we knew you were something else—you said you weren’t a dog but—I don’t know. I didn’t want that to be how I saw what you were. Are. I just—can’t get it out of my head…”

Mystery tucked his tail between his legs. “….Do you want me to leave? I…would understand.”

Arthur thought for a long moment. He waded through the pause with bated breath. “I—I don’t know… no. No. You said you were protecting me. Us. I—it hurt. I’m—this is a lot. Just— fuck. But—but I believe you. That you did the best you could. I’ve known you years and—and you’ve never given me a reason to not. So. You can stay. Just…just….I don’t know. I just—I don’t want to be scared. Not of you.”

The knife already in his chest twisted. He released his breath and another soft whine broke free, coming from somewhere deeper in his chest than the last. It felt like nettles stung along his skin. “Arthur… ”

Arthur wiped at his face again. “How—what happened? Is—how is Vivi? Lewis? I don’t see him—is he here?”

Mystery’s stomach formed a new knot. “I…..” What could he even say?

He didn’t know how his face had shifted, but Arthur frowned. “That look—Mystery what’s—where’s Lewis…?”

“What…what do you remember, Arthur…?”

Arthur looked at the ceiling. “I remember—going inside the cave. Being creeped out and—a-and just not feeling great.” Arthur swallowed and looked further away. “I—remember us getting to that split with the signs. With those fake skulls. And those—things that hold the ropes. Starts with a…...something. A letter. Um. The S one.”

“Stanchions...”

“Right. Those…what you said. But…yeah. I remember feeling on edge. Then you went with Vi and I went with Lew. We were going up this tunnel and he was saying something and—…that’s it. I remember… I remember feeling sleepy. And then…. nothing. Until—my arm—” His tone lilted the last word, a twinge of fear.

Mystery’s next breath coated his lungs in cobwebs. A beat passed. Two. Arthur opened his mouth again, but Mystery finally filled the silence before he spoke. “Lewis…he… Arthur, Lewis didn’t…make it.”

“………What?”

The whispered word sank like a stone and sent ripples through the room. It seemed to muffle every other noise to nothing. “No. Nono. No. He’s okay right? Lewis is okay. Lewis is always okay. He—he’s fine. He’s just in the other room or at home with his family, right? Mystery now isn’t the time to mess with me tell me he’s okay.”

Mystery lowered himself further on the bed. “Arthur…I can’t.”

It was silent again a beat. Another. And then Arthur crashed forward, clutching at his hair collapsing all at once like a house of cards. “No-- nono no No he’s not— you can’t know that Lewis can’t be—No! I don’t believe it! I never even. I never—. He’s not allowed to be gone—” A sob ripped itself free from his chest.

Mystery could scarcely breathe. He inched forward on the bed at a snail’s crawl, closer to Arthur. Every second of Arthur’s pain garroted his insides. He wasn’t sure if he could help, but he couldn’t just sit there.

When he’d inched close enough, he went to speak, but Arthur’s arm snagged him in a loop around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace. Arthur buried his face in his fur and clung to his scruff with his fingers, shaking and sobbing.

He hated the relief he felt, that Arthur still sought him for comfort. He shouldn’t feel gratitude while one of the people who mattered most to him mourned a thousand things unsaid.

“Arthur—I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I wish I had been faster.” His every word was laced with whines and his ears laid flatter than ever. “I should have saved him. I could have.” He’d been right there, right behind them. And he’d just watched. Watched and refrained, in case Arthur could stop himself, because he knew transforming meant she might reach him. “I hesitated. I hesitated because I was afraid. It’s my fault...” He did his best, but his composure cracked with every tear wetting his fur. “I should have stopped this—I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“How did this happen—how do you know he’s—? How—How do you know he’s not still out there?” Arthur’s voice was soaked in his anguish, and it dripped down his neck.

Mystery’s breath caught. He couldn’t let Arthur know the truth. Not everything. He couldn’t hurt him, couldn’t do this again to him. He couldn’t take his arm and everything else. “The spirit—it killed him. You had both reached a ledge when I caught up. It—the spirit made him fall from the ledge. It killed him and then it tried to possess you.”

Arthur made a sound, an awful sound that was like teeth rending his own flesh. “Did— did I hurt him?”

“….No. No. No you didn’t Arthur.” He swallowed and nuzzled Arthur’s hair, gentle with his mouth pointed away. “I’m sorry… I wish I had done more… he—he’s gone.” It hurt to even say. To think about. Both for the way Arthur crumbled at the words, and the admittance of something he tried not to think about.

He wished dogs could cry. Then he could mourn another friend and all that had happened with Arthur.

If he could cry, at least then he’d have some kind of release.

“It’s not your fault…” Arthur regained his attention with gentle words in his fur. “I-if Lewis really…...did. You—saved me. You did what you could. You said you did. You—You can’t blame you. For not knowing what was there a-and not doing something fast enough. None of us did. And you tried to save us. You—you saved me.”

Mystery swallowed heavier. “I could have done so much more…”

“We—we all could have. We all could have kept this from happening.” Arthur whispered. “If I’d just—we all could’ve…”

Mystery whined softly, though it cut off when Vivi stirred a moment. She settled again in her sleep. “I… suppose…” He nuzzled Arthur again, if only because he could for now, and he wasn’t sure how long that would last. “I am still sorry. That it came to this.”

“That’s how I know I can trust you…” Arthur finally pulled back, red-faced still, but with a resolution on his face he didn’t expect.

The words pinged at him, but he focused on the expression. Arthur continued after a moment. “Tell me exactly what happened. Everything after I—after you…. Stopped the possession.”

Mystery frowned. “…Vivi was… she had been screaming. She had been where Lewis… fell. You were bleeding out… I knew there was not much I do much for you. But Vivi might. I rushed to find her. She was dazed from shock, but she came with me when she knew you were in danger. She did something with her scarf. A tourniquet, to stop you from bleeding out. I helped her get you to the van and…retrieved the keys.” He shuddered. “She drove you here, to the hospital, while I tried to keep you awake.” He looked down.

“You…you both left him…?”

Mystery frowned. “We had…other priorities. You would have died, had we hesitated, or taken any longer.” And that was a terrifying thought on its own.

“Okay…” He could hear the sound of Arthur swallowing this close to him, and of his mind turning something over, the gears turning quick. “Okay. Okay. But—but if you were rushing and— dealing with me—did you check that Lewis was—that he didn’t survive…?”

That pulled Mystery’s gaze back up. “…I didn’t have to.”

“But did you check? Did you make sure?”

“No—but… it was very clear he was not alive, Arthur...” He said it in the gentlest tone he could manage.

“But you don’t know that for sure. You didn’t check his pulse.” Arthur’s voice had an emotion he couldn’t place.

“Arthur. He landed on a stalagmite.”

“—God.” Arthur’s face drained further of any blood, expression twisting and vomitous. “—But—But people have survived worse—adrenaline—.”

“Arthur… he did not survive. I know what you are thinking,” The questions made it obvious, “but he is not alive. I know you want me to be wrong, but—.”

“He could be! You don’t know!” Arthur sounded so desperate, it ached. “and even if he really isn’t—maybe he’d come back! We know that’s possible—he wouldn’t leave Vivi. We have to—I can’t let that be goodbye Mystery—This can’t be it. I can’t let this be it.”

Mystery felt the frown on his face deepen, pulling his jowls downwards. “Arthur…you are holding on to a hope that is not there. I cannot confirm he did pass in our haste, but I have no doubt he did. Telling yourself otherwise…you are going to end up disappointed.” Perhaps Lewis would come back. But Mystery refused to hold his breath and allow himself a second heartache. He had lost enough over the years not to expect the world to be so kind to him.

But if Lewis did return, he was sure he would come to Tempo to find them. Lewis would be so worried after seeing Arthur possessed, after all. So if he did find the strength and the will to remain, Lewis would come in search of them instead.

“If I end up disappointing myself, it won’t be anything new.” Arthur mumbled, before shaking his head and pulling further back. He leaned back against the pillow at the headboard. “Lewis has it worse. I just… I can’t leave him out there. Not until I know for sure. That he’s really gone. He wouldn’t leave any of us behind. I—I can’t. Vivi can’t either, I’m sure. As soon as I’m out of here…. I have to look. I have to.”

“…… If you wish, I will help you look.” Mystery relented after a long pause. “I cannot let you go alone. Vivi likely will not either. And she will want to find him as well, I am sure. So if this is what you need, then… we will not stop you. But at least give yourself time to recover. You’ve been through so much…” At Arthur’s nod, he felt his muscles ease of the tension they’d held. “Thank you. I will help you as much as I can. But I am telling you now, Arthur…… do not get your hopes up.”

“I won’t.” Arthur said, already lying by the look on his face.

Mystery could only sigh, soft and defeated. “…You should rest, Arthur. Your body needs to heal.”

Arthur nodded, and waited more cautiously than he likely meant to, until Mystery had jumped off the bed. To his credit, Arthur’s flinch as he landed was slight, all but unnoticeable to anyone else.

