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kulay-ng-banaag · 4 months

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In the spirit of releasing all emotional debts on New Year's Eve, I’m going to open up about my frustrations regarding Desa aka dinosaurusgede aka the creator of Maaf.

For context, she made a Twitter account around the time that Himaruya properly introduced the newly canonized cast of SEA nations (Philippines, Indonesia, Singapore, and Malaysia). Like many other fans, she rode the nostalgia wave in creating content of them. By this point in time, Maaf was more or less a “finished” story to her — whatever Hetalia/SEAtalia content she published from that point onward was not as a continuation of, nor even as a reboot, of Maaf (although she did mention entertaining that idea). For the most part, the newer works she uploaded on Twitter were independent stories and were not necessarily linked to one other either.

Regrettably, I cannot present the problematic page/s for a more thorough and guided scrutiny because she deleted her Twitter account. Unless someone out there saved them, and frankly I wouldn't know who did nor would care to find out, everything was lost to the void. I’m literally working on what was imprinted in my memory by spite, so I apologize if I misremember details.

This will include discussion of anti-indigenous racism and other issues pertaining to colonialism.

She had an IndoPhil story titled Trust Me? and it was inspired by a fanmade BruPhil AMV wherein Indonesia was manipulating Philippines into believing that he was married to Indonesia and not Brunei. Trust Me? kept that concept of a manipulative Indonesia; the key difference being that Indonesia’s motivation for it (in Desa’s story) was the mix of hurt over Philippines “losing his precolonial memories” — based on popularized misconceptions of early Philippine history — of and how that was “aggravated” by his Westernization™, made worse under the United States (350+ years in the convent getting ratio'd by 50 years in Hollywood is hilarious ngl).

That was a lot to unpack, but before we even get there:

Indonesia and Philippines were having a tender moment when HWS America (as in the Hetalia personification that is Alfred F. Jones) walks in calling out "MY LITTLE BROWN BROTHER!"

Indonesia entered his Joker arc because he recalled how HWS America dumped the Philippines in a human zoo at the 1904 St. Louis World’s Fair. There was an explicit panel of Philippines in Igorot* dress and a painfully forlorn bearing.

What "triggered" Indonesia was when, after the flashback, Piri goes up to Indonesia and asks him if he's a Bolshevist 🥺 (the idea was PH being brainwashed by Red Scare propaganda). Cue kabedon moment from Indonesia, and basically a yandere walk down "memory lane."

I did not have it in me to finish reading that comic...

*Igorot is an outdated umbrella term for the upland indigenous peoples of Northern Luzon

Aside from the clearly intended shock value of that depiction, I was taken aback by the painful lack of objectivity on her part when it came to the reading of history. To be fair on Desa, she never specialized in history studies, so it was only courteous that we could not expect her to have as developed of a critical reading as trained academics of history. Unfortunately, that was precisely why I disagreed with the popular notion of Desa as both a great researcher and a great storyteller of her research — all the more when Maaf was just the mangafication of certain Wikipedia articles.

To be fair as well on Wikipedia, it was, at best, a satisfactory jumpstart into more in-depth reading, and we could give it the benefit of the doubt that revisions had since been made to at least some of the articles that Desa relied on while making Maaf (more than 10 years is more than enough time for change). Nevertheless, the articles themselves did not teach users how to scrutinize the sources — most especially the biases of the sources’ author/s — utilized in building up the information.

That mattered because much of the retrospect narratives about the St. Louis Fair had a tendency of raising awareness through the newspaper articles that covered the exhibition at the time. These chronicled the impressions of the visiting authors, who likely (and I say likely because we would have to more exhaustively discern their personal politics one by one) were biased in favor of the “benevolent assimilation” of the Philippines — and the sights that they beheld only validated it further. They did not, however, explain why these Philippine indigenous peoples were brought in in the first place — information that could have further cemented Desa's reputation had she truly spent the efforts, even while understandably juggling other commitments as we all do. Instead, she only perpetuated the habit of sacrificing the veracity of equally important, finer details to the bigger picture in order to sensationalize righteous fury against colonialism.

The 1904 St. Louis World’s Fair was also formally known as the Louisiana Purchase Exposition, giving away its purpose as a commemoration. More appropriately, it was the centennial anniversary (technically delayed by a year though) of the acquisition of French Louisiana, expanding the territorial bounds of the United States. Additionally, the point of a world’s fair was to showcase the achievements of a nation, and one could also think of it as the sale of a fever dream — what more for a fast-growing, fledgling power the likes of the United States, itself a former colony? On another note, the St. Louis World’s Fair was not the only one of its kind so no, the US is not that original lmao.

One could thus see how the inclusion of a dedicated exhibit to the newly acquired colony that was the Philippines neatly fit into the themes of a world's fair centralized on the US. It was all the more a paramount topic of debate, with prominent Americans the likes of Mark Twain (here are selected excerpts, but I highly recommend reading the entirety of his To the Person Sitting in the Darkness) publishing anti-US imperialism opinions, even after the endgame of the Philippine-American War essentially favored the pro-imperialists. While dissent from the American side at the time remains poorly studied AND THAT'S ON OVERRULE BY BIAS, we at least have a glimpse, if mostly obscure still, of its existence.

If we can assume that it must have indeed been a prominent discourse in America, loud enough to get the White House furrowing its brows, then it's plausible to understand how it was of utmost importance that the the Philippine exhibit was to be carefully — because, in a way, America had to sell itself as the "lesser evil" vs notable "rivals" — curated while still ultimately corroborating assimilation of the Philippines. Thus, enter Truman Hunt, the man who oversaw "the Igorot Village" of the St. Louis Fair, having won the hearts of the native Igorots for a powerful reason:

Section from Claire Prentice, The Lost Tribe of Coney Island: Headhunters, Luna Park, and the Man Who Pulled Off the Spectacle of the Century, New York, NY: Amazon Publishing, 2014.

While the cholera epidemic that occurred at the onset of the American Colonial Period was arguably the worst in the history of cholera epidemic management in the Philippines, I want to make it very, very clear that it was not the first and only wave that hit the archipelago. There had been a handful in the prior century alone — all of such magnitudes that it embedded a deep collective trauma; farmers refused to harvest their crops for fear of infection, tragically enabling famines and contributing starvation & nutrition deficiencies on top of a viral & swift killer (the experience of severe, rapid dehydration is such that one can fall dead within hours of infection).

Given such an imaginably harrowing experience (and it was an awfully painful topic to study as someone who got infected with and survived COVID-19 and has family working as frontliners), how could the natives turn away a stranger with such miraculous powers? Who knows how they comprehended it (e.g. a benevolent sign from heaven they must accept) because, unfortunately, we have yet to discuss preserved accounts on that matter, if any at all.

What is known, however, is that there were Igorots who were not just enamored by the "opportunity of a lifetime," but the selected lucky candidates clearly expressed their consent to participate:

More sections from Prentice, The Lost Tribe of Coney Island.

I will quickly add that, unfortunately, a few members of the Igorot delegation died from illness in making the trip, and Hunt aged like milk over the years (fell into the trap of capitalism in pushing for more subsequent exhibit trips, to the point that less care was extended to the Igorots and he was ultimately arrested for embezzlement). Given that our scope remains to be the 1904 St. Louis Fair, any signs of abuse inflicted upon the Igorots during their stay based on preserved photographs is simply not clear. To assume that they were in a pitiable state would be to enforce a presentist reading that might betray not just their memories & experiences but also their right to self-determination.

EDIT (01/02/24): A good example to demonstrate what I mean in analyzing photographs, here's an article on the author's personal, genealogical research into the Igorots — specifically, the Suyoc — who were at the St. Louis Fair.

It truly is ironic that a Filipino is making these points as if to defend the United States as a whole (no I am not, and if you think I do, lumayas ka). I agree that white people gawking over the peoples of the Philippines with such fascination that borders fetishism warrants all the eye-rolls. At the same time — and it is even more ironic that I am pointing this out as a lowland, Christianized Tagalog based in the metro (not just any urbanized part of the country) — there is a character of patronizing these indigenous communities in the unspoken assumption that their participation is the fault of their ignorance. Pay attention, once more, to the demographics that constituted the Philippine exhibit in the 1904 St. Louis Fair — what kind of "Filipinos" were included and who were left out? There were also Negritos*, Visayans, and Muslims from Mindanao (historically referred to as Moros) in the same event, yet we hardly hear about their experiences. Perhaps it might have to do with how they were considered "more civilized" than these upland groups.

*OUTDATED term (and please blame the Spanish for it); these are the Aeta.

I understand Desa's reservations against US imperialism and sympathies for communities marginalized by Western colonization. I just hope that I was able to clarify as best as I could why I was so taken aback in how she depicted the Hetalia personification of my country the way she did. I agree that, as far as I ever got to interact with her, she is generally very polite and kind. That's why I gave her the benefit of the doubt when she approached me in DM to apologize for how her narrative choice was offensive. As someone who despised red tape in academia, I tried to talk to her about how there were valid reasons as to why the American Colonial Period was considered a mixed blessing, even by PH historians.

Instead, she pulled a complete 180.

She said that — to a Filipino who condemned imperialism (no matter who started it), who also happened to study history as a profession, and was also a Hetalia fan who wants to explore Hetalia narratives differently from what was popularized. Half of the reason was because some fandom takes left a bad taste, like eating a dish with ingredients that even Gordon Ramsay would tell you shouldn’t go together; the other half was because I saw things differently and wanted to express it because why not?

I want to say it's not necessary to bring up something from a private conversation, but I will anyway to reiterate that my issue is not that she isn't nice. Bluntly, however, the way she said those words so formally did creep me out, but ultimately, my issue lies in how her biases have led her into making off-putting takes from time to time. I will not say more, but Trust Me? was not the only Twitter comic by Desa that got bombastic side-eyes.

And if only because Sukarno got dragged in, I felt compelled to briefly debunk that as well: even he initially viewed the United States in a very positive light: “The United States occupies a very distinguished part, a very distinguished place, in the hearts of the Indonesian people.” That was uttered in 1961, and it took a very specific historical context to instigate a complete shift by 1964:

Sections from Vincent Bevins, The Jakarta Method: Washington’s Anticommunist Crusade & the Mass Murder Program that Shaped Our World, New York: PublicAffairs, 2021, 121-123.

EDIT (01/02/24): Note that Desa was citing Sukarno's later sentiments in the late 1960s as her reason for characterizing Indonesia as such in her comic. However, the setting of the story was the late 1920s (Indonesia's visit was based on Tan Malaka's abscondence to the Philippines). I'd dare say the anachronism was not due to oversight but a deliberate choice in using a certain fictional character — namely HWS Indonesia — as propaganda for Desa's anti-Americanism.

It's definitely depressing to think about all the "lost" history & culture that thrived before the arrival of white colonizers. It's why I'm surprised that, for a fiction work, she didn't project all that anger onto Spain instead — it had to specifically be the United States. Was it because they basically cockblocked Philippine independence, even though Spain practically sold the Philippines to the US? The implication that Spain should be permitted to wash its hands clean of all accountability was an awkward message to convey.

I understand that nothing could be 100% accurate (I'm actually quoting Desa defending herself on that matter) in fiction, but the level of projection coming from a certain non-Filipino reading Philippine history was so silly. And again, how did it all justify the explicit depiction of HWS Philippines as an indigenous man in a human zoo? (END OF EDIT)

As my professors will also never tire of saying: you can disagree with a historian’s interpretations but you can never disagree with the evidence in themselves. You don’t have to morally agree either, and I can guarantee you that many Filipinos do not. I, myself, resented the endgame of the particular war that brought that period about in the first place. How dare, then, she said it was “not her place” to defend US imperialism, while granting herself the freedom to express her country’s feelings on the matter?

Oh, it’s all just fiction? I do not condone the subsequent treatment she received, but why then couldn’t she stop trying to “educate” NLID shippers? I do not know how both sides talked to one another, only that what caught me eye was: Why does everyone else have to respect her fiction while she gets to disrespect others’ fictions for not aligning with hers?

EDIT (01/20/24): Just to clarify further on that point — over a decade ago, she went ham in the comment section of someone's (APH) America x (fem!OC) Indonesia. That ship is not in my lore either simply because I follow a totally different route. To cut to the chase, she took that fanart very personally and infodumped on US war crimes that involved Indonesia.

I know Tan Malaka started the whole North Indonesia agenda, but come on, neither was it Desa's place to just treat HWS Philippines the way she did. An Indonesian schooling other Indonesians on ID history is not surprising, but an Indonesian schooling a Filipino on PH history? I'd be humbled if they had the credentials. She didn't and, unless she enrolled herself in a graduate program, she still doesn't.

By all technicalities, she can’t ship IDPH because the Philippine government was (unfortunately and grossly) complicit in the chain of events that led to the 1965-66 genocides in Indonesia. Yet, she does despite of that fact. We thus circle back to Trust Me? and how that was a manifestation of her stubborn refusal to acknowledge any nuances by projecting HWS Indonesia as a self-proclaimed savior of HWS Philippines from the beguile of US neocolonialism.

I empathize with her anger. I'm sorry that the US government by extent enabled what her family went through. I agree that it's not her place to defend them; in fact, she shouldn't. But when even the so-called "highest of Malay nations*" is worth her neutrality, how can she expect me to forgive her?

*That is literally what the Philippines is to her; I know this because she explicitly said so to me in DM. DO NOT ASK FOR RECEIPTS, I am not comfortable revealing that particular conversation.

I cannot — in fact, NO ONE SHOULD — afford to be neutral about Duterte or Marcos, etc., and for her to be so flippant about her privilege (by way of ethnicity/citizenship/cultural upbringing) to be neutral** about Philippine politics, while simultaneously NAGGING ON EVERYBODY TO RESPECT INDONESIAN POLITICS, is annoying at best and plain selfish at worst.

**Also explicitly said to me in DM. Again, DO NOT ASK FOR RECEIPTS.

(END OF EDIT)

I’m not Indonesian but I do not have it in me to politely accuse a native Indonesian of allowing their personal biases to misread their own history. As a Filipino, however, while I'm not surprised by the reductionist chronicling of the histories & cultures of the Philippines, I am at a loss for words over the continuing idolization for Desa & Maaf, when she was not the best and most reliable narrator, especially given her negligence in representing indigenous peoples through her comics.

I mean, guys, I'm not saying this as if the Trust Me? comic was the first and only instance when this was literally Maaf canon that sat comfortably in the internet for over a decade, and continues to be appraised as THE BIBLE OF HISTORICAL HETALIA.

EDIT (01/20/24 — originally added via a reblog): I cannot believe this needs to be said because this is the consequence of when Hetalia fans take their fiction too literally because creators have made careless takes.

There were SEAtalians joking about how the Yolngu are a dead people.

I repeat.

THERE WERE SEATALIANS JOKING ABOUT HOW THE YOLNGU ARE A DEAD PEOPLE.

(END OF EDIT)

So as 2023 comes to a close we enter 2024, I'd like to conclude this post with the following points:

At best, Wikipedia is a satisfactory jumping point, but please believe me when I say no historian will respect you for (over-)relying on Wikipedia. And given that anyone with a decent device & internet signal can access Wikipedia, Desa is just not a GOAT in historical research.

At worst, idolizing Maaf patronizes the work of historians. It doesn't help that PH historians have been targets of harassment because of dis-/misinformation campaigns. I bring this up because it's already bad enough to have to confront that reality outside of fandom spaces on a regular basis in standing our ground for more just historical truths. I hope that folks understand why that's a particularly sensitive struggle for me, and why receiving such comments like the one I shared above deeply hurt. She was not apologetic about that — and every time she would post about apologizing for the moments she has offended others, or when others compliment her for being so open-minded, I cannot help but feel bitter.

Other BIPOC — yes, not just other SEAsians and that's on literally drawing nations other than SEA — have spoken up on the matter. If you can talk about how you learned so much from Desa, you can also learn as much from other perspectives. I hope that in raising all of this, more SEAtalians understand that we risk othering non-SEA BIPOC.

The idolization of Maaf (and the creator in question) is personally far more off-putting than the problematic points of Maaf or any comic she has ever made, because I think she caved to peer pressure instead of learning to wield her fiction more sensitively without being too reliant of the opinions of those she has pleased. Not even Hidekaz Himaruya writes his nationverse characters like that — the one time I’ll admit that canon trumps fanon.

I’m not stopping people from liking Maaf or Desa anyway. I just cannot help but take issue with how the SEAtalia fandom feels less of a safe & inclusive community than it is a cult centered on one person — almost as if her fiction is unquestionable canon and anyone who disagrees gets the boot. Once again, I do not condone the subsequent treatment she received in retaliation, but frankly that's just not what I'm addressing here.

I'm also not saying it's wrong to give words of reassurance and validation to people you admire, only that some of you need to understand you're forcing a parasocial relationship with your idols. It may feel good to you, but please be mindful of the unwarranted pressure it imposes.

I apologize for dumping all of this at literally the end of the year. I want to let it all go in a manner that is clear, concise, and not overwhelming to digest. I do hope that my candid thoughts will push the fandom one step forward in critically consuming media without having to resort to crab-mentality tendencies — because it's been especially hard seeing the demeaning takes made about the Philippines in this fandom.

#hetalia #historical hetalia #hetalia critical #racism cw #hws philippines #aph philippines #hws indonesia #aph indonesia #hws america #aph america #mentions of death cw #sibuyas

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harlot-of-oblivion · 2 years

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The Devil’s In The Details

You suppress the growing attraction you have for Dante as both of you pick up where you left off in the investigation.

Here's another update hot off the presses! Hope you enjoy!🌹🥰🌹

Warning: There’s brief descriptions of violent crimes in this chapter.

Chapter 8: Here We Go Again...

Another day and getting closer to solving this case, you thought while entering the station with renewed determination.

You make your way to the Department of Investigation, paying no mind to your fellow officers as they steer clear of you. Some of them stare curiously at the box of donuts in your hand, but you ignore them as you head straight to your office. “Sorry, boys…these aren’t for sharing,” you mumble softly to yourself as you open the door. “Not like any of you would ask for one anyway,” you add on with a humorless huff as the door closes behind you.

Your thoughts instantly turn to the task on hand as you set the donuts down on the corner of your desk before taking a seat. You put on your glasses and take out your notebook, quickly flipping to the newest page to refresh your memory about the interview with Paul, the latest victim’s son. He was still a little shaken by the sudden death of his father and disappearance of his mother, but he was lucid enough to give his account about what happened the day of the murder and then some.

It seemed like an ordinary day for Paul, who usually visits his parents during the weekends. He arrived at his childhood home just after sunrise, hoping to help his father with some yard work in the cool morning air before it got too hot later in the day. You remember a slight tremble in his voice as he answered your queries about the missing car and dog. The missing car was his mother’s, and he thought it was very odd for her to be out doing errands that early in the morning. And he wondered why the beloved family dog wasn’t yapping with excitement at his arrival as he approached the house.

But Paul soon realized that it wasn’t just an ordinary day as he entered the home. Everything seemed normal as he called out to his parents, but he got a little worried when no one answered back. So, he went upstairs and knocked on their bedroom door, and then his picture-perfect world came crashing down as he discovered the badly beaten body of his father. His voice dropped to a pained whisper as he recounted the traumatic event, revealing the anguish he felt as he stared in horrified shock before stumbling out of the room while calling the police.

One of the first suspects the police look at in a murder case is the one who found the body. You grab the casefile on your desk and skim over the various statements given by Paul’s roommate, dorm supervisor, and his parent’s neighbors. They all confirm his alibi for the night of the murder; his roommate recalled studying for exams with him before heading to bed, the supervisor claimed he never saw him leaving the dorm, and the neighbors swore they never saw his car in the driveway that night.

You’re very certain that the prodigal son is innocent. You never really suspected him to begin with, but protocol is protocol. And with that out of the way, you can focus on Paul’s statement about his parent’s behavior leading up to the murder. He was concerned about their health, which is why he was visiting more often than usual. And his concern only grew when both of them started to exhibited some strange symptoms: memory loss, dizzy spells, gradual despondence…just like the other victims in the previous murders.

I see a connection, but I’m still missing a piece of this fucked up puzzle, you thought with a frustrated sigh. It sure would be nice to run this by with a demon expert…where the fuck is he?

Your lips curve into a regretful grimace as a certain devil hunter enters your mind. Both of you are supposed to be working this case together, but you fucked it up real bad yesterday. You’re honestly not surprised that Dante is a no show this morning; you always seem to scare away the people that try to get close. But a part of you hoped that he would waltz right in with that roguish smile and accept your apology along with the box of fresh donuts.

A simmering heat settles in your gut as you think about the red gleam that always flickers in his bright blue eyes. You’d think he would stop the flirting after you pulled a knife on him…twice. But that only encouraged him! Everything about him makes your blood boil: his cheesy pickup lines, the annoying way he swaggers up into your personal space, his knack for angering you so easily…he drives you abso-fucking-lutely crazy!

But what’s crazier is that you’re actually attracted to the reckless devil hunter.

I must be going insane, you thought with a soft groan as you close your notebook with an exasperated snap.

If Dante doesn’t come back, then you can count whatever is going on between you two as a fleeting feeling and move on with the case and your life. It would be the best for both of you…but if he does come back, then you’ll have to just nip those feelings in the bud for the sake of the case. There are some lines you never cross and sleeping with your partner is one of them.

All that will do is distract you from solving this case. And there’s no way in hell that anything, not even a handsome devil hunter, can stop you from doing your job.

The sudden creak of your office door opening knocks you out of your thoughts. You look up to see who in hell has the balls to enter without knocking, but your irritated glare turns into slight shock as the familiar scruffy face of your partner greets you with a rueful smirk.

Dante closes the door before sauntering right up to you. “Hey, sorry to keep ya waiting,” he says nonchalantly while walking around your desk. “Had a late night and overslept a little.”

You’re relieved that he came back after your little tirade yesterday, but your eyebrow twitches irritably as he sits on your desk…right next to you. “I wasn’t expecting you to show up to be honest,” you admit while gathering the reports from the case file.

Dante quirks his brow at you. “Why? We’re partners, right?”

“Yes, but…” you trail off, suddenly taken back by the serious gleam in his curious gaze.

“But what?” he prods softly.

Everyone leaves me sooner or later, you thought bitterly as you reach for the box of the donuts.

“Nothing,” you murmur while sliding your sugary peace offering towards him.

“What’s this?” he asks with a questioning tilt of his head.

“These are ‘I’m sorry for being such a bitch’ donuts.”

Dante opens the box and hums at the delicious sight. Your eyes hone in on his mouth as he picks up one of the pink donuts. He licks his lips in anticipation before taking a bite. “Mmm strawberry…my favorite,” he murmurs with a satisfying sigh.

Your lips curl into a triumphant smirk. “Yeah, I know.”

“Do ya now?” he chuckles with a suspicious squint of his eyes. “Don’t remember telling ya.”

“I’m a detective, remember?” you retort as he demolishes the tasty treat. “I talked to the locals around your office before meeting you,” you reveal, trying really hard to not stare at the flecks of sugar sticking to his white stubble as you continue. “One of them was the owner of an ice cream parlor, and he mentioned that you’re a frequent customer who really liked strawberry sundaes,” you finish while taking off your glasses. “So, are we good?” you inquire with a hopeful quirk of your brow.

Dante meets your eyes and smiles warmly. “Yeah, we’re good,” he confirms with an understanding nod of his head.

Your heart thrums with overwhelming relief as you put away your glasses. You start to flip through your notebook, hoping to get right back down to business…but Dante stops you with a gentle pat on your arm.

“I’ve also been talking to the locals,” he reveals while plucking another strawberry donut.

“For the case?” you question with an interested gleam in your eye.

“Not exactly.” Dante takes a bite of his donut before continuing with a careful lilt in his voice. “You know so much about me, so I figured-”

“God fucking dammit!” you interrupt with an angry frown as you slam your fist against your desk. “You poked around and now you know how much of a joke I am in my own fucking department, right?”

Dante furrows his brow as he puts his unfinished donut back in the box. “I don’t think you’re a joke.”

“Oh, really?” you scoff skeptically. “You must’ve had some doubts to go-”

“I tried asking you but-”

“Yeah, I know!” you interject with an irate growl. “But it’s fucking hard to talk about!” You take a moment to temper your anger with a couple of deep breaths. “That case nearly ruined my career,” you whisper coldly. “I knew you’d question my credibility if you found too soon.”

Dante leans closer towards you. “What really happened then?”

You glance up to see genuine concern shining in his eyes. “I tracked down a killer but came face-to-face with a demon…and I got the scars to prove it,” you disclose as said scars begin to prickle at the painful memory. “Something in my gut told me it was more than what it seemed back then, but I didn’t take it seriously and paid the price.” You push past the dull ache on your chest with an uncomfortable shrug of your shoulders. “And now, I feel the exact same thing I felt in my gut back then, and I refuse to stand by as another demon fucker gets away with it,” you declare with a resolved scowl before sighing at the reality of the situation. “But everyone else thinks-”

“I don’t give a damn about what everyone else thinks,” he remarks while placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I believe you.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. Ever since you first met, you wondered if he’ll be like your fellow co-workers, denying your theory with an amused laugh or worse…taking pity on you. It’s been a long time since someone had your back; the other detectives in your department can’t look past your reputation, always steering clear and never talking to you just in case the higher ups are watching. But a demon hunter actually agreeing with you without any solid evidence and just your word feels too good to be true.

“Just like that?” you wonder aloud with a raised brow.

“I’m pretty damn good at sniffing out bullshit,” he admits while crossing his arms. “And you don’t seem to be the bullshitting type to me.”

Your lips curl into a sincere smile. “Thanks, Dante.”

“Anytime, Honeybee.”

You narrow your eyes at that insufferable nickname as he smirks down at you playfully. “Alright, I’ve had enough of this touchy-feely shit,” you grumble, ignoring the warm flush in your cheeks as you rise from your seat.

“I dunno…I could use a bit more the touchy part myself,” he purrs with a suggestive wiggle of his brow.

I swear he gets off on annoying the fuck outta me, you note with a slight frown as you snatch up your notebook.

“Not gonna happen,” you murmur with unimpressive huff. “C’mon…I’ll debrief you on the way to the morgue,” you offer while walking towards your office door.

“Ooh, how romantic!” he chuckles softly as he grabs the box of donuts before following close behind you.

You lead him deeper into the station, getting him up to speed on your new findings as he scarfs a couple donuts with some suggestive moans by your ear. Your eyes roll as you swat him away with an annoyed wave of your hand. But you know he’s listening despite his flirty antics. His thoughtful gaze never leaves your face, sometimes flickering towards your lips as you ask him about his opinion. A sliver of hope flutters in your stomach as he agrees with your deductions, giving you his full support with a charming smile and a pat on your shoulder.

He may be a pain in the ass, but it feels good to have a partner again, you thought with a grateful smirk as both of you enter the morgue.

The sanitized stench of death hits your nose as a familiar chipper face greets you. “Ah, Detective! Right on time!”

“Morning, Graves,” you reply before pointing behind you. “This is-”

“The infamous devil hunter, Dante!” he finishes with an enthusiastic grin as he approaches both of you. “Oh, this is just splendid!” he exclaims while offering his hand to your partner.

Dante wipes his hand free of strawberry sugar on his shirt before shaking hands with the friendly medical examiner. “Nice to meet you, uh…Graves?”

“Grayson Beckett actually,” he corrects with a soft chuckle. “Graves is just my nickname.”

Dante nods. “Ooh, like Honeybee here,” he notes while tilting his head towards you.

“Honeybee?” Graves questions before his eyes widens with understanding. “Oh, I get it! Cos she’s…” he trails off as he meets your unamused gaze. “Very clever,” he sputters with an awkward cough. “Anyway! I finished the autopsy report on our latest victim,” he informs while turning towards the wall of mortuary cabinets. “Shall we?”

You slip on a pair of rubber gloves as Graves runs through the procedure of examining a body with your partner. Dante struggles to put on the medical gloves over his hands, softly grumbling about being too big under his breath as Graves assists him. You offer him a sarcastic smile of sympathy as Graves gets prepped in a timely manner before pulling a stretcher out of the mortuary cabinet.

“Whoa! That guy’s seen better days,” Dante remarks with a small shake of his head.

“Giles Harmon,” Graves informs as he grabs the autopsy report. “I believe you’ve met before,” he adds while quirking his brow as you.

“Oh yes,” you murmur with a quick glance at the body. “And he still looks like shit.”

Graves chuckles softly. “Death tends to do that when violence is involved.”

You take out glasses and slide them on before getting your notebook ready. “What’s the official cause of death?”

“The bruising tells us that he suffered a brutal beating,” Graves begins, sweeping his hand over the faded purple patches on the body. “But this contusion on his head could have led to his final demise,” he surmises while pointing out the vicious wound.

“Could?” you prod while scrutinizing the bloody gash with your thorough gaze.

“I can say for certain that Mr. Harmon suffered from blunt force trauma to the head. But as with all the previous victims…” he trails off while slipping a small glass slide out of his pocket.

“The venom,” you whisper before taking note of it by the proper drawing.

Graves nods. “It’s a perfect match with all the other samples I collected from the others,” he informs while inspecting the glass slide. “Mr. Harmon was definitely under the influence of…whatever this is at the time of his death.”

Dante squints at the glass slide curiously. “Lemme see that.”

Graves gives you a questioning look. You nod your head and watch as Dante takes the slide before examining it closely. This is exactly why you wanted a demon expert; even though there’s no evidence, you know that venom came from a demon. You can feel it in your gut, and you’re hoping that your partner will have your back.

“W-what are you doing?” Graves questions as Dante pries the slide apart.

“Ruining evidence from the look of it,” you huff under your breath.

Dante sniffs the small sample of venom. “There’s just something about…” he trails off before swiping his tongue across the glass slide.

“Ugh! What the fuck, Dante?” you exclaim with disgust.

“Whaaaaat? I just had to be sure,” he explains while putting the two slides back together. “But you were right, Honeybee.”

“R-right?” Graves stammers in shock before dropping to a hushed whisper. “You mean…this is from a demon?”

Dante nods as he hands back the slide. “I know demons and all the weird shit that comes with them. This is really weak…and sweet actually,” he informs with an astonished shrug of his shoulders. “But yeah, it definitely came from a demon.”

“Any idea what it does?” you inquire while jotting down this new bit of information in your notebook.

Dante taps his chin as he ponders for a moment. “I think it made my tongue kinda numb.”

“Numb?” you repeat as he walks over to his box of donuts on a nearby desk. He picks one up and takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully before nodding his head. “Yep…can’t feel or taste anything.”

A glimmer of hope ignites in your gut as he drops the donut back into the box. “So, hypothetically speaking…if someone were injected with more…” you trail off, subtly urging him to share his own thoughts about the mysterious venom.

“Their whole body would be numb,” he replies while approaching you. “And I guess they probably wouldn’t be able to move too,” he adds with utmost confidence gleaming in his striking blue eyes.

All of the whispered doubts about your deductive skills from your colleagues is drowned out of your mind as a torrent of validation floods through you. Finally…a missing piece of this puzzle has been found, you thought while staring up at your partner with a triumphant smirk on your lips.

Dante tilts his head at you. “Why are ya looking at me like that?” he asks, slowly leaning down towards you with a smug smile. “Are ya finally-”

You swat his face away with your notebook. “Dream on.”

“Oh, this is fantastic!” Graves exclaims, completely oblivious to your partner’s inappropriate behavior as he leans over the stretcher. “Mr. Dante came up with the same theory as you!”

“Please, just Dante is fine,” he informs while rubbing his scruffy cheek with a disappointed pout. “And what theory are ya talking about?”

“I also think the venom causes paralysis,” you reveal with a speculative squint of your eyes.

Dante raises his brow in quiet surprise. “Really? How do ya figure?”

“Remember how I said some of the victims share similarities?” you remind while flipping through the previous pages of your notebook. “Well, some of the victims show no signs of defending themselves before their death.”

“Quite right!” Graves interjects enthusiastically. “Take Mr. Harmon here for example…see his hands and forearms?” he denotes, gently raising the victim’s pale arm for closer inspection. “No bruising, no broken bones…he literally took a beating without a fight!”

“And then there’s the others,” you add while tapping a page in your notebook with your pencil. “The first victim took a shotgun blast right to the chest, but he was lying on the ground face up when he was shot,” you explain as Dante leans down to read over your shoulder. “Completely defenseless with no sign of a struggle found,” you murmur, circling your drawing of the gruesome murder with your finger before pointing to a list of oddities you noticed at the crime scene.

“It’s as if he just lied down willingly before letting his killer pull the trigger,” Graves remarks with a puzzled shake of his head.

You turn the next page of your notebook. “The second victim was stabbed multiple times-”

“Thirty-eight times to be exact,” Graves softly interrupts before nodding for you to continue.

“But once again, there was no sign of a struggle,” you finish, pointing out your depiction of the crime scene and various observations. “No defensive cuts on her hands nor any kind of bruising around her wrists, which means she wasn’t tied down during the stabbing.”

“Okay, I’m starting to get the picture,” Dante murmurs, tickling your neck with his soft breath as he finishes reading your notes. “So, every victim seems to be completely helpless at the time of their deaths,” he proposes while meeting your gaze with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “And you didn’t tell me this because…?”

Your eyes flicker towards his lips as you suddenly realize just how close he is at the moment. He really has no shame in taking every opportunity to fuck with me, you silently fume, hardening your expression in an attempt to hide the unexpected comfort you feel from his warm presence.

“A theory is much stronger when two people come to the same conclusion without influencing each other,” you explain, barely managing to keep a lid on your temper as you stare up at him over your glasses with a fiery glare of warning.

Your heart leaps in your chest as he taunts you with that alluring red gleam in his brilliant blue eyes. “Huh. Fair enough,” he concedes with a small shrug and a knowing smirk while withdrawing from your personal space.

Graves looks utterly confused as his head swivels from you to Dante a few times. But you simply disregard his burning curiosity as you close your notebook with an annoyed snap. This seems to shake Graves out of his inquisitive stupor as he hurriedly asks if there’s any other questions about the autopsy, but the loud ringing of your cellphone interrupts him. You check to see who’s calling and give him an apologetic nod before answering.

“Whatcha got, Sandiego?”

“Hey hey, Quickdraw!” she greets you brightly. “I got a missing dog AND an abandoned car!”

You raise your brow in interest. “What about Mrs. Harmon?”

“Still missing in action,” she responds with a sad little sigh. “But the boys are securing the scene as we speak, and I thought you might wanna take a look with me.”

“Tell me where and we’ll be there,” you reply, instantly memorizing the address Carmen gives you before ending the call with a quick farewell. “Looks like we’re done here,” you announce while pocketing your cellphone.

“Another break in the case?” Dante questions as you tear the medical gloves off of your hands.

“Maybe,” you murmur, swiftly removing your glasses before turning to Graves. “Thanks for walking us through the autopsy.”

“Ah, it’s no trouble at all!” he beams with a small wave of his hand as you make your way to the exit. “See ya later, Quickdraw…and it was nice meeting you, Dante!” he adds as your partner rips his gloves off with a grumbled sigh.

“Same here, Graves…hey! Wait up!” Dante exclaims, quickly grabbing his box of donuts before chasing after you.

“There’s no time to waste,” you comment as he catches up with you in the hall. “You can leave your donuts in my office before we go,” you offer, not slowing your rapid pace as you climb up some stairs. “Maybe wash that venom out of your mouth too.”

“Why? You expecting a kiss from a handsome devil like me?”

“The only kiss you’ll be getting is from my knife if you don’t hurry up!” you hiss, completely ignoring the husky chuckle of your partner as you continue down the hall.

“Ooh, is that a promise, Honeybee?”

Here we go again, you thought with a soft grumble as the conflicting feelings you have for your devilish partner swirls in your gut. Another day and every threat is turned into a flirt…how annoying.

🔪🔍🔪

#dante x reader #dante #devil may cry #dmc #detective reader #murder mystery #the devil's in the details #poor detective #all worried and then so angy #its a good thing Dante can take a stabbing 😂

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elliebartlets · 2 months

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veronica mars rewatch 1x06: the wrath of con

• wait aaron echolls is an actor??? I don’t remember that

• also lol at Logan’s parents being married in real life

• nooo I remember this blonde cheerleading bitch. this must be shelley pomeroy.

• I would’ve stepped on her pizza too!

• if I were Duncan I’d be pissed as hell someone submitted me for student body president

• oh wait I remember this!! Aaron whips Logan with a belt at the end of the episode for having the homeless people fight.

I mean obviously Logan is still a piece of shit for doing that, but a.) Aaron does it for the wrong reasons. He doesn’t care that Logan’s making homeless people fight each other because it’s a horrible thing to do, but because it’s ruining his reputation and image and b.) he shouldn’t be beaten no matter what the reason is anyway

• I don’t understand why the whole student body can’t just order take out. I mean I get it, the rich kids are favored but WHO GVIES A FUCK?! Just let people order what they want!!

• Jane Lynch jump scare

• ok either shelley pomeroy or jane lynch rigged the votes I’m calling it

• wait they have to put their ID numbers on their scantron? aren’t these votes supposed to be anonymous?

• Jane lynch u r so stupid for letting an 09er put the codes on the scantron. ofc she’s gonna rig the election

• oh her name is Madison Sinclair?! I was way off lmao

• “I’ll put on an Avril Lavigne CD” soo early 00s

• “so Lily and Weevil never? Because I heard-”

“Never!”

Yeah are you sure about that??? Cause I got the same vibe when Weevil was crying at Lily’s memorial thing

• I do not hear Avril Lavigne in the background ladies!

• lol I know the point of that flashback scene with Dick and the nerd sitting at the table was to show Duncan is a nice guy to people outside of his “circle” but why would the nerd be sitting with the 09ers in the first place?

• ohhh ok so Aaron makes Logan go to a soup kitchen to help his image but then if I remember correctly Logan messed it up on purpose which causes Aaron to whip him.

• oh he didn’t even mess it up! He just said Aaron was gonna donate 500k to the food bank. Obviously he only did it because he was pissed at his dad but hey at least it helps the homeless people in a way? Idk I’m trying to put a positive spin on this

• it’s very funny to me that the 09ers wanted Duncan to be president so they didn’t lose pirate points and technically they aren’t going to, but he just went and made it equal for everyone lol

• so Wanda actually was a snitch lol

• this episode is important because it introduces Logan’s parents and we see the dynamics of the Echolls family and why Logan acts the way that he does. It’s stil no excuse for him being a jackass but when he comes from a broken household, it makes sense. Also because y’know, A A Ron is *** ******. (Idk why I censored that. In case anyone reads these and is compelled to watch for the first time? No one reads these but it could happen! And if you are reading this watch Veronica Mars!)

Also important because Veronica and Keith decide to start investigating Lily’s murder again, on account of Lily’s shoes being found in possession of “the killer” but also being in her room the night she was murdered.

• It’s funny to rewatch this with only like 50% memory of what happened. I’m trying to fill in the gaps and desperately failing lol

#veronica mars #vmars #vmars rewatch #the wrath of con

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

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I'm Only A Crack In This Castle Of Glass (Hardly Anything Else I Need To Be) PT. 5

Batfamily x Batsis Story!

Word Count: 2.5K Warnings: Explicit Language, ALL THE ANGST. AND MORE TO COME! Tags!: @itsnottilly @cloudyskylines @starflyer-104 @iwillstaywiththemforever @justine-en @weirdgirlfromtx @notsostraightweeb @candlestudy @edlothia-baby @soul-end @willieoo @willowoo @peterxwade24 @the-atlantic-french-fry @bad-bouquet-of-emotions @vvipgot7be @pure-princess-97 @atomicsoulhumanspy

Author's Note: I have nothing to say for any of the emotions y'all are about to get from this. Enjoy!-Thorne

She wasn’t sure what she expected when she sat down, but the stretching silence growing between her and her estranged family wasn’t it. She tried to look anywhere but them, not because she was ashamed—far from it. But it was more than awkward sitting across from three brothers and a father she’d not spoken to in three years, let alone tell them she was even alive.

Her eyes found Wally’s as he sat down beside her eldest brother and if looks could’ve killed, he’d been dead and buried.

“Glare at me all you want, but I’m not going to apologize,” he shrugged.

Scowling, she turned her attention to the skyline. “Fuck you,” she spat, crossing her arms.

“At least talk to them, (Y/N).”

“And why should I, Wally?” she questioned, glaring at him. “I don’t have anything to say. If I did, I wouldn’t be here in Central.”

“You’re not leaving until you talk to them,” he finalized with a firm look and she growled low in her throat and resigned herself to her fate.

Her eyes darted to her father’s and she couldn’t for the life of her decipher what was in them. “I’ll talk for an hour,” she told him. “I’m not talking about what I’ve been doing in Central City, so don’t ask. I’m not talking about the life I’ve been living, so don’t ask. You’re only allowed to ask me about my departure and that’s it. But after one hour is up, I’m leaving.”

“Who said you get to leave,” Wally questioned, and she shot him the darkest glower she could muster.

“So help me God, Wally West you’ll either take me home or you’ll fix that fucking elevator and I’ll walk myself home. Because if you don’t, I’ll tell the world who every vigilante is at this table.”

For once she managed to stump him because his eyes went wide—so did her family’s but she didn’t care—and he finally nodded.

“Alright. One hour.”

Seemingly satisfied with his answer, she turned back to her family, more specifically her father. “Why are you here? What do you want from me?”

“Maybe for you to come home, (Y/N),” Jason answered, and she glanced to him.

“Not a chance. Next?”

“(Y/N), you don’t have to be hostile. We’re not going to force you here,” Dick said, and she looked at him now, eyes narrowing.

“The manipulation tactic isn’t going to work on me, Dick. I’m not here for to be tricked into coming back. I’m never coming back.” She cocked her leg over the side of the table and reclined, biting out, “Give me your anger. I’d prefer that instead of whatever this pitiful bullshit you’ve got going on.”

In the eighteen years they’d known their sister they’d never heard her say such a callous thing, but her words had practically slapped Dick across the face because hurt etched onto his expression, then immediately turned into anger.

“You want my anger? Fine.” He stood and pointed at her. “What the hell is wrong with you! Why would just up and disappear like you did! Do you have any idea how scared we were for you! How distraught!”

(Y/N) blinked at him. “Knowing how you like to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders because you can’t help but be a hero? Probably a lot.” She made a dramatic show of looking at her watch. “You’ve got forty minutes. Keep it up.”

Her eyes shifted to Bruce’s. “Did you let them read the letter? Or did you just throw it away after you read it?”

Dick, Jason, and Tim all turned to Bruce at that.

“Letter?” Tim repeated. “What letter?”

(Y/N)’s mouth made an ‘o’ shape and then she smiled knowingly. “Oh, you never showed them the letter, did you?” She looked to her brothers. “I wrote dad a letter the night I left to explain why I was leaving. It’s sugarcoated bullshit but it is the truth.”

Dick’s face contorted in anger. “(Y/N) left a reason behind and you didn’t tell us about it? Three years and not a single word?”

Bruce merely stared at her as he pulled the letter out of his coat pocket. “I was going to burn it when I found her again. Talk to her before anyone else could.”

Jason snatched the letter from his hands. It had faded a bit, softened around the hard edges, like someone had opened it and read it every day for three years.

His eyes scanned the paper, and he met her gaze, voice chock-full of hurt and she had to fight tooth and nail to keep herself from externally reacting. “You left because you thought we didn’t care about you?”

Dick reached over and took the letter. With furrowed brows and a frown, he started to read aloud, and Bruce gazed at (Y/N) as the memory came back to him.

***

Mornings at the manor were unusually quiet in comparison with the evenings. Everyone was typically too tired to argue so it accounted for a peaceful breakfast of soft words and chewing. Everyone had an assigned seat and every child had learned early on not to take the seat that belonged to another brother or their sister because there would be a fight about it.

Dick and Jason sat next to each other and (Y/N) took the seat at the end of that side; Tim and Damian took the other side—oldest to youngest, just the neat and even way Bruce liked it.

It was rare for any of the boys to be awake before him or Alfred and (Y/N) was usually the first kid to the table, the boys wandering in just minutes after her. Oddly enough, that morning she hadn’t come down for breakfast—which she always came to.

Bruce looked at Alfred. “Is (Y/N) coming down?”

Alfred hummed and gently maneuvered Tim’s arm to the side to he could set down the plate. “When I went to her door, it was locked, and I received no conversation from inside.”

Jason snorted and sipped his coffee. “Probably had a long night with her friends and is still out. I know I would be.”

“How would you know?” Tim interrupted. “You died before you got to the eleventh grade.”

“You’re one to talk, dropout,” Dick countered, and Damian sighed.

“Richard, you dropped out of college. The only son of Batman who has actually completed an entire bout of schooling is me.”

The three boys turned on him with scowls and retorted, “No one asked you, pipsqueak.” Damian glared back at them.

Bruce rolled his eyes, using the side of his fork to cut into his omelet. “Let’s try not to start a free-for-all here in the breakfast room, please.” He glanced at Alfred. “She’s probably tired from all the ceremonies. Let her sleep.”

Alfred nodded. “Of course, Master Bruce. She should be well rested this evening.”

But when the evening came, Alfred still hadn’t been able to get (Y/N) to unlock her bedroom nor speak to him. He certainly wasn’t worried, but it was off for her to be so reclusive. When Bruce and the boys came back from patrol, he mentioned it to him.

“Miss (Y/N) hasn’t come out from her bedroom, Master Bruce. Nor has she said a single word all day.”

Bruce’s brows furrowed and he tugged the cowl off, rising from the seat at the Batcomputer. “I’ll go check on her,” he replied. “You deal with…” his steel eyes drifted to Dick who had Tim in a headlock and Jason who was giving Damian a noogie. “Them,” he finalized, leaving the poor butler behind.

He knocked on the door to her room and pressed his ear to it. “(Y/N)? You haven’t come out all day. Is everything alright?”

Nothing. Not even a breath.

“(Y/N), are you in there?” he asked again and when he didn’t receive a confirmation, he raised his arm, running his fingers along the doorframe until he touched a small metal piece. He pulled it down and stuck it in the door, wiggling the knob for a second before it clicked, and he opened the door.

“Sweetheart, we’ve been trying to—” Bruce went silent when he saw the kempt room. Bed neatly made, everything organized and put away. Even her clothes hamper was empty.

He blinked and walked into the room, quickly heading to the bathroom to check for her there. It was empty as well, and just as clean, leaving him stunned as he exited the bath.

Wandering over to her desk, he saw an elegant envelope sitting on top of her laptop, his name written in beautiful penmanship. He picked it up and unfolded it, pulling out the multi-page letter. He drew his eyes along the golden lines, reading her words.

Dad,

I don’t really know how to start this letter. Truth be told I’ve written at least six before this one, and even then, I’m not entirely happy with it. But if you’re reading this, I’m not here anymore. I haven’t hurt myself in anyway, you don’t need to worry about Vicki Vale or Jack Ryder reporting the discovery of my body. I mean it in a literal sense—I’m not in Gotham anymore. Neither am I ever coming back.

Don’t think this is your fault. You’re a good father, the best I could’ve been given, and my brothers are good siblings. But the truth is that I’m not fit for this family of heroes. And I never have been. My best when trying to be what all of you are, was never good enough and I’ve spent eighteen years staring at your backs, waiting for you all to realize that I’m still here, that I still matter even if I’m not like you. And I don’t want to feel like a stranger in my own home any longer.

I don’t want you to look for me. I know you will, but I wish you wouldn’t. This isn’t some spur of the moment thing I decided to do the night after graduation. If you look at my bank records, I’ve been withdrawing cash from my savings since freshman year—this is four years of planning, so please understand that I’m doing this because I don’t want to be found—ever.

I’ll leave the story for the media up for you, though I doubt that they’ll care long enough to make a deal of it. It’ll pass like winter does spring and they’ll move on to the next bigger story.

Thank you for everything dad, and good luck with Gotham—keep it safe like you always have. And I hope that one day when you think of me, you won’t feel disappointment. I’ve only ever tried to be something that when you looked down on me, you’d only be proud, and I hope one day I’ll achieve what I always dreamed about. Eighteen is young to be on your own and I’m scared. But I’ll be okay—I always have been.

So do me a favor and don’t spend too much time over this. There are plenty more younger kids that need a parent’s hand on their backs to steady them like you once did for me. Find one and fill my spot. Let them shine brighter than I ever could. Let them be the one worthy to be a Wayne—I know I never was.

-(Y/N)

Bruce barely had time to grasp the back of her chair to keep himself from falling to his knees in shock. The letter was clenched in his hand and his lungs wouldn’t take in air like he wanted them to, his heart aching with each palpitation. He looked around the room to her dresser drawers, willing the strength into his legs to moved over to it. He opened every drawer and to his astonishment, they were empty. Hurrying to the bathroom, he noticed the drawers in there were empty as well. She was really gone. And he had no idea what to do.

***

Tears were in Dick’s eyes when he finished the letter and he looked up at her. “How could you ever think we didn’t care about you, (Y/N)?”

She didn’t want to have this conversation. She didn’t want to sit there and explain every time she asked her brothers if they wanted to do something with her and they conveniently had something else to do. Didn’t want to explain every school and extracurricular performance that went unattended and left a little girl standing in front of a crowd barely managing to stave off the tears as she bowed and thanked them for coming. She didn’t want to remember all the memories that chipped away at her heart with every disappointment that occurred. All she wanted to do was leave.

(Y/N) had earlier returned to her original position, hands in her lap and she clenched her fists until her nails bit into the skin of her palms, eyes directed anywhere but Dick’s.

“I think it’s time we call this little reunion done,” she said, standing to her feet. “We’re not going to get anywhere.”

“Not if you run again,” Jason muttered, unconsciously wiping a tear from his eye.

She pointed at him, hissing, “I didn’t run the first time, Jason. I left. On my own accord.”

“You ran instead of coming to us, (Y/N),” Tim said, and she threw her hands above her head in disbelief.

“What the fuck did you want me to do! Wander down into the cave and beg at your feet for someone to pay attention to me! To at least pretend like I was a sister! I did! Every day!”

(Y/N) picked up her purse and yanked it up her arm. “Cassandra seems to be fitting in better than I did. So go and dote on her as the younger sibling. I’m not interested in the position anymore.”

“It’s not a competition,” Dick explained. “We love you just as much as we love Cass.”

She paused and gazed at him, voice laced with disappointment as she disagreed, “Then you should make sure she’s content in the manor, because if you love her with any semblance of how you loved me? It’s not at all.”

Her eyes shifted to Wally’s. “Fix the elevator. Now.”

He stayed seated for a moment, the two of them staring each other down, then he nodded wordlessly and moved to the elevator, starting it again. Her family stayed seated, and she gave them one final look before she followed Wally, silently waiting for the doors to open.

When they did, she stepped inside and turned around, hitting the button. Just before the doors closed, Wally stopped them and murmured, “You’re making a mistake.”

“My worst mistake was becoming friends with you.” (Y/N) blinked at him, then reached up and shoved his hand away from the door and as it closed, she remarked coldly, “And you can go to hell for all I care.”

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 3 years

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I Can't Help It If You Look Like an Angel

Summary: Spencer is not that kind of doctor, but he'll always come when Y/N needs him, even if germs are involved.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Warnings: One cuss (sh!t), kisses, small insecurities

Word Count: 2.5 k (was not supposed to be this long but I'm a monster)

Author's Note: From this list (3, 12, 14) since I hit 300 followers! Thank you! This request is from @willowrose99 (look for the bold)

I Can't Help It If You Look Like an Angel

Spencer’s half done with his third book that weekend when his phone rang. A weekend spent in the company of Nietzsche and Sartre is, according to Spencer at least, a weekend well spent. He can feel the relaxation that settles in his bones come crashing down as he phone rings.

Thinking it’s Hotch calling the team in for an unexpected case, Spencer, lethargically, walks over to answer the phone. However, realizing the caller is not his boss pulling him away from a restful weekend, but Y/N, his heart rushes with a sudden urge of excitement.

“Y/N,” Spencer starts. He’s more than happy to have Y/N interrupt his weekend; they even made plans for a day out on Saturday at the new Anthropology museum that opened downtown. But all of Spencer’s made up plans fall in front of his face, as he hears Y/N’s quiet sniffles.

“Spencer, I’m so sorry to bother you. I know that you’re probably enjoying your rest, but I guess I have a cold. One of the kids at school, I suppose,” Y/N tells him in between sniffles. Her voice is scratchy and Spencer tries not to think about how his brain seems to short circuit at the way his name sounds.

“I’m coming over,” Spencer says, cutting her off. He doesn’t like doing that, in fact he hates when that happens to him, but right now he knows that Y/N is going to try her hardest to stop him from coming over.

“No Spence, it’s germs. You hate germs and I’m really gross and snotty and—”

“Stop, Y/N. Don’t say another word. I’m on my way” Spencer says. He feels a little guilty for hanging up on her, but he knows that if he stayed on the line any longer she’d end up convincing him that he didn’t need to rush over. There’s not a lot of people in this world that can convince Spencer to change his mind, and he’s pretty sure that Y/N is one of them.

Spencer walks into his bedroom, looking for some supplies like a man on a mission. He decides to pack a small bag for the next three days. He’s off from work anyway, why not spend that time making sure Y/N gets better. Spencer packs away a couple of sweaters, flannel pajama pants and two thermal shirts. In the back of his drawer he spots a very old college tee shirt.

A memory, an early memory with Y/N, comes flooding to the surface. They got caught in a rainstorm after a picnic in the nearby park. Spencer changed into his comfortable tee shirt and pajamas. He would never forget the look on Y/N’s face; the way the rain collected on her glasses and for some reason she had yet to wipe them off. She called him an angel. Maybe it’s for bringing her some warm clothes or maybe she’s slightly on edge from their dash into Spencer’s apartment. Whatever it was that made her call him an angel, Spencer never wanted her to call him anything else. Besides his own name, in that scratchy sick voice that made him feel a little guilty for liking so much.

Spencer collects some other things he needs for his stay. A toothbrush, toothpaste, a hair brush, and his hair serum that Y/N says she likes the way it smells. When she told him that, Spencer could hardly wait to buy the entire supply from the CVS down the street. He tucks away in this bag with a small smile.

Walking out of his apartment, Spencer locks up and makes his way down to his car. He glances at his watch, realizing that it only took him a couple of minutes to get ready for Y/N. Quicker than what it takes for him to get ready for an emergency case. Then again, tending to a sick Y/N seems much pleasurable then looking at served bodies and mangled limbs.

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

After making a pit stop at a small convenience store near Y/N’s apartment, Spencer pulls into the guest parking spot near her complex. He attempts to shoulder the weight of his go bag; even though he only packed a couple philosophy books, they are quite dense. In his hands, he grasps the grocery bags.

Y/N’s apartment, thankfully, is on the first floor. Spencer approaches the door and thinks twice about knocking or ringing the doorbell. The last thing he wants to do is wake a sick Y/N up. He rummages in his pants for his car keys. Attached to the keys is a cat keychain with a spare key to Y/N’s apartment. Balancing the groceries and his own bag, Spencer quietly attempts to open Y/N’s door without possibly waking her up.

Once he finally gets the door open, Spencer realizes all too late that a large orange cat guards the tight hallway entrance. Spencer Reid, though a genius in his own right, is completely aware of the fact that he has two left feet.

“Oh, Zelda! Oh shit!,” Spencer yells as he trips over Zelda, Y/N’s orange cat. Zelda, scared from the noise, leaps from her spot guarding the hallway to the kitchen. Spencer brushes himself from his fall and picks up the groceries that fell during his tumble.

“Zelda, baby?” Y/N calls from what sounds like the couch from the other side of the wall.

“Hi Y/N, it’s just me. It’s just Spencer,” He says, placing the oranges back in his canvas bag and on the kitchen table. He sees Y/N laying on the couch. Surrounded by a pile of crumpled tissues, she smiles weakly at Spencer. He walks over to her and like an involuntary muscle, she scoots her feet so Spencer has room to sit.

Spencer, setting the beg on the floor, tucks Y/N’s legs over his. He rests a comforting hand on her calf that’s covered by a worn quilt.

“You didn’t have to come Spencer. I’m really okay, I just wanted you to know that I wasn’t ghosting you this weekend,” Y/N explains. The TV has been left on, but on mute. The colorful lights illuminate Y/N’s face in her dimly lit apartment.

“Nonsense, Y/N. What are friends for,” Spencer offers, wondering beyond belief if he messed up calling them friends. Their relationship had been quite strange for the past couple of weeks. Intense moments of silence where Spencer thinks he’d have the time to memorize every freckle on her nose or small grazes from fingers to wrists where Spencer swears she left scars that he hope would never heal.

“Friends,” Y/N says quietly. Spencer, offering a tight lipped smile, leans forward to straighten the blankets under Y/N’s chin. He presses the back of his hand towards Y/N’s forehead, feeling her warm skin under his knuckles. He’s not sure if the heat he feels is from her bug or from the adrenaline coursing through his veins at being this close to Y/N.

“You’re hot,” Spencer says, not moving his hand from Y/N’s forehead. She, loving the way his ears turn pink when he’s embarrassed, uncovers her arm from under the blankets and holds onto his wrist, keeping him attached to her forehead. Not that he’d want it any other way.

“So are you,” Y/N says. Spencer flinches and moves his hand from her forehead like she scorched his hand. In reality, her comment pierced his heart with hope.

“How much cough syrup did you take?” Spencer asks, choosing to face the situation with humor. There’s no way in the world Y/N could ever find him “hot” without the aid of cough syrup or another mind numbing substance.

“None,” Y/N says, reaching around to turn off the television. Spencer, getting increasingly nervous as the minutes of that intense silence passed, mentions to Y/N that he needs to put the groceries away.

“You really didn’t need to do that, Spence. I feel bad enough that you came here just to get sick yourself,” Y/N says. She’s folding the blankets that she was just resting under.

“I’ll always come when you need me to, Y/N” Spencer says, his breath catching and his eyes latching onto Y/N. He looks at her too long and there’s that intense silence again. Silence that is as thick as fog. Spencer can’t see facts through all the love that swallows him whole looking at Y/N.

“Maybe I knew that, and maybe that’s why I called you,” Y/N murmurs quietly, almost like she’s more scared to admit it to herself than to Spencer.

“Maybe,” Spencer says, breaking her gaze to put the half melted tub of green tea ice cream in the freezer.

“I think I’m going to shower, I need to put a fresh pair of pajamas on. I’ll be right out,” Y/N tells him, turning on her heel and leaving Spencer along with his thoughts.

Spencer can hear the water from the shower turn on. He estimates that Y/N will take at least 5 minutes in the shower, accounting for a margin of error, he supposes that he should start to heat the soup he bought from the store now, so it’s ready for Y/N when she’s done in the shower. Too bad all Spencer’s brain power is good for his statistics and numbers, not recipes and romance.

As it turns out, not a single statistic, nor a single digit could account for the possibility of Y/N walking out her bedroom, her hair damp and skin practically glowing, wearing Spencer’s worn college tee shirt. Spencer reckons that his eyes must have been bugging out from his head, given the spirited smile Y/N wears.

“I’m sorry, Spence, you know how much I love this tee shirt. I was putting some of your stuff away in your drawer and I saw this and I just couldn’t help myself. God it even smells a little bit like that hair gunk you wear,” Y/N rambles. She stands, leaning on her door frame, staring at Spencer who holds a wooden spoon that he used to stir the soup.

“You look like an angel,” Spencer says before he can stop himself. He just knows that his face is flaming red.

“You remember that?” Y/N asks, her voice light and hopeful. Spencer recognizes something in it. It’s the way his voice sounds when he talks to her, about her, with her. He can only hope that this is the way she always talks to him. He hopes with every fiber of his being that she uses that light and hopeful voice with him and only him.

“Of course Y/N. Then again, even if I didn’t have an eidetic memory, I’d still remember every single detail about you,”

“Now you’re making me feel guilty about stealing your shirt. You’re being all sweet and kind with me, it makes me fuzzy in the head,” Y/N confesses. She walks to her kitchen table, slowly closing the gap between her and Spencer.

“Keep it, it looks better on you anyway,” Spencer tells her. Her eyes grow big at his words and she presses her lips together like she’s holding something in. But something in her switches. Something in her grows a little sad and Spencer watches before his eyes as Y/N withdraws into herself.

“You can’t say that stuff to me, Spencer. You can’t say that stuff to me and not expect me to love you more than I already do,” Y/N says, her eyes shut and her lips pinched so tightly that it almost looks painful.

“Y/N,” Spencer starts, unsure what he’s supposed to say. His brain always seems to be playing catch up around Y/N. “Can I say it if I do love you back?”

Y/N eyes flutter open and narrow at Spencer, as if she’s reading him. Her eyes scan for any sign of a joke, of a prank, of Spencer trying to trick her. Maybe he should be upset that Y/N is doubting him, but all Spencer can feel is hatred for the person that made her doubt herself so much to not believe him.

“I’ve never felt what I feel when I’m with you, Y/N. No one else has made me feel truly me except you, Y/N,” Spencer professes, setting down the wooden spoon on the counter to reach Y/N’s hand.

“I never thought you’d feel the same way, Spence. I love you, God. That feels so good to say,” Y/N says, letting out a strained laugh. Spencer standing up next to her, places his hands on Y/N cheeks, and tries to lean in lower to kiss her, but Y/N’s finger on his lips stops his movement.

“I’m so sorry, I should have asked. I thought that this is-” Spencer stammers, suddenly very concerned that he violated Y/N in some way.

“Shhh, angel. It’s okay. I want you to kiss me. I really do, but I just want you to tell the facts on you getting sick if you kiss me,” Y/N says, not moving her finger from Spencer’s soft lips. He kisses her finger and grasps her hand with his.