Mystery gave him a wider berth and watched as Arthur wriggled down into the sheets and against his pillow. He almost thought Arthur would listen and try to rest. The shadows beneath his eyes were nearly black, and the medicine had to make every further moment awake a battle. But then Arthur’s voice rose again. “How…how is Vivi…? After everything… I… is she okay…?”

“….Vivi is….off.” Mystery admitted. “She has not done much since you were hospitalized. She was also checked into the hospital, and she was brought to a place to change and shower. But she has not left your side since. She has cried some, but she’s…mostly been quiet. She has not spoken of Lewis yet. I think she may still be…processing. I have done what I can, but I am not sure how much help I have been. But I am sure she will be by far more relieved to see you awake.”

“He meant so much to her….” Arthur whispered, and he wiped at his face again. “I—thank you. For taking care of her. I’m—sure she needs it right now.”

Mystery nodded, curling up beside Vivi, giving Arthur more space he might need in the night. “I would trade anything, to not have either of you suffering like you are. But since that is not an option…. I will do anything in my power to help both of you. As long as I am here, I will do what I can”

“I know…” Arthur looked more comfortable when he was farther away, but just as quick as the relief had shown, a frown pulled down on his mouth. “What about Lance…? The Peppers…?”

Mystery looked down. “… Lance had been notified just before visiting hours closed last night. After your surgery by several hours, due to some clerical error. Vivi was allowed to stay, since she was also checked in for observation. I am positive Lance will be here the moment the hospital opens.” Arthur cracked the smallest tired smile, but said nothing, and Mystery continued. “Vivi… did not call anyone. She has not done much since you were brought here, outside of get fresh clothing I mentioned. So the Peppers may not know what happened. Or if they do… it was because Lewis’s body was… found. A police officer tried to speak to Vivi, but she did not react enough for them to have gleaned much.”

Arthur winced as he shifted, and nodded. “I… we’ll call them. Tomorrow. I’m…tired. I’ll do it so she doesn’t have to.” He was mumbling more now, looking up at the ceiling. There were new tear tracks on his face. “Thank you… I wish I—thank you. For…doing what you could. I’m sorry I can’t just— but… you’re a good boy, Mystery.”

Mystery smiled without teeth at Arthur as he said it, and watched him close his eyes. “It is alright, Arthur…” He didn’t speak more, watching until Arthur’s face had smoothed and his breath was even and slow. Only then did he let the smile slip away. Only then did he cover his face with his paws and bury himself beside Vivi’s sleeping form with a whimper. Arthur had said he was a good boy. That he’d tried his best.

If only Arthur knew how untrue that was.

#my original writing #mystery skulls #mystery skulls animated #mystery yukino #arthur kingsmen #fanfiction #my original stuff #mention of vivi but not enough to tag her really #it's kinda clunky but i hope people like it #long post #i kinda lost confidence in it but i'll work on it because practice makes perfect #<3

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imnotwolverine · 3 years

Text

A Devil’s Duet - Part 2

August Walker x OC Anna

Author’s note: Readers or not, I’m just going ahead with this -- Tumblr are you eating my posts again?! What’s happening? :(

Word count: 1.527

Warnings: unprotected smutty smut, stalking, strong language, references to graphic deaths

< Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 >

.AIR

“I flew up high, but the sun burned too hot. Too strong. And now my wings are but memories as I drift in an endless ocean.”

.AIR - I miss you

‘For international calls, please press *beep beep beep* [..] Cannot answer your call right now. Please leave a message after the..’

Sighing quietly Anna looked out through the frozen glass of the phone booth, dark silhouettes passing by in the gloomy New York night.

*beeeep* Sounded the shrill phone line.

'Mama, you’re not answering my phone calls,’ She hesitated. ‘I miss you and I’ll try to call you later, okay?’

With a heavy click she put the phone back, her arms wrapping around her winter jacket as she stumbled back out in the restless nightlife.

Not far off a man leaned into a grey sedan, most of his acne-damaged skin hiding beneath a fedora.

An embrace was shared, his wet lips brushing over her cheek like a snail’s trace. It was just for show, his face lighting up as he started some animated chatter, the two of them getting in the car.

‘Miss me?’ He pulled his door closed and looked at Anna, her eyes giving him an unamused glare before she quickly put a smile back on her angelic cheeks - aware that some might be watching.

‘You? Ha! Just drive already, will you? I have somewhere I need to be.’

.AIR - I forget you not

She had about three cocktails too many. She knew. But she was willing to suffer for it in the morning.

The bar she was leaning into was bustling with life, fellow clubbers pushing her left and right to get their orders in, her shoulders solid as marble as she twirled her straw in her mojito, uncaring about the heavy beat that rung in her ears.

‘Hello angel.’ Yet another jerk tried a move, and she was this close to beat him into a childless future, before she turned around and found the devil himself looking back at her. At least, it probably was.

Staring up at him, she decided it should be illegal to look this handsome with a moustache, the combination of his deep voice with the smooth curls and face hair leaving little doubt that this must indeed be the one she was looking for. The coincidence.

‘Hello devil.’

He smirked and eyed the dance floor. ‘No dancing tonight?’

She shrugged, then hinted at her feet; one bandaged in walking plaster.

‘You’d have to carry me.’

Another jerkish idiot pushed Anna into her ribs and before she could serve him the long impending groin-kick instead, she was hoisted up, her drink now abandoned on the busy bar.

‘HEY. FUCK.’ That heavy Russian lilt was back on her sharp tongue, but it was quickly silenced as this devil took whatever he pleased, hands groping at her bum as he placed the two of them in the middle of the dancing crowd, making them disappear from the world like dust in the desert.

‘Great idea, angel.’ The music of his voice teased and she was quick to recuperate, deciding that she might as well indulge a little more, her hands tugging aggressively at his blouse.

‘Is that how you dance?’

Their eyes shared a look and Anna licked her lips - him being here made everything so much easier. ‘No, this is.’ She whispered into his ear, climbing onto his hip as she twirled her groin into his.

And again he eagerly took from her gifts, her dress skirting up and his flies zipping down, the two finding a solid rhythm of lip-locks and hip-rocks. Uncaring of the consequences of their little escapade.

For a moment Anna flew again, her sorrows forgotten, her fingers marking him so he wouldn’t get away this time.

.AIR - I remember

‘How old are you?’ The solemn man settled on the metal chair before her, blue TL-light buzzing in the dense air of the empty grey room.

‘Fourteen.’ She bit, looking straight into his dead-pale eyes.

‘Ha.’ He settled back and eyed the files before them on the metal desk, crimson red spluttered over the corpse of one malicious ballet teacher, child pornography scattered around him like the wings of an angel.

‘A little young to go to the Gulag, no?’

Their eyes met as the man closed the folder before him.

‘I have a proposition for you, little girl.’

.AIR - I’ll take your breath away

The cigarette burned ash between his lips as he studied the crying figure near the fountain. Red hair, blue eyes. Foot in plaster. Her. He didn’t even know her name.

What are you doing there angel? He flicked the falling ash onto the cold pavement and licked his lips, his feet hesitating to get near when another person stepped out of the theatre, chubby cheeks soon laying eyes on the crying woman, too.

The two knew each other, apparently, his snaky fingers wrapping around her shoulder as he comforted the weeping angel, some conversation being exchanged before they both got up, a car now arriving which they both slid into.

But before she joined the man, she looked up. At him. Straight at him, blue eyes sparkling with not tears but determination, making him choke on the smoke of his cigarette, the ashen tranquilliser suddenly too hot in his lungs.

'Fuck.’

.AIR - I spy with my little eye

‘I see.’ Two hands pushed a folder away. One in a library in Easter-Upper, one in a gloomy office building, CIA.

A response that two pairs of watching eyes thought strange. Was something the matter with their best agent’s ability to see this mission through? It was already taking far too long.

The acne-damaged face of Anna’s messenger frowned. ‘I spy with my little eye that something is up with you, little angel. Get yourself sorted.’

‘I’ll get it done.’ Two voices confirmed solemnly.

.AIR - I crave violence

‘It’s done.’ She settled back in the car seat as the man started to drive, the string of red lights before them slowing the car before they could get to any significant speed.

‘Almost done.’ He corrected, making her frown at him.

‘A deal’s a deal, Sergei.’

‘You’re not done angel.’ And with that he pressed his phone into her hands, gesturing her to look at the video that was ready to play, the small screen showcasing a slumped forward, hooded and bound figure, a hand moving into the image to pull it off, red curls springing free from the rough material.

Air escaped Anna’s quiet lips.

Mom.

‘It’s the work of some terrorist group called..the Apostles. American. We’ve got news your guy may be involved.’

‘The one I tracked?’

‘Mm.’ He pushed in the gas pedal. ‘If we finish this, we’ll avenge your mother’s death and free the world of the American poison once and for all.’ He clicked on his direction indicator and turned his head to make sure he could make a safe lane change.

Anna blinked, replaying the video beneath her fingertips again and again, that same American poison bubbling back up in her throat after her reckless behaviour last night. She could still feel the devil’s traces deep inside her, bleeding into her usually calm nerves. She could still smell him, taste him, feel him. Big and strong between her quivering thighs.

In that moment she had tasted the freedom that was so close. But now it was taken from her yet again. Her wings clipped short and her hands bound, it was now that same devil she had to take down, the contract drawn in her own mother’s blood.

.AIR - I think we should dance

The Parisian air was different. Both in the lungs and in the atmosphere, the winter evening much less cold and harsh in comparison to New York.

Anna had opted for a slightly more revealing dress to visit this club, a high slit showcasing her long dancing legs, two heels clicking beneath her feet.

She was glad to be rid of that obnoxious fake plaster, and even more glad that she no longer had to lie to her now ex-colleagues. What she did miss however, was dancing itself, her feet already moving to the dance floor before she had gotten her first drink, the well-dressed crowd bouncing on the smooth low grind of an electronic bass.

‘Hey.’ A man in his fourties clasped onto Anna’s shoulder, ‘Aren’t you Anna Karikova? New York Ballet? Ha! What a small world..’

Anna’s face froze over as realisation hit that her boss had been right: never attract too much attention to yourself. With a swift tug she tried to free herself from his hand, but he only held on tighter, immediate panic bubbling up in her gut when another man intervened, wedging himself in between the two of them.

‘I’m sorry..I eh..think you are mistaken. This my wife..and, she’s hardly a dancer.’

Two devil blue eyes looked back at Anna, her breath escaping her lips as the world indeed had become terribly small, the risk of a failing mission suddenly much too close for comfort.

‘Looks like we’re dancing again, angel.’ He purred, the sweat breaking clear on Anna’s back.

Shit.

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill smut #mission impossible au #august walker x oc #august walker smut #a devil's duet #august walker fanfiction

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peach-the-owl · 4 years

Note

Hello, I was wondering if you could do a Fjord/mighty nein x child reader with 5 and 15? I love your blog and your writing, have a lovely day!

I did it! It took longer then I thought to finish but it was worth it. I’m rather proud of myself for this, also isn’t be exactly like how it originally played out but I still kept it close, because story reasons. Enjoy!😁

No Matter What

Child of the Nein (Fjord & Child!Reader)

5- You always know how to brighten my day, 15- You look like you could use a hug.

You couldn’t believe it when Fjord told everyone he’d lost his abilities, sure you were glad he didn’t have to deal with that creepy Uk’otoa (Uk'otoa) guy anymore and he was using his real voice more now too, but you were also worried for him seeing as he no longer had his magic to help, making him feel useless. You could relate as you were still trying to get a grip on your own abilities, not being entirely confident when engaging in combat. The Mighty Nein were supportive and gave him some items to help, but you knew deep down that it just made Fjord feel like he was being pitied for being so powerless. You set off making your way to Uthodurn and as you push through the snows of the Flotket Alps you take in the beauty of your surroundings, or at least you would if it wasn’t for the snow already paying a toll on your little legs.

"I suppose the snow would be a bit deeper for you, although Nott's doing just fine must be that ring." Fjord comments, mumbling the last part more to himself, but taking notice of your struggles to keep up.

"You know what could make this easier for me?" You look to him hopefully.

"No, what?" He raises an eyebrow curiously. You don’t respond, instead you lift your arms and make a grabbing motion so he’d take the hint. He chuckles in amusement before turning around so you could climb onto his back. You wrap your arms around his neck, and he wraps his under your legs for support before hoisting you up. You could feel the brisk air nipping at the tips of your short pointed ears, but that didn’t matter as you now had a better look at your gorgeous wintery surroundings.

"Let us away my noble steed!" You jokingly say with a fake posh accent. You get a lighthearted laugh from Fjord and then you were off, quickly catching up with everyone else. As the day goes on Fjord starts asking Beau about how long it took to acquire her skills, Nott jumping in saying she could teach him how to use crossbow since her 5 year old could do it too.

"Now that I think about it, your pretty good with a weapon yourself." Fjord looks up at you on his shoulders, you stare back at him for a second.

"Well yeah, but I’m not that great yet. I still have a lot to learn, besides you taught me some of those sword tricks." Your only response is a hum of acknowledgement. Wanting to change the subject you decide to play I-spy with Fjord, everyone else joining in when they weren’t busy figuring out where to go. As your playing you give him a quick tight squeeze before loosening your grip again.

"What was that for?" He looks up at you again, you shoot a smile at him.

"I don’t know, you just looked like you could use a hug is all." This earns you a soft chuckle.

"I uhh, I spotted some wolves." Caduceus says out of the blue.

"Caduceus, your only supposed to say what colour you see not what you actually see." You sigh.

"Oh sorry, but I did see some wolves so I think everyone should be ready if they decide pounce." Caduceus then points in a general direction where the wolves had been. You see one bound towards you but before it's on you a strange centipede-like creature bursts through the ground in a spray of snow and ice and swallows the wolf whole. Nott shots a bolt at the creatures eye causing it to roar and thrash in pain then a second, larger one bursts out of the ground, it strikes at Jester and captures her in its large jaws. You feel Fjord shrug you off him, gently placing you on the ground then run towards the creature giving it a quick swipe from the dagger Nott gave him.

Not really up for just being a sitting target you move yourself aways from the giant centipede, still struggling to move but noticing the snow melting around these creatures. Taking a look over your shoulder you see Beau now riding on top of the larger one saying something about fire and ice and Caleb frantically flipping through his spell book, then he pulls something from his pocket and the next thing you know Jester turns into a mammoth. Through the chaos you failed to notice how close you were to the smaller of the two creatures and with Nott having scampered away it’s attention turned to you. It takes a strike at you, and instantly you feel both sharp and searing hot pain shoot up through your body as the creature grapples you in its jaws causing you to shriek. You try pushing at its jaws hoping to pry them open, but to no avail. You fight through the pain as you attempt to focus, hoping that your idea works. When you feel the hilt of your short sword in your hand you take a second to celebrate your accomplishment, the searing hot pain quickly brings you back to reality and you stab at its head. It starts thrashing around violently before falling to the ground you didn’t think you did that much damage, then you look over and see mammoth Jester trampling at it’s body, being careful enough to avoid crushing you as well. After all that you were still however stuck in the now dead creatures mandibles, the heat still burning your flesh. Ignoring whatever everyone else was doing you take your sword and try wedging it into the creature to pry the jaws apart just enough for you to shimmy free, it takes some effort and a lot of pain but you manage to free yourself and start crawling away. You attempt to stand up, big mistake as you instantly fall down again, your left side hurt like hell going down to your leg, that was defiantly going to leave some scars. Instead of standing again you drag yourself to a snowy patch using the coolness from it to ease the pain, you then pull out some bandages Caduceus gave you and wrap them around your leg to stop any bleeding. Finally shifting your attention back to the group, who had finally taken care of the bigger centipede creature, you could see that poor Beau was unconscious and everyone looked roughed up, well everyone except Caleb… lucky.

"Where’s (y/n)!?" You hear Fjord ask a bit panicked.

"Over here!" You call out a little weakly. Even in his rough state he still manages to jog over to you.

"Are you okay?" He asks, noticing your minor burns and bloody, bandaged leg.

"I’ve been… better."

"Can you stand on your own?" You shake your head to which he carefully lifts you into his arms, you wince a little but are otherwise fine. After about 3 more hours of stealthy travel thanks to Jester's Pass Without Trace spell and lots of discussion on where to sleep you all settle for camp in the trees. Well you tried settling in the trees but as soon as you did the branches snap and you all plommet to the ground, you feel Fjord grab your arm and pull you closer to him to shield you from the impact.

"Are you okay?" It was your turn to ask that question now.

"I had worse falls, it’s nothing." You smile and give a thank you before getting up, now able to stand though it still stung a little. With your treetop camp broken you all hobble over to the mountain side where Caleb plops himself down and starts to make the dome. You give a yawn, the days activities have worn you out. "It’s pretty late, why don’t you get some sleep."

"I’m not tired." You could be stubborn sometimes, not wanting to fall asleep before everyone else, why? Just because that’s why. "You were really awesome today." You change the subject.

"In what way?" Fjord looks at you curiously.

"You gave me a fun piggy back ride when I was having a hard time walking, seeing you fighting anything is always fun to watch. I saw at the corner of my eye you grab the tail of the bigger creature with your whip, that was cool. *yawn* And not long ago you saved me from that fall."

"I guess, some of those things would’ve been easier to do if I had-"

"Stop," you cut him off before he can finish, "I don’t care about that. You’ve done a lot for me since we met, you know. So for what it’s worth, no matter what happens, with or without you powers you're still awesome to me." You finish your statement with confidence, then let out another yawn.

"Thanks (y/n), even when I feel down you always know how to brighten my day. Now why don’t get some sleep we still have more to do tomorrow." By now the dome had formed and everyone was settling in.

"I’m still… not… tired…" Your words said one thing but your heavy eyelids proved you wrong as you curl up beside Fjord, who put a protective arm around your shoulders.