“Sorry, I just had to do that,” Spencer smirks, “but to answer your question, unless you have a bad cough, and some of the respiratory mucus has made its way into your saliva, the cold virus will not be transmitted by kissing,”

“That’s good, so please kiss me, Spencer,” Y/N practically begs, eager for Spencer to leave pieces of him all over her. Eager for him to leave physical evidence of the marking he’s already left on her heart.

“You just might have to take care of me next week,” Spencer counters, peppering kisses over her jaw, knowing he’s purposely avoiding her lips.

“Spencer, I’m sick! Don’t tease me, just kiss me,” Y/N whines, and Spencer caves. He leans in slowly, meeting his lips to Y/N’s. It was the kiss that Spencer knew he’d be waiting for. A kiss that seals fate without a return address. A kiss that reminds him that he’s alive. A kiss that says forever and always.

Spencer, resting his chin against Y/N’s head, closes his eyes. The intense silence that existed between them, now is this light and hopeful air.

“Y/N, do you use my hair gunk?” Spencer asks. He can’t help but giggle with her and breathe in the familiar scent of her hair. He places three kisses on Y/N’s head and gently pushes her hair to the side to kiss down the back of her neck.

“I’m not sure what I love more, the smell of your hair gunk or the man that wears it,”

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simsadventures · 3 years

Text

Gilded: Chapter 1: To Bride or Not to Bride

Mob! Steve x Reader

Summary: Your life is a mess and you need a little help from time to time. But, when somebody proposes a plan to rid you of all your problems all the way to the far future, you’re suddenly not so sure it is worth it. Especially since the plan is proposed to you by the most notorious gangster America has seen since Al Capone: Steve fucking Rogers.

Warnings: mafia AU, swearing (like, a lot this time), angst, struggles with money, loan-shark, sleazy men, harassing

Word Count: 7969

A/N: It’s finally here! It only took me around 6 months to bring it, and I apologise for the delay, but I hope I will make up for it with introductory this chapter :) Share your thoughts, let me know what you thought and what do you think will happen next :) xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

“Just, wait a second,” you said, your brows knitting together as you tried to piece together all the information the man in front of you had just given you. He was gorgeous, there was no question about that, but that wasn’t the issue here. There were many gorgeous people in New York, and you didn’t marry any of them. Yet, that was.

“You want to marry me. But you still haven’t told me why, so?” You asked for what felt like the hundredth time that evening, and the man just smirked again, playing with his cuffs, never answering to your satisfaction.

“I told you, honey, what I want, I get, and I decided that I wanted you, so, what is going to be? Are you gonna be a good girl for me or am I gonna have to force you, hm?” He smiled sweetly, but even you knew better. Behind that oh-very-sweet smile, there was venom and a ton of it. You rubbed your temples and plopped down on the nice-looking couch, thinking about what he was proposing.

2 weeks ago

“Coming!” You yelled through the loud music at the guests seated by the table number 5 where a group of guys was seated, hollering at you every two seconds as if you didn’t hear them the first time. You rolled your eyes at your colleague, who just laughed under her breath as you strode towards the clients. You put on your best fake smile as you approached them, and from the whistles, you assumed they appreciated it.

“Thank God you came, sweets. We thought you were getting tired of us,” the loudest of them laughed, and the group followed his suit, making your clench your jaw even more. Oh, how you hated this type of men, who had nothing better to do than calling a woman pet-names, making her feel uncomfortable just so his friends could have a laugh and a story to tell.

“What can I get you, gentleman? Another round of the same?” You asked as sweetly as you could, but it was getting harder by the second as they all eyed you like a piece of raw meat, ready to be devoured.

“I mean, that would be nice, and could you serve us a piece of that sweet ass of course as well? We’d really appreciate it, pretty face,” the loud guy smirked sleazily, and you fought the urge to vomit in your face. One of the guys made the mistake of actually making a move to swat you across your butt, but your reflexes were quicker.

You took a step back and breathed in, trying to calm your beating heart. This was, however, nothing new in your line of work, and you just learned to ignore it, or, at best, politely turn them down. Because, as you learned very early on, the manager didn’t appreciate if his “girls” were nasty to his customers. He almost made it sound like you were to provide your bodies with the beers, but you told him straightforwardly that that wouldn’t happen, and if his pub was one of these, you wanted to have nothing to do with it. All you were there to do was to work the evening and night shift to get some extra money on top of your regular job, and that was it. He even made a few remarks how he wanted you all to himself, but you politely declined every time and just tried to ignore it altogether.

“This ass is not for sale, I’m sorry, boys. But, the vodka shots are coming right up,” you tried to give them your best wink but didn’t wait long enough to see if they accepted their loss or not. You genuinely didn’t care.

The night continued in a similar manner, some people being inappropriate and you just ignoring their behaviour, and some people actually nice, even leaving you a few tips which always made you smile. You were beat when it was 11, and your shift ended, and you were thrilled today wasn’t one of those days when you had to stay there till 4 AM. It was then that people got really disgusting and you even had to resolve to hit a guy this one time because otherwise, you were pretty sure he’d manage to rape you. You sighed at the memory as you continued on your way home, just now remembering you left the tips meant for you in your locker.

Sighing you turned around and walked back towards the bar, and when you were in, you noticed three men in black suits talking to your coworker, who looked stunned and scared at the same time. You cocked a brow at her, and she discreetly shook her head, telling you that you shouldn’t come nearer.

This time, you really frowned and looked around, but the rest of the pub looked exactly the way you left it, even with the assholes by the fifth table. But you listened to her and took a step back to one of the dark corners, watching what was going on by the bar. It didn’t take long, definitely not longer than 5 minutes before the men turned around and left the building.

Your coworker looked positively alarmed by now, and you almost ran to her to ask what the fuck did just happen.

“I have no idea, Y/N. I noticed them by table 10 like an hour ago, but I didn’t pay them any attention because that was Christy’s sector tonight and I had the veranda. And when you left they just came here asking about you,” she breathed out, and it was your turn to look alarmed.

“The fuck? Why would they ask about me when it was Christy who took care of them?” You screeched, your brain not really comprehending the situation.

“I have no fucking idea, Y/N. But, like, they asked your name and stuff, and like, if you were a regular waitress here or what. I didn’t want to tell them anything, I swear, but they didn’t take no for an answer. So I just told them your first name, I wouldn’t budge on your last, I promise, and told them that you sometimes worked here but that I didn’t know when was your next shift,” she finished, a little scared of your reaction now, but from the look of those guys, you knew they were bad news and that Anja did the best she could.

“Nah, it’s ok, An. I would do the same. I’m really grateful that you didn’t give them my last name, though, that was really thoughtful of you,” you smiled at her, and it obviously put her at ease as she hugged and hurried back to the veranda, where you both saw a few guests waving that they needed a refill.

The hell did just happen, and why would three mysterious men ask about you?

It couldn’t be that they found out, right? No… you made sure all the traces were hidden, forever, so, that wasn’t an option.

No, you told yourself, there must be another reason for them to ask about you. But you didn’t want to find out. It was a one-time thing, these men were just confused, or one of them liked you or something like that, and you would never see them again. This actually calmed you down enough to start functioning again, and you remembered that you came for something specific, took the money and went straight home.

“This can’t be happening,” you muttered as you looked over your bills. There was so much to pay and so little money on your account that you actually started to sweat. You worked two jobs and still wasn’t able to afford to live a life where you didn’t have to worry about money. What was more, with the high taxes, your rent, subway card and food you went into red numbers, and that was something you definitely didn’t want. Nobody told you that as an Arts Major, you could still be struggling to stay alive in the city of New York.

You went over the bills again even though you knew your math was correct and that you didn’t have enough to pay your landlord this month.

Fuck, you muttered again and considered your options. You could ask your friends, but you didn’t want to bother them since you knew they were struggling as much as you were. You shared your apartment with two of your best friends who you considered a family by now, Caroline and Aidan. And while you knew they would do anything to help you, neither of their jobs paid enough to be able to help you as much as you needed this month.

Your other option was asking your landlord to give you some more time before more money arrived, but just imagining the conversation gave you goosebumps because you could picture the kind of service he’d want from you, and you’d literally rather go and beg on the street than to sleep with that middle-aged pig.

So, as you summarised it, the only option remained the loan shark. Tony was actually a nice guy, once you got to know him, and he was nice to you because you always paid precisely what he told you to when he told you to, and never asked too many questions or begged for more time. You were smarter than that, and, besides, you’ve seen too many movies with loan sharks to know what could happen to you.

The first time you went to him was probably 2 years ago, straight from university when you still thought you could make it big in New York. Well, safe to say that you didn’t make it, and while you remained hopeful, you had bigger problems than becoming a renown painter, like not starving to death and other fun stuff like that.

You were awfully scared to go to Tony, he had a reputation of being kind of an ass, but people also said that, compared to the other guys in the business, he actually had the fairest demands, and as you had no other choice, you just went to him. And because life was a bitch, you ended up going there on more occasions. Tony was kind enough always to lend even small amounts of money because you really didn’t need 100K. No, you always need like 1 or 2 thousand, and while the other loan sharks turned people like you down, Tony didn’t, and he never wanted more than like 400$ as a return, which seemed quite fair as the other guys always wanted 100% or more.

Well, Tony, it was, as you sighed looking around your room, thinking how you even got where you were. But there was no time to waste pitying yourself, and so you shot Tony a quick message, as you always did, and to no surprise, he was very quick to respond that you should come by later that afternoon.

You were just getting ready when Aidan burst through your door. He stopped mid-step, looking at you confusedly because you didn’t tell him you were going somewhere.

“Got a date or what? You never go out on Saturday afternoon, not if you can help it,” he said sceptically, looking around the room as his eyes landed on the fumbled papers on your table, and the look of realisation hit him.

“You going to Tony again? Y/N, we told you, we can help you, babe! Let us help just this once, please?” He pleaded with you even though he knew it was useless.

“C’mon, babe, you know you and Caroline are not making much either, and you’re both glad to get by another month. Tony is like an old friend by now, really. I don’t mind it that much, and it’s definitely a better option than burying you two with me under this pile of shit,” you huffed as you finished applying mascara, but you didn’t even check yourself in the mirror, really not caring that much how you looked. You went to Manhattan just to meet Tony and would go straight back, quick mission, in and out.

“You need to find a better job, Y/N,” Aidan smirked at you, and you just laughed because you both knew it was pretty much impossible, especially since you loved your day job with the only issue that it paid like shit.

“You know this is my chance to be close to art and I really want it. I mean, it could happen that they promote me from being a receptionist to like, I dunno, being a secretary to one of the curators of the gallery, right?”

He just huffed and kissed the top of your head, striding towards the door. It was only then that you noticed he was dressed to go out as well.

“And where are you going, mister?” You asked with a mother-like tone, and he just laughed, turning around as if he was caught in the act.

“So, you remember John?” He asked, sitting on your bed, and you actually laughed out loud at him.

“Which one? I mean, there has been so many Johns and Peters that I swear to God I’m starting to think there are only men called John and Peter in the whole fucking New York. So, more info, babe, please,” you scooted to him and listened to which John it actually was he was meeting and was pretty excited about this. This was John the Ballet dancer, and he looked really nice, so far.

John the Fake Mobster was a lying bastard, John the Hairdresser wanted Aidan for just that one thing but would never admit it, and then you didn’t even have John-the for the guys because they were all just idiots who didn’t see your best friend for what he was: an amazing, although a little extra person with a very good heart, great sense of humour and amazing hair.

“Alright, well, you know the drill. Keep your phone on data so we can use Find your Friend if needed, keep your eyes open for anything sketchy going on, but, most importantly, enjoy yourself, babe. I’ll see you tonight,” you hugged him tightly and walked out of the apartment and into the busy streets.

If it were all up to you, you’d live in a secluded place, somewhere in the north probably, like outside Seattle, where you’d have a lovely little house, maybe by a river or by the ocean or something, where you’d have enough inspiration for your art and where you wouldn’t be annoyed by the little things, like the car horns blaring all the way to the night, people shouting underneath your bedroom’s window, and little things like that.

But life was not a factory for fulfilled wishes, and you had to endure another day trying to make it in New York. You thought about all of this as you walked down the street to where you knew you could find Tony. You weren’t happy that you had to go to him, again, but you also knew that you didn’t need to worry anymore. You would have the money for your landlord by the end of the week, and when the gallery paid you, you would pay Tony back. Again.

“If it isn’t my favourite girl!” You heard a familiar voice hollering from the shop, and you laughed lightly as you walked into the pawnshop Tony had set up in the lower Manhattan.

“Hello to you too, Tony. Today a yellow day, or what?” You greeted him as you looked at his outfit, which was just a canary yellow tracksuit and a matching hat. He looked like a character from a bad movie, but you knew better than to say anything like that.

“Yellow is very classy and trendy, thank you very much! Yesterday I wore this really nice green velvet tracksuit, and you should have seen some ladies walking by, they almost ate me with their eyes! I swear!” He added as he saw you stifling a laugh, but you just nodded in fake understanding, and both of you shared a relaxed laugh.

“So, what can I do for you today, sweetheart?” He drawled, and you shuffled on the spot, always feeling slightly uncomfortable when it came to this part.

“I need a thousand this week. Ton. I’ve been working my ass off, but the bills keep building up, and every time I think I’m out of it and I can live normally, there is always something holding me back,” you sighed, scratching your arms which was a nervous habit of yours that Tony grew quite fond of.

He was almost sorry for saying the next thing, but this was way above his pay grade, and while he really did take some liking to you, and he would always give you enough time to pay him off, he knew who he couldn’t piss off.

“Listen, Y/N, I have a proposal for you,” Tony started, and you frowned, not really knowing where this was going, but from the look on Tony’s face, you could tell it was nothing good.

“There is somebody who would like to get to know you, and he has a proposal for you that he believes you can’t refuse. I don’t know any specifics, I just know he is willing to pay you a lot of money, and I’m talking thousands and thousands, Y/N. He said that nothing sexual would be involved because I told him that if he was looking for a one night stand, you weren’t his girl, but he assured me that this wasn’t it. He would like to meet with you and tell you all the details if you let him. And before you say no, Y/N, think about it. All you gotta do now is to meet him and listen to him, and he is one of those guys who don’t take no for an answer,” Tony finished, and while you saw it pained him to give you the message, you were too stunned to care.

“What the hell are you talking about, Tony? Is this some kind of a sick joke? Like, did this guy tell you he wanted to talk to me specifically or just a girl desperate enough to come here?” You blurted, still not getting what he was about.

“He asked for you, sweetie. I don’t know how, but he knew you’d come and told me when you did to give you the message and give you his address. Which is here,” he said, handing you a piece of paper with an address and a date with the time written on it, “and he told me that if you came and agreed to his plan, you wouldn’t have to worry about money this week or any other week. It could be your chance, Y/N. Look, the guy is extremely powerful, so, please, just go and meet him, and you’ll see, ok?” He was scared, and it made you scoff out loud.

Great, so a loan shark was giving you a message to meet some mysterious, powerful asshole who wouldn’t take no for an answer and who probably stalked you as he knew you would be coming to Tony sooner or later. Just great, really.

“It seems I don’t really have a choice, do I? Sheesh, Tony, at least tell me who this guy is and like how scared I should be. You gotta give me something because I can’t just go to some random house and be totally ok with it. Nobody can’t expect me to do so,” you pointed out, and Tony nodded in understanding.

“Totally, yeah. I even asked if I should come with you, but I was told you should be alone. You should be alert, let’s put it that way. If I were you, I’d really think before I speak, because this guy doesn’t take anything lightly. And I think it would be best if you didn’t know his name, Y/N. Just… he doesn’t want to hurt you, all he wants to do is speak to you, so please, just do it,” Tony finished just as some customer came into the shop.

You waited patiently because the conversation was far from over, but you knew better than to start shit in front of some stranger. Tony was evidently scared shitless of the guy, and it only fuelled your already growing anxiety. Tony was determined not to share too much information with you, but you didn’t understand why. Why could you not at least know the guy’s name? Who could it be?

Your brain took a detour to a few nights ago back at the pub where you saw the men asking about you, and a cold sweat broke on your skin. It must have been connected, there was no doubt in your mind about that, and it filled you with so much dread you actually had to catch your right hand with your left to stop yourself from shaking violently.

The doorbell rang signalling the customer left, and your eyes gazed at Tony, who was already staring at you apologetically.

“And what about the money, Tony? It’s Saturday, and I need to pay my rent by Friday next week. Nice of the guy, whoever the fuck he is, that he wants to see me, but he won’t if I’m on a fucking street next weekend,” you seethed, and Tony was quick to walk around the counter behind which he was standing this whole time and walked closer to you.

“He wants to see you on Wednesday, Y/N, and he specifically told me not to lend you any money, that he would take care of it. Whatever the fuck it means.”

“The fuck? I don’t even know his fucking name, and he will stop me from getting money to survive? What the actual hell, Tony? You can’t be serious right now,” you cried out in utter desperation because none of this was supposed to happen. You were supposed to come, chat a little with the goatee man, get the money and walk back home, where you’d watch some stupid TV show and drink shitty wine.

But no, of all the people living in New York this shit must be happening to you. As you didn’t have enough on your fucking plate as was, some mysterious fucker had to be interested in you for whatever reason, and he wouldn’t let you live without talking to him first.

“Can’t you just call him and tell him that I want to have nothing to do with him?” You asked when you felt calm enough to talk again. You didn’t even know whether you were scared or desperate or angry, but at best, you were feeling a mix of all these and some more, that was for sure.

“No can do, sweetie, but I promise it will be alright, ok? You’re a strong one, I know that and whatever he wants from you, you can either give or can talk to him,” Tony smiled sweetly, and while you knew he was full of bullshit you let it slide because you just didn’t have it in you to fight with him when he was clearly just the messenger. Whoever wanted to speak to you, however, he would hear it from you because where were we that a guy just asks for a girl and the whole of New York delivers her to him on a silver platter?

Wednesday

“You gotta be kidding me, Y/N. Are you seriously considering going there? For all you know it might be some elaborate trap and somebody’s gonna jump you and kill you in some dark alley,” Caroline screeched at you as she saw you getting ready after you came home from work.

You had to ask for a night off from the pub since mister nobody wanted to meet you on your night of work. But you knew you couldn’t say no. Whoever it was, Tony was afraid of him, and Tony was a tough guy. And not that you wouldn’t be brave, but your bravery was mostly concentrated on being able to throw a spider out of the apartment or walk the corridor with the lights out, not really crossing some powerful guy who could do God-knows-what to you if you didn’t come.

“C’mon, guys. You know I gotta do it. And I honestly think if they wanted to kill me, they would have already done it,” you muttered, trying to pick something to wear, that wasn’t too revealing, but you also didn’t want to go wherever you were going in a pair of baggy sweatpants you were currently rocking.

“But like, what if they want to make a personal slave out of you, huh? Like, cuff you to a ceiling and serve them with your body, like a personal kind of slave, you know what I mean? You were not made to be strapped to a ceiling, babe,” Aidan panicked, and you actually had to laugh.

“Your imagination never ceases to astonish me, Aid. Or are you speaking from personal experience?” You smirked as both you and Caroline laughed out loud at Aidan’s expression of utter disgust.

“You two are disgusting, and I hate you, but that doesn’t change the fact you still don’t know where the fuck you’re going,” Aidan countered and you rolled your eyes at him.

“I’ll keep my data on so you can see me this whole time, and if I don’t call you by 9 PM you can send the cops there, deal?”

They both nodded in agreement, knowing this was the best they were getting. You were glad you had them in your life and that you had people caring enough to try and stop you from doing something stupid, but something in your told you that your life would be even worse if you didn’t go. At least this way you’d know the whole story, and you would be able to make an educated decision based on all the variables.

“A’ight, but if anything sketchy happens, you run, ok? We can figure out the money, but we can’t figure out shit if you’re not here with us,” Caroline reminded you, and you nodded solemnly.

God, you just hoped you weren’t making a mistake by listening to Tony. He even shot you a message in the afternoon, reminding you to go there because if you didn’t, it could end up badly for both of you. And it was actually one of the decisive arguments in the whole thing, surprisingly. You didn’t want anything happening to Tony, especially not because of you and your decisions, and so you just told yourself to suck it and prepared for the evening.

You really couldn’t afford the cab, so you had to leave super early to be at the given address at precisely 7 PM. You also grabbed the book you were currently reading, Kim Stanley Robinson’s New York 2140, so that the ride to Manhattan wouldn’t be as dull and dreadful. You could think of the utopian future he depicts rather than thinking of your journey to the lion’s den, and that was the most promising image you created in your head about the place where you were headed.

Not that you didn’t try to find the place on Google maps, but all the buildings on the address looked the same, and, actually, quite nice, so you had no idea what you were getting yourself into.

Meanwhile, Tony texted you again since you didn’t reply to his previous text, and this time you took the time to craft a message telling him that yes, you were indeed headed to the manor and he didn’t need to worry about his own neck because you wouldn’t let others be hurt because of your incompetence or your cowardice.

You knew you were getting off on Chambers St station and you actually took the time to think how many people living in Tribeca had to take the subway. The answer was, very obviously, zero, as the majority of the people in the subway were either passing or were clothed in a way you knew they worked in either one of the restaurants there or as a help. And you felt like one of them, because you too didn’t live in the wealthiest village in New York, and you too were going there mainly for business. Well, at least you hope you did.

Checking every house number when you got to the street you were supposed to meet the mysterious guy at, you tried to find where exactly was the bat cave, and when you saw the number 112, you knew you found it.

Your breath came in ragged huffs as you tried to gather the last remnants of your bravery as you walked up the stairs and buzzed on the door. Your head was spinning lightly, and you actually had to lean against the wall beside you to regain your composure.

The door soon revealed a massive man dressed in a black turtleneck and a pair of black jeans, and you were actually quite surprised not to see him with sunglasses and an earpiece. If the situation weren’t so tense, you’d probably joke about it, but as it was, you just followed his lead as he beckoned you inside.

“Miss Y/L/N, I presume? I need to see your phone and your belongings, ma’am,” he stated, and you raised a brow at him.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a standard procedure, ma’am. Everybody here to see the boss needs to be checked, just in case,” he stated, leaving no room for discussion, and while you sighed exasperatedly, you still handed him your bag and made a point by fishing out the phone and shoving it in his outstretched hand. He took a quick look through your belongings, pushing it against what you assumed was some kind of a metal detector before he pulled out another device. This looked like a big phone, and he scanned your bag once again.

“What is that?” You asked, unable to stop your curiosity.

“Checking if you’re not bugged,” he answered matter-of-factly as he continued before he put the device down, clearly not finding anything. Where would you even get a bug, and why would you do it? You rolled your eyes inwardly but kept a straight face in front of the man, just in case he was watching. Which he was, as you found out by him waving in front of your face and showing you to follow him.

You braced yourself for whatever was awaiting upstairs and obediently walked behind him.

As you walked through the house, you got the impression that whoever lived there was wealthy, but that kind that didn’t really put on a flashy show. There were no chandeliers, no heavy curtains and stuff you pretty much imagined this place would look like and that image had nothing to do with the Beast and the Beauty dance room, nothing at all.

But this was… modest. Everything was very contemporary, some prominent brick here and there with mostly grey floors and the furniture was most definitely customary but, again, it was plain yet luxurious. You assumed that’s how the really rich people lived. They knew they had the money, and the people around them knew it as well, so there was no need for diamond stairs and a golden toilet.

A few names surged from memory as you heard your coworkers discuss the wealthy New Yorkers, but you didn’t want to assume anything before you actually saw the person, so you just walked by the halls before the man stopped in front one of the rooms and quietly knocked.

It was not surprising when another man dressed exactly like the guy leading you appeared from the room and took a quick look at you before he said something to whoever was behind him. When the affirmative came that you could indeed go in there, they shoved the door open and what you assumed was a living room appeared in front of you. It corresponded with the whole house, but your attention was caught by one specific thing. Your brain had its own world, and when you saw one of Tunji Adeniyi-Jones’s paintings from his last year’s exhibit, you almost fainted. He was your favourite contemporary artist. And seeing his work outside of the gallery was practically an otherworldly feeling. You gaped at the beautiful play of colours, and your heart swooned at the perfection of the brush strokes.

“Ehm,” you heard somebody cough beside you, and it startled you so much you actually jumped to the side, your hand flying to your chest in a feeble attempt to will your heart to stay calm.

You took the intruder in and found out that unlike every other man in the room (and there were a few, as you noticed) this guy wasn’t wearing all-black attire. He was in a comfortable-looking creme sweater and a pair of dark blue jeans, everything fitting him as if the clothes were sawn to his body.

Which, as far as you could tell, was the body of a Greek God.

“See something you like, honey?” The man interrupted thoughts, and it just crossed your mind that he was really rude, not letting you breathe even for a second before he had to make his presence known.

“Yes, actually. I’m quite a big fan of the artist whose painting you have there, so I admired that. And you are?” You trailed at the end, signalling that while he was very handsome, you had no idea who he was and why it was that you needed to come to him this evening.

“Straight to business, huh? I like that. I’m quite surprised Tony didn’t tell you who I was. Was he scared you wouldn’t have come if you knew?” He didn’t wait for your answer, however. “Well, honey, I’m Steve Rogers, and I am very pleased to meet you,” he smirked at your stomach dropped.

Steve Rogers? That Steve Rogers? It wasn’t possible.

“You gotta be kidding me,” you muttered as you scratched your arms nervously.

“Oh no, on the contrary. I’m all too real, Miss Y/L/N, and from the looks of it, I’m glad Tony didn’t tell you, you look like you might faint. Are you feeling alright?” He asked like the smug asshole he was, and you just turned away from him, taking a deep breath before you finally turned back around to face him with a pokerface.

“I’m alright, thank you. So now, can I know what it is you want from me so much you stalked me and made me come here, pretty much by force?”

He scoffed but showed you to follow him to the sofa. When you didn’t budge, he simply took you by your elbow and pretty much shoved you down to the plump sofa.

“Force, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I simply asked you to come visit me, is it so wrong? But yes, you are right, we should talk about why I invited you here. You see, Y/N, I’m in need of a wife, and after long calculations, I came to the conclusion you would be perfect for the job,” he said straightforwardly, and it was now that you felt like you’d faint.

“Marry me? Are you fucking insane?” You couldn’t hold it in any longer. Form the pissed off expression on his face, you could see it was not the right move, but he couldn’t expect any other reaction, really.

“Easy, honey or I might have to use the said force to shut that smart mouth of yours,” Steve mumbled dangerously, and you swallowed harshly.

“Right, you’re a notorious mobster, and I’m literally nobody, and if you killed me, nobody would miss me. Good, now that’s out of the table, why do you want to marry me? And what does it mean you are in need of a wife? I mean… you are notorious for dating a different girl every week, can’t you just marry one of them if you’re in such a great hurry?”

“No, honey, I can’t. All you need to know right now is my proposal. So, here it is. You will marry me, we will stay married for a year and then get a divorce. You will have everything every girl ever wanted: loads of clothes, all the time in the world to do whatever the fuck you want, you won’t have to work, and I will pay for everything and more. You will live here so you won’t have to worry about your rent money, and I will also pay your student loan, on top of which you will be paid 20.000$ every month for playing your role. And when the year is over, you will walk away rich, without any debts slowing you down and you will be able to do anything you want. How does that sound?”

“It sounds like it’s not a proposal but a directive,” you smiled sweetly and stood up, pacing the room and scratching your hands like crazy. This was not happening, no, no, no!

You needed the money, you really did, and getting rid of the debt from your student loan that would have been sweet too, but at what price? On the other hand, you thought, how bad could it be to just be somebody’s wife for a year? He did make it sound pretty easy.

“What would be expected of me?”

“Well, you would go with me to every event and pretty much listen to everything I say,” he shrugged as if it was the most natural thing to say to another human being.

“Like, you’d ask me to spread my legs for you here, and I would do it?” You asked, suddenly very angry that the man just assumed what kind of a person you were. You were desperate, but not that desperate.

“Oh, no, honey. That is one of the reasons why I chose you: I’m not attracted to you, so no, I wouldn’t ask you for any sexual favours. We could even put that to our contract if you’d feel better, but, really, you have nothing to worry from me,” he again said with ease, and you didn’t know if you were glad he just told you this or really pissed and ashamed.

Not that you thought you were some kind of a beauty, far from it, but he also didn’t have to be so upfront about it. And now you understood it even less why the hell he chose you.

“You want to marry me. But you still haven’t told me why, so?” You asked for like the hundredth time that evening, and the man just smirked again, playing with his cuffs, never answering to your satisfaction.

“Honey, what I want, I get, and I decided that I wanted you, so, what is going to be? Are you gonna be a good girl for me or am I gonna have to force you, hm?” He smiled sweetly, but even you knew better. Behind that oh-very-sweet smile, there was venom and a ton of it. You rubbed your temples and plopped down on the nice-looking couch, thinking about what he was proposing.

“Then why choosing me if you don’t find me attractive? Not that it’s an issue, I’m just really trying to understand the situation here,” you said, totally ignoring the threat in his voice as you needed some much valuable answers.

“Right, well, first of all, as I already mentioned, what I want, I get, honey, and you should always remember that. Secondly, it was your ability to keep a straight face, even though I can see the ability is not endless. I need somebody who will be sickly sweet to both my friends and enemies alike, who won’t mind a few sleazy comments from the old fuckers, and who will look like an obedient wife. I need somebody who will blend in and who will look trustworthy, and not like she was to stay only for a week. And when I saw you in that pub where you used to work, I could see you had what it took to be in this life, even if only for a year,” he finished, and you were glad you were right at least about the guy, Steve, also sending the people to sniff around your workplace. But then it hit you.

“Where I used to work? I still work there,” you said dumbfounded, and Steve chuckled humorously.

“Oh no, you don’t. You see, I need my wife free all the time and I need her here with me. Look, Y/N, this is getting tiring, and I really need an answer now. What is it gonna be, huh?”

“Like I even have a choice. You just said you would use force if I said no, so, what am I supposed to say, huh? I don’t want to get married, but I don’t have any money and your snoopy ass is getting in the way of my life, and you ended one of my jobs, and before you say you terminated my contract in the gallery, please think about it again. That job is very important to me, it has always been my dream to be in a gallery surrounded by beautiful art, and, by chance, having my art there as well.

I don’t know Steve, your offer is very generous, it really is, but I don’t think I’m the right one,” you sighed finally and looked around the room, ignoring the boring looks from Steve. Then you saw the clock and you almost panicked, it was two minutes before 9.

“Oh my God, I need to call my friends, or they’re gonna call the cops,” you said quickly already dialling Caroline’s number. You told her you were fine and that no, you weren’t a personal slave yet, but that you’d tell them everything when you got home. When the call ended, the venom was back in Steve’s eyes.

“If you think you can talk to people about anything I have just said, you are terribly wrong, doll,” he seethed, and you were taken aback, but you didn’t want him to think he intimidated you.

“Well, if you think I’m not gonna tell my family about this, then it’s you who is terribly wrong, Steve. We tell each other everything, and if I considered this proposal of yours, it would mean Aidan and Caroline would know about this, at least that I’m marrying you for more than my undying love for you,” you spat back, and Steve saw the determination in your eyes. He knew he had to compromise with you, even if only a little bit.

He already found out everything about you, he knew your whole life, your past, everything his people could find on the internet. And what he got from the search was that you and the people you lived with were extremely close. He considered getting rid of them but realised it would only push you away from what he needed from you. And he needed a wife ASAP.

The mafia was still very conservative, and as he was the only boss without a constant woman by his side, he was sometimes excluded from important meetings that happened on “family retreats.” And he needed all the info there was if he wanted to be the best of the best. Or, the worst of the worst, if we were being literal.

“Fine, but they will need to sign a contract saying that they will keep their mouths shut,” Steve smiled back, and you nodded, your head already spinning.

Were you really considering it? But was there any other option? You needed the money, and it would’ve be great if you didn’t have to care about your student loan for the rest of your life. You would see the world, just like you wanted, you would have time for your art, and you would be free after only a year. That didn’t sound that bad. Sure, you’d be affiliated with a known mafia boss, but that was nothing you couldn’t handle. But there was still a question Steve didn’t answer.

“What about my job at the gallery? If you made them fire me and I’m gonna find out tomorrow, I can’t even begin to consider this. I want that job, I want to work at that gallery, Steve.”

“Fucking hell, I could buy you the gallery if you agreed!” He shouted, exasperated that it was taking so long. He really didn’t get it. He was proposing a life in luxury, and he knew that the majority of women in New York would be more than happy to be seen by his side. But you? You had to be difficult and even demand stuff. Fucking hell…

“But whatever, you wanna work there, fine. Whatever, I don’t give a fuck. Do we have a deal or not? I have better things to do with my evening than just bargain with you, honey,” he accentuated the pet name that you already hated.

Well, this wasn’t how you imagined your proposal to go. Not that you were too keen on the whole idea of a marriage, but still, a girl could dream. Yet, here you were, actually considering getting tied up with a mobster for a year just because he offered you enough money and a life that you felt like could be interesting, if only for a year and with a man who blatantly told you he wasn’t interested in you in that way. This was the only reason you didn’t feel as dirty as you expected because you knew he would never touch you and never want you to do something sexual against your will.

You were used to lying through your teeth ever since you were little, your parents made sure you knew how important it was to keep your secret, and dangerous life wasn’t something you only heard of on TV. All this made the decision slightly easier, as you finally made up your mind.

“Fine, but we still have a lot to talk about, Mr Rogers,” you set your jaw and outstretched your hand to shake on it with him.

“Whatever, Mrs Rogers. Consider your rent paid and I’ll see you on Friday when we discuss our matter in greater detail. Now, if you excuse me,” he kissed the top of your hand and walked away.

Well, this would be fun, you told yourself as you watched the man you would soon call your husband walk away from you, and contemplated whether you made the right choice. But your life wasn’t great as was, as much as you tried to fill it with laughter and happiness, and, in a sense, Steve offered you an out, even if only for a little bit.

Here was to nothing, you hollered at yourself in your mind and followed one of the turtleneck-guys out of the manor and into the chilly air of evening New York.

/ Next Chapter >

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randomposterofstuff · 3 years

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An in-depth analysis of Mikasa’s character development in relation to Eren and Levi

Author's Note: Hi, all! As I was re-reading and going over my previous post/analysis titled "On the change of dynamics of Mikasa's relationships with Eren and Levi," I realized that there were some points that I should've/could've included. Lol. I also came up with other points of analysis as well as arrived at other realizations concerning Mikasa's connections with Eren and Levi. So, I've decided to post them here. This post can be considered a continuation of the previous analysis since it supplements and further expounds on the last post's points. But this can still stand on its own since it also talks about additional issues. Haha. If you want to read the previous post, the link is up there. Hehehe.

Fair Warning: This is a very long post. Lol.

This post will analyze the following:

1. How Mikasa's connection to Eren is rooted in their shared history. This was already touched upon in the previous post, but this post will expound more on this.

2. How Mikasa's character development is affected by Eren's own character development. How her development as a character is affected by this will also be discussed. This segment will also analyze how Mikasa's connection to Eren became strained because of the latter's drastic change in the latter part of the series.

3. How "Chapter 138: A Really Long Dream" is about Mikasa finally letting go of and "waking up" from her dream. This post shall also analyze how Chapter 138 is actually the climax and turning point of Mikasa's character development concerning Eren.

4. How Eren represents Mikasa's dream, while Levi represents her reality. This will be further expounded on later.

From the foregoing topics, it’s clear that this is a primarily Mikasa-centered analysis. Haha. I just had so many thoughts running through my mind about her development that I was eager to make this post. Lol.

So, anyway, we now delve in:

1. Mikasa's connection to Eren is rooted in their shared history.

In the series, most of Mikasa's actions and reactions tend to either revolve around or be connected to Eren. About this, it is necessary to take into account their relationship and shared history.

Before Mikasa met Eren, she was a young girl who lived a relatively peaceful and quiet life with her loving parents. But then, all that changed when human traffickers killed her parents in front of her eyes and kidnapped her to sell her as a sex slave.

During this time, she was just an innocent young girl who hadn't experienced much of the world yet. So, one can only imagine the pain, shock, and trauma that she must have felt during her brief period of captivity. Being so young at the time, she was understandably shaken and scared – having had her family and her innocence forcibly and violently taken away from her.

However, hope came in the form of a young Eren who had gone looking for her on his own when he and his father discovered her parents' bodies. When he found her, he wasted no time taking action and immediately killed two of her captors before freeing her. When the third captor arrived and tried to strangle Eren, he told her to fight. At first, she was scared to do so, as evidenced by her shaking when she held the knife Eren used to cut her binds. While he kept telling her to fight, memories suddenly flashed in her mind, and they made her realize that they lived in a cruel but beautiful world. During this time, her dormant "Ackerman powers" awakened and thus gave her the strength and courage to actually fight and deliver the killing blow – thereby freeing both herself and Eren. As we all know, in the aftermath, the Yeagers took Mikasa in, and Eren gave her his scarf when she said that she felt cold.

As mentioned before, Mikasa and Eren's shared history is important. This is because it defined the early dynamics of their relationship. Eren was literally and figuratively her savior. He saved her from captivity and from a potential future of abuse. He also saved her from loneliness and despair. When she lost her biological parents, she found a new family in Eren, Grisha, and Carla. The Yeager parents treated her warmly and kindly, and Eren was her constant companion (apart from Armin, of course). Having experienced the severe trauma of violently losing her parents, she never wanted to lose anyone precious to her ever again. This is evidenced by the following situations in the series:

a) When she and Eren desperately wanted to save Carla from the Smiling Titan in Season 1. Neither she nor Eren wanted to leave her behind. So, when Hans carried them away to safety, Mikasa was visibly crying and heartbroken.

b) When she attacked Levi with tears in her eyes when he initially declared that he would use the Titan serum on Erwin instead of Armin. Armin, alongside Eren, was one of the most precious people left in her life. As such, the idea of losing him was painful. When Levi eventually decided to save Armin instead, Mikasa wept tears of joy when Armin fully recovered after eating Bertolt.

c) When Mikasa cried upon seeing Sasha's dead body. While the development of their friendship wasn't fully shown, it was clear that Sasha meant a great deal to Mikasa as the former's death affected her deeply.

About Mikasa not wanting to lose anyone close to her, it is evident and apparent that Eren was the most special person in her life. This is not surprising since Eren was the one who literally saved her, and there's also the fact that he was the only one left of her adoptive family. Apart from these, I think that the following reasons are also possible and probable causes as to why Eren was the most special:

a) Eren was her source of hope and strength. When she fell into despair when she was kidnapped, Eren gave her hope when he came to her rescue. It was also during the struggle against her captors that she awakened her inner Ackerman power. So, she might have attributed her then new-found strength to him.

[Side note: I'm aware that Eren was lying when he commented that Mikasa had responded to his "command" to fight back then because she mistakenly thought that he was a "royal host." In the “Attack on Titan ANSWERS” guidebook, Isayama-sensei himself stated that "[Mikasa, Levi, and Kenny] are all part of the same Ackerman bloodline. However, their reasons for protecting their respective counterparts do not have anything to do with the bloodline itself—it is just their nature." When I said that Mikasa attributed her then new-found strength to him, I was talking in figurative and emotional terms. Lol.]

Screenshots taken from Season 1, Episode 6 of the “Attack on Titan” anime

b) In her eyes, Eren represented the good in their cruel world. Because of Eren, Mikasa realized that the world is cruel but is also beautiful – meaning that there's also good in it

Screenshots taken from Season 1, Episode 7 of the “Attack on Titan” anime

My take is that all of these things shaped and formed the beginnings of Mikasa's connection to Eren. Their shared history influenced Mikasa's overly protective nature towards him and her affection for him. Eren was the foundation of her strength and a constant reminder that there was still good in the cruel world they lived in. As such, she would have done anything to protect him and all that he meant to her.

This is particularly important as we proceed to the second point of this analysis, which is how Mikasa's character development is affected by Eren's.

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2. Mikasa's character development is affected by Eren's.

For the most part of the series, Mikasa has been characterized by her strong urge to protect Eren. The reasons behind this protective nature of hers have already been expounded earlier. At this juncture, I shall now discuss how Mikasa was affected by the kind of person Eren used to be.

Specifically, this portion of the analysis will be divided into two (2) parts: the first will be about their character developments during the pre-Marley arc. The second will be about their developments during the Marley arc and going onwards.

a) Pre-Marley Arc

As previously mentioned, Eren was her literal savior. And she saw firsthand how he would willingly place himself in danger to protect others. She appreciated Eren's good-nature. And she likely saw him as a sort of embodiment of the things that make the cruel world they live in more bearable and more beautiful.

It is essential to consider the kind of person that Eren used to be before the Marley arc. Before the truth of the world and the Titans was revealed, Eren was a mischievous and stubborn child. Still, at the same time, he was also good-natured, determined, selfless, and courageous. His resolve, courage, and desire to protect others were further amplified when the Warriors of Marley attacked his hometown of Shiganshina and when the Smiling Titan ate his mother.

The early stages of Eren's development are relevant to Mikasa's own development. Due to his well-meaning nature and their shared history, Mikasa felt strongly inclined to side with him and protect him at all times. While this is understandable on her part, it has also proven to be problematic.

Her disposition towards Eren impaired her judgment

For instance, it has been shown on more than one occasion that Mikasa's affection for Eren has impaired her judgment. This has been exemplified in the following cases:

a) Back in Season 1, when both she and Armin thought that Eren had been killed, Mikasa went on a reckless rampage on her own against the Titans which invaded Trost. To be fair, she was grief-stricken under the circumstances. Nonetheless, her actions were still irresponsible, and she nearly lost her own life because of them.

b) When she recklessly went after Annie in her Female Titan form after the latter had captured Eren in the Forest of Giant Trees outside the Walls. Mikasa would have probably been killed had Levi not arrived. Furthermore, because of her rage towards Annie during this time, Mikasa disobeyed Levi's order not to engage Annie in battle. Her decision endangered her; it also resulted in Levi's injury, which rendered him unable to fight for some time.

It also narrowed her priorities and way of thinking

As mentioned in my previous post, Mikasa is not cruel or heartless towards others. It has been shown that she has empathy for innocent and helpless people. This is likely because of her own experiences with being powerless. The following instances exemplify this:

a) When she saved Louise and her mother from one of the Titans that had invaded Trost.

b) When she threatened Dimo Reeves with her sword when he refused to allow the district's defenseless citizens to pass through the pathway leading to the protected areas until all of his merchandise and goods were carried through. She only relented her threatening demeanor and actions when he had this cart moved to the side to make way for the citizens to pass.

However, because of the extent of her concern and devotion to Eren, Mikasa seemed to disregard nearly everything else whenever he was in danger.

An example of this was during the Struggle for Trost and Eren's military trial in Season 1. When Eren transformed to begin the mission to seal the Wall, he initially lost control and attacked Mikasa and the others. It is worth noting that it was unintentional on his part. However, that does not change the fact that his loss of control nearly jeopardized the mission and placed his comrades in danger.

While the mission was ultimately successful, Eren's loss of control was still a serious source of concern. Because of this, he was temporarily imprisoned. It was also decided that there would be a trial to see if he was either a threat or an asset to humanity within the Walls.

During this time, Mikasa was understandable apprehensive, and worried about Eren. It is worth noting that, as mentioned in my previous post, she was more concerned about him than the fact that he was still a potential threat at the time. It should be remembered that during this time, the inhabitants of Paradis (save for a select few such as the royal family and their followers) were ignorant of the truth about Titans and the world. As such, the fear directed towards Eren was valid and understandable. Yet, despite this, Mikasa was still singularly focused on him.

This is evidenced by the following:

a) Her glaring at Rico when it was revealed that the latter had mentioned Eren's loss of control in the report that they had submitted. When Rico responded with, "Did you expect me to lie in a report?" Mikasa simply continued to glare at the Garrison soldier. On this, Rico was clearly in the right for telling the truth since Eren's powers were still a mystery and still potentially harmful to others. Yet, Mikasa was probably too worried about Eren to realize this.

b) When she attempted to attack Levi when the latter began to physically beat Eren. She would've undoubtedly intervened had Armin not stopped her. I had already expounded on this in my previous post, but I will just add the pertinent excerpts here:

"The display was necessary to emphasize and prove that Levi, who is widely known as "Humanity's Strongest Soldier," was best suited to subdue Eren should he lose control of his abilities. Because of this, the Scouts were able to convince the Military Police and Premier Zackly that they should be given custody over Eren. At the time, Mikasa was gravely concerned about Eren's well-being and was perhaps too furious at Levi to think about anything else. Because of this, she probably did not immediately realize that Levi had effectively secured Eren's relative safety at the end of the day. "

"During the trial, the MPs spoke of planning to dissect him, among others. Conversely, the Scouts proposed that he participate in an upcoming scouting expedition to determine whether he is a threat or not. They also suggested that Eren be placed under Levi's direct supervision so that he could be subdued in the event of an incident. While the latter proposal still entailed some degree of violence, it was far less hostile and more beneficial to Eren than the MP's proposal."

To conclude this part, I think that Mikasa focused more on the fact that Eren never meant any harm. And she probably thought that Eren should not be punished because of this. Again, all of this shows how Mikasa was inclined to always side with Eren (even though his actions may sometimes do more harm than good) because of his good and well-meaning nature and their shared history.

b) Marley arc until the present time

The second part of this segment shall now discuss how Eren's drastic and dark development affected Mikasa.

As mentioned before, Mikasa always sided with Eren because of their past and his good nature.

However, when Eren began changing for the worse, their relationship began to deteriorate. As mentioned in my previous post, they slowly but surely drifted apart until they lost their common ground.

At the start of the Marley arc (which is the beginning of the fourth season in the anime), Eren's personality had noticeably become darker. This is evidenced by his horrible actions, which endangered and cost lives, such as the following:

a) When he executed his and Zeke's plan to raid Liberio so that they could both escape to Paradis Island. As a result of this plan, countless innocent civilians and children were killed in the process. Furthermore, several of his comrades from the Survey Corps/Scouting Regiment lost their lives, including Sasha.

b) When he initiated the Rumbling with the intention to destroy all of humanity not residing within Paradis Island. This plan and course of action would eliminate both their enemies who were actively plotting to attack Paradis and millions of innocent civilians and bystanders.

At this point in time, Eren had changed from a good-natured and compassionate soldier dedicated to protecting innocents to a depressed and violent extremist. This change was triggered by the revelation of the truth about the world and his gaining access to the memories of the past and future inheritors of his Attack Titan.

With regard to how his terrible change affected Mikasa, it is clear that she was clearly disturbed by it.

Mikasa had begun to acknowledge that Eren was no longer the "good" in their cruel world.

During the raid on Liberio, she was visibly distraught and affected by Eren's destructive actions. It seemed that she was in disbelief – she even asked him if he was aware that he did things that cannot be undone. As mentioned in the previous post, Mikasa was even more distressed because Eren consciously caused the destruction and did not appear to show any remorse.

It is worth noting that Mikasa's empathy for innocent and defenseless people, especially children, was highlighted in this scene. When she asked Eren if he was aware of his actions' consequences, there were tears in her eyes.

Screenshots taken from Season 4, Episode 6 of the “Attack on Titan” anime

At that point in time, Mikasa had begun to realize that the Eren she once knew was no longer with them. She had started to see that Eren no longer represented the good in the world; and that he had become a source of what makes it cruel.

Mikasa felt conflicted because she was in denial.

Throughout the Marley arc events up until the Rumbling arc, Mikasa still held on to the hope that Eren could still change for the better. It is true that she believed (or maybe desperately wanted to believe) that Zeke was manipulating him, but does not change the fact that Eren was acting on his own accord.

On several occasions, Mikasa had expressed her desire to talk to Eren and kept insisting that sense could still be talked into him. I think that this is an indicator that she was in a state of "pseudo-denial."

I used the term "pseudo-denial" because, from how I see it, Mikasa was already aware that Eren was no longer the same person who saved her. That he was no longer the same person who insisted that Historia eat him so that humanity can be saved. That he was no longer the same person who would jump right into battle to protect innocent people; that he had turned into someone who had harmed and would continue to harm innocent people. However, it appears that Mikasa did not want to accept this fact. This is why she kept insisting on talking to Eren in the slim chance that he could still be persuaded to abandon his plan of initiating the Rumbling. She was torn between reality and her personal sentiments. In short, she still hoped that the kind person who stood up for the helpless and who saved her from bondage was still in there somewhere. This exemplified by this scene from Episode 14 of Season 4:

Screenshots taken from Season 4, Episode 14 of the “Attack on Titan” anime

This pseudo-denial placed her odds with her allies and comrades. The others, such Armin, Annie, and Levi, had already accepted that Eren needed to be killed in the worst-case scenario. On this, it's apparent that Mikasa knew that they were right considering the circumstances. But she still felt conflicted because she still hoped that Eren could be convinced to not go through with his plans. However, that hope was dashed when Eren himself told them that the only way to stop him was to kill him. Yet, even then, she was still hesitant and conflicted.

Mikasa had matured because of their strained connection and had begun outgrowing her bond with Eren.

In a way, Mikasa was still holding onto the past. On this, Eren's dark character development is what caused their relationship to deteriorate. As previously discussed, Mikasa's connection to Eren is rooted in their shared history and the type of person he used to be. In the past, Eren was her savior, her family, and her source of strength and hope. But when he stopped being those things to her, the foundation for their bond was lost.

While it is tragic and drastic for Mikasa, this caused her to become more keenly aware of other priorities. She became more cognizant of the stakes involved rather than just focusing on Eren. Although she still cared greatly for him, she was no longer singularly focused on him. She became wise and mature enough to not turn a blind eye to the danger and threat that he posed. This in sharp contrast to how she acted in the past. Before, she would always place Eren's welfare first before nearly anything else. But because of recent developments, she finally began to realize and understand that there were other things more important than Eren. And I think that this is a significant turning point for her since he had affected and influenced her for most of her life.

Before Chapter 138, Mikasa was still in a state of "pseudo-denial" because of her hope for a more peaceful solution in dealing with Eren. But I think that the fact that she started feeling conflicted was the start of her process of outgrowing her bond with Eren. This is because she knew that she could no longer just turn a blind eye to his actions and their devastating effects.

The significance of her process of outgrowing her connection with Eren will be further expounded in the next point of analysis below.

-----

3. "Chapter 138: A Long Dream" is about Mikasa finally letting go of and "waking up" from her own dream.

It has already been established that Mikasa had dreamed of living a peaceful life for the longest time. She dreams of one that is similar to the kind she once had with her parents. In particular, Mikasa wanted to live such a life with her loved ones, particularly Eren. The "dream" she had during this chapter is evidence of this.

It is unclear whether what Mikasa saw was a dream, a hallucination, a vision, or, as some fans speculate, a memory from an alternate reality. In any case, it was not the reality that she lived in.

I've already stated earlier that her process of outgrowing Eren and their bond was significant. Concerning this, I think that the said process was part of a slow build-up towards her decision to finally let Eren go and kill him.

As previously mentioned, Mikasa seemed to have difficulty accepting that the Eren of her past had turned into the Eren who wished to destroy all of humanity outside of Paradis. She had struggled to fully acknowledge and accept this fact because it was too painful for her. However, as the situation started to become more drastic and desperate, she realized that she had no other choice but to face reality.

But even though she knew this, she still felt conflicted. Even when Eren told them that the only way to stop him was to kill him, she was still hesitant. She knew what needed to be done but could not accept it because of her attachment to Eren.

On this, I think that the "dream" or vision (or whatever it really was) that she had during the battle is representative of the kind of life she wishes and dreams for. When she, Levi, and the remaining Titan shifters were the only ones left to fight, she started having another headache. And when Levi told her that they were the only ones left who could kill Eren, her head pain intensified until the dream/vision started playing in her mind.

This is my take on this moment: the headache represented Mikasa's conflicted feelings. She knew that Eren needed to be stopped to save humanity. She knew that the rest of the world did not deserve to suffer from the cruel fate that Eren wished to bestow upon it. But her emotional attachments held her back from taking action. As for the dream/vision, I think it was her way of arriving at an epiphany and decision. And on this, maybe it was this dream/vision that gave Mikasa the resolve and courage to finally accept the reality. I will expound further.

In the dream/vision, Mikasa was crying. She said that she "shouldn't be there." And then dream-Eren spoke about their decision to run away from the Marleyan-Paradis conflict so that they could live in isolation and in peace during the last few years of his life. Dream-Eren then apologized for "bringing up the past."

Screenshots taken from Chapter 138 of the “Shingeki no Kyojin” manga

I personally think that this was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. During this dream/vision, Mikasa finally realized that her wish and dream to live a peaceful life with Eren could no longer come true. Her dream was born in the past, and if there was any chance of it happening, it had already passed by. Mikasa finally realized that attaining her dream was already impossible at that point.

I also think that when dream-Eren told her to forget about him after he dies, this could be interpreted as Mikasa realizing that if she were to finally have a quiet and peaceful life, then Eren would not be a part of it.

Screenshots taken from Chapter 138 of the “Shingeki no Kyojin” manga

Furthermore, Mikasa saying that she "had a long dream" could mean that she finally let go of her life-long wish/dream so that she can wake up to the reality she needed to face. It could be interpreted as her choosing to give up on Eren for good to make the world a less cruel place. On this, her decision to kill Eren herself was likely her way of letting him go and saying goodbye. It was the climactic resolution and outcome of her internal conflict where she struggled to choose between doing the right thing (saving humanity) and holding on to the most special thing in her life (Eren). In the end, she chose humanity over him because she knew that if she chose him, then their already cruel world would become darker and crueler.

Screenshot taken from Chapter 138 of the “Shingeki no Kyojin” manga

A quick note on Mikasa saying that she can’t forget Eren:

Some people might say that Mikasa’s declaration that she can’t forget Eren means that she decided not to let him go. I personally disagree with this. It is completely possible to move on from someone and let them go without forgetting them. In Mikasa’s case, I think that by saying that she won’t forget Eren, she meant that she will always remember the peaceful, good, and happy times that they had together. I also think that it means that she will fondly remember Eren as the good person he used to be.

I think that it’s understandable and fair that Mikasa chooses to remember the good times and the good things. Because, for better or for worse, Eren was still a huge and influential part of her life. The old Eren and the good times they had together were very much real, and the happiness she felt during those times was also genuine and valid. I also think that her decision to wear the scarf around her neck before delivering the killing blow was her way of saying, “I’m letting you go. But I will always value the good moments we had together. Goodbye.”

Screenshot taken from Chapter 138 of the “Shingeki no Kyojin” manga

-----

4. Eren represents Mikasa's dream, while Levi represents her reality.

This is a personal take and interpretation of the possible symbolisms connecting Mikasa and Levi in Chapter 138.

During the final battle against Eren, only Levi, Mikasa, and the titan-shifters were left to fight. And during this battle, Mikasa started to have her dream/vision. While dealing with her conflicted emotions, she began to drift to her "dream" about Eren and away from reality. And while she was drifting away, Levi kept telling her to "stay with [him there]."

Screenshot taken from Chapter 138 of the “Shingeki no Kyojin” manga

This could be interpreted as Levi being the voice calling out to her to stay in the current reality and not get lost in her distant and impossible dream. It is interesting to note that before she began "dreaming," an image of Eren as a child was shown, followed by a panel of a close-up of Levi's mouth with no dialogue. Meaning that everything around her had already faded away before she was immersed in her dream during that time.

Screenshots taken from Chapter 138 of the “Shingeki no Kyojin” manga

This could symbolize the inner conflict and turmoil that Mikasa was experiencing. She was torn between holding on to the past and accepting the present.

When she woke-up, both literally and figuratively, Mikasa had decided to let go of her dream and of Eren. She finally accepted the reality and returned to it. She returned to Levi's side and faced reality alongside him.

Screenshot taken from Chapter 138 of the “Shingeki no Kyojin” manga

Following this line of thought, this symbolic moment could foreshadow the kind of relationship they would have in the future. Considering that this final stand against Eren might very well be the most important battle of their lives, it would be reasonable to assume that they might form a deeper connection and relationship in its aftermath. They finished it together, so perhaps (and hopefully) it means that whatever the future might bring, they would also face it together.

Going back to how Eren and Levi are symbols, Eren represents her dream. Eren is not only a part of it; it is also linked to her past. Mikasa knew that her dream was impossible to achieve at that point and that it was necessary to finally let it go.

Levi, on the other hand, represents her reality. The reality she currently lives in is cruel and harsh. However, she can control what she does in it and what she makes of her life in the said reality. In other words, her reality is full of possibilities and various choices. This is in contrast to her dream of a life with Eren, which was impossible to attain. Furthermore, she only had two (2) choices as to what to do with the dream. It was either to keep holding on to it despite its impossibility or to let it go completely.

Thus, it can be said that Eren represents and symbolizes “what could have been”. Whereas, Levi represents “what could be”. Prescinding from this, there really is a good chance of Mikasa and Levi growing closer in the future.

-----

Author’s Note: Well, that’s all for now. Lol. I know that this post is very, very lengthy. Hahahaha. So, I really appreciate you guys for taking the time to read it. I tried my best to make it as organized and as clear as possible. I hope that it makes sense. Haha. I might post more analyses in the future. Hehehe. Let me know your thoughts and opinions!

#rivamika #levimika #mikasa ackerman #levi ackerman #levi x mikasa #mikasa x levi #eren jeager #eren yeager #eren jaeger #eren and mikasa #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk

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multiple-fandomimagines · 4 years

Text

Breathe In

Pairing: Cullen Family x Female!Reader (Platonic), Quileute Pack x Female!Reader (Platonic)

Summary: Reader is the youngest addition to the Cullen family. Being a human with severe asthma causes your family to be extra protective, especially if they aren’t always around to help.

Word Count: 4128

Warnings: fluff, angst, near death experience, brief mentions of self-degrading thoughts

A/N: This is my first time posting my writing so feedback would be greatly appreciated! (Main account @hi-my-name-is-riley )

Being adopted into the Cullen family was nothing short of a blessing.

They quickly became the family you never had but had always wanted. Early on, you found yourself gravitating towards Emmett and Edward, the two quickly became your best friends.

It was not long after you had been adopted that they told you their secret. The revelation came after you saw Emmett uproot a literal tree and throw it at Jasper, who walked away completely unscathed.

The family made you feel loved. Your brothers were protective of you, as were your sisters. Carlisle would always find time to talk to you about school and how you were adjusting, while Esme kept the kitchen stocked with your favorite foods.

Being the only human in a family of vampires had its ups and downs. For instance, you always had help with your homework, and Alice was a fantastic stylist. On the other hand, you were still human, and that brought along human problems.

When you were first adopted into the Cullen family, Carlisle was sure to inform everyone about your pre-existing health problems.

Mainly, your asthma.

You were diagnosed with asthma at an early age and had been able to use your inhaler and nebulizer, or breathing treatment, as you fondly called it, since before you could remember. But, just because you were used to your crappy lungs, didn’t mean that your new family was.

It wasn’t until a few months after you had been adopted did you have your first severe asthma attack.

You were lounging on the couch doing your homework when you felt a tickle in the back of your throat. Hoping it would go away, you cleared your throat and drank from your water bottle, ignoring the occasional faint wheeze.

Your chest gradually got tighter and tighter over the next couple of minutes, a wheeze now accompanying every breath you took.

Rosalie, Emmett, and Edward, who were spread out around the room doing various assignments, looked at each other than at you in concern. They had heard you have small asthma attacks, but they had never heard you wheeze this bad.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Rosalie asked softly.

You were about to respond when your breath got caught in your throat. You made a choking sound before a cough violently ripped its way out of your mouth.

Cough after cough escaped followed by desperate gasps for air; your body jerking in tandem. Reacting on instinct, you scrambled for your backpack, ripped it open, and grabbed your trusty inhaler.

Within seconds, you were surrounded by your siblings, including Alice and Jasper who came running as soon the coughs started. They watched with pity as your face turned bright red, sweaty, and your eyes filled with tears. They asked you questions, but you were too focused on your breathing to answer. All they could do was watch.

It felt like hours until you were able to take a breath, but, once you could, you took a puff from the inhaler. This went on for several minutes, violent coughing and harsh breaths followed by the use of your inhaler.

When the coughs started to subside, you looked up at the worried faces surrounding you, “Will one of you please help me to my room?” Your voice was hoarse as you gasped out the question.

Strong arms lifted you from the couch and carried you at a human pace towards your room.

A pained look flashed across your face as you were hit with a second round of coughs, and you took another puff from the inhaler grasped tightly in your shaking hand.

Emmett helped you onto your bed before sitting against the headboard and pulling you into his chest. The rest of your siblings filed into the room, eagerly waiting for any command or request.

“There is a blue bag in my closet with a grey machine, some tubes, a mouthpiece, and medicine in it. Ple-” before you could finish the sentence, the bag containing your nebulizer was sitting in front of you. Blinking away the dizziness, you got to work setting it up. With shaky hands and a pounding head, you went through the motions that had become muscle memory: plug the tube into the nebulizer and the compressor, rip open the liquid capsules, squirt the medicine into the cup, hold the mouthpiece between your lips, plug in the nebulizer, turn it on.

You paused as another round of coughs shook your body, you looked at Edward who understood what you needed and plugged the machine into the nearest outlet and flicked it on.

The familiar taste of vaporized medicine hit your tongue, and you collapsed into Emmett’s chest, feeling the exhaustion deep in your bones. His cold, granite-like body cooled down your blazing skin and helped you stay elevated. As if reading your thoughts, he placed one of his hands on your forehead while the other combed through your hair.

“I thought Edward was supposed to be the mind reader.” You mumbled over the mouthpiece.

“Shhhh. Just relax and focus on breathing.”