"Sweet dreams (y/n)." Is the last thing you hear before you let sleep drift you away.

#critical role #critical role & reader #mighty nein #the mighty nein #mighty nein & reader #fjord #fjord stone #fjord & reader #nothing romantic here

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

Text

THE BOGGART IN THE WARDROBE

Remus got wearily to his feet, and Harry noted with some concern he looked paler than he did yesterday. Was this book really taking that much out of him? He wanted to ask, but felt it slightly rude, so he kept himself quite as Remus went to his chapter.

Malfoy didn't come back to classes until Thursday,

"Really," Sirius demanded, "he milked that injury for almost four days!"

Harry's face twisted in annoyance, fighting down the urge to say that it was probably longer than that.

"Look on the bright side," Lily smirked, "he probably had to make up all that work. I know none of those teachers fell for that."

"Oh wait," James pouted, "how come you haven't had Remus' class yet?" 'Plus, has Harry really gone four days without talking to him' he added in his head, biting at his lip and trying to not snap at his friend for that. What possible reason could he have now for avoiding Harry? Dumbledore surely wasn't still stopping him?

"We didn't have it until that afternoon," Harry said, also still eyeing Remus curiously as he realized the same thing.

There was a sticky silence for a moment as they all realized this fact, but aside from Remus ducking his head and fidgeting with the sleeve of his robes in agitation, no one said anything this time.

and he chose his moment to reappear in Potions, marching into the room with his arm in bandages looking much like a man acting like he'd returned from some dramatic battle.

"I'd like to see how he does in a real fight," James snapped bitterly.

"Probably run away, or hide the whole time," Sirius agreed.

Pansy was by his side in a moment, asking how he was feeling, and Draco admitted it still hurt a lot, while giving his friends an obvious wink when she turned her back.

"Subtle," Remus frowned in annoyance.

Snape's only response to the talking was to tell them all to settle down.

Lily rolled her eyes in annoyance, knowing full well he wouldn't have done that to any other student. His attitude was really starting to tick a nerve with her.

Harry wasn't pleased with his teacher's attitude, knowing full well that if anyone else had come in like that he'd have given them a detention instead.

"Glad we're all on the same page," James grumped, keeping an eye on Lily to see if she agreed. To his surprise, she did seem to.

Considering Malfoy was in Snape's house though, and Snape was well known for favoring the Slytherin's, no one was surprised at the exchange. What did shock them, was when Malfoy dragged his cauldron over to where Harry and Ron were working.

"Oh, this is just going to be brilliant," Sirius scowled in pure annoyance.

Then he raised his hand, and told his teacher that he couldn't cut up his own plants with just one arm.

Lily grimaced, knowing that would have been an actual concern had something really been wrong with him, but one, there wasn't a thing wrong with his arm, and two, he should get his friends to help him; not pick on her son.

Snape didn't even flinch as he told Ron to do it for him.

All five of them muttered something foul under their breath, knowing full well this was going to drag on, and already hating it.

Ron had to bite his tongue to stop himself from throwing insults at one or both of them, but did as told and started lopping the roots to bits in uneven squares.

Lily couldn't help but give a vindictive smirk, knowing full well she would have done the same thing as this would completely ruin that little jerk's potion.

Malfoy hardly looked surprised, as he called back to Snape that Ron had just ruined his roots.

"Dang it," James frowned, "I wasn't even sure he'd realize that was important."

Snape came over to have a look himself, smiling at Ron in a very unpleasant way.

"Know that look all too well," Sirius grumbled, his face twisting around with dislike.

"What did I do to deserve this chapter," Remus huffed. "We'd gone so long without having to deal with this guy."

Then he told Ron and Malfoy to swap ingredients, and Ron began to protest as he'd spent the whole of the class putting effort into making sure his own roots were replicas of each other.

"Wow," James said in surprise, "credit to him for that dedication."

Snape wouldn't hear it, telling Ron to do it and getting a dangerous tone.

James had to bite his tongue to hold back his comment that he didn't find Snape very dangerous at all, but he reminded himself of the age difference again.

Ron did with as much silent protest as possible, then Malfoy reminded he was going to need something skinned as well, and Snape instructed Harry to do that with a look of hatred he reserved just for Harry.

"I should feel really special huh?" Harry grumbled.

"Nah," Sirius smirked, "remember, he's going to be sharing that look with Remus from now on."

That at least caused Remus and James to chuckle, while Lily was quickly losing her patience with all of these boys.

Harry did as told, trying to ignore Malfoy who leaned over and asked if they'd spoken to Hagrid recently.

Harry scowled even more heavily, more than frustrated he was no longer allowed down at his friend's place to help cheer him up.

Then he kept going, giving a heavy fake sigh as he told how his dad was not happy to hear about him getting hurt, and Hagrid was going to be getting the sack any day now because of it.

"Your father can bite my-"

"James," Lily cut him off, matching him glare for glare. "You lot shouldn't be cussing so much, it's still a bad habit with the baby around."

Sirius rolled his eyes and grumbled something about how he still couldn't understand them, but Remus decided to keep going anyways.

Ron told Malfoy if he didn't shut up he'd give him a not so fake injury.

That drew a smirk from James and Sirius again, very much hoping Ron would make good on that threat soon.

Malfoy ignored him, still talking that his father had already spoken to the school governors and the Minster, his dad kept a lot of important company.

"Remembered vividly as the guy who tried to blackmail the school governors," Remus reminded in forced light tones.

"Why's he bragging to you anyways?" Lily demanded, "it's not like you care."

"Search me," Harry huffed.

Then he gave a tragic look at his folded arm and lamented it may never properly work again.

"Next time I'll make sure it actually is ripped out of socket," Sirius snarled a little too forcefully it seemed, since the baby in his lap gave a little whine of displeasure. Sirius forced himself to relax and give the kid a cuddle then to relax them both.

Harry snapped that this was why Malfoy was acting like this, while taking the head off of a dead caterpillar,

"At least it was already dead," Remus said weakly, trying to force some humor into Harry's outraged face. Harry ignored him.

all to get rid of Hagrid!

James let out a string of words he thought quite appropriate, but low enough under his breath he didn't think Lily heard him.

Malfoy agreed that would be a bonus, but for now he was enjoying himself with this, while shoving his own caterpillars at Ron and telling him to cut those up as well.

"Is he really going to do this until he stops faking his injury?" Sirius demanded, looking faint.

"How long can he milk that?" James demanded of nothing.

No one had an answer for either of them.

Not too far away, Snape was having his own enjoyment of striking fear into Neville again. It didn't help that Potions was the boy's worst subject, but having Snape hovering around made him even clumsier than usual.

Lily's eyes kept narrowing the longer Remus kept going, so that it looked like she was squinting over at him, but the expression was so terrifying none of the boys really wanted to call her out on it.

Personally, James was rather pleased at this. It was horrible what Snape was doing to Neville, but it seemed Lily wasn't going to be defending him much longer. It honestly blew his mind how she still was, considering their last rather public conversation.

Snape was currently berating Neville for his potion being the wrong color, in this case orange. He listed the many reasons why this was wrong and what Neville had done to it, then demanded what he had to do to get through his thick head.

Lily was bright red in the face by the end of this, so Harry, feeling they may as well get the explosion over with, told her, "Mom, you look like you're fixing to start screaming here soon."

Lily sucked in a very deep breath, then said in an almost steady voice, "probably, but I'm trying not to." She trailed off into foul mutterings about how that wasn't any way to treat someone who had messed up, but when she sat back and made it clear she was still trying to keep it under, Remus decided to keep reading while he could.

Neville flushed and looked down in shame, trying to keep his too bright eyes out of sight. Hermione said she could help fix it, but then Snape turned on her, telling her to quit showing off, causing the girl to flush as bad as Neville.

"That man has no bounds," Remus scowled, now he was turning on Hermione just for offering to help.

Then Snape told Neville that when class was over, they were going to use this destroyed potion on his toad,

"He what!" They all yelled in outrage.

"He can't do that!" Remus spluttered, "that's endangering his pet."

While Harry was just as furious as anyone else, he did consider Neville his friend if not as much as Ron and Hermione, but his curiosity won over and he asked, "What's the difference between this and using animals in Transfiguration?"

"Well, first of all, you don't use your own pets in classes," James pointed out, "though I wouldn't be too surprised that he does keep Trevor on him, I remember that little thing always trying to get away."

"But," Remus cut back in before James could get to off topic, "the main difference is that in other classes, there shouldn't be any permanent harm. If you get the spell wrong, then your teacher should just be able to reverse the effects. Correct me if I'm wrong Lily, but you can't always correct potions."

Lily shook herself in surprise, she was still introverting on herself in shock that she actually didn't feel any lingering need to defend Snape to these boys anymore. That effect had worn off the moment she'd heard that he was actually willing to hurt this child, in one of the cruellest ways she could deem possible, by purposefully hurting his pet. For what? He had no reason, Neville had never done anything to anyone, and yet here he was singling him out almost as much as Harry and being downright hateful to everyone else. Even after he had called her that awful word back in fifth year, she'd still had hope. No, she'd never forgiven him, nor had she gone out of her way to defend him in school any longer, except to this lot. There had always been something about the Marauders that had gotten under her skin, and even after her and Severus had parted ways she'd never been able to stomach the still rather public fights. So when she'd heard that Dumbledore had hired him, she'd harbored hope, that somehow he had changed after her death, become that same friend she'd once known, why else would Dumbledore hire a known Death Eater? Now, every last bit of that was dashed, and the contempt mounting in her was as fierce as the night that mess between them had started. Then Remus had called her name, and she gave herself a firm little shake and came back to the actual conversation, asking him to repeat the question.

He did, albeit a little hesitantly as she still looked a swirl of emotions, but she answered crisply, "you're right, some potions just can't be corrected. From what it sounds like, yes Neville's should be salvageable, he seems to have only doubled some ingredients, so if he does the same to his other ingredients that are in, it should balance out and be fine. Still doesn't excuse that teacher from acting like that though," she finished, fire blistering from her at the end, making Harry want to edge away even when it wasn't directed at him.

James and Sirius exchanged wide-eyed looks, they hadn't ever seen Lily this mad at him before, and it both amused them in the worst kind of way that she finally wasn't defending him, and scared them slightly.

Remus caught Harry's eye, who nodded indicating he was done with his question, so Remus was quick to move on for now.

hoping that would get through to him. He stalked away, and Neville begged Hermione for her help.

Seamus leaned back to talk to Harry, telling him what he'd found this morning in the newspaper, that someone had seen Black.

"Oh bloody hell," Sirius groaned, letting his head fall forward so that it was pressed forehead to forehead with the infant. James and Remus both gave him pitying looks, but no one could think of anything to say to him. If Sirius was going to react like this every time he was mentioned, then they were going to run out of comfort for him real quick. Then the baby hooked his chubby little fists into the length of his godfather's available hair, causing a bit of a distraction as he tried disentangling himself.

Remus still looked like he wanted to say something, but James was now quickly waving him on, trying to press past this as fast as possible while Sirius was distracted.

Harry asked where that was, ignoring Malfoy clearly listening in, and Seamus said it had been a Muggle who'd called the hotline, and by the time the Ministry had arrived there wasn't a trace of him, but it had only been a few towns away. Ron gave an uneasy look at his best friend for that kind of description.

James scoffed and rolled his eyes. He, like Remus, was all for Sirius making his way to Hogwarts and coming into contact with Harry, those dementors be damned. If Sirius had figured out how to get past them once, surely he could do it again and have a proper conversation with Harry. Ron's fears were silly, but since everyone here knew that, he didn't bother saying any of that.

Harry got sick of Malfoy's face, and turned to snap if he needed anything else skinned.

"Like yourself," Sirius smirked as he finally got himself loose from the kid's surprisingly good grip.

"Sirius, that's gross," Lily told him pleasantly.

He snickered, not looking very remorseful as he began bouncing the baby around again so that he would be a bit more amused, and not take it out on him again.

Malfoy looked pleased about something new though, as he asked Harry if he was planning on going after Black himself? Harry absentmindedly replied he just might, and Malfoy agreed he sure would have, in fact he would have already done something.

Remus raised a brow in surprise, finding that a rather odd thing to say. Looking around, he saw the others seemed just as perplexed.

"Suppose Malfoy knows I'm 'after him'," Sirius offered in forced light tones, "guess he just means Harry's being a coward for sitting around and not taking the fight to me I guess."

"Yeah, guess so," James agreed, "but why would Malfoy know that? It doesn't exactly seem like public knowledge if Fudge is trying to keep it quiet and away from Harry."

"Guess Malfoy really does still have connections in the Ministry to know," Lily said with disdain.

He wouldn't be sitting around in school like he was told. Ron turned on him, demanding to know what he was on about, but Malfoy just laughed when he realized Harry didn't know.

"Half wish he didn't," Sirius muttered in disgust. Despite Harry's adamant mood that he wasn't afraid of him now, it still bothered him that his little pup would think that at any time in his life.

Harry demanded to know what, but Malfoy just laughed harder, saying that he wasn't surprised Harry couldn't do it, but Malfoy would want his revenge.

"Revenge for what?" James demanded of nothing, starting to clench up his hands in disgust. He hated to hear this continuously talked about, and he already had a dozen reasons to punch this brat in the face, so this continued conversation was getting under his skin.

"Lucius would know you and Sirius are friends," Remus pointed out. "Perhaps Draco thinks Harry knew about that, and that Sirius 'doing this' would be offensive to you."

"That's a little loose if you ask me," Lily shrugged.

"Got any better ideas," Sirius shot right back.

There was silence, which meant that none of them really did.

Snape cut the conversation off by telling them class was done, but to wait around so they could see what happened to Neville's potion. Hermione was still muttering to him under her breath as Neville stirred with purpose.

They all breathed a silent sigh of relief, knowing full well if Hermione hadn't stepped in something really awful could have happened. It still didn't excuse the act itself that Snape had done of course, but at least this way there wouldn't be any lasting damage.

Harry went over to the wash to clean out his stuff, asking Ron what Malfoy could have meant about Black? He hadn't done anything to him personally, yet.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Sirius meant to smirk lightly, though it looked a little more forced than he'd planned.

Ron said he had just been bluffing, trying to get under Harry's skin. Snape cut in and told them all to come closer,

All who weren't reading muttered some crude thing or another under their breath, finding it loathsome that he was clearly wanting an audience for this.

to Neville's cauldron so they could see this. He began explaining that if Neville had made the proper potion, the Shrinking Solution, it would turn Trevor back into a tadpole. Since he highly disagreed it had been done right, the most likely end result was the toad being poisoned.

"Blackhearted little monster ain't he," Sirius muttered for his friends ears alone. The three of them were still rather wary that Lily hadn't said anything yet, so they were trying their hardest to keep the comments down, for now.

The Gryffindors were watching with fear, while the Slytherin's looked ready for a show.

"All of them," Lily asked warily, "really?"

"The ones I was looking at," Harry shrugged, "which was mostly Malfoy's, and Pansy's friends." He did note that he hadn't exactly sat there and pointed out every single student's expression, so maybe he had generalized that.

Snape scooped up the warty amphibian and scooped the potion into his mouth, which was now as green as his skin.

There was a much more profound breath of relief this time, each of them very happy Hermione had clearly done a good enough job the potion was the correct color.

All held their breath as the toad swallowed, then with a poof, he became a tadpole in Snape's hand. The Gryffindors cheered, while Snape looked disappointed,

"Can't believe they let this turd be around kids," James muttered furiously.

but he fixed Trevor back to his proper size and shoved him back towards Neville, telling him he'd lost five points from his house,

"Say what?" Lily snapped in outrage.

"That's what finally got to you?" Remus demanded right back, looking over at her in surprise.

Lily wasn't listening, it seemed to be taking every ounce within her not to start screaming at all of the problems with this. His abuse of power, his clear displeasure that he hadn't managed to kill the pet in front of its owner, now he was punishing him for doing it right! What in the bloody hell had happened to him to turn him into this?

When the silence continued to drag on, Remus decided to read on, noting he hadn't exactly gotten his answer, but the deadly expression on the red hairs face was plenty answer enough.

because he'd told Hermione not to help him. They went out of class in a temper, Ron loudest of all as he began verbally calling out Snape's actions.

"I'm with Ron on this one," James hissed.

Growling that Gryffindor had been punished because Trevor hadn't died! Hermione should have lied and said she hadn't helped!

"First of all, because that git wouldn't have believed either of them anyways," Sirius pointed out.

"Also, because what would be the point? He'd still take the points away, if not more because he'd then accuse her of lying," Remus agreed.

Hermione didn't respond, and Ron looked around in surprise for her, realizing she wasn't anywhere around them. They both turned and looked, Ron saying she'd been just behind them,

"Think she forgot something in class?" Lily noted absently, still more red in the face then anything and clearly only half paying attention.

Harry puzzled, somehow knowing that wasn't actually the correct answer, but the others were appeased enough by this, and he had no real idea why he would correct her as there really wasn't any other answer, so he said nothing.

but then they saw her running up the stairs, trying to shove something down the front of her shirt.

"There you go then, Lily was right," James shrugged, "maybe she has a necklace that fell off."

Harry very quickly opened, then closed his mouth. That his dad was closer to the mark he was sure, but somehow this still didn't feel like the full answer. Again he chose to say nothing, for the same reasons as before.

Ron asked how she'd pulled that off, she'd been right behind them a second ago, then she was back at the bottom end of the stairs.

"She's really fast," Sirius rolled his eyes, noting he might not have noticed someone turning around behind him either if he'd been raging like Ron had.

Hermione just looked confused, but she didn't get a chance to reply before her bag split open, and a dozen thick books toppled onto the ground. Ron asked why she had all of those on her,

"Did he really just ask Hermione why she was carrying books around?" James laughed in disbelief.

"But a dozen?" Remus demanded. "Exactly how many classes is she taking?"

"All of them," Harry reminded.