You nodded and closed your eyes, the whirring of the nebulizer lulling you into a light sleep.

~~~~

“How long has it been running?” A voice from over you asked.

“About fifteen minutes. But she put two of these capsules in.”

“You should’ve seen it, Carlisle. She could barely breathe, but she managed to put the machine together in moments while we all just watched.” Emmett’s chest rumbled under your head as he spoke.

“If you thought that was impressive, wait ‘til you see me do it when I’m having an asthma attack in the dark.” You joked, the mouthpiece still in between your lips.

“How’re you feeling Y/N?”

Opening your eyes, you saw Carlisle sitting at your side with Esme not far behind him. You allowed Carlisle to remove the mouthpiece and click the nebulizer off.

“It’s nothing I’m not used to.” You dismissed, “What are you doing here, aren’t you two supposed to be at some fancy doctor event?”

“You gave your siblings quite a scare,” Carlisle chuckled. “They called saying you couldn’t breathe and we left immediately.”

“But I had it all under control, there was no need to come home.”

“We didn’t know that Y/N.” Rosalie snapped, concern swimming in her eyes, “We just sat around and watched, not being able to do anything, as our baby sister couldn’t breathe!”

“What she means,” Alice shot Rosalie a look, cutting her off, “is that none of us knew you could get that bad and it scared us.”

“I could hardly read your thoughts,” Edward mumbled. When you looked at him confused, he explained, “You were so focused on your asthma that your mind went into autopilot. I had no idea what you needed or how to help.”

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled, feeling guilty.

“It’s not your fault. It’s ours for not being properly prepared.” Esme insisted.

“Why don’t you get some sleep, and, in the morning, we’ll have a family meeting on how we can help you in the future. Alright?” Carlisle asked.

You nodded, and your guilt was replaced with sleepiness thanks to Jasper. You cuddled further into Emmett’s chest, who chuckled and resumed petting your hair. You drifted into sleep after your parents and siblings had wished you a goodnight.

Unbeknownst to you, your family had all stayed in your room as you slept, not able to bring themselves to leave your side after the evening you all had.

~~~~

When Carlisle asked what triggered your asthma, your family was surprised at your answer.

Exercise? Asthma Attack. Allergies? Asthma Attack. Cold Weather? Asthma Attack. Laughing? Asthma Attack. Sneezing? Asthma Attack.

Lungs couldn't make decisions, meaning Alice was unable to see when or where you would experience your next asthma attack. If there was one thing your family despised more than anything, it was not knowing when you could be in danger. So, after that night, they had gone a bit overkill with the asthma thing.

While you taught your siblings and Esme everything they needed to know about your asthma (how to work your nebulizer, the importance of staying elevated, keeping your body cool, etc.), Carlisle managed to get an inhaler for each of your siblings on the off chance that you lost or misplaced yours, and there was an emergency.

These small pieces of life saving plastic became their prized possessions. At any given time, they had an inhaler on them, even when they weren’t with you. They carried them while hunting, shopping, in class, working on their cars, etc.

Bella had even mentioned how, on multiple different occasions, she had felt the hard plastic of the inhaler in Edward’s pocket while they cuddled. (Talk about a cock block)

In the beginning, it was overbearing. You couldn’t blame them for being worried—you knew that seeing you that night had terrified them. That being said, having five inhalers shoved at you every time you so much as breathed funny got very old very fast.

It took some time, but, after constantly reminding them that you had your own inhaler and promising them that you would go to them if it was an emergency, they eventually settled down.

~~~~

It was a beautiful spring afternoon. It had rained the night before and left nothing but sunshine and a cool breeze. Your family had plans to go hunting that day—which meant that you and Bella were going to spend the day at the reservation. You enjoyed spending time on Quileute land. It meant you got to cook with Emily and mess around with the other wolves.

When word of the Cullens adopting a human reached them, they insisted on seeing you once a month to make sure that you remained human. You were nervous when you first met Sam and the others, your family telling you all about their secret and the treaty. But, to nobody’s surprise, you all got along amazingly—Sam, Emily, Paul, and the rest of the pack treating you like family. The only member of the pack you didn’t get along with was Jacob. Your family meant everything to you, and you were not a fan of Jacob’s need to be involved in your brother’s love life. But, for the sake of the treaty, the two of you acted civilly towards each other.

Edward had pulled up to the treaty line with the usual pained expression on his face. Jacob stood against the hood of his car on the other side of the line with an excited smile. Bella and Edward quickly said their goodbyes before she hopped out and went towards Jacob. Edward watched on with jealousy as he read Jacob’s thoughts.

“Don’t worry Eddy, nothing will happen while I’m here. After all, I’m still a minor.” You teased him, leaning over the center console.

Edward chuckled. “You’ve been spending too much time with Emmett.”

You shrugged, not agreeing or disagreeing. Just as you were moving to sit back and get out of the car, Edward’s arm grabbed yours. Turning back, his eyes bore into yours.

“Be safe and have fun okay? We’ll be back in a couple of hours. Carlisle, Emmett, and I will have our phones on us so do not hesitate to call. Do you have your inhaler?”

“I have my inhaler, phone, and I’ll do my best to stay safe. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I always worry about you.” He huffed and kissed your temple.

You smiled at him, “Love you too. Now, go kill something big!” You exclaimed, sliding out of the car and heading towards Jacob and Bella. You didn’t need to turn around to know that he was rolling his eyes.

Jacob pulled up to Sam and Emily’s house. The car was barely in park before you jumped out and scurried towards the house, Bella and Jacob’s banter making you nauseous. The house was abnormally quiet when you walked in, the only sounds coming from the kitchen.

“Emily?”

The clamoring of pots and pans came to a stop, Emily peeking her head around the corner, a big grin plastered on her marred face, “Y/N, you’re here!” She pulled you into a hug, “The rest of the boys are out patrolling and enjoying the nice weather, but you’re just in time. I was about to start making muffins!”

You were easily the closest to Emily, the two of you quickly bonded over your mutual love of cooking and baking. Time flew by as you and Emily gossiped and cooked up a storm, making enough muffins, cookies, casseroles, and trail mix to feed the pack. Before you knew it, the front door was opening and Sam, followed by Embry, Quil, Jacob, and Bella, stepped into the house. Greetings were thrown around before the boys dug into their food.

You took a seat across from Bella, between Quil and Embry. You watched the two boys with a look of disgust as they tore into the muffins. Sam, Emily, and Bella laughed at your face, bringing the attention to you.

“Got a problem Y/N?” Quil asked, purposely smacking his mouth near your ear.

You shoved him away, “With you? No. With the way you eat? Absolutely. Just ‘cause you two are dogs doesn’t mean you have to eat like it.” You teased, attempting and failing to hide your growing smile.

The two wolves made eye contact over your head, exchanging silent words.

“You asked for it,” Embry exclaimed before him and Quil attacked your sides, tickling you.

“Say uncle!”

“Never!” You squealed.

This went on for what felt like hours before Sam heard you begin to wheeze, “Boys stop torturing the poor girl and eat the food she helped make for you.” His command brought their actions to a halt.

You sent the alpha a grateful look as you attempted to catch your breath. A wheeze had begun to sound from your chest. It was accompanied by a familiar tightness that didn’t immediately worry you but made you hyperaware of where you placed your bag.

Just as you started to feel comfortable, a different set of hands grabbed your sides. The surprise of the attack combined with the onslaught of fingers tickling your sensitive sides caused your wheeze and chest pain to come back with a vengeance. You couldn’t see who the culprit was, quickly becoming overwhelmed with the burning in your chest as coughs and laughs competed to escape your body at the same time.

“Paul stop! She’s having an asthma attack!” Bella’s voice echoed in your ringing ears.

The hands on your sides retreated. Before you could register what was happening, your chair was turned around and Bella was crouched in front of you.

“Hey, hey, you’re gonna be okay. Where is your inhaler?”

Taking a deep breath you managed to wheeze out a response, “M-my bag.”

You heard the sound of what you could only assume was the contents of your bag being dumped onto the table as you did your best to take steady breaths. Despite your attempt, coughs kept escaping.

“It isn’t in here, Bella! What do we do?”

Panic started festering in your stomach. How could you be so stupid to forget your inhaler? You swore you put it in your bag!

Bella stood from her spot in front of you, combing her fingers through her hair while she thought. She knew second hand how bad this could get, and Bella didn’t want to take any chances. Not only were you her boyfriend’s baby sister, but she considered you family, and when the two of you were on the reservation, you were her responsibility. The two of you looked at each other and you nodded, silently giving Bella the go-ahead. “Hand me my phone, I need to call Edward. Emily, take my place and try to get her to match your breathing.”

Emily kneeled in front of you and looked at you with sympathy.

You avoided looking her in the eye, too embarrassed that she, and the other wolves, had to see you like this. You weren’t a pretty sight, bright red, sweaty, heaving for air, and sputtering out skull rattling coughs.

As if sensing your embarrassment, Emily rubbed your back comfortingly, reminding you of Esme. She muttered what you could assume were words of support that you couldn’t hear over the ringing of your ears.

On the other side of the room, you faintly heard Bella talking to Sam. You only managed to make out a few words—“Emmett”, “inhaler”, and “treaty line”, but that was enough to make your panic slightly subside. You were going to see your family soon, and everything would be okay.

Next thing you knew, Sam, Bella, Paul, Quil, and Embry rushed out the door and piled into Sam’s car. Jacob picked you up bridal style, Emily making sure you were secure before he sprinted out of the house in the direction of the treaty line. In a last-ditch effort to calm your lungs, you did some breathing exercises that Carlisle taught you to no avail.

Your cough continued to get worse as Jacob ran, your face slowly going from red to a light purple as you struggled to get enough oxygen. Jacob’s hot skin pressed flush against your own, combined with your gasps for air, made you feel like you were burning alive.

You had never experienced an asthma attack this bad before.

At that point, you were barely coughing anymore, just desperately choking for air. All you could think about was your family.

Esme didn’t deserve to lose another child.

The blue skies and green treetops blurred as tears started to stream down your cheeks. You were terrified that you wouldn’t make it to the treaty line. Panic overtook you as dark spots clouded your vision, and you continued to heave for air. You closed your eyes, accepting that you were going to die from an asthma attack in the arms of someone you didn’t even like that much.

“We’re almost there, little Cullen, don’t give up on me yet.” You could only respond with more pained sounds causing Jacob to mutter some swears before pushing himself to run faster.

You were teetering on the edge of consciousness when you were passed into a pair of cold arms, goosebumps breaking out on your skin from the drastic temperature change. A piece of hard plastic was placed between your lips, the familiar taste of albuterol on your tongue. Despite your instincts to inhale, new coughs pushed the medicine out over and over again.

The sound of screeching tires and muffled voices registered in the back of your brain. You felt your body being rearranged, your back pressing up against a familiar hard figure before the plastic was placed back between your lips.

“C’mon Y/N. Please breathe.”

You did what the voice said, doing your best to breathe in when it told you to.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed before the ache in your chest started to subside. Opening your eyes, you took in Carlisle’s relieved face. Your father was kneeling in front of you with one hand cupping your cheek, the other holding your inhaler to your mouth, giving puffs every sixty seconds.

“There you are.” He whispered.

Looking around, you noticed your back was against Emmett’s chest, his hands on your neck and forehead trying to cool you off. Edward was kneeling beside you, your shaky hand held firmly in his own. Behind him stood Bella, worry evident on her features. On your other side, a few feet away, on the edge of the treaty line, were the wolves, all in varying degrees of distress. Paul looked the worse out of all of them with tear streaks staining his cheeks.

“Breathe in,” Edward whispered.

You did as he said and Carlisle gave you another puff.

“Can you say something please?” Emmett begged after another moment, fear obvious in his voice.

In all your time with the Cullens, you had never heard Emmett sound that desperate before, and you felt guilty knowing you caused it. You swallowed hard, throat raw, “I-I’m sorry.”

You spoke at a barely audible level, but that didn’t stop the supernatural creatures around you from letting out huffs of relief.

“You have nothing to apologize for darling.” Carlisle’s thumb wiped away your tears.

“Your inhaler fell out in my car. You couldn’t have done anything.” Edward informed you, lightly squeezing your hand.

“It’s not your fault Y/N. It’s mine, I’m so sorry.” Paul apologized from across the invisible line.

Growls emanated from your brothers, their dark eyes trained on the shifter. You could feel the tension between your brothers and the wolves, but Carlisle was quick to stop anything from getting out of hand.

Handing the inhaler to Edward, Carlisle stood up and headed towards the wolves. Their conversation was quiet and short, Carlisle no doubt expressing his gratitude towards Jacob for getting you to your family so fast and then telling Sam that he’d send you with an extra inhaler to keep at his house next time you visit the reservation.

You looked at your brothers in confusion when they softly chuckled at something Sam had said. Turning around, Edward looked at Bella, “Giving commands to pack alphas now, huh?”

“Badass,” Emmett smirked.

“She’s family,” Bella said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You went to speak when another round of unforgiving coughs racked your body. A whimper escaped your lips at the agony that accompanied it. Carlisle was in front of you in an instant. Edward gave you another puff, your hands still too shaky and weak to hold the inhaler on your own.

“I want to go home.” You whispered as tears fell down your cheeks.

Emmett pressed a kiss to the crown of your head before gently standing up, taking you with him. You looked over his shoulder and gave a feeble wave bye to the wolves, who returned your wave with soft smiles and small waves of their own.

Carlisle opened the door to Edward’s Volvo for Emmett and you while Edward started his car, and Bella took the passenger seat. He made sure you were comfortable before closing the door and speeding over to sit in the backseat with you. Edward toed the line between safely speeding and recklessly driving as he expertly swerved through the winding roads.

Sat cradled in Emmett’s lap, coughs continued to plague you. They weren’t as bad as earlier, but they still hurt.

“Esme, Rose, Jazz, and Alice already have your breathing treatment and anything you could possibly need set up and on hand. You’re safe. Everything is going to be okay.” Emmett muttered, saying the last part for both your benefit and his.

It wasn’t long before Edward pulled up to your family home. The car door was yanked open and you were taken into Jasper’s arms who sped you into the living room. He set you gently on the couch, handing you the mouthpiece of your breathing treatment before clicking it on.

Looking around at your family, you couldn’t help the fall of fresh tears.

“Oh, honey,” Esme muttered before taking the spot on your right, tucking you into her side. Carlisle positioned himself on your other side, rubbing your back.

You couldn’t help the thoughts and feelings that plagued you as you looked upon your perfect family.

You’re a burden. A hassle to be around. They shouldn’t have to worry about a weak human like you.

Before you could begin spiraling to a truly dark place, Edward broke the silence, “Don’t think like that,” Your eyes locked with his, “You aren't a burden and neither is your illness or humanity. You’re our family, and nothing will change that. We love you.”

Your siblings echoed his remarks, and Esme squeezed you closer, kissing your temple. “You brought a light into our family that wasn’t there before. No illness is going to change the fact that you have blessed this family, and if you don’t believe me, then I’ll just have to convince you.”

“I love you mom,” You whispered, tears freely flowing down your cheeks. It was the first time you had called her that, and it was a moment that none of you would forget.

With a soft smile, you snuggled closer to your mom and attempted to fight the exhaustion that plagued your mind and body in order to finish your breathing treatment.

“Go to sleep Y/N. We aren’t leaving any time soon.” Jasper joked.

You nodded, and, with a little help from Jasper, you dozed off in your parent’s arms, the mouthpiece still between your lips.

You couldn’t have asked for a better family.

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alphabravocharliedelta · 3 years

Text

Skyfall | Russell Adler x Bell! Reader [One-shot]

Series: Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War

Word Count: 10,000+

Synopsis: After Solovetsky, Bell is personally recruited by M16 after Park’s personal recommendation. From there, the mission to pursue Perseus never ends. It isn’t until the confrontation at Pines Mall that everything is thrown into disarray, Adler now held captor by Stitch. Unable to cope, Bell takes matters into their own hands.

Content Warning: mature content, gore, adult language, blood, injuries, etc.

Notes: I decided to write this whole piece for Adler’s birthday, especially after seeing the Season Two teaser. I’m not good at romance, so please excuse me. And yes, it was inspired by Adele’s Skyfall. Full italic dialogue is the characters speaking Russian, ‘0000′ means a short time skip. Enjoy!

[SKYFALL]

“What do you mean ‘captured’?”

You look Woods straight in the eye.

The look you gave him was something he had never seen before, and it scared him. Woods could feel his blood run cold as you waited for an answer. He choked up, pursing his lips in a thin line. God help them all.

"It was Stitch."

Upon hearing that name, you slam a fist down on the table. You like a bomb, just waiting to go off, practically shaking from anger, and it was taking your entire willpower to not blow off.

"And…" you begin, trying to keep your voice under control. "You just let him?"

"Fuck no. Dear god, no," Woods responds immediately. "They got us. Set up an ambush right in the middle of the damn mall. We fought tooth and nail and barely made it out, yet we were too late to notice him carrying off Adler—"

"Enough."

You glare at him for a bit, before breaking off to sit back down and burrow your face into your hand. Already you were beginning to feel lethargic, your head throbbing continuously in annoyance.

"Bell–"

"Don't," you hiss. You didn't want to hear apologies.

The meeting room eventually cleared out on its own, leaving you to your thoughts. No one had said a word, and Woods respected your wishes, knowing that he would just add fuel to the fire. The team was already banged up and exhausted as is, and he didn't exactly want to be pitted against your aggressive behavior in these times. He was worried about you for sure, but now he was left to wonder what the hell he was supposed to tell Hudson.

It was hours prior that you just returned from a mission with Park. You were both working on a collaborative assignment with the CIA, in which entailed you to gather intel to cross reference with their database. Adler and his team still hadn't arrived then, so you both waited patiently for some news. Adler was the one commanding the squad, which consisted of Woods, Zenya, and Bulldozer. However, only three of them returned.

You played with the watch around your wrist, thinking back. Adler had given it to you before you left, telling you to give it back to him when you returned. He gave you a kiss on the forehead when no one was looking, bidding you a successful operation. Guilt began to belittle you the longer you thought about it, so you pulled your sleeve back over.

You should have turned down the assignment, and went to the Pines mall with everyone else. If you were there, things would have turned out better.

A part of you blamed the team for their incompetence, unable to prepare themselves for any type of situation. But in the end, it all came down to unfortunate circumstances that they just had the short end of receiving. It was practically trained in them that the mission came first, and they did successfully prevent the Nova Six explosion. Civilian lives were saved.

With the price of Russell Adler, of course.

You should have known that it was Stitch. Adler mentioned knowing him a while back, but didn't go into detail as to how. They must have had a tight history together if Stitch was willing to abandon the N6 canisters once he got his hands on Adler. You wanted to do something, anything, but there was no information whatsoever about his whereabouts. The only info you had was Woods and the team's account of seeing a chopper take off the only piece of evidence pointing towards Adler.

You knew the Perseus member way beforehand, even working with him occasionally during your times with the group. The two of you were nothing but fellow colleagues, as you outranked him, but there were a few occasions where you two got along. But, now that you were on different sides, and knowing that everything was pointing towards him, you wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet through his skull.

Time felt lost as you sat, lost in old memories. It was nearly goddamn twelve a.m. by the time you got up. You nearly toppled over, both your legs asleep after sitting idly for so long. Ignoring the static that ran up your thighs, you run a hand through your hair before giving out a long exhale.

“Bell?”

Looking up, you see Park peeking around the corner. She changed her outfit since you last saw her, this time without all her combat gear. You could detect a faint smell of vanilla from her

“Hey,” you greet wearily. “How long have you been there?”

“Not long. I… wanted to see how you were doing.” She approaches you with a small comforting smile. “You haven’t moved for a couple hours.”

“I’m fine.”

It's what you had claimed, but your appearance said otherwise. Your hair was out of place, stray hairs poking out everywhere, and your eyes were bloodshot. Throat parched, you haven’t drank or eaten anything since you returned and found out what happened. All your energy was spent wallowing in anger and regret the past few hours.

“Did… Hudson say anything?” you inquire tiredly.

Pity flashed across Park’s expression as she tilted her head away from you, her eyes moving to avoid your gaze. “I can’t tell you.”

Your eyes narrow. “Why not?”

“It’s within reason, especially since how close you and Adler are.”

“And you agree?”

She didn’t say anything.

While you and Adler tried to keep your relationship under the radar, it was still apparent to everyone else that there was something going on between you two. After all, Park was the one that urged you to shoot your shot after you consulted her about “feeling strange”. No one called you out on it, seeing how you both were basically fit for each other. The invisible connection between you two is what made everything work smoothly on almost every mission. It was as if you already knew what Adler had on his mind, or what he was planning, and you would always take steps to ensure its success.

So she knew that you were already blaming yourself for not being there for him. Having you on the upcoming rescue mission had the possibility of causing more problems, especially with your psychological tendencies to act before thinking.

“Why do I even bother?” you scoff. You brush past her, about to head down the hallway, only for her to grab your wrist. You look over your shoulder, sending her an accusing glare as you pull away from her.

“We’re… trying to pinpoint his location,” Park informs you reluctantly. “They marked him off as M.I.A., but given enough time—”

“We don’t have time,” you spat. Before saying anything else, you inhale through your nose, trying to reign in your emotions. Park wasn’t the enemy here. “You don’t know Stitch. I worked with the guy before. He’s ruthless with his enemies, so who knows what he has in store for Adler?”

“I know. They’re doing their best, just let them handle it. For the time being, just take care of yourself.”

You didn’t make a sound, and only gave her a curt nod before trailing away.

As much as you trusted Park and Woods, you couldn’t bring yourself to place hope in their plan. They didn’t know how the Perseus group dealt with people like Adler. You had first hand experience, as you were one of the people that had to do the dirty work early on. The methods they had at their disposal was one wishes to never go through, and you even had some people die on you because of it. Unfortunate, but it was your duty then.

Military personnel going M.I.A. was nothing new in this work field. You knew you were getting worked up about his disappearance, but the thought of his presence not returning to the base made you worry. How could you not? You loved the bastard to death, and would do whatever it takes to get him back, despite everything he did to you.

Coming to a decision, you headed off to the washroom to clean off before doing anything else.

After all, you had a job to do.

0000

“Woods.”

He perks up, finding Park standing across from him. They both shared the same overworked appearance, dark bluish bags already settled under their eyes. About a week has passed since Adler’s capture, and the entire team had been working endlessly just trying to find any hint that would point towards where he may have been taken to.

Their efforts lacked any results, and they were getting desperate. One of their best CIA agents had been abducted, and the higher ups were already considering that Adler either caved in, or died under Soviet custody. Everyone was just waiting for a sign or slip up, any information that could help them.

“What?” Woods answers.

“I need you to talk to Bell,” Park sighs, before taking a seat across from him. She briefly reads the papers in front of her, before brushing them aside to make room for her elbows. Leaning in close, they talk in hushed voices. “I haven’t seen them leave their room in more than four days now.”

Woods huffs, before tossing a manila folder onto the floor. “Bell’s fine. Leave them alone.”

“Look. The M16 decided they didn’t want to be associated with this last minute, and requested for Bell and I to return.” Park drums her fingers on the table. “That was two days ago, and I still haven’t gotten a hold of them. The head of our department is getting impatient.”

“Not my problem.”

He knew that you could very much handle yourself when it came to things like this. Hell, he himself tried to check up on you a couple of times, but he never found you loitering around the common areas or cafeteria. Though, he did note that the coffee pot would be filled by the time he woke up, with a mug missing from the cabinet. Woods didn't think you were a coffee type of person, but you only continued to prove his assumptions wrong with each passing day he knew you. So, he came to the conclusion that if you were in a stable mind to get caffinated every morning before everyone else woke, then you were finding a way to cope.

And yet the concern in Park's voice told him otherwise.

"If we don't return by tomorrow, they're going to ban us from working with you guys."

Woods pauses. "They can't do that."

"Well, we don't want to find out now, do we?" Seeing that she got his attention, Park stands back up. "Let's go."

Seeing no other choice, he follows. They both head down a series of hallways. It felt almost like a maze just trying to get around the headquarters, to a point where Woods was starting to wonder if Park even knew where she was heading.

After going down a flight of stairs, they came across a plain door in the secluded parts of the base. You had always liked your privacy, and the covered hallway window only further proved it.

Park gives a knock on the metal exterior, letting you know of their presence. "Bell? It's Park. I need you to come out for a bit. We need to talk."

They waited for you to respond, or for the sound of the door unlocking. But after a minute passed, nothing happened.

"Bell, I'm serious."

"Ugh, let me do it," Woods groans, gesturing for her to move aside. He had to admit, he was a bit irritated with you as well, seeing how you didn't do much to contribute to their search.

He tries the door knob, but it was locked. Although, it was a bit finicky and loose from the sounds of it. Seeing no other choice, he reels back before kicking it in.

"Bell!" Woods yells, pushing the door open. "Enough moping ar—"

The sight of your room was something to behold. Could one even call it a room?

"What the fuck?" Woods mutters under his breath.

It felt more like a library, and a messy one at that. There were stacks of books sticking up from the floor, accompanied with sheets of paper throwing all around the place. Manila folders of various sizes and age sat around, open and overfilled with information. The wall farthest from the door was covered with a large world map.

Taking careful steps, the duo both inch their way inside. Upon closer inspection, Park realizes that the papers weren't just random, but were intel. All of it was. Everything from past information relating to Perseus, to even the most recent encryptions the CIA managed to get a hold of. Things that were supposed to be wiped off the record managed to snake their way into the stacks.

The books were all about cryptography, dating back until the first forms. The basics, the patterns, you name it.

"Bell's fucking insane."

“No, they were always like this."

Ever since you found out about what she and Adler did to you, you became more meticulous. No rock was left unturned, and you refused to make any mistakes in your work. You double checked everything, even referring to other works to make sure nothing was out of place. There were nights where she had to convince you to stop working so you could catch a break, and she felt guilty about it.

Park brushes a lock of her hair away from her face, moving towards the map while trying not to step on anything. She could see your handwriting on the borders of the papers, as well as on the vibrant sticky notes you had slapped on some of them. Stopping in front of the desk, a few white mugs were pushed aside, just teetering on the edge. She then notices that you focused on a particular set of papers, consisting of a few encryptions.

They were fairly new, first appearing just one day prior. Both the text and your notes were written in Russian, but your handwriting was done in a rushed fashion. You had circled certain parts, drawing arrows between them, and even drew out a legend to help keep track. While seeing you work like this was nothing new to her, she wondered why you wrote in a different language this time, rather than the usual English. You rarely spoke or wrote in your mother tongue. Sometimes you would converse with Adler in Russian, especially if there were other people around, but that was all she could recall.

"Just how the hell did Bell get a hold of any of this?" Woods mutters, throwing a few pieces up in the air. He expected you to just pop up from somewhere, seeing how they invaded your workspace, but you were nowhere to be found. "Damn, even I didn't get to see some of these before."

Park ignores him, and her eyes drift off to the map in front of her. There were a few pins that kept up scraps of paper, although nothing of interest. If there was one thing, it was the bold, black marker you had used to circle a particular location. Next to it were strange symbols, possibly relating to whatever was on the table.

Her eyes widened in realization. "Shit!"

Without wasting another second, she grabs the papers on your desk, gathering up as much as possible in her arms before rushing towards the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Woods asks, grabbing her arm just before she flees. "We have to find—"

"Bell knows where Adler is."

His grip loosens, and Park frees herself. They stood idly in the hallway as Woods tried to put everything together. "How—"

Park gestures to the map with her chin. "Over there, those are coordinates, I’m betting. And here in my arms are all the notes that ascertain that. I'll bring this over to the cryptography team, while you need to find Bell before they do anything stupid.”

[FIVE HOURS EARLIER], 8:23 am

"Belikov?"

"Ah, hello, Bell. What can I do for you?"

The door behind you closes on its own, a nice click coming from it. Belikov’s office was small and minimally decorated. He sat at a metal desk that had a large computer on top of it, with wires trailing away from it and into the cool grey wall. A small task board was mounted behind him, with a list of reminders or tasks he needed to get done.

You approach him, keeping a hand in your pocket. Glancing up slightly, you notice a camera in the corner with its light blinking. From what you can gather, it didn't have a mic equipped with it.

"I need you to do me a small favor,” you announce. “Think of it as repayment for Lubyanka.”

Belikov sets down his pen, sensing that something was out of place.

You were never really the type of person to ask favors, or help. Not only that, there was a strange underlying tone in your voice that he couldn't help but feel that your request was more of a threat. He had heard you were originally a close associate to Perseus, and his thoughts quickly directed him to the possibility that you might have gone rogue.

"Depends on what the favor is," he responds slowly, reaching his hand slowly under his desk.

"You still remember how to pilot a chopper, no?"

"...You know I can't do that anymore. That's not what I do here."

As if unsatisfied with his answer, you pull out your hand from your pocket, revealing a pistol and shoot once towards the direction of the camera. The sound of the lens breaking filled the air, and pieces fell to the ground upon impact. Without hesitation, you then turn it towards Belikov, who pushed himself away from the desk.

He looks down at your gun. A silencer was secured tightly to the end of it, and you had a steady finger just resting right next to the trigger. His eyes travel up your arm, before meeting you eye to eye.

“I don’t think you understand the situation here, comrade,” you chastised in a low voice, and Belikov froze. “I wasn’t asking.”

Unable to do anything else, he put his hands up, keeping an eye on your gun. “And if I don’t?” he dared to ask.

“C'mon, don't be like that," you condemn, waving your hand around for a bit. "We both know why I'm here, so you can either make it easy for both of us, or make it Hell for everyone else."

"It's Adler, isn't it? I heard what happened."

You grind your teeth.

Surviving on a mere eight hours of sleep collectively for the past week, you were barely keeping awake. You only left your room to either refill your coffee mug, or to go to the bathroom. Having surrounded yourself with practically every source available at your disposal, you could already hear voices whispering in your ear. Whether it was thanks to sleep deprivation or to the side effects of MKUltra, you didn't care.

So, just standing here and talking with Belikov was wasting any precious time and breath.

"Here's what you're going to do," you begin. "You are going to get a helicopter, and take me to where I want. No funny business, no questions. Got it?"

He nods, knowing that he was unable to escape.

Walking out the door, you stuck to him closely. Belikov could feel the silencer prodding him in the side as you went to the hangar together. From there, you let him choose a heli of his choosing.

As he did so, you took a small detour and went behind a large crate. There, you found all the equipment you had hid beforehand, and quickly threw everything on, and grabbed a parachute. The load was a bit heavy, so you had to put some effort into pulling your weight with each step. Prioritizing tactical equipment, your only weapons were a combat knife and the pistol.

"You're going to jump?" Belikov questions in disbelief as you board.

"What did I say?" you retort, and he shut up immediately.

As Belikov started up the heli, you could hear traffic control attempting to wave you down: "You are not authorized to—".

You unhooked the microphone from its place, bringing it close to your mouth. “Sergeant Woods approved of this flyby, no need to worry. Goodbye, you little shits.”

It was uncalled for, but you could feel satisfaction from just going off at them. Oh, you couldn’t wait to see the look on Woods face when you returned.

Without waiting for a response, you took it upon yourself to flick the radio off, as well as the GPS tracker. Belikov gave you an alarmed look, unable to comprehend the amount of rules and laws you were breaking, and you returned with a devious smirk, just daring him to speak.

“Fly.”

And he did.

The helicopter blades started to rotate, gaining speed. You and Belikov cover your ears with headsets, and you watched as the ground below you grew smaller and smaller. A few people were running out to the runway, attempting to prevent you from leaving, but by then they couldn’t do anything but report it back to the officers.

Everything was going to plan.

It was by pure chance that you happened to stumble upon the coded message that led you up to this point. The CIA team had brushed it off, and set it aside to transcribe at a later time. Although difficult, you broke it within a few days. If you did everything correctly, and you validated that you did, then the coordinates you discovered would lead to the tiny island of Nantucket, Massachusetts. There, an old World War II base would be found, out of commission. You had already salvaged through past records for an old layout of the base, and memorized it.

Taking everything into account, from helicopter fuel to radio chatter, Stitch and his party shouldn’t have gone too far. There weren't any records of unidentified or unauthorized aircrafts entering or leaving the East Coast, so it was safe to assume that they didn’t leave the country yet. They were waiting for something, or someone.

The thought of it being a trap did, in fact, cross your mind, but it didn’t bother you. There were other things to prioritize, and your life was second. You were probably deemed mentally insane at this point, seeing the lengths you had already gone through just to trying to get to Adler. But, if the roles were reversed, you knew he would do the same for you.

You weren’t going to fail, nor was Adler dead, so you were going to try your damn hardest for the both of you to return home. Alive.

Taking a moment, you looked over to check on Belikov. He maneuvered the copter without much trouble, although his grip on the handles were a bit tense, and you couldn’t help but feel a little remorseful, knowing that you just put him in a bad spot.

“When we get back,” you say, leaning back in your chair. “Tell them I held you at gunpoint. I don’t want you to lose your job because of me. Say that I was psychotic, or whatever.”

“No need,” he declines. “It’s the least I can do. You did save me back at the KGB after all.”

“Adler was the one who gave you this position in the first place. I don’t want to take away your chance at life because of my decision.”

He hummed. “Well, I trust that you’ll come up with something when the time comes. For now, just rest.”

You take a look at your watch. It was about 9:52 am, which meant that it took you about thirty minutes to get Belikov and board the chopper, and another twenty to get this far out from base.

It was a risky move to just fall asleep, seeing how Belikov could just turn around when you're out and turn you in. But, for someone that was held hostage, Belikov didn’t appear too bothered by it. Truth be told, you did hear stories about him, both from Adler and rumors floating around. His personality was a complete opposite of the things he had committed, and you couldn’t help but be impressed.

A silence settled between the both of you. Listening to the whir of the blades above you, you take the chance to view the scenery beneath you. To the right, an endless blue. The sunlight made the water twinkle brightly, and you notice a few carrier ships in the distance. As for the left, you could make out the shapes of buildings and immobile cars. Some houses aligned the beaches, little dots scattered around on the shore.

Massaging your eyes, you could feel yourself easing up as a sense of tranquility fell over you. For an unknown reason, you didn’t feel as troubled as one should in your situation. You crossed the line the moment you set foot into Belikov’s office, knowing that you could be held accountable for any mayhem that would follow. You should be shaking right now, fearing for the worse, or even thinking of possible outcomes if something went awry. But, you couldn't.

There was only one outcome.

Panic was unnecessary. If things happen, it'll happen.

And before you knew it, Nantucket came into view.

You slid the door open, holding onto the handles to stable yourself.

"I need you to come back in an hour!" you yell at Belikov over the wind. "The area should be clear by then!"

"An hour?!" he exclaims. "That's not enough—"

He didn't get the chance to finish his sentence, as you already jumped out. He could see your form get smaller and smaller as you pulled your arms to the side to gain speed. "Time..."

The plunge from the air, you had to admit, was a bit frightening. You never had really gone base jumping, or even skydiving, beforehand, so your experience was that of a beginner at best. It's a subject that isn't exactly given at basic military training. And despite your years of experience, this was probably the second time you had to ever jump out of a helicopter. The first time was during your time "Vietnam", when it was shot out of the air and hung up in the tree lines, but that was a different kind of jumping.

You pulled the parachute open when you were just a good distance above the water, and the old base was just a good swim away. Positioning yourself, you pointed your toes downward so you could break the surface tension of the water as you land. Once close enough, you cut the strings.

The salty, cold water immediately sent chills in your bones right as you landed. You could feel everything trying to drag you down, especially the small waves that crashed over you. A part of you just wanted to take everything off to make the load lighter, but you knew that you were going to need it eventually. Gasping for air, you tread for a bit, just trying to catch your breath.

Once you recovered, you took a leisure swim towards land.

There was a desolate space in front of you once you exited, in which a couple of humvees and a heli carrier sat. Crates were stacked nearby, left out in the open. Seizing the opportunity, you took cover behind them and whipped out a pair of binoculars. You took a quick survey of the perimeters, wondering the best approach.

There weren't as many people as you thought, counting, at most, five people that were patrolling the area. It was daytime, and the land was pretty vacant.

Taking a look at the time, it was now 10:32 am. The flight took about two hours, which meant that you had about one hour to retrieve Adler and rendezvous with Belikov before Hudson and the team could catch up with you. You hoped to return before they left. If they were smart, they must have broken into your room by now.

Returning focus to the objective, Woods had claimed that there were about thirty enemies when it came to the ambush, and a later report came out that eighteen bodies were counted. That meant there should be about twelve loitering around the base, five outside and seven inside.

"Have you counted the boxes already?"

A couple of men began to approach your area, and you instantly pulled yourself inwards and pressed your back against the crate.

"Yes. Everything is refueled and ready for transport."

"Took long enough."

They stopped right next to you, backs turned. Their uniforms were black, fitted with a matching vest and tundra camouflage patterned pants. You could see the Perseus symbol embroidered on the biceps of their right arm. Stitch certainly had a weird sense of fashion when it came to his underling.

With them distracted, you pounced onto one of them, covering their mouth. You pulled out their firearm from their side, and quickly unloaded the bullets into his partner before he could react. The body fell to the ground with a loud thud, and the man in your chokehold’s screams were brought down to a muffle.

You then violently snap his neck in return, and his body slumps over in your arms. With two dead bodies already on the list, you drag them behind cover, and strip the latter of his uniform, shove it on and top it off with the vest, switching out any unessential equipment with yours. It felt significantly easier to walk now without wet clothing.

Assuring that everything was in order, you headed inside.

It was eerily quiet, and you could mainly hear the whirring of machines, fans, and steam on the inside. A bit cramped, you noted, the wallways about two persons wide. The place showed little activity of reconstruction, having been untouched and abandoned. Dust collected in every nook and cranny, and there were dark spots and cracks speckled across the floor. The layout seemed true to the map you had remembered, so you traveled in deeper.

For a bit, it reminded you of the Ukraine mission. You were paired up with Woods, both of you infiltrating the secret Spetsnaz training facility and setting the place ablaze. You even had the balls to press the large red button, stating that "the enemies should come to you instead", much to the inconvenience of Woods.

"Ah comrade, I need your help over here!"

Breaking your train of thought, you muse over if you should engage in the request.

Ah, what the hell? you think. Maybe you could get them to spill information about Adler.

You trace back your steps to an open door. Inside, a man around the same height as you gestured you to come in. He had a fresh shave, with dark blonde hair gelled back. The top of his uniform was tied around his waist, an old tank top taking its place. By the looks of it, he seemed pretty drained.

"Perfect timing. I need you to help pack these," he requests.

"Ah," you voice. "And you're…?"

"Ivanov."

Walking in, the room was a makeshift armory. Rows of AK47s were aligned in a row on the tabletop, and underneath a crate of a diminishing supply of grenades. Ivanov was the only guy you seen inside thus far. He was filling up magazines, setting them on the table after the pack was finished.

Seeing that you were going to assist, he hauls a box of bullets out of the ammo container, and sets it down next to you. "We're a bit behind schedule, since Captain Kuzmin got a hold of the American."

You pause, hand hovering over the box, before continuing the motion and grabbing a couple of bullets and loading them into a magazine. "The prisoner, what happened to them?"

"I'm not sure, but I heard they were keeping him in one of the basements," Ivanov answers.

"Ah, I did not know that." You slide the mag in, making sure it was secure before pulling the top of it back. Seeing how you already knew how to do it, he straightens up, about to return to his station, only to do a double take in your direction. His eyes widened. "Thanks for informing me."

"Motherf—"

You pull the trigger.

Ivanov recoils backwards from the impact, tripping over the containers on the floor. A clean hit, right in between his eyes.

You let the firearm fall out of your hands, and it clatters onto the floor. Stepping over his body, you made your way back out, but not before tossing a few C4s into the pile of grenades.

Once getting a couple paces away from the armory, you detonated them.

The walls shook violently, and the overhead lights flickered. Nearby windows shattered from the blast wave, glass falling onto the gloomy floors. A few stray bits flew your direction, grazing your cheek.

Now that they had a distraction, you made your way to the basement.

The alarms began to sound, covering the metallic rings of the stairs as you rushed down them. There was an announcement over the PA, announcing that there were intruders, and it repeated endlessly.

On the final flight, a lone Perseus soldier ran their way up the stairs. "Where are you going?!" he exclaimed, trying to shove you back in the other direction. "There's a—"

You cut him off, sinking a knife into his chest. A few specks of blood splattered on your face, and you yank the blade back out. He gurgled, and watched helplessly as you cleaned your knife on the sleeve of your uniform.

"Give Arash my regards," you growl, stepping over him.

Now on the lowest part of the facility, you began kicking every door open, peering in to see if Adler resided in one of them.

Another of Stitch's companions rounded the corner, this time with rifles in hand. Upon seeing you, they fired in your direction and you duck into one of the rooms.

The glass pane above you shatters as they continue to unload everything. "Fucking idiots," you hiss under your breath.

Unhooking a grenade from your belt, you pulled out the pin and chucked it out the window. It goes off, and the air fills with the screams of two.

One survived the blast, trying to crawl away. You stop them, grabbing them by the collar and flipping them over and holding a gun to their head.

"Where's Adler?!" you bellow, pressing the barrel against his temple. "Tell me, and you'll live."

He gives out a pained, yet mocking chuckle. "You won't find him—"

You shoot him in the shoulder, and he gives out a yelp. Bringing him closer, you repeat yourself, "I'll ask again. Where. Is. He."

"You're too late," he chokes out, giving you a bloody grin. "The Captain's… He's- He's already heading to eva—"

"Fuck!"

You let him go, making sure to put a hole in each leg so he can bleed to death. With that, you made a dash towards the stairs, practically flying up it.

While you were busy poking around, Stitch must have already begun to move Adler out. The chopper they used was still there when you parachuted half an hour ago, so that must mean you just missed him.

The panic that you should have felt ages ago began to settle in. Shit shit shit!

Your joints and limbs were aching, just waiting to give out. A part of you just wanted to give up and trip, spending the rest of the time just lying down on the concrete floor. The small possibility that Adler was no longer here made you choke up, and it makes you wonder why you came all this way. Desperation hung over your shoulders, and your throat began to tighten.

You run out to the open sun, the sun rays temporarily blinding you.

Urgently, you look around for anything that was moving.

Here, you see a dark hooded figure just about a kilometer away, dragging something on the ground, around 300 yards away. Around him were three other soldiers. They were about halfway to the chopper carrier, and if you were to start running now, you wouldn't make—

No, you will. There was no time for doubt.

A humvee was pulled up nearby, and you quickly jumped into it. The keys were still in the ignition, so you cranked it sideways. The vehicle vibrated, a loud buzzing noise started. Switching the stick position, you slammed on the accelerator. It lurched forward, the tires screeching against the pavement.

With one hand on the wheel, you bring out another C4, tossing it into the passenger seat. You took out your grenades, your flashbangs- anything that would cause an explosion, and threw it into the pile.

They couldn't go anywhere if they didn't have the means of doing so.

You sped past the group of people, and taking a look out the window, you saw him.