They all sat around, newly puzzled but still blank on how Hermione could be pulling that off. Could it be possible she was simply getting one of the students in that class to copy notes and give them to her? At least that would make sense how she was keeping up with more than one class at a time, but not how or why they were still marked on her schedule that she needed to go.

when she didn't have any of these classes? All they had left was DADA in the afternoon.

"Yes!" James and Sirius cheered, instantly distracted from Harry's friend. Yes they had all noted Remus' absence this week, and were beyond confused and slightly hurt he still didn't seem to be going out of his way to try and talk to Harry like they would have thought, but getting to sit in one of his classes first hand felt like a real treat to them.

Hermione agreed, but still put all of her books back into her ripped bag.

"What did you think she was going to do with them?" Lily chuckled, finally coming off of her bad mood at least a bit. "Run all the way back to the dormitory? She's got them with her now, so she's obviously going to keep them the rest of the day."

Then she walked off for lunch, and Ron asked Harry if he got the feeling Hermione was hiding something.

"Very much so, yes," Harry agreed.

Lupin wasn't in class when they arrived.

"For shame Moony," James snickered, "being late. Can't hardly tell off your students for that now, can you?"

Remus rolled his eyes indulgently, half wondering if he wasn't still stalling a bit on being around Harry, and half wondering if he actually did have a good reason. He probably wasn't going to get a real answer to that though.

They took their seats and glanced around with nerves, and had settled in when Lupin made his appearance, giving them all a kind welcoming smile. Harry noticed that some decent meals had given him some new color, though his robes were still more tattered then was normal.

"This is depressing me again," Sirius rolled his eyes.

"So sorry Harry describing me, very accurately I might add, is so awful to you," Remus smirked.

He greeted them, then asked for them all to put their books away and keep out their wands, they'd be having a hands on class today.

"So this is going to be fun," James brightened all the more, knowing any practical lesson from a teacher was always better than book ones.

The class did as told, with some wariness, since they'd never had one of these before,

"Which is awful really," Lily noted. "DADA is one of those classes where you really should have just as many practicals as lectures."

unless you were counting the time pixies had been let loose.

"I'd be very insulted and confused by that if I didn't know what you meant," Remus laughed.

Lupin then got them all to their feet, and told to follow him.

"Ooh, is he going to take you outside?" Sirius asked, looking likely to start bouncing in place here in a moment.

"You two are way too excited about this," Remus told them pleasantly.

"No such thing," James scoffed, "we know you'll do brilliantly, we just want to see what you actually do."

Remus didn't actually seem to have a response to that so, blushing slightly now, he was quick to move on past.

They followed with high interest out of the room, but didn't make it far when they ran into Peeves, shoving gum into a keyhole.

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Did you really just ask why that Poltergeist did anything," Lily laughed, "he does it because he thinks it will cause problems."

"I just meant why this in particular?" Harry corrected himself. "It wouldn't really stop anybody in the castle would it?"

"Filch," James pointed out, "he couldn't magic it out, or otherwise open the door without the key."

"Oh, right," Harry nodded, then he eyed Remus curiously, wondering what he was going to do about the matter. Ignore it, or stop him?

Then the poltergeist caught sight of Lupin, and at once broke into evil laughter before singing a tune about Loony, loopy, Lupin.

"Glad to see he still remembers me," Remus laughed.

The rest of the class was fairly shocked, since despite Peeves was known for his horrid ways, he tended to show a modicum of discipline around the staff.

"Guess it doesn't count after Remus locked him in a closet one time," Sirius snickered.

"Only worked for about a second, but it made me feel better," Remus shrugged, "he's hated me specifically ever since."

The students looked to their new teacher to see what he would do, and found him smiling. He kindly asked Peeves to take that gum back out, or Filch would have a problem of it later.

"And Merlin knows how awful that would be," Lily giggled.

Peeves' response was to blow a raspberry.

"Not going to take that now are you," James smirked, even more bright-eyed now as he recognized all too well the expression on his friend's face. No way was he going to let Peeves do that without some small payback, especially in front of students.

Lupin didn't lose his pleasant demeanor even as he sighed and pulled out his wand.

"Sure this is just heart wrenching for you," Sirius snickered.

He told them to watch this spell, it could be used for a number of things, then he cried Waddiwasi.

"Cool," the other three said with interest, James and Sirius only half manageable since they were still snickering away at this lovely visual mental image. Harry watched them all curiously, but didn't interrupt to ask what that spell did, since the book was obviously fixing to say.

The pink ball of chewed gum shot out of its spot, and went up the poltergeist nose. Peeves tried to pull it back out, and when he failed, flew away while throwing all sorts of vulgar language around.

Now Harry was laughing right along with them, mentally storing that spell away for future use, and hoping he'd asked for specifics of that spell. Was it a spell that merely shoots gum up a person's nose, or was it more generalized that it would shoot anything up a nose, or perhaps it simply shot a small object in a preferred direction? He decided to ask for the details later.

Dean was the first to congratulate Lupin, and the teacher thanked him back by name.

"How do you know his name?" Sirius stuttered, still half out of breath from his laughing fit.

"How should I know?" Remus reminded, thinking most likely he'd just come across him in a hallway or something as unmentionable.

Then he continued leading them on his path, the class now following with much more respect.

"Kind of makes you wonder if that was just a little setup?" James muttered to his friend, who nodded with enthusiasm. The pair wouldn't put it past him to perhaps go that particular direction that Peeves was in, since despite his words, Remus most likely would want his class to respect him, especially this class.

They reached their destination, the staffroom.

"Now Remus," Lily began, unable to keep a teasing tone out of her voice, "what exactly are you getting these students into?"

"Nothing that you're thinking," he responded back kindly, causing Sirius to release a bark of laughter.

James was looking lovingly over at his wife, never not finding it amusing when she beat him to a comment.

He opened the door, and they began to file in, but froze up when they saw Snape,

"Oh not him again," Sirius groaned, "as if I didn't want him dead once today already."

To be perfectly honest, he actually said that while eyeing Lily, hoping to finally get some sort of response out of her. Still no one answered him, and while Remus agreed, it didn't stop him from reading what was about to happen.

already inside. He had been sitting around reading and Lupin made to simply shut the door with him inside, but Snape told him not to bother, telling Lupin he didn't want to see this.

James frowned and cocked his head to the side, silently noting that Snape wasn't exactly being professional right then, he really should have addressed him as a Professor in front of the students. Then again, this was Snape he was thinking about.

Before he could leave though, he turned and informed Lupin that Neville was in here, and he shouldn't be doing anything too hard unless Hermione was at his ear.

That finally seemed to have done it, Lily got to her feet anyways, but instead of the screaming fit they were all expecting, she walked calmly over to Sirius and took her son away, then went up the stairs muttering that he needed his diaper checked.

Harry watched after her, a little fearful at how she seemed to be handling this. The other boys were more than wary at this point. "Can't believe Lily's still sticking up for him," Sirius said in disgust, craning his neck around to keep an eye on the stairs to make sure she hadn't heard that.

Remus shrugged and leaned back casually as he said, "personally, if she is still defending him, someone really needs to get it through her thick head enough is enough. How on earth can she excuse him after this?"

"I don't think so," James shook his head, looking more puzzled than anything now. "D'you see the way she looked right before she did that? Honestly I think the only thing stopping her from screaming her head off about him was the baby in the room."

Harry was personally on his Dad's side, he'd recognized that look of loathing on her face before as well, but before any more could be said Lily came back in, and offered the baby back to the boys. Sirius took him happily, and no more was said after Lily simply waved Remus on.

Neville went red in the face, and Harry glared hatefully at the potions teacher, thinking it was horrid enough for him to be saying things like that in his own class, but now he was doing it around other teachers.

"Agreed," Sirius nodded with conviction, still keeping a wary eye on Lily like he was still expecting her to snap at him. She did no such thing, and her expression remained almost neutral.

Lupin though seemed surprised at the suggestion, informing Snape that he'd been planning on using Neville to get the ball rolling, and he had no doubts the boy would do perfectly.

"Thank you Remus," James said sincerely, "that poor kid needs someone to stand up to Snape for him."

Remus was beaming, knowing full well he'd do this again in a heartbeat.

Neville actually lost color then, while Snape just scowled and left.

"Good riddance ya foul little beetle," Sirius said in a goofy, baby tone of voice, getting a reaction from the baby, but clearly still not pushing Lily's buttons enough. James gave him a hard nudge in the side, clearly saying he needed to knock it off now, but Sirius was enjoying this too much. He'd held back a lot of comments on account of getting told off by Lily for it, now it seemed that wasn't going to be the case anymore, he was going to have a field day with this.

Lupin began addressing the class again, who were looking around in confusion before they noticed that the wardrobe which normally just housed coats, was smacking against the wall.

"Oh," Remus said brightly.

"Know what it is?" Lily asked with interest.

"A couple things came to mind," he nodded, "and it makes plenty of sense now why I would have brought them there."

When most of the class hopped back in shock, Lupin waved them down and told them to calm down,

"Can't hardly blame them," James agreed, "they haven't exactly had a lot of good practice dealing with anything in this class."

it was only a boggart.

"Ooh, this is going to be fun," Sirius nodded happily.

"Glad you lot approve," Remus chuckled lightly when the others agreed.

The class looked far from reassured. Several students like Neville and Seamus now seemed to find even more reason to be afraid.

"Impressed those two know what that is, considering the little education that's been going on in this class," Lily rolled her eyes.

Lupin began to explain that a boggart preferred dark and enclosed spaces, like the wardrobe for example. He'd met one that once stuck itself in a grandfather clock.

"Don't think it's fair for you to have said that, when I'm the one who told you that happened in my house," Sirius pointed out.

"Still a relevant point," Remus shot back.

Then he asked, what is a boggart? Hermione was the first to raise her hand,

"No surprise there," Harry nodded.

informing everyone it was a shapeshifter, turning into something it thought would scare you. Lupin gave her full credit for the answer, explaining that's why the creature loved the dark so much, it could stay hidden until it chose what to scare you with.

"Then what does it look like?" Harry asked inquisitively.

Remus cocked his head to the side in curiosity, thinking on that for a moment before answering, "no one knows. I'd assume it would likely be in a form it thinks would scare anyone who snuck up on it, yet until it grasps hold of one mind, there's no real way to tell."

"One mind?" Harry repeated, just a bit of anxiety creeping in now.

"It can read your mind," Remus nodded, "that's how it knows what will fear you most."

"Now that we've got that covered, though you're likely to just go over it again," Sirius pointed out in a long-suffering voice. Remus gave him the stank eye for a moment, but didn't deny that.

Then Lupin explained that because of this gift, no one knew what a boggarts original form looked like. Which meant when he let him out, and Neville made a small noise of fear at the reminder,

"Poor kid," James couldn't help but grin.

"Like Remus is going to let anything too bad happen," Sirius rolled his eyes at the ludicrous thought.

that they would have an advantage, then he asked Harry to point out what it was.

"That was almost rude," Lily said a little cheekily, not really meaning it as Harry hardly looked upset. "He didn't exactly have his hand raised."

Remus shrugged, not looking very abashed, he was sure he wanted to know especially what his little cub might know about magical creatures, no he wasn't taking a special interest that would be ridiculous.

and Harry floundered for a moment before guessing that their numbers would make it hesitant what form to take. Lupin gave him perfect marks for that answer, while Hermione looked upset she hadn't got to say this.

"Does she really answer every question from a teacher?" James now asked. "That hardly seems fair to any other student."

"I'm sure if anyone else ever volunteered, the teacher would pick someone else," Sirius shrugged.

Lupin went on to explain that you should always have a buddy around when dealing with boggarts, as he'd once seen one try to turn into two different creatures, half a dead body and half a slug, which was more funny then anything.

"Now when did this happen?" James asked in surprise.

Remus then had a surreal moment as he realized he was very soon going to be experiencing and doing things, without any of his friends around. What exactly had he been doing these past twelve years? He couldn't help but sink down into himself a bit when he realized he had no answer, nor did he particularly want to find out. It was also rather odd to think he had memories then that he had no idea about now, but since it was a rhetorical question anyways no one said anything.

Then he told them the charm, which was supposed to be used to force a boggart into a form that would make them laugh, which was the boggarts weakness. It was called Riddikulus.

"Always loved the name of that spell," Sirius said, maybe a little too loudly that time, as he noticed Remus' mood seemed to have gone down a pinch. They were still enjoying his first class too much to allow him too much self-depression again, so he was hoping to cheer his friend back up. It didn't actually seem to work that well.

Then Lupin turned his attention back to Neville, who looked like he'd just been told his death date,

"That poor boy," Lily fretted, "has he no confidence at all?"

"Then this class will help," James said adamantly.

and asked him what he was most afraid of? Neville mouthed something that Lupin happily asked him to repeat.

"You seem to be enjoying this a little too much," Sirius smirked at him.

Finally getting a smile in return as Remus answered, "I always enjoy watching others interact with Boggarts, never ceases to amuse what interesting things people will come up with to laugh at."

Neville had to swallow hard for a moment before getting out, Professor Snape.

All four boys released surprised and amused snorts of laughter, while Lily pursed up her lips so tightly the skin went almost white. She didn't find it the least bit funny that he had clearly scarred this student so badly, this little third year was now terrified of him! Despite the fact that there wasn't any danger around, Lily reached over and clutched her son's hand to her for a moment to comfort herself and convince her mind not to start screaming about this as well, she would have to hold it in until she was a little more alone without an audience for when she broke down and really dug into these soon overflowing emotions that she was trying very hard to keep a lid on.

The rest of the students laughed, while Lupin gave a little smile and repeated Professor Snape's name,

"I note Remus actually used his title, not that he deserved it," James pointed out, in a less harsh tone than he would have liked to, still too keyed up and happy to be hearing about this.

before asking who Neville lived with? Neville told it was his grandmother, but he didn't want the boggart to turn into her either.

Which gained yet another laugh, this time from all present. Even Lily couldn't deny that, yes, the adults of your life that you lived with would tend to scare you a bit.

Lupin gave a small laugh as he asked what his grandmother usually wore?

Sirius and James lost it. They knew quite well what exactly Remus was planning just by that simple sentence, but they reined themselves in very quickly, refusing to explain to a confused Harry and Lily what they were now very sure what was about to happen. Remus looked pleasantly amused with himself as well, feeling this was more than justified just from the little comment he'd made about Neville at the beginning of class.

Neville described her usual attire, a hat with a vulture, a green dress, and a fox scarf, with a red purse.

"Brilliant, this is beyond perfect," Sirius muttered, pure glee in his expression.

Lupin clarified that Neville could see those clothes perfectly in his mind, and Neville agreed with clear confusion at this line of questioning.

"He has no idea," James guffawed, almost stuffing his fist in his mouth to keep himself contained so he could listen.

Then Lupin explained that when boggart Snape came out of that wardrobe, Neville was to use the Riddikulus curse on him, and those things should all appear on their potions teacher.

Remus couldn't get through that whole sentence without having to stop and stifle his giggling. James and Sirius didn't even bother, and by the end where Harry and Lily realized where this was going, they weren't any better. They didn't even need to be there to see this, the vivid mental image it painted was one of the best any of them could have come up with.

Sirius tried to speak in between bursts of laughter, "this, is, - your, best- prank, ever!" There might have been more, but he still wasn't that intelligible.

"I wouldn't really consider it a prank even," James disagreed, wiping at his eyes to clear his happy tears away, "'cause he's not really doing it to Snape. He's just creating a little revenge for the poor kid, and no one can even do anything to say it's wrong."

The class burst out joyfully with giggles, and the wardrobe gave a disturbed jerk.

"Wouldn't have been too surprised if it had simply disappeared then," Lily chuckled.

"No, it has to be more direct," Remus coached.

Lupin quickly pulled their control back and instructed each of them to figure out what they feared most, and put a funny spin on it.

That finally dried up a bit of laughter in the room as one person in particular from that class came to mind. All eyes flicked to Harry and away quickly, not really wanting to think on what could scare him the most. A Basilisk came to mind, or giant spiders, even that demented spirit of a creature Voldemort had become, sticking out of the back of Quirrell's head. Any of those were likely to come up when the boggart turned on him, and none would be very pleasant reminders.

Harry's own mind began to flit around, easily landing on Voldemort,

They all made a face and shifted around uneasily, not exactly happy they had been right in one of their guesses, and also wondering how you even could make that funny. Putting him up in a dress and handbag just might not work as well.

powerful once again.

"Should probably be everybody's greatest fear," James nodded in agreement.

He hadn't even got started on how to make that funny though, when something else crept up on him, a towering black robed figure with a skeletal hand rotting away.

Sirius couldn't help the involuntary shiver that came when he heard about those things all over again, matched by Harry now.

"Now that's interesting," Remus noted lightly, eyeing both Harry and Sirius curiously.

"What?" Lily asked, a little reproachfully. She didn't think anything that scared her son should be treated with interest.

Remus didn't seem to notice the tone as he answered, "their greatest fear seems to be fear manifested itself. I've never heard of that before, but it makes sense."

Sirius huffed and grumbled something under his breath, cuddling the baby closer to him and muttering that wasn't what he was really afraid of, but the others ignored him as James said, "agreed, now let's see how Harry decides to make that funny."

It was clear he didn't want to linger on the subject, and no one argued the point.

Harry had to repress a shudder of remembered horror, and glanced around as a distraction to see Ron with his eyes screwed tight shut muttering about taking somethings legs off. Harry didn't have to go far to guess at this, since he knew Ron was most afraid of spiders.

"Well kudos to Ron, he both admits what he's afraid of, and knows how to deal with it," Sirius nodded in approval.

At the front of the room, Lupin called out if everyone was ready, and Harry had a small spurt of panic as he realized he wasn't. How were you supposed to make a dementor funny? He didn't ask for spare time,

"Can't even blame you on that one," Lily said with sympathy.