Adler was on the ground, unconscious. His glasses were gone, and his clothes were stained in dried blood. You couldn't see his face underneath all the red smeared all over it. And holding him by the back of the collar was Stitch.

A sudden rage overtook you, and you wanted to jerk the wheel to run him over, but you managed to keep a level head, and drove past.

Caught off guard, his underlings began to shoot at your vehicle, but the reinforced plating shielded you as bullets pelted against the side.

The helicopter was right there, and so you did it.

You kick the door open and jump out. The landing was brutal, the wind getting knocked out of you upon impact. You tucked in, but felt your arm give out the moment it touched the ground, and tiny rocks scraped against your skin, tearing it open. The detonator fell out of your hands.

The humvee continued without you, the pedal stuck in place, and crashed into the heli. You forced yourself into a crawl, reaching for the remote. Once you felt something metallic brush against your fingers, you grabbed it and pressed every button available. The car exploded, taking out the chopper with it. Flames burst upward, sending a heat wave within radius.

You were all stuck on the island.

Now, it was time to deal with Stitch.

[TWO WEEKS LATER], 10:15pm

"That's it?"

"Yep," you affirm, before taking another shot of vodka.

Instantly, loud groans of disappointment filled the table and you smile smugly at their reactions.

"You're fucking kidding Bell—"

"Wow, really leaving us hanging."

You laugh as Woods gives you a friendly slap on the back of your head. "You're the most dumbest, deranged person I ever worked with," he declares.

"I take after you and Mason." You shrug with a smug grin. “Let’s face it though, you’re proud of me.”

“Damn right I am. But seriously, ‘Goodbye, you little shits’? You not only lie, but you disrespect me?”

"Well, would you have preferred me saying 'kiss my ass'?" you retort.

Two weeks have passed since your selfish decision to go after Adler. You managed to do the impossible, and it only took days of sleepless nights, a lot of coffee, and your mind balancing on the edge of insanity for you to pull it off.

Truth be told, you couldn't remember anything afterwards, as your memory blanked out.

According to Woods, they arrived shortly after where you ended your story. Somehow, you had managed to take out the other three, and were engaged Stitch in close quarter combat. They landed and took Stitch into custody, although he had left quite a mess in return.

You got stabbed in the abdomen, and got a knife pierced through your hands, and had a few bullet grazings and scrapes. Your shoulder got dislocated from your little dive out of the humvee. As for Adler, he was in better condition than you expected. He was still alive, although Stitch did a number on him.

The asshole decided to do an art project on Adler’s face, tracing over his scar with a fresh, sharp blade and gave him a broken nose. You shivered just thinking back on it. The medical report also indicated that he had a few broken bones mostly in his right arm and hand. There was a single bullet wound in his left leg as well, which you assumed he received from collateral damage around the time you were fighting the three.

They applied first aid there, before transporting you all back home for proper treatment.

Next thing you knew, you woke up in the med bay, three days after. You slept a whole sixty-two hours, catching up on sleep and recovering. Park chewed your ass out the moment you woke up, saying that you were on administrative leave and taken off payroll until a decision could be made on what to do with you.

Now, everyone was gathered in the meeting room, the lights turned down low to set the mood. You had just finished recounting your experience to the crew.

Anything work related was pushed aside, the papers replaced with several cans of beers and glasses of alcohol. Stress was relieved through downing shots, and entertainment was the good old pack of cards and chips, hard cash thrown onto the tabletops. Even Hudson was there, holding a bottle while playing beer pong.

“Bell, I just remembered,” Park perks up suddenly beside you. She reaches into her back pocket, retrieving a folded piece of paper and hands it over. “Look what I found.”

You take it, eyeing her cautiously. “What's this?”

“Blackmail,” she says lightly, and you gave her a stern look. “I’m kidding, but go on.”

Opening it up, it revealed itself to be a photograph. The timestamp showed that it was taken a couple weeks ago. More accurately, the day you went on a solo raid.

It was a picture of you and Adler sitting in the back of the helicopter, probably taken right after it landed back home. Your head was resting on Adler’s shoulder, and his head was leaning against yours. You were both holding hands, which rested on top of his left thigh.

"Aren't you two a bunch of lovebirds?" Park pokes fun at.

“What the fuck?!” you shriek, feeling heat rise up on your cheeks as Park gives you a shit-eating grin. “Helen, what the hell is wrong—”

“Oh, what do we have here?”

Woods plucks the polaroid right out of your hands. He whistles, seeing its contents. "Wow, wait 'till Mason hears about—"

"If you tell Mason, then I'll tell him about the mannequin," you snarl, snatching it back. You then turn to Park, who nonchalantly takes a sip of her drink. "Really?"

"C'mon Bell. It's not every day you get to see that kind of stuff," she teases.

"Well, let's make this the last time then. I'm burning this."

You take your leave, Baker shouting across the room for you to get another pack of beer, and you give him the bird over the shoulder in response, before taking a turn out the doorway.

The noise of music and speaking lowered down to the steady hum of the hanging lights as you wandered around for a bit.

You head the opposite direction of the trash room, and eventually find Adler in one of makeshift sleeping quarters. It was just him and one other person, who had just finished redressing his bandages.

He looked pale, his sullen expression exposing his insomniac habits. A large gauze pad was secured tightly with tape over his cheek, and his right arm in a cast. The medic was helping him get his jacket on, but in the end he only put his left arm in the sleeve while letting the rest hang from his shoulders. After determining he didn’t need any more help, the medic left, giving you a weary look of thanks as you moved out of the way.

Adler perks up slightly noticing your presence, giving you a small smile. “If it isn’t Sputnik.”

“Seriously?” you articulate. “That’s my nickname now?”

He ignores your question. “Are you drunk?”

“No. How's the face?"

"Hurts to talk, but I'll live."

Despite your protests, you were, in fact, drunk. You somehow managed to live up to the concept of Russians being able to handle alcohol well, yet Adler notes that you were beginning to slur your words. It was rather intriguing for many to experience the complete 180 in your personality when you get drunk. You would never shut up once someone got you to start talking, and if you had something to say, you did it in the most blunt way possible. A bit of your accent came out as well, a bit of a mix between British and Russian all together.

"You better."

Adler scoffs in amusement, but beckons you to get closer over with his hand. "C'mere."

"You forgive me?" you say hopefully, taking a seat on a swivel chair next to the bed. You both haven't seen each other since the incident, as you were forcibly isolated and interrogated once deemed stable enough. Adler most likely heard what had happened by the time you were released.

"You’re joking, right? Of course I don’t,” he reprimands, giving you a flick in the forehead.

“What the he—”

“You disobeyed a direct order, threaten someone at gunpoint, steal a heli, raid an abandoned military base on your own, blow it up, then have the audacity to fight Stitch on your own?"

"I literally killed an entire garrison for you, don't you dare lecture me on what I did."

"Is that your way of being romantic? Committing war crimes?"

"Which ones?” you counter. “You gotta be more specific, Russ, my entire existence is a war crime."

He sighs, knowing there's no use arguing with you. It felt like he was talking to a doppelganger of Woods sometimes, so having to deal with two idiots on the team was mentally exhausting. If anything, your efforts balance it out.

Lying down, he notices the paper in your hand and points his chin at it. "What's that?"

You lazily hold your hand out, letting him take it from you. "Did you know Park took this?"

"No. But you look dashing." Adler pockets it when you aren't looking.

"I look like a serial killer," you whine, leaning back and proceeding to spin.

"That's what you are."

"I don't kill for fun."

Adler stops your chair by sticking his foot out, worried that being dizzy and drunk might somehow cause you to hit your head against the table. “Your body count says otherwise.”

"Oh shit, am I on the top three?"

"If you keep pulling off the shit you do, you'll be first place soon enough."

You give out a boisterous laugh. "At least I beat you at something."

A silence settles between the both of you as your laughter dies out to a chuckle. To think that you were now able to have a casual conversation with Adler without having to worry felt reassuring. Despite his demeanor, he was an easy guy to talk to, but it felt like you would both argue like a married couple at times.

You began to feel drowsy, feeling the alcohol beginning to slow you down. Wondering what time it was, you remembered something and began to loosen the watch around your wrist. "I forgot to return—"

"Keep it."

"...You're mad at me."

"I'm not. It's yours now."

And so you secured it back around your wrist. While he assured that he wasn't mad at you, you knew that he didn't approve of what you did. It was reckless, and you intentionally put the entire mission in jeopardy because you couldn't be patient. Your lack in trust towards your teammates was called into question, and that day the CIA could have lost three people.

But, they didn't. It was always the negatives that everyone focused on, not the positives. You found where Adler was, outperforming the CIA's "top cryptographers" once again, managed to take out Stitch's unit and hinder his plans. What more could they want?

You scoot closer to Adler, crossing your arms on his bedside and burrowing your head in them. "I'm sorry."

“It’s fine,” he assured.

Avoiding his gaze, you stare at the wall trying to let the thought of Adler's disappointment bother you. Instead, you feel him place a hand on top of your head, and you close your eyes as you feel his fingers run through your hair, shuddering as he moves it in a combing fashion.

"I'm not a dog, you know," you comment tiredly.

"Well you're not stopping me either."

Despite not doing much recently, Adler found himself becoming exhausted more easily. Having two limbs temporarily out of commission certainly made it harder to move around, but it was the lack of movement that made him bored out of his mind. He wanted to get back to work already to make up for lost time, but everyone denied him the pleasure of doing so, saying that he’ll need to recover before anything else.

With nothing to do other than signing papers, Adler looked forward to seeing you pop in from time to time while you tell him stories about what had happened that day. He had planned to drop by the meeting room for a couple of drinks, but he found himself preoccupied with you instead, your own sleepiness rubbing off of him.

You were about to drift off when you felt Adler’s hand leave and the sound of the lamp turning off. He nudges you awake. Opening your eyes slowly, you found that Adler had pushed himself farther into the bed, holding up the blankets to reveal an open space beside him.

“Hop in.”

Too tired to decline, you slip under the covers with him, pulling the sheets over your shoulders. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, and you unconsciously moved a bit closer to him, and Adler couldn't help but chuckle to himself as you did.

"Shouldn't we go join the others?" you query.

"Can't. Doctors said no drinking."

"Ah. I hope you well get soon then."

Adler does a double take. "You mean, 'I hope you get well soon'?" he corrects.

"That's what I said."

"God, how many shots did you take?"

You felt usually daring today, the alcohol going to your head. Your hand shoots up to his head. His naturally styled hair became tousled as you played with it between your fingers. It felt soft and lush like you expected. "Enough to get where I'm at now."

“So, we’re speaking Russian now?”

In the darkness, you could make Adler's expression. It was peaceful, the corners of his eyes slightly lifted as his lips were upturned in a barely noticeable, yet tender, smile. His eyes watched you fondly, just taking in your facial features and every little movement they made. It was almost like he was in a trance, and whenever you were around he could just forget everything. The pain would suddenly become a numbing tingle as his heart began to quicken itself each time.

Love was something he hadn't felt in a long time, and even he had to admit that he was scared of trying to love again. And he could tell you were in a similar situation— not knowing what it felt like to be loved.

"Russian is considered a romantic language, you know," you point out, pulling your hand away.

The feeling Adler got every time he looked at you came with the urge to protect you, wanting to keep you out of harm's way. But in reality, it felt like you were the one protecting him, doing all the dirty work behind the scenes just for the sake of it. Yet, you were unwavering, and it was alarming.

"Last time I checked, it’s not. You're just saying that cause you like hearing me speak it."

You gave him a meek grin. “Smartass.”

Reflecting on it, Adler didn't know much about you.

Judging from previous missions, you've become long desensitized to a point where you had no issue dealing with the enemy in the way you had done two weeks ago, and it made him wonder what kind of other shit you went through before having the luck of meeting him. But, to see you act in such an affectionate way was something new, as you played a relentless, yet dependable, soldier on the job.

If there's one thing he did know, it was that he wanted to spend the rest of his days working alongside you. When he, and if he will, retire, Adler knew that he wanted to take you back to his hometown and show you around. Live together as civilians, take you out for dinner, maybe even rent a fancy sports car and speed down the highway near some scenic beach during sunset. It was a cheesy thought, but it was something he looked forward to, and he didn't plan to die until he did.

Lost in thought, he brings his hand up to your chin.

"I never really did thank you for Nantucket, did I?" he murmurs, switching back to English. Hearing Adler's gravelly voice in such close proximity made you melt.

"No, not really."

"Close your eyes then."

"Why-"

"Close."

And so you obliged.

Darkness overtook your vision, and you strained yourself to listen carefully. You heard the sheets ruffling, and Adler moved his hand to cup your cheek, the roughness of his palms ticking your skin. Your heart began to race, and butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you waited for Adler to commit to what he planned.

Getting impatient, you were about to speak up and snap your eyes open but you felt something press against your lips gently.

The kiss was soft and surprisingly chaste. You could detect the wistfulness behind it, and it brought up a mix of emotions. His lips were different from what you had imagined. They were plump and smooth, almost luscious on its own. Rather fitting for a suave man of his nature, yet it gave you an entirely new, exclusive experience.

Eventually, Adler recedes back, pulling away, but you could still a tingling impression left on your slightly parted lips. You failed to form any words, and instead your eyes fluttered back open.

The look he gave you made you tear up. His eyes were half lidded, and there was a sense of longing behind those ocean blue eyes of his, telling you that he had been waiting to convey his feelings in this way for the longest time. It just made you defenseless, knowing that there was someone like Adler that actually loved the monster that you had made yourself out to be.

You thought back to a couple weeks back, remembering his unconscious form and a strange sense of dread fell upon you. An image flashed in your mind, your blood-stained hands shaking as they hovered over his beaten face. Someone was trying to pull you away from him, shouting at you in indecipherable words.

Adler was fine now, but you couldn't help but sob, the delayed sense of impending doom now finally kicking in after two weeks.

A tear rolled down your cheek, wetting the pillow underneath you, and you immediately tried to wipe your eyes before more followed.

"Sorry, I-I don't know what's come over me," you stammer, shuddering as you try to catch your breath. “Just give me a moment.”

"You want to talk about it?"

“No, it’s fine,” you try to assure him.

Adler wasn’t having any of it. He couldn’t just lie idly aside and let it pass, especially with you tearing up about it. “Talk to me, Bell.”

You sniffle, taking a deep breath. "It's just… When Woods informed us that you were missing, I-I got so fucking scared. I worked with Stitch before, and..."

"I'm here now."

"I know, but… Just you, tied up in some chair in some unknown place, him inflicting whatever vengeance he had against you… I was confident that you were alive, but then I thought: what if I never found you? What if I was wrong, and you were never there? The thought of just discovering your body—"

"[Y/N]," Adler cuts you off. "I haven't seen you in two weeks and the last thing I want for you to do is cry. Even more so if it's because of me."

"I—"

"It's in the past now. You did what you thought was best. It was fucking stupid, but it's the reason why we're able to have this conversation today. As much as I hate to admit it, your impulsiveness saved my ass. But, as your superior, and your boyfriend, don’t you dare pull shit like that again, got it?”

“...Okay,” you assent. Adler always had a way with words, although forthright, but it never failed to comfort you.

He nods in affirmation. “Good.”

You both gaze at each other wordlessly amidst the darkness. The light that seeped under the doors gave you the dim outline of his form, and you could see his chest rising and falling in a steady pace. Adler lied there calmly, listening to you ease yourself down into hiccups. He wanted to embrace you, but his injuries prevented him from doing so, and it pained him.

“...We didn’t do anything for your birthday, did we?” you inquire through receding hiccups. “Or that thing. Valentine’s was it?”

“You and I? No. You weren’t here.”

A pang of guilt hits you. “Shit… I, uh— Park had to bring me back to the U.K. for a couple days due to… complications.”

Adler hums for a bit, thinking. His birthday was nothing special of sort, but the rest of the crew was eager to celebrate it, especially with his return. They held a drinking session, similar to the one tonight, but he could only sip on water and non-alcoholic juices.

“Tell you what,” he begins a bit eagerly. “Since we’re both on leave, how about we take a trip back to my hometown?”

“Where’s that at?”

“It’s a secret, you’ll find out later.” He could hear you scoff in amusement. “You can stay at my house, where the bed is actually big enough for the both of us. I’ll drive you around, show you the tourist attractions—”

“You can’t drive with your arm like that,” you snicker.

“Fine, you can drive. Just don’t scratch it. Anyways, you’ll drive us around, and we can eat at this nice restaurant that’s close by. I know the owner, so we can get a good deal. There’s a nice view in their outdoor seating area, and their wine is pretty decent.”

“You’re such a sap.”

“Hey!” Adler retorts in offense. “Not everyone’s idea of a romantic getaway is infiltrating an old military base. Let me have this for once.”

“Mhm.”

“Good.” He gives you a peck on the forehead. “But until then, you need to sleep, soldier.”

“Yes, sir.”

You nuzzle yourself into the crook under Adler’s chin, and you could feel his arm curve underneath and wrap around your unbandaged hand. You slowed your breathing down to match Adler’s as he rubbed gentle circles in your palms, and you counted each rotation, just trying to fight off sleep. You wanted to stay awake and cherish the moment, but the distant music from the party persisted, the muffled beats slowly pulling you into a light slumber.

"Я тебя люблю,” you mumble as you drift off, your fingers losing its grip around his.

"I love you too.”

Adler kisses your forehead once again, before following you into a good night sleep.

#sorry this is long lmao #there's not a lot of romantic plot here i tried my best #russell adler #russell adler x reader #russell adler x bell #cod black ops cold war #cod #black ops cold war #call of duty imagine #bo:cw #text #bell #call of duty x reader #fanfic #call of duty: black ops cold war #me back at is again with my limited vocabulary #abcd briefing

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shackermanwrites · 3 years

Text

Next Time

Summary: "Did you know, when clouds are unhappy, they will cry their heart out that’s why there are rains? But the sky would laugh at them that’s why there are thunders, isn’t funny?"

You loved and chased him for four years but you suddenly stopped on the last year of senior year. Levi didn't know why, but now he knows.

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Fem!Reader

Warnings & Content: Death, Angst

Word Count: 2507

The wind dances swiftly through the air as soon as Levi stepped out of his car, he looked up to the dull, gloomy sky that seems to be pouring rain any minute from now.

He remembers how you told him how you felt the joy when it is raining, how you felt relaxed and calm as the tiny droplets of rain land on your skin. He couldn’t possibly forget the first day you talked to him, the weather was the same as today.

How could he forget that exact moment? You looked ethereal when the two of you first met.

He remembers everything.

The joy and excitement on your face as you entered your classroom was painted on your face, it was your first day of junior year. You're excited yet nervous to start your first day of high school since you will see new faces, and you get to experience a unique environment for you.

You carefully scan the room as you try to think about where you should sit for the rest of the year, you could sit on the first row and be that student who aces their classes, but you could also sit at the back of the class and make lots of friends while having fun for the rest of the year.

Yet your eyes land on the third-row seat, a boy who is sitting silently on his chair while looking over to the window with no expression painted on his face.

Slowly, your feet started walking towards him. You nervously grip on the strap of your bag when you stopped in front of him. He didn’t even glance at your side to acknowledge your presence.

“Hello,” you cheerfully greet him as soon as you sat on the chair beside him. The raven-haired boy didn’t bother to answer your greetings nor glance at you.

‘He must be having a bad day early this morning,’ you thought.

You placed your arm on the table of your seat and rested your chin on the palm of your hand as you looked at the sky he was looking at. You are invested in what the boy was looking at, yet you only found a dull sky and leaves swaying gracefully on the ground. You opened your mouth to engage in a conversation with him but thunder stopped you from doing so and that made the boy flinch from its sound.

‘Cute’ you thought.

A giggle escaped your mouth as you looked at him, this time, you were cut off not by a clap of thunder but by his beautiful steel gray eyes that match the shade of the sky. Your smile slowly fades as you get lost in how mesmerizing his eyes are as he looks at you with an annoyed look to hide the blush on his face.

“Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh at you it's just that- oh, I'm Elide by the way what's your name?”

“My name’s Levi.” He replied

You gave him the sweetest smile you could give that day, even if his face screams annoyance from your presence. Yes, you gave him your smile and your name that day, but why did you include your heart.

Ever since that day, you would always sit next to him in class and engage in small talks with him, he sometimes answers, but he mostly stayed quiet. You help him with history subject and sometimes buy snacks for him since he doesn’t leave the classroom that often during breaks. You consider him as a friend.

Your friendship with him lasted for a year, but eighth grade changed when you already acknowledged your feelings for him. You were just a child, a foolish child who was scared to have regrets so you confessed the feelings you have for him.

Eight grade year came fast and this is the year that you confessed to Levi. You told him how you felt for him, how his eyes made the butterflies in your stomach fly, and how you felt happy whenever you see him, especially when he smiles, even if you only saw it once.

Yet you did not get the answer you wished you had. Instead, he pushed you away with all his strength. Its not like you were hoping that he would return the feeling to you.

“Stay away from me from now on.” That is the only answer you got and the last word he said to you since then. You watched him as his back slowly vanish in front of your eyes, but he never saw the tears that run through your cheeks.

It's been four years since you confessed to Levi, and you're now in your senior year, only months left before you graduate and start college.

You were not alone in those four years, you became friends with Sasha, Connie and Jean, and you also saw Levi with his new friends Hange and Erwin. They don’t hate you as much as Levi did since they would smile at you when you pass by each other on the corridors, and you would often exchange hi and hello’s.

In those four years, you never stopped loving him, you didn’t give up on him, and it never crossed your mind even though he would always ignore you as if you don’t exist in his world.

Since that day, Levi never talked to you so you would constantly write letters for him and slid them in his locker. You would tell him how boring math and history class was, you would ask him how were his weekend and holidays. You would leave candies on his desk every morning, you never saw him eating it but you also didn’t saw him throw it. But he still didn’t acknowledge you, it's like he forgot you even exist.

It pains deeply you but you stopped writing letters to him in your last year of senior year. You stopped giving him candies and you stopped looking at him with admiration like you used to. You don’t want to put an end to this, but you know deep inside of your heart that you have to.

“Excuse me for asking, but you don’t buy those candies anymore for your loverboy there. Is everything okay? He didn’t do anything to you, right? Jean and Connie will beat his ass up if he did.” You looked at Sasha who is busy writing on his notebook while sipping on her orange juice.

The three of them had always been there for you, the moments and memories you have shared with them are the most precious thing you treasure wholeheartedly.

Sasha and Connie are the persons who can make you laugh till your lungs and stomach hurt as you gasp out for air and tears would form under your eyes. They are your serotonins in life as they act like your younger siblings. On the other hand, Jean is like an older brother to you, he is overly protective to all of you and he is the person you would talk to when you're down and sad.

You smiled at those memories and the feelings you treasure.

You shake your head and glance over to the boy quietly writing on his notebook while the two of his friends are currently having a conversation. The first boy that made your heart flutter, the boy who made you like tea since it is his favorite drink, the boy who has the most mesmerizing eyes you’ve seen and soft hair that you still feel on your fingertips. Levi.

A small smile was already curved on your lips just by looking at him, you didn’t notice, but Sasha, Connie, and jean did. They looked at each other, and sadness are visible in their eyes.

Levi subconsciously looks at your side and his eyes widened a little when he met yours, you were in pain when you once again saw those steel-gray eyes, those pinchable cheeks that he has and those lips. You gave him a soft smile before you started writing on your notebook once again.

“No, he didn’t do anything, I gave up since I'm tired of chasing.” You softly replied to Sasha.

Liar.

You never did.

Levi opened the door of his car so Hange and Jean can get out. Nothing has changed over the years, Levi and Hange are still friends, along with Erwin. They manage to get through college and find a stable job. Hange became a Chemistry professor at the university she went to in college. Erwin is now an accountant at a famous bank, Sasha is now a flight stewardess and Connie's a pilot, Jean’s now an architect, and Levi is now a medical technologist. They all have their lives put together. They are contented and in some terms happy.

Levi held the Bouquet tightly in his hands as they walk over to your spot. He is neatly dressed as you would expect from him, he's nervous.

Hange placed her hand on his shoulder, trying to calm Levi down.

The three of them are out of words, and they don’t know what to say.

“She never stopped loving you, you know, she never did and she never tried.” Jean softly muttered loud enough for the three of them to hear.

“She-“ Jean choked on his own words while he nervously pulls something out from his wallet before handing it to Levi.

Levi can't feel anything, hell he can’t even move an inch of his body as it became numb, but he still manages to grab the paper jean gave.

“It's for you.” Jean said before excusing himself to return to the car.

He can’t do this right now.

“I’ll… leave you for a moment, I’ll be back.” Hange softly said while gently rubbing Levi’s back before leaving.

Hange only knew you by your name, but she knows deep inside that you and her could get along very well. She only had one memory of you, it's when she tripped on the stairs and her science project got ruined, people started laughing at her instead of helping her, she swears at everyone in the hall that day except for you. You helped her that day pick up her project without hesitation and with a smile that never left your mouth. She knows you’re a good person.

“Brat,” Levi starts while looking at you with those same gray eyes. He never changed.

He slowly opens the letter you wrote for him with his shaky hands as he tries his very best to compose himself.

Dear Levi,

Hello Levi, it is me! I'm sure you know me because if you already forgot about me, then I'm going to be so sad, just kidding. Did you know, when clouds are unhappy, they will cry their heart out that’s why there are rains? But the sky would laugh at them that’s why there are thunders, isn’t funny? Do you remember the first time we have met Levi? The sky was laughing at the sky, and maybe it was even laughing at us. You know, that day, I told you that it might rain, but you said that have hope because it will not rain. I did hope and it still rained, its funny because nine years have already passed and I'm still hoping, I'm hoping for myself, for my friends and family and for you. I'm dying Levi, I have leukemia and I already stopped the medication since the last year of senior year but you gave me hope to live and to fight then. Your eyes did gave me hope. I want to live Levi, I wanted to stay but I know I can't anymore, but I did not regret every single thing that has happened to me since it is all my choice.

I never hated you for mistreating me in high school, I never did. In fact, I am thankful for you and I'm grateful that I met you. Existing is barely possible but living with you is a miracle. The candies that I gave you, you know that I was looking at you every morning watching if you would throw them didn’t you? So you didn’t throw then, not a single one. I was curious, but I never dared to ask yet I also don’t want to regret now that I didn’t asked the reason why but it doesn’t matter now. Thank you Levi for everything, I don’t regret anything, so I hope you also have no regrets from the past. But hey, live your life to the fullest, don’t worry, I got your back.

Oh, also, did I tell you that you have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen? I hope you know how much I love your eyes but not as much as I love you Levi.

See you, Levi.

-With love

Levi’s chest tightens as his body becomes numb and his ears started ringing. He brings the letter you wrote on his chest before drops of tears started escaping his eyes.

Levi never hated you, he never did. In fact, he loved and adored you just as much as you did. You were the first person who dared to talk to him continuously for years, you were the only person who cared for him despite how hard he pushed you before and he hated himself that he did not have the chance to express how he cared for you.

The day you confessed, his stomach tightens and his heart pounds as if it wanted to leave his chest, he wanted to say that he felt the same way but he can't, he doesn’t know how so instead, he pushed you away into his life. He stopped talking to you, hoping that you will hate him and leave him alone but you never did.

He constantly pushed you out of his life while you constantly pull him in yours. The both of you were only hurting yet none of you noticed.

He did regret pushing you away constantly and that is when he starts telling himself that he doesn’t deserve you, he was so scared that he might break you if he tries to apologize for what he did to you.

He's now late as he looks down on your tomb. Your smile that brings comfort to him was already gone.

You were gone.

The sky slowly becomes gray once again before letting out thunder above him.

Was the sky laughing at him? At you? At the both of you?

Levi slowly kneels as he places the flowers on your tomb, lost of words as he stayed silent while tiny drops of rain started hitting his skin.

He immediately put your letter inside his wallet, scared that it might get wet from the rain, it’s the only thing that he had that reminds him of you.

He looks at the same dull sky the day you’ve met, only this time, the sky is crying along with him.

“I love you more, more than you know. See you.”

#levi ackerman #levi #levi fic #levi fanfiction #levi one shot #aot fanfiction #aot #attack on titan #angst #one shot #levi x reader

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spilledkauffie · 4 years

Text

Talk To Me

Repost from an old account I deleted!!!

Pairing: Logan Howlett (Wolverine) x reader Word Count: 1.6k+ T/W: trauma mentions / sexual innuendo A/N: honestly, my favourite Jackman role!

Slowly bringing your knees to your chest, the sheets made a gentle rustling sound at your action. The dark wooden walls of the room reminded you of a cozy cabin. Dimly lit with a vintage lamp on night stands placed at either side of the bed, another source casted a stream of light throughout the small quarters. You watched from the bed, as your lover finished washing his face, blotting the towel across his skin.

For a moment, you furrowed your eyebrows, seeing him stare at the mirror, hands pressing firmly against the counter. It wasn’t a blank stare, but more of a self-reflective stare. Wishing you could read his thoughts, just to understand why he did what he did, you knew that was nowhere near your power. Only able to feel emotions, not even see memories, when you touched someone it always seemed useless to you, but he often loved it, rarely having to actually tell you when he was in the mood. Or any mood for that matter.

“Logan,” you called sweetly, watching him almost shake out of the stare to look your direction, “you coming to bed?”

“Yeah...yeah,” he nodded, shifting his gaze downward, flicking the bathroom light off.

Giving him a half smile, still truly concerned that something was wrong, you shifted under the covers. Clicking your night stand’s light off, you turned over just in time to see him remove his shirt. Happy with the sight, as you loved to feel his skin, your demeanour became mildly impatient for him. Noticing you eyeing over his body, he smirked, amused.

“That’s all it takes?” Logan raised an eyebrow, with a signature cocky head tilt.

“Stop,” you blushed gingerly, hearing him chuckle at your embarrassment.

Finally joining you beneath the sheets, he turned the last official light out. The moon gave a silvery atmosphere, not too bright, but not too dark either.

Snuggling close to your wolverine, he gladly accepted your contact. Bringing your leg over his hip, he kept a protective hold to the back of your thigh. And his free hand explored the beautiful curve of your spine, his coarse fingertips being as gentle as possible. Pressed practically chest to chest, you smiled. Stroking a thumb across his cheekbone, a soft sigh escaped you.

“What?” Logan asked, sensing something was up.

“I wish you’d talk to me,” you admitted, fluffing back a tuft of his stubborn hair.

“I am talking to you,” he smart-aleckly answered, smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth, when you frowned, unamused.

“I mean really talk to me,” you emphasised the middle of your sentence, “about why you stare at your reflection, or why you’re so protective, you know- maybe- even about...your feelings.”

With a deep chuckle, Logan rubbed the back of your thigh methodically, almost as a comfort to avoid your question. Feeling a mixture of emotions run through his body, you always had the hardest time with him. Perhaps it was all the adamantium that blocked the signals, or maybe he was just good at covering up his actual feelings. Either way, it made it difficult; you stroked softly along his neck in a desperate attempt to try and gain more emotions.

“Oh, you’re serious?” He asked, observing your facial expression.

“Yes, I am,” you nodded.

Pausing for a moment, he thought things over, “alright,” he looked away, as if debating his next words carefully, “whatdya want to know?”

Shocked he was letting you in, even just a little bit, you took it. Shifting back to think of the first question, you had so many after all.

“Okay…,what do you think about when you stare at the mirror?” You looked over his expression, wanting to avoid any aggression.

“Wow, gotta start with the tough ones?” Logan laughed, before another pause, “I can still see the monster created. I’m made of metal and sometimes I think that’s all I am, just...cold. But you’re making it pretty hot.”

“Logan,” you whispered, both trying to keep him on track and actually picking up a strong sense of his emotion.

“Right, sorry,” he regrettably apologised, hoping his comment would’ve deterred the conversation, “can’t you feel and see all this without me talking about it?”

“I can’t see the memories attached to the emotions,” you said, “I wish I could...especially with you.“

You placed your hands against his bare chest, lovingly, Logan perked an eyebrow questionably, not opposed, but very curious. You closed your eyes and focussed hard on his emotions.

“Tell me more?” You asked.

As he began to speak, you tried only thinking on the emotion. As he began describing his pain you felt it in full force.

“A room full of people, military people. No faces, only figures,” he said, “water, lots of needles, filled with metal.”

The further he dove into his painful memories, the more you began to feel it. Your heart raced, eyes filled with tears and soon the emotion of pain took over, spreading through your body. Gasping, you took your hands away, curling into yourself as much as possible. It was a pain you had never felt before. Almost- as if death was near. It felt never ending.

“Hey, hey,” Logan’s voice was comforting, “you’re alright, I got you.”

On the verge of panic, you clung onto him. His emotion had already changed back to protective which helped ease you. Though you couldn’t understand how he could switch between emotions in a heartbeat, you still appreciated his comforting presence. Looking down, you felt his strong arms holding you and spotted the dog tags hanging around his neck. Tears slipping passed your eyelashes, you met his eyes. Fingertips shakily holding on to the metal that hung from his neck with his mutant name stamped into them.

“What did they do to you?” You spoke, voice hoarse.

Looking you over now, he could see how scared you were, “I’m not sure.”

Nodding your head, you knew he was still trying to figure out everything he had been through and now, now you knew only the slightest bit of pain he felt. Overwhelming for you, yet he managed ever single day with it.

“Let’s get some sleep, yeah?” He suggested, bringing you closer.

“Yeah,” you whispered, sliding your hands around his frame.

More odd than usual the night was hard for you. Normally you slept perfectly fine knowing you were wrapped in the arms of a lover and an indestructible protector, but the experience of such high pain threw you off entirely. It stuck with you, keeping you up, but it also broke your heart to know how much he hurt...

Checking the clock to your left, it was early morning, still dark out and the school was quiet. There was no point in staying in bed, so you managed to escape his hold, slip on his button up shirt and head down to the kitchen. Finding some tea, you put on the hot water and waited. Seated at the island in the center of the room, you placed your head in your hands and replayed the emotion. So much pain and torture, how did he-

“Hey,” a familiar voice startled you, making you turn in your seat.

“Logan,” you said relieved, “why’re you up?”

“Cause you’re up,” he countered, stepping closer.

“I’m sorry,” you swallowed, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Looking downward, you wanted to avoid eye contact, knowing full well that he was bound to ask what was keeping you up. It wasn’t typical of you to leave him, especially at night. You really didn’t want to talk about what had happened earlier.

“I don’t think I need to ask, do I?”

His serious tone brought your attention to him. Debating whether or not to tell him was difficult. Imagining he’d feel like it was his fault for ‘giving’ you his emotions, when really you asked and he was simply answering you honestly. He always felt like he hurt those around him even more than he’d been hurt. Ignoring his pain and realising others was a trait of his.

“I- it’s just,” you started, looking away when you felt tears again, your emotions heightened, “you’re going through so much agony, how-”

Another pause came to you as you choked back tears. Quick to come to your aid, he stepped between your knees, placing a hand to your cheek and wiping away a falling tear. Brining your hands to hold his wrist, you felt his heartbeat.

“Gone through,” he corrected you, “Sure, I’ve gone through a lot of shit, but I’m here now and I’d say pretty happy compared to the past.”

“You made me feel emotions I have never felt before,” you admitted, looking up.

“And you’ve made me feel emotions I’ve never felt before,” he smirked, watching a smile pull at your lips.

Dipping down, his hand slipped to the side of your neck and his hips hit yours. With lips inches away from yours, you pulled back slightly.

“Logan, here?” You asked.

“C’mon, a kiss won’t hurt,” he whispered, “it’ll help, I promise.”

Smiling, you actually agreed, any other emotion running through your body would be nice and you were glad to accept what he was offering. Curling your fingers through the belt loops on his jeans you pulled him closer, letting him know you approved. Happily continuing, his lips met yours and it wasn’t long before you were melting underneath his touch, at just the slightest action. Wrapping your arms around his neck, the kiss became deeper. You felt several of his emotions, this time enjoying every one. If there was something you certainly loved most, it was his passion.

Pulling back from you, Logan could tell you were now wanting more, “you want to know why I’m so protective?”

“Why?” You bit your lip, batting your eyelashes.

Squeaking when he lifted you up, you wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling him squeeze your ass, you smiled at the next words his raspy voice spoke to further distract you.

“It’s just instinct.”

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narrators-journal · 3 years

Text

Welcome home

I hope this sequelette was enjoyable! It was a lot of fun to write, even if it was kinda difficult.

Previous part: here

first part: here

The rest of the night was a blur. In the chaos of Illumi confronting you, you had been too scatter-brained from fear to inform him that you were having 'practice contractions', and you definitely weren't in any sort of mindset to tell him you might be near labor, however, the stoic assassin always had a plan for things, and had accounted for you potentially going into early labor at any point. So, after your declaration, he picked you up and rushed you over to the van he had waiting. In your distressed state, everything whizzed by after that. You were vaguely aware of what the Zoldyck family doctor told you to do, but aside from when you were moved from the van to a secondary location, you couldn't seem to focus at all under the maelstrom of panic and pain. Time, your situation, all forms of possible consequence, none of it mattered anymore as you clung to your fiance-to-be's hand and followed every order the doctor gave. At some point though, you must've passed out from the pain, because in what felt like the blink of an eye, you were waking up.