"Though I'm sure Remus would have given it to you anyways," James shot back.

"Still don't want to ask for it," Harry reminded with a shrug.

Sirius snapped his fingers and said, "I know, you could light its cloak on fire, might look funny to watch it flail around the room like a ninny."

The others managed a small smile for his attempt at humor, but none of them really thought it was that funny, or that Harry would think to do this; though they all hoped.

because everyone else now had set looks of determination on their faces in preparation. Lupin had Neville stand directly in front of the wardrobe now, and the rest of the class backed away from his shaking form, though he covered it by pushing his sleeves up and his wand was plenty steady.

All of them smiled with real pride at this, he wasn't even really anything to do with them, but they still couldn't help but feel proud this boy was clearly forcing himself to stand up to this.

Lupin cast his wand and out stepped a perfect replica of Snape.

"Give it to him Neville," James said under his breath, eyeing the book with wide-eyed hope.

For a moment, Neville froze up, as the boggart reached into its manifested robes,

"Could the Boggart actually perform a spell," Harry blurted out, instantly feeling bad as he too wanted to know if Neville had pulled this off, but the question had just sprung to mind.

No one actually looked annoyed at him, indeed they were rather pleased he truly didn't seem to be bottling up his questions anymore, and Remus was quick to answer, "no, it doesn't carry the magical ability of what it turns into. In this case it would just brandish a wand, scaring him further, until it could pounce and kill him."

but Neville reacted faster, getting the proper curse out, and Snape appeared in all of his green dress glory.

Having already pictured this lovely mental image didn't draw back the laughter one bit. The four boys were very sure indeed they would never not laugh at this mental image, it was far too perfect for anything they'd ever come up with. Lily couldn't deny she was still amused as well, though now her lips were more twitching than outright laughter.

The class lost it again, laughing outright at this, but then Lupin called Parvati to take Neville's place.

Sirius randomly noted that Remus had actually known all of these kids' names, but decided to let it go, who knew why he knew these students names before they introduced themselves. It's not as if he'd called roll to learn them, but maybe he was just overthinking this one.

She ran forward, and with a crack the boggart turned itself into a mummy.

"Oh yes, those can scare the daylights out of you," Lily nodded in agreement.

Parvati reacted similarly, using her wand to fire the curse, and the mummy's bandages came apart, its head beginning to roll away.

James and Sirius released snorts of laughter at that, that's not what they had been thinking to do to it, but that was funny all the same.

Then it was Seamus' turn, and he came forward to find a banshee.

"Wonder when Seamus would have run into one of those?" James asked with interest.

"Wonder where that other girl would have run into a mummy?" Lily countered.

"You don't actually have to run into it for it to scare you," Remus reasoned out, "just the thought of it can be enough for the boggart to latch on to."

The creature began making a horrid ear bleeding noise, but Seamus cut if off with his Riddikulus curse, and suddenly no noise could escape its rasping throat.

All of them laughed lightly at this, James actually applauding that logic.

The boggart was losing its grip now, randomly turning into a rat and chasing its tail,

The three Marauders winced at the random reminder that their friend wasn't here to enjoy this, but Remus didn't pause to let it last.

and Lupin seemed pleased as he instructed the class they were getting to it, sending Dean forward next. His turned into a single hand, which began approaching on the fingers.

"Bloody hell," Sirius spluttered, looking genuinely disturbed at that, "who thinks up that?"

"Now that might actually have a story to it," Remus nodded with just a hint of disgust, but he still read curiously to see what Dean might do with it.

Dean was well prepared, snatching it up in a mousetrap.

Which garnered a new round of laughter from all of them, definite points for originality on that one.

Then it was Ron's turn, and most of the class screamed when a huge spider,

"I'd like to remind someone of this the next time they pick on Ron for being afraid of spiders," James said, giving a lofty look at Lily, who pointedly ignored him. She'd already taken back and felt bad for giggling at him before, no need for him to remind her of that.

which was bigger than most of the students, with menacing pincers already clicking away. Ron didn't react at first,

"Poor Ron," James said in sympathy.

"Give him a chance," Harry disagreed, though he personally couldn't blame his friend one bit if he had frozen, he was probably reliving that awful scene from last year in the Forbidden Forest.

but like everyone else, he came to his senses and called out Riddikulus, causing the spider's legs to disappear from beneath it,

James instantly looked abashed for not having enough faith in Ron, and he laughed right along with the others and applauded him for pulling that off.

where it rolled over itself, and landed in front of Harry. Lupin jumped forward then,

"Hey!" Harry said indignantly.

Remus pursed his lips as the others gave him confused looks as well for stepping in like that, but then he shrugged and offered, "Guess I really didn't want a Voldemort, or a dementor, appearing in the room right then and scaring the other students." Even to him it felt like a lame excuse, why wouldn't he have given Harry the chance to fight off the boggart like everyone else? Harry was still frowning, not looking very happy with that answer, but Remus really couldn't think of anything else to say. He felt like he should apologize, but would Harry really take it now when he hadn't technically done it yet or perhaps he might even still be resenting him for still not having come to talk to him this week. Either way, he turned back to the book rather shamefaced at his actions.

and the boggart instead turned into a silver ball hovering in front of him, but Lupin seemed unconcerned as he said the spell,

None of them really needed to ask, it made perfect sense this would be his greatest fear.

and then told Neville to finish it while the boggart scuttled around as a cockroach.

"A cockroach, that's the funniest thing you could come up with?" Sirius muttered, and Remus ignored him.

Neville took the opportunity by coming back up, and they got one more memorable look of Snape in his fancy dress,

James and Sirius gave another laugh, but this time they were the only ones who did. Then they frowned at each other, rather annoyed the mood got popped so easily, and really hoping the Remus in the book would get a move on already with what was weighing them all down.

before Neville gave one last and loud 'Ha' of amusement, then the boggart vanished with a trail of smoke.

"Can boggarts die?" Lily asked randomly, never having thought of that.

Remus was fidgeting with the pages, not really looking like he wanted to answer. Sirius considered smacking him to try and get him to stop acting like this when he really hadn't done anything wrong, yet. Before he could though James already answered, "nah, they're amortal."

At Harry's continued blank look, Sirius said, "that means that they never truly existed, so they can't ever truly die. It's not really like immortal, dementors are actually the same. They were never born, nor can they ever die, they just exist."

Harry still didn't think much of this explanation, but this thirteen year old mind pounded with the effort of understanding such worldly concepts and let it go. He instead nodded in understanding, and the second the silence lingered Remus was quick to read.

Lupin congratulated the lot of them on a job well done, awarding every person who had a go at the boggart five points, plus five to Hermione and Harry each.

James let out a low, throaty whistle saying, "wow, spoil them much?"

"Oh I'm sure Remus is above favoring," Lily smirked lightly, and then they both frowned when he still refused to react.

Harry protested he hadn't earned that, but Lupin reminded Harry had answered his question at the beginning of class. Then he assigned them homework to summarize the chapter in the book on boggarts, due the next class.

"Ugh, I wish Moony was above giving homework," Sirius said in disgust.

Remus did react then, giving his friend an annoyed look, he seemed very close on the verge of pointing out the importance of homework, but let it go at the last second.

The class left in high spirits, everyone talking about what they'd just done, but Harry was left feeling discouraged. Why had Lupin reacted like that, stopping him? Had he thought seeing Harry go down on the train would mean he couldn't handle it ever?

"That's not it at all!" Remus flipped, and Harry couldn't help but smile along with everyone to see him talking again, animatedly as he was quick to explain "Harry, I know you're not weak. Then and now," he stopped for a moment and went a little cross-eyed, but ignored the odd time loop, "I'm sure I simply just didn't want you to do it, ah for the same reason I said." It still sounded false to his own ears, but Harry was now eyeing him hopefully, so Remus at least hoped he'd made him feel better. Harry didn't say anything aloud though, so he didn't really think so.

The students were comparing how they'd scared away their own fears, though Lavender asked why their teacher would be afraid of a crystal ball.

"Oh please let them continue believing that," Remus muttered to himself.

"Now that was funny," Sirius snickered, "you being afraid of a glass ball."

"I'll take that over what it really was," Remus shot back, and Sirius frowned at him, feeling Remus was being a little snappier than was called for. Then again, he was used to Remus getting snippy with him this time of the month, so he didn't push it.

Ron was bubbling along with the rest of them, exclaiming that had been the best DADA class they'd ever had.

"Well there is that," James nodded eagerly, and Remus really did offer a small smile then for the compliment.

Hermione agreed, though wished she'd gotten some hands on work with the boggart as well. Ron laughed, asking what it would have turned into, an imperfect homework assignment?

All of them released surprised snorts of laughter then, Harry loudest of all as he had a funny feeling Ron wasn't too far off, but having no idea why that could be.

"Chapter's over by the way," Remus said, giving the book a gentle toss over to Lily, who caught it lightly.

HPHPHP

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#Harry Potter #Fanfiction #PoA #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #James Potter #Lily Potter #Reading the books #The LIfe that Never LIved #Marauders

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