Slowly, you blinked the world back into focus, your head slowly beginning to stop swimming from pain and hysteria, allowing you to gradually realize that you were laying in a hospital bed in some random, dark room that you didn't recognize. Was I out so long that I'm already back at the estate? You asked yourself, lifting your head a bit to try and discern exactly where you were through the hazy, groggy feeling clouding your mind. Upon closer inspection of your surroundings, you weren't in Illumi's family home. From what you could see by the dim light of the lamp in the corner, the room was too small and the furniture was too cheap, so you must be in some random, hopefully, abandoned home. "Where...am I." you croaked, though you weren't realy expecting an answer, so it startled you to hear Illumi respond. "You were nearly eight months pregnant, so I made sure there was a safe, private place for you to possibly give birth before I went to collect you. Good thing I did, I'd have hated for you to be forced to have our son in that van." he mused from his seat in the arm chair next to the corner lamp, and when you looked over at him, your brain zeroed in on the little bundle he held instead of focusing on the danger or the dread you could feel creeping across your skin, both of which were dampened by the powerful, and sudden, urge to hold your baby. It was a shockingly powerful burst of feeling, but some part of you desperately wanted to hold your infant child. It was only when you moved your arms to reach out for your child that you registered the soft clatter of the cuff on your wrist, securing you to the metal sides of the bed, and for a moment, that somewhat reminded you that something wasn't quite right here. However, that thought was near-instantly swept away by your spacey, baby-focused thoughts. "Wha...why am I handcuffed??" Both the thought and your words came out as more disappointed than startled, like they probably should've sounded, since you were still rather out of it, but then the memories of your entire predicament set in at long last. It finally began to set in that you'd been caught by the assassin who'd snatched you up, the one who'd been the center of your paranoia for the past few months. Just as you were about to panic though, Illumi grabbed your chin and made you look into his hypnotic eyes, "Can you please just calm down?" he asked, slightly annoyed, but he still had an authoritative edge that washed away the majority of your anxieties for the time being before he released your face and gave over your baby to let you hold the little bundle of blue while he slept with barely a whine at being jostled. You stared at him for a moment as your partner's powers ebbed, just letting it soak in that this was your baby. "You were out for at least a full day, so I had the doctor look him over and fed him from a bottle, but it would be best if you breastfed. He'll be healthier that way." Illumi hummed, the annoyance from before gone from his words, though his voice still snapped you out of your motherly trance as he brought the armchair over to your bed and sat beside you. When he did, you looked over at him to try and glean any possible foreshadowing of your expected punishment, but, instead, for this small moment, with that soft, happy expression on his face and the way he just laid his head on his arm against the metal sides of your bed to watch your son sleep in your arms, you found that you could almost believe that he hadn't likely broken into your home, stalked you, and kidnapped you. Then the moment was broken and things got a bit awkward when you realized he was looking back into your (e/c) eyes with his own dark ones, though this time his gaze lacked that trance-enducing power he'd put behind it before, and you'd been staring at him. "Is something wrong?" He asked quietly, blinking slowly as if you were a cat he was trying to win the trust of. You just shook your head in response, "I just...I don't know how to feel right now," you confessed, looking back at the infant in your arms and tightening your hold on him a bit while his father sighed, "I'd expect you to be happy," he hummed, "and I want to let you be happy and bask in the joy of our child being born and healthy, but..." he pushed himself into a proper sitting position and his voice returned to it's usual cold temperature as he continued, "You very much need to be talked to about your behavior before that." And with that, your stomach dropped. You could almost feel that other shoe finally drop with his words as the anchor, pushing the excitement to the backburner. Instead of remaining in that slightly dopey, tired moment of joy, you switched to a far more protective, guarded mode and gave him a cautious, dirty look as a result while holding your child closer to yourself. "You shouldn't have run away like that. If you had stayed at home, like I'd wanted you to, you wouldn't have had to put our child at risk by working as a maid like you did." he scolded, and your blood ran cold at the mention of your job, "W-wait, how long have you known where I was?? Did...did you hurt anyone I've worked for?" you asked, and amidst your fearful worries over your helpful boss you found a sense of hostility you'd never used against him, "I knew where you were after about a week, and not to worry, I didn't hurt the woman who helped you. You can thank mother for the fact you weren't brought back while I was in such a foul mood." he replied curtly, and while you could tell he was curbing his own hostility, you somehow felt more anger than fear at it, "She talked me out of bringing you back, and father advised against bringing you back until you were almost through with your pregnancy as to lower the distress you'd go through. If it were up to me alone, I wouldn't have needed to plan for any premature labors, you'd be pissed and upset, but safe and healthy at home." he continued, "As if staying somewhere I felt like a fucking prisoner would've made my pregnancy last longer?! Are you forgetting how scary and deranged you became when I told you I was pregnant?? How about when you kidnapped me?" "I didn't kidnap you, I moved you home so you would be in less danger, unless you would've preferred Hisoka return?" he snapped, but you didn't back down just yet, "You're just glazing over the fact that I didn't want any of this! I didn't want to be scooped up and taken to some fancy ass prison, or rushed into marriage just because I was having a baby!" You snapped back, feeling a mix of angry, scared, and generally just upset tears fill your eyes as you glared at Illumi. The only thing that forced you to stop was when the child nestled against you squirmed and began to fuss. For a long moment, you didn't look at the assassin beside your hospital bed, and neither of you spoke while the infant fell back asleep. When Illumi did finally speak, he wasn't cold, or angry, he just sounded upset. "I'm...so confused." he sighed, running a pale hand through his dark hair, "I don't know what else I was supposed to do, leave you there? In a plain house with no guards and not be there for my kid?" he asked, looking to you to explain things. So, with a sniffle and a sigh, you tried your best to help the emotionally stunted man. "Look. I'm not going to hold it against you that you insisted on getting married, but you scared me really badly when you reacted the way you did when I suggested other things. Do you realize how terrifying you are? Because you don't seem to." you pointed out, and he just listened, "That's my biggest issue. You saved me from likely running into that other man again, but you also became a threat of your own. How can I just accept the fact that you moved me to a place that i can't escape from? That, plus how aggressive you became, I fear you're going to hurt me, so I don't want to go back." You explained, returning to not looking at him as you spoke. After a long period of silence, he sighed, finally speaking again, "Well...I can't go back and fix the way I reacted and scared you." he said, and it was likely the best you'd get apology-wise, "and I can't let you off for running away and scaring me like you did. Don't give me that look, I'm an assassin, not a monster." He gave you a dirty look when you gave a tiny laugh at that last part, but you did stop eyeing him in disbelief, so he went on, "What I can do, is adjust the punishment to not be as scary. However, that comes with a condition." when he finished, you once again briefly tightened your grip on your son. "I'm not giving up my baby." you said firmly, and Illumi only snorted, "No, but you will be going through each birth without pain medication." He said darkly, and your eyes widened before you grimaced a bit, knowing exactly who to thank for that 'compromise'. "It was either that, or my punishment, which was to break your legs." he offered, laughing a bit when you swiftly accepted the first option. After that, Illumi seemed to relax again, laying his head back on his arm against your bed's railing and just watching your son sleep. You however, had to wait for your heart to slow down and your panic to subside before you could ask another question, "so...if painful births are my punishment for this...what's the condition?" Illumi's eyes moved to look at you, but he didn't lift his head as he coolly told you, "On the condition that you treat me like you did before the pregnancy," You thought a bit at that proposition, than nodded, "Alright. A-as long as you don't become abusive or scare me like you did, I can do that." at that he hummed again, finally moving to give your cheek a kiss, than he spoke again. "Also, if you ever run away, or do anything to put our children or yourself at risk," his voice suddenly became dark, "I get to break. Every. unnecessary. bone. in. your. body." It was a cruel hiss of a threat that sent a tsunami of dread down your spine, but after a moment of weighing your options, really debating whether you could survive in a world with him hunting you down, you nodded. As long as you didn't do anything to warrant that, you'd be okay. However, you did have one final question eating at you. "Um...what'll-what'll happen to our son?" your voice was quiet, and you quietly plead for Illumi not to confirm your worst fear, but he only gave you a knowing look, "You know what will happen, not even I can stop my family from training him to follow my footsteps, but, I can make you a similar promise to the one father made to mother." he offered, resting his cheek on top of your head affectionately while laying his hand over yours on your son. "If you let the first one become an assassin, the others won't have to be." With that, you swallowed back your regret, and agreed.

#illumi x reader #sequel #x reader #hxh #hunter x hunter #sequelette #outrunning karma #fanfiction #quotev

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xxdragonwriterxx · 3 years

Note

Pls do a pt.2 of cuddle bug. I need more where they get delayed and Levi has to share his tent for another night or two. Pls at least consider it, the end of cuddle bug gave me big boy 🦋🦋🦋

A/N: You know, I never really considered a sequel for this story but once you mentioned it, I got really excited about it! I loved writing that story so it’s always really fun to hear people say they enjoyed it. Thank you for requesting, I hope this is what you were looking for! (Also, ur comment inspired the title).

🐉 Song Recommendation: “Liar” By: Arcadian Wild 🐉

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🔥 Butterflies Caught Up In The Storm 🔥

(Y/N) felt it before she saw it. She felt the wind pick up from a light breeze to an insistent gale. She saw the clouds rolling and colliding in the sky, darkening and growling. She heard the rush of wings as flocks of birds shot into the air and flew away from the trees, which were starting to rustle with the increasing wind. It was clear and bright out, a beautifully crisp autumn afternoon, but (Y/N) knew what was coming. Her horse seemed to agree, the chestnut mare’s flared nostrils and wide eyes telling (Y/N) she could sense it too. Giving the mare a soothing pat on the neck, (Y/N) carefully tugged her forward, trying to convince the beast to graze before the storm hit.

“You’re having trouble too?” A familiar feminine voice asked, catching (Y/N)’s attention.

“Yeah,” (Y/N) said, smiling at Petra, who had wandered over with her own bay gelding. “Phoenix won’t eat with this storm brewing, she’s too stressed. I’m trying to calm her down but she’s not having any of it.”

Petra nodded grimly, “Tyson is the same way. He won’t stop pacing.”

“It must be a bad one this time,” (Y/N) said quietly, reaching up to stroke Phoenix’s fur, “She doesn’t normally fear storms like this.”

“Yeah, I’m worried about our tents being blown away.”

“Me too…” (Y/N) murmured. “I’m guessing none of us are going to get any sleep tonight.”

Petra groaned and led Tyson in a small circle, trying to keep the normally level-headed gelding from pacing.

“Yeah, I know,” (Y/N) sighed. “I was really hoping to get some rest, it’s been a long day.”

(Y/N) normally didn’t have a problem with storms. In fact, she had a certain soft spot for them. She loved how dark it got, the clouds creating a gloomy yet comforting blanket over the land. She loved the sound of the rain as it pounded on the windows, the crack of the thunder as lightning struck the sky; a glowing sword slaying some mighty beast. She loved the wind and how it would howl it’s lonely song, crying out for a lover that would never respond. Despite the chaos it presented, storms always tended to soothe (Y/N), making her want to cuddle up with some warm tea or hot chocolate and a book. It made her want to burrow under a blanket and listen to the roaring outside her window as the storm lashed at the stone walls of the Survey Corps castle. But she wasn’t in her room with a warm blanket and a good book. She wasn’t protected by the solid stone walls of the Survey Corps headquarters or given warmth by the roaring fireplace she had across from her bed. She was outside of the walls, in the middle of nowhere with a skittish horse and nothing but a flaxen tent to keep her safe. The only benefit of the storm was that the titans seemed to have scattered in the wake of the approaching darkness, finding some other place to settle down for the early onset night.

“Hey, at least we won’t have to sleep alone tonight,” Petra said, trying to lighten the mood. “At least we will be paired again since we lost that supply wagon to the titans, maybe it’ll feel better to experience the storm with another person. It might be comforting.”

Petra had a point, but her words also brought a twinge of anxiety to (Y/N)’s gut. Captain Levi hadn’t seemed upset with her when she had cuddled up to him by accident the last time they shared a tent, quite the opposite really, laughing and teasing her. But it didn’t stop the thoughts from filling her head, making her overthink the situation. He had found it amusing the first time because it had been unexpected and she had been so flustered in the morning when she had woken up to find him sprawled underneath her, but what would he think if she did it a second time? Would he be annoyed? She was half expecting him to reassign her to sleep beside Eld or Gunther at this point. She wondered if he would even be compelled to make Petra and Oulo sleep in separate tents despite their relationship, just so he could make (Y/N) sleep with Petra instead.

It made her flush with guilt and embarrassment at the thought. The last thing she wanted to do was make Levi uncomfortable around her, but she had invaded his personal space in a way she was sure nobody else had ever done before. It was only natural that he would distance himself from her.

(Y/N) shook her head, chasing the negative thoughts away, deciding to worry about that later. “Yeah, at least we won’t be alone. Maybe that’ll make it easier if the tents try to blow away, there can be two people to hold each one down instead of one person trying not to get carried off by the storm.”

Petra chuckled and led Tyson in another circle.

“Speaking of sharing tents,” She said, her eyes glimmering, “How was it sharing a bed with the Captain?”

(Y/N) froze a bit. Memories of that night came flashing back, making her blush as she remembered the feeling of his solid chest pressed beneath her, his warm breath fanning out over her neck, and his soft silver eyes gleaming at her as he fought the urge to laugh at her flushed face.

“Oooooh,” Petra said, her smile widening as she noted (Y/N)’s pink cheeks. “Why are you so flustered all of a sudden? Did something happen? Did you two finally fu-”

“NO, NO,” (Y/N) shouted quickly, waving her hands in front of her face. “No, nothing like that. It was just kind of embarrassing sleeping next to him. I mean, he’s the Captain! It just felt weird as his subordinate to be in the same bed as him with nothing but our pajamas on.”

Petra nodded but the shit-eating grin on her face didn’t disappear. (Y/N) leaned over and flicked her friend on the forehead, giggling when the ginger hissed at her with a glare.

“What was that for?”

“You know what it was for.”

“That was mean, (Y/N).”

“Well, you shouldn’t have been thinking about Levi and I in that tent, especially since I told you nothing happened.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, I would never do such a thing.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes at Petra’s teasing but couldn’t keep the warm smile off her lips as the two laughed together. She had to hand it to the sweet ginger, she had at least helped decrease her stress and pull (Y/N) from her own head. Even the horses had sensed the shift in their riders and had calmed down somewhat, Phoenix leaning down to take a few nibbles of the grass at her feet before she raised her head again, her ears rotating as she listened for any sign of danger.

“(L/N)! Ral! We are setting up the tents. Put the horses away and get over here now!”

Both women stopped laughing immediately and moved to tie the horses to a nearby tree, making sure to loop the ropes into loose knots so the horses could escape if they really needed to without injuring themselves. As soon as the animals were secure, (Y/N) shoved her anxiety away, and the pair made their way over to the rest of their squad.

__________________________

Levi cursed as he glanced at the darkened clouds, the sky now an inky black as the storm covered the setting sun. A light rain had started since the tents had been erected, but Levi knew the worst was yet to come. He watched as the squad moved around, tying down the last of the supplies and attending to any last minute necessities while the rain was still light and misty.

Without his permission, Levi’s eyes automatically found (Y/N) amongst his squad members, watching as she moved quickly around the camp, calming the horses and covering the wagons with the tarp they always brought on missions for exactly this reason. She was so graceful when she was focused, her movements lithe and quick. He knew she tended to be a bit of a clutz when she was just performing mundane tasks back at headquarters, but it didn’t take away from the obvious control she had over her body as she maneuvered around each of her comrades, helping where she could and confirming that everything was accounted for just as Levi had asked of her.

Snapping out of it, Levi quickly averted his gaze and cursed again, this time in anger at himself. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He had had a crush on (Y/N) for ages and yet it had never affected him like this before. He felt like he was flailing, like he lacked control for the first time since he was a small child. It scared him, made him embarrassed and anxious. He had an idea of what this was, but it didn’t make it any easier to digest.

He knew he had been an asshole lately, knew she was confused and hurt. When he had first woken up to find her sprawled over him, he had been overwhelmed with emotions that had pushed him over the edge, leading him to finally act on his hidden desires somewhat. He had allowed himself to laugh and smile, had allowed himself to get close to her, brush his lips along her ear, and compliment her. He had enjoyed it, letting go a little, letting himself finally show her how he felt about her. But then reality had slapped him across the face. She was his subordinate, and while it wasn’t forbidden, it wasn’t ideal. He just knew it would interfere with his focus on the battlefield, and he couldn’t afford the distraction. On the other hand, he didn’t even know if she liked him back. She had cuddled up to him in her sleep, but she had admitted to him herself that she does that to anything she sleeps with. Her pillow, a blanket, a stuffed animal, a person, it didn’t matter, she would cling to it. So what made him special? How did her cuddling him give him any indication of her feelings?

It didn’t. It didn’t mean anything. She wasn’t cuddling up to him because she found comfort in him, she did it because it was normal for her. Any other man would’ve done just as well, possibly even better in holding her close that night. The thought of another man cuddled up with (Y/N) made his blood boil and his teeth clench so hard they hurt, but he couldn’t force his feelings on her just because of one incident. Especially if she didn’t feel the same way. It just wasn’t meant to be, no matter how much he wanted it. So he had settled for loving her from afar, pushing her away and keeping her at a distance, just like he did with everyone around him. He was determined to stick to his promise of keeping people at arm’s length, guarding his heart through thick and thin in the event that someone he cares about gets ripped away from him again. He had lost way too many people in his life, he was not about to experience the pain of losing (Y/N) too.

He could tell his cold behavior confused her, but he kept it up, hid behind his mask no matter how much his heart cried when he saw her hurt expression. It was for her and for him, better for everyone involved if he just ignored the pulling of his heartstrings and continued their relationship as it should be, as Captain and cadet.

“Captain.”

Levi was snapped out of his reverie by the voice of none other than (Y/N), her eyes hooded as she looked at him.

“Everything is stable and prepared for the storm, sir.”

“Good, you are dismissed.”

(Y/N) saluted him and spun on her heel, not looking back as she made her way to their tent to change and prepare for bed. Levi’s gut twisted. He hated that look in her eyes. So far, she had treated him with nothing but respect ever since he had begun ignoring her, but he never missed that look in her eyes, the confusion and disappointment in her gaze. The feeling of wanting to be sick all over the stones of the cliff edge where they had set up camp increased tenfold when he thought about having to spend the night with her once again. The thought of having to experience the tension of laying beside her all night. He wondered if she’d even cuddle up to him again, if her body would reject him even in sleep despite her habit.

Levi sighed and ran a hand through his slick raven locks, rain droplets landing on his cheeks as they dripped from his fringe. He knew he just had to act like an adult and go in there with her, but it was an effort to fight the feeling of nausea in his gut as he made his way over to the tent they were sharing. As soon as he slipped in through the flaps and zipped them closed, the loud roar of thunder rolled over them quickly followed by the intensifying of the rain, turning from the soft taps of droplets to the pelting of bullets.

(Y/N) was facing away from him when he entered, neatly folding her uniform and placing it off to the side while she waited for him to change. Levi undressed quickly and followed her example, placing his clothes beside hers as she settled on the cot, pulling the blankets up to her neck. Neither of them spoke a word, but the urge to spill everything that was on the edge of their tongues plagued both of them. Levi finished his nightly regimen before carefully slipping under the blanket beside (Y/N), blowing out the lantern and making sure to turn away from her so she wouldn’t feel as uncomfortable.

(Y/N) grit her teeth when she felt him turn away from her. Was she really that bothersome? Had her cuddling him really made him that upset? She knew she had no right to judge him, it was his boundaries she had crossed, but that didn’t stop the tidal wave of sadness and disappointment that rose in her chest. She had been hoping they could move past this, that he would give her the chance to apologize and they could go back to the way things were between them, but obviously he was in no hurry to speak to her ever again, if his behavior towards her was any indication.

(Y/N) closed her eyes and tried to let the sounds of the storm outside soothe her, snuggling deeper under the blankets as the rain slapped the tent’s walls, trying to drown out her thoughts and emotions with the sound of the rolling thunder that rumbled and barked overhead.

(Y/N) was nearly asleep, her brain finally quieting down for the night when she heard it. She thought for a minute she had imagined the noise, but after another moment of patiently listening, she heard it again, the sound of a deep groan coming from the Captain. (Y/N) froze, her eyes wide as she waited. She had no idea what was happening, but she knew for a fact it couldn’t be good. The noise sounded high-pitched, desperate, strained, as if the Captain were in pain. (Y/N) turned slightly and opened her mouth to say something when a bolt of lightning dashed across the sky, flashing the tent with a bright white light. (Y/N)’s eyes widened and she had to fight to keep her jaw from dropping when she suddenly realized just how uncomfortable he was.

Levi was shaking.

What had she done? Thunder crashed as horror seeped into (Y/N)’s bones. She felt his shaking increase, the subtle vibrations making the cot twitch and shift beneath them. How could she have done this to him? What she had believed to be a mild annoyance to her Captain seemed to be much worse than that. At first, she wondered why he didn’t tell her about his discomfort with touch, or why he didn’t have her reassigned, but she quickly shoved those questions aside. Of course he didn’t tell her or reassign her, he was the Captain of their squad, the goddamn Humanity’s Strongest. Of course he would put his pride and reputation before his fears. It was his job to appear unfazed no matter what he was faced with.

And besides, even if it wasn’t his job to keep silent about his personal issues to his subordinates, (Y/N) had a hard time seeing Levi admit to having a phobia of touch. He always kept that mask placed securely over his emotions and expressions, it was no surprise that he would hide this as well.

The fact that she hadn’t known didn’t stop the feelings of dread and guilt from dragging her stomach to her feet and choking her heart with a chain. She felt the tears well up behind her eyes, and didn’t try to stop them when they spilled over her lids and cut wet paths down her cheeks. She felt sick. She wanted to apologize, but she didn’t know how. She was used to comforting people with physical affection and gentle soothing gestures rather than using her words. Every muscle in her body screamed at her to wrap her arms around him, to stroke his hair and rub soothing circles into his back, but she forced herself to hold back. She had clearly caused enough damage already.

Making up her mind, (Y/N) decided that the best option was to leave. She knew there was very little she could say or do to make up for what had happened, and she refused to keep him awake with the fear of her touching him again. The last thing she wanted to do was be away from him, especially when he seemed so vulnerable, but she wasn’t going to let herself cause unnecessary tension within the squad because she decided to be selfish. They needed their Captain in top shape, and it was clear that wasn’t going to happen with her in the same room. Quietly gathering her blanket and her cape, (Y/N) slowly stood and crept towards the exit flaps of their tent. She cringed at the thought of being sandwiched with the Oulo and Petra, but she knew the couple wouldn’t deny her entry despite wanting to enjoy their alone time together, and figured that would be the best place for her to stay for the rest of the night. Taking a deep breath to prepare for the onslaught of cold water she was about to get blasted with, (Y/N) curled her fingers around the edges of the flaps and started to undo each loop keeping them closed.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Levi’s cold voice, despite being a bit shaky, made (Y/N) freeze in her tracks. She had known he was awake, but she hadn’t expected him to protest.

“Um, I’m going to Petra’s tent, sir.”

Levi furrowed his brows, his jaw clenched, “Why?”

“Because I was making you uncomfortable, sir.”

“What are you talking about?”

The last thing (Y/N) wanted to do was embarrass him further, but she figured now wasn’t the time to beat around the bush.

“You were shaking, sir.”

(Y/N) saw the realization quickly flash across Levi’s features before he scowled angrily, leaning back with an arm over his face, “Fuck…”

He hadn’t known that she could feel it. He had been trying so damn hard to hide it, especially after those little groans had escaped him without warning. The knowledge that she was here to see him in such a vulnerable state tossed his heart around like a butterfly in a storm, a confusing blend of intense embarrassment and soothing comfort flooding through his veins.

“I wish you had told me sooner,” (Y/N) said, causing Levi to lift his arm so he could look at her properly. “I know why you didn’t, but if you had, I never would’ve tried to stay with you for another night. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, and the last thing I want is for you to think you have to avoid me because I didn’t respect your boundaries. I am s-so sorry…”

(Y/N) broke off, swallowing the tears that bubbled in the back of her throat. She wasn’t the victim here, she wanted to appear sincere and apologetic but she didn’t want to make him feel guilty for his reaction to everything that had happened between them. She just wanted to make him feel better and pretend like this whole incident had never happened.

“I-I’m sorry, I’ll leave now. I hope you’re able to get some rest tonight, Captain-”

“(Y/N).”

The way he said her name, in a tone that sounded desperate and strained, made her close her mouth and meet his gaze.

“Come back to bed.”

She hesitated at first, but quickly found the confidence to move towards him when he pinned her with a dark glare. Moving back to her spot, (Y/N) placed her cape with the rest of her uniform and brought the blanket back over her body, laying down on the spot furthest from Levi.

(Y/N) let out a loud gasp when Levi suddenly reached over and wrapped his arms around her before she could react, yanking her away from the edge of the cot and pulling her into his chest. (Y/N) quickly tried to push away from him, but he held her steady against him, his arms refusing to loosen until she gave up on escaping.

“Listen here, brat,” Levi said, his voice surprisingly clear, “It’s not you. I’m not afraid to be held by you. I know I’ve been an asshole lately, but I was worried about letting myself get close to you only to lose you. I’ve lost so many. The last person I want to be caught up in everything is you. I c-care about you, and I just can’t stand the pain of watching you die.”

(Y/N) teared up at his impassioned confession, her fingers clenching in the fabric of her pajama top. Her heart was pounding against her rib cage as if it was trying to bust out, its drumming song throbbing throughout her entire body.

“But, you were shaking, and facing away from me, and fidgeting around,” (Y/N) said quietly.

Levi tensed but took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax again.

“That wasn’t because of you, brat.”

She tilted her head in confusion. He knew she wanted more details than that, but he was finding it difficult to put everything into words. He was just about ready to blurt it out to her, rip off the bandaid quickly, when a flash of lightning broke the sky in half, followed by a clap of thunder that shook the entire camp.

To her utter shock, Levi flinched and whimpered. He cursed at his own reaction, his arms tightening subconsciously around her body.

“Levi…” (Y/N) murmured. “Are you… scared of storms?”

The look in his gunmetal hues was answer enough. (Y/N) felt a dizzying mix of immense relief and a rush of sympathy and sadness wash through her. She was glad she wasn’t the source of his fears and discomfort, but she felt horrible for what he was going through. She had had no idea, never even had an inkling that their fearsome, stone-faced Captain would be scared of rain and thunder.

Quickly shaking off any questions she had, (Y/N) shifted her arms from where they had been hugging her stomach, and wrapped them around his waist and neck, pulling him into her. She felt him tense a little at the foreign contact, but she didn’t let it mess with her confidence. She knew he needed this, knew he secretly craved the comfort of human contact, and forced herself to shove her anxiety to the side and focus solely on her hurting Captain. After a moment, Levi eventually tightened his grip on her and snuggled into her embrace, making her heart explode with love and affection.

He nuzzled his face into her neck, letting out occasional quiet moans and murmurs of approval as she ran her fingers through his soft raven locks with one hand and rubbed comforting circles into his back with the other.

They were silent for a long while, merely enjoying the comfort of the other’s company despite the tenseness (Y/N) could still feel in the Captain’s muscles. Whenever thunder rocked the world, or a gust of wind made the rain lash against the tent like gunfire, (Y/N) would hold him tighter to her, cooing softly at him and massaging his back and shoulders. His eyes closed at her ministrations, his lashes fluttering against her skin, tickling her neck as he started to settle.

“My best friends died in a storm just like this,” Levi whispered into the dark, making (Y/N) gasp. She looked down to see his eyes were still closed, his nose pressed against her neck.

“Levi… I’m so sorry,” (Y/N) said, lightly scratching his undercut.

“What’s done is done,” Levi said tightly, “But I’m never going to let anything happen to you.”

Levi opened his eyes, pinning her with a look of determined fire, “I will protect you, I promise.”

(Y/N) smiled, letting out a contented sigh as he leaned in to press soft butterfly kisses along her throat, a sign of gratitude for everything she had done for him.

“I’ll protect you too, Levi. Whenever you need me, I am here for you. Always.”

Levi was grateful she couldn’t see his face as he blinked away the tears that had unexpectedly risen to prick at his eyes. “I’ll hold you to that, brat.”

(Y/N) huffed a laugh and leaned down to press a loving kiss to his forehead, “You better.”

Levi snorted, “Go to sleep.”

“Yes, sir.”

Levi gave her a weak flick on the shoulder before snuggling more into her warm embrace, a small smile making its way to his face as he felt the fear drain from his body despite the storm still raging outside. (Y/N) was his calming balm, something to soothe his tortured soul and battered heart. He was still afraid of losing her, but he knew now that he couldn’t bear to stay away. He would just have to work harder to protect her, to keep her from harm at all costs. He would become her sword and her shield, a way to repay her for being his blanket, his home, his light.

“Goodnight Levi,” (Y/N) sighed as her own eyes fluttered closed.

“Goodnight Cuddlebug,” Levi said softly, a nickname he was sure would embarrass her later. Just as he expected, (Y/N) threw him one last half-hearted glare for his teasing before she succumbed to her exhaustion, a small smile on her face as she curled into his warm body.

Levi found himself quickly falling asleep behind her, surprised at how fast she made him relax. He was so used to being an insomniac, especially during a storm where he felt paralyzed with fear and horrible memories, but (Y/N) was holding his demons back for him, keeping them locked away for the night, and he couldn’t be more grateful for that as he slowly slipped from consciousness and into a dreamless sleep.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” was the last thing Levi managed to say, the last thing (Y/N) managed to hear, before the pair fell into a deep sleep, wrapped up in their own little world together.

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paper-n-ashes · 3 years

Text

sparks and embers - chapter 6

Characters: Poe Dameron x Original Female Character, Kylo Ren x Original Female Character

Story Tags: Explicit (18+), Canon Compliant/Divergent (Set after TLJ), First Person POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Porn with Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren hates Poe Dameron

Chapter 6 - Ruin

Words: 5.9k

Chapter Tags/Warnings: Mentions of war/death, kissing, a healthy dose of the ‘sharing a bed’ trope, ANGST, sexual education because who doesn’t want to read about that in fanfiction, vague description of a female medical procedure

Read on AO3 or Start from the beginning

A softened sigh left me, knowing it was probably time to let Poe say his piece. He’d been so silent until now that I felt compelled to hear what had been stirring inside his mind while I’d held him in quiet contempt.

“Alright. I’m listening.”

He flicked on one of the dimmed lamps next to the bed, a gentle glow illuminating the room, watching as he proceeded to carefully extricate himself from under the sheets, the soreness as a result of the rehab we’d performed today now evident in his concentrated expression.

I drew myself up into a seated position on the sofa as he made his way to sit on the small table at my front, not attempting to meet my eyes until he’d slowly placed himself down on the metal. His face was less than a meter from mine, pupils drifting upwards until finally, our stares locked.

“I’m sorry,” he declared, his words heavy. “I understand why you’re angry. I get it, okay? Years of battle after battle, fight after fight, it becomes difficult to consider those working under the First Order’s control as people. People with families, loved ones, even children. They appear as targets, there simply to be eliminated. And it’s you or them. Either you perish, or you put the rational thought into the back of your mind and fight back.”

Poe glanced down, fixated to the floor, his jaw tight. “I do think about it sometimes, the people I’ve... murdered. I’ve spent sleepless nights wondering if killing in the name of freedom was a good enough reason to send people to an early death. When you don’t see their faces it’s…. easier. You don’t see the bloodshed, the corpses. You just see the fiery explosion of their ships fading into the black void of space.”

I stayed rigid in the sofa, hands clutching the into cushions. It was difficult to hold down the simmer of anger that boiled in my stomach, since everything so far only reinforced what I felt like I’d determined hours ago. Even while my demeanour remained stormy, Poe continued.

“All I heard in my childhood was my father reminding me of the way he and my mother fought for what they believed to be right. Both of them lived and battled through a time like ours, under the thumb of a regime hungry for power, sparing no innocents in their pursuit of it.” He became lost in memory, the aura drifting around him stained with a subtle sorrow. “‘People were hurting. People were suffering. Your father and I couldn’t sit and do nothing.’ That’s what my mother had told me, a child of two, as her reasoning for joining the Alliance in their efforts to push back against what threatened all type of freedom in this galaxy. My parents offered to sacrifice their lives on the tiniest shred of hope that me, and every other being on every planet, would see peace in their lifetime.”

His eyes finally shifted back to focus on mine. They were determined, yet soft, the chocolate fibers of his irises melting together. “I just... wanted to be like her. Like them. I wanted to do what they did. I wanted them to be proud of me, to have faith that their legacy would live on after they were gone. To provide freedom and peace like they had. Even if that meant sacrificing my own life, even if that meant killing those who opposed it. I had to. I had to join the people that wanted the same thing as me.”

A growing ferocity began to radiate, his voice severe. “I witnessed so many of my fellow soldiers, my friends, die thoughtlessly at the hands of others. And I wanted them to feel the same pain that I felt. Is it hypocritical? Of course, I know that. Is it cruel? Yes, murder is rarely not. But it's in the name of protection, defiance against control from an overpowering force. Those who fight with the First Order, who take over planets and kill innocents for the sake of power, they know what they’re doing. They know the consequences, the outcome, the hold the galaxy will be strangled under if they succeed. And they do it anyway. Our cause isn’t more noble, it’s self-defence. We’re trying to protect the ones who aren’t able to fight back, and those who don’t deserve to be born into a world that will crush them into submission.”

Poe’s features turned darker, leaning in close. “I will never stop thinking about the lives I’ve taken. I will never not hold myself accountable for the sins I’ve committed. But I will also not sit and do nothing. I don’t need you to accept it, but at least try to understand. You and I want the same thing, in the end, to save as many people as possible in our short lifetime. I’m just doing the best I can to see that through.”

While I instinctively took a breath in preparation to speak, nothing came. He’d rendered me speechless.

I had no reply to give, no counterargument, no flaw to point out. His honesty floored me, raw emotion and long-felt guilt rising up for me to observe so openly. The pain behind his eyes seemed so much more acute than any of the other injuries he’d sustained, not trying to shield it from my view as he spoke.

I tried to find words, anything to articulate my forgiveness. Because I did understand. He’d made me see it, the same anguish over death that I felt. But he’d also made me realise what a coward I was.

Against the people who would kill him or control him, he fought back. While I hid myself away under the guise of selflessness.

I thought I was the hero of my story, giving up my home, my old life, for the benefit of the downtrodden people of this planet. In reality, I was a scared little girl, too gutless to push back against those I, and so many others in this galaxy, feared. And here Poe was, putting himself in harm’s way, every day, in the hopes that he could take away our fear forever.

He began to rise in front of me, taking my lack of reply as an answer in itself. He seemed despondent, his face sullen as he turned to limp back to the bed.

A different kind of fury coursed through me, fury at myself for how easily I’d judged him, at how cruelly I’d treated him.

I couldn’t let the night end this way.

I picked myself up from the sofa and quickly lunged at his wrist, pulling him to face me. He was surprised, glancing with wide eyes to where my hand had caught him, then to my face. I tried desperately to convey it there, everything I wanted to say, struggling to find my voice. Poe waited for me to speak the words I clearly had sitting on the edge of my tongue, but everything I conjured didn’t seem to be enough, the jumbled thoughts swirling incoherently in my mind, never letting me quite grasp onto them long enough to form exactly what I needed to express.

Tension filled the space between us, thick and overwhelming. I soon began outlining the lines of his face, the crease currently stuck in his brow, the curve of his nose, the contour of his jaw, the arch of his lips.

My hands found themselves catching each side of his face, pulling his mouth to mine in a desperate kiss.

I’d held it back for so long, too long, now unable to deny the burning urge to melt my lips into his. He was alarmed at first, his mouth frozen from movement as he comprehended my sudden attack.

Yet quickly he was syncing his lips fluidly with mine, a hand rising to clutch the back of my neck, pulling me closer. His casted arm curled around my waist, pressing my body into his, feeling the heat radiating off his chest.

The fire in my lower abdomen roared into bright red flames again, spreading into the rest of my body like molten lava. He tasted even better than I’d imagined, our tongues beginning to find each other through parted mouths. Fingers moved into his hair, hungrily grasping at the curled strands, causing a low moan to seep from his throat. The sound made me even more forceful in my need for his lips to be connected with mine, barely having time to breathe in-between our eager kisses.

I wanted to have him, all of him, so deeply it was painful, the searing burn lighting up in my veins.

Don’t do this Alexys. It will ruin you.

My breath hitched as I reluctantly pulled away, looking up, seeing his pupils swollen. He was cautious then, moving his hand from my neck to push a strand of hair behind my ear, almost if at any moment I would flee from his embrace.

And that’s what half of me was begging to do, the other screaming at me to lock our lips together again. I felt split into two, a cracking beginning to divide me roughly in the middle.

I could see Poe searching through my gaze, trying to assess my thoughts, whether it was safe to continue. He leaned in gradually, testing my reaction. I didn’t recoil this time. I didn’t want to.

His lips melted into mine, less insistent than before, although somehow just as intimate. Inhibitions lowered, my hands slid down to his chest, noticing the hard muscles underneath my palms and feeling the fire inside me surge. I wanted to feel the bare skin underneath, to have it pressed against my own. To explore the other parts of him covered by clothes. To forget even for a short time that this was wrong, that I shouldn’t be doing this.

Poe gently withdrew, leaning his forehead into mine. “I know.”

“Know what?”

He exhaled a long breath. “I know you don’t want to do this.”

I replaced my hands to his cheeks. “You have no idea how much I want this. How much I want you.” The truth of the words made me feel both vulnerable and safe, for the first time giving in to the yearning I’d hoped to keep locked inside my chest.

He tensed, a slight tremble in the arm that curved around my body. But his face grew sombre, almost... sad. “You don’t. Not completely. I can feel you wanting to hold back,” he murmured. “I can feel your fear.”

I swallowed hard, unable to refute him. “…I’m sorry. I want to. But I just… I can’t."

We both looked down, my confirmation making the tone of our connection shift. He was silent for what felt like a long time, and we stayed motionless in our embrace, neither wanting it to end, knowing it was inevitable that we would have to part.

“Why?” he breathed. “Why are you afraid?”

I wanted to be honest with him, like he had been for me, so much the sensation felt like it was clawing out from inside me, determined to burst through the skin. But there was a barrier there, one I had forged long ago. Unyielding and impenetrable to anything or anyone.

Although, I felt another realisation simmer to the surface of my mind, one that was not nearly as exposing, but still true.

“You’re going to leave. And I have to stay here. I don’t… I don’t want that to hurt any more than it has to.”

It seemed to hit him then, like he hadn’t let the thought enter his mind before. The awareness of our predicament shone brightly in his eyes, a light switch flickering on.

His hand moved to my cheek, grazing his thumb softly against the skin, my heart throbbing inside its cage at his light touch. I watched as eyes scanned over my face, back and forth, as if memorising the features. It was then I knew he’d come to the same conclusion.

It wouldn’t be long before we would part, most likely to never see each other again. If we went any further, if we crossed that line, the pain of saying goodbye would become so much more unbearable.

Almost simultaneously, we let our hold on each other loosen, the disappointment in the air almost palatable on my tongue. The smouldering inside had burnt out, suffocated by the gloom weighing heavy in my chest. Poe took my hand in his, his eyes pleading. “Can I ask one thing of you?’

I moved my head in a slow nod.

“Sleep in this bed with me tonight. Just sleep. I promise.” It was an earnest request, his face imploring and unguarded.

In contempt of the voice in my head bellowing at me that this was a terrible idea, I agreed. “Okay.”

Together we tentatively walked to each side of the mattress, making no rush to slip under the covers and settle into the pillows. I faced away, fearing if I looked at Poe's charming face any longer, I would surrender to the pull of desire that never seemed to relent. I didn’t know how I was ever going to be able to fall asleep like this, his body radiating an energy that vibrated into the space between us, keeping me all too aware of his presence.

There was movement, a dip in the mattress, Poe’s arms curling around my torso, pulling me close. His face buried itself into my hair, the warmth of his gradual exhale sending charged shivers down my spine. Placing my arms over his, silently accepting his embrace, I felt my heart thump a calming glow through my chest, all the way to the end of my limbs.

I’d never felt so peaceful, so whole, becoming lost in the comfort of his hold, wishing I could bask in it forever.

But reality bit at me, cold and uninvited, reminding me of the goodbye I would have to give soon enough.

We were still entangled when consciousness came again, the dim light of early sunrise leaking through my window. Poe’s arms circled around me, my body fitting perfectly into his.

He was still asleep, his face resting just at the back of my head, slow breaths bristling into my hair. I relished the feeling of it all, trying to commit it to my memory.

I stayed there, motionless, waiting for time to run out, knowing I would be chasing the feeling of this in the months, maybe years, to come. Thinking about his future absence made me terrifyingly lonely, even with his arms wrapped around now.

Eventually the seconds ticked down to my chronometer alarm buzzing, rustling Poe awake from his slumber. I assumed he would begin to move, pulling away, this one night that bonded us together finally ending. Yet he stayed as unmoving as I had been, the only indication he had awoken the increased depth of his inhale, a small tense of his muscles. I went to move, to switch the screeching sound off, but he clutched me back into his chest, squeezing tight.

As much as my heart thumped at the pressure of his hips into mine, the noise of my alarm was grating. “Let me turn it off,” I whispered. “I’ll come right back.”

Poe loosened his grip reluctantly, allowing me to reach over to the screeching machine and mute its sound. I settled back comfortably into his arms again, as he nuzzled his face into my neck, lips faintly placing a kiss on the skin.

“Poe… please… don’t…”

His sigh whistled past my neck. “Come with me, when I leave.”

It annoyed me, his fleeting demand so easily spoken. As if I could suddenly give up all that encompassed my life before he appeared, the beings that depended on me. But his voice was so sincere, so entreating in the early morning, that the irritation dashed away from the forefront of my mind.

“You know I can’t do that.”

He acknowledged my answer in the shift of his body from around me, moving himself out of the bed we had shared for the night and leaving me alone underneath the sheets.

It burned, the unprecedented disconnection of his shape from mine, my chest forming into a black hole in the realisation I might never feel him that close again.

I wanted to let my emotion to take over, to give in to the pain that rushed to me now as the finality of our night cradled together became evident. But I refused to release it, my resolve from the night before holding strong. I knew I’d made it harder by giving in to Poe's innocent plea of sharing a slumber within his embrace, but I wasn’t going to let our farewell completely ruin me.

With a forced composure, I rose from my bedside, focusing on the appointments scheduled to fill my day. Through my haze I recalled many of them being young female patients in need of birth control. I would somehow have to shut Poe away, wanting to give these women the privacy they deserved.

Poe and I appeared to use the ‘freshers at the same time, the searing heat I usually liked being showered with restrained no matter how high I pushed the temperature button. Eventually I’d readied myself for the workday ahead, deciding on a pencil skirt and lightened blue blouse tucked into the waist, working my hair into a ponytail.

It was when I’d begun making breakfast, for both myself and all the company that I kept in the clinic at the moment, that Poe emerged back into my quarters in a set of dark black hospital clothes. I glanced at him only briefly as he entered, hearing him pull out a chair, not daring to look at his face yet.

“Smells good,” he uttered, breaking the silence that existed in exemption to the sautéed chicken eggs and nuna bacon sizzling in the large pan in front of me.

“It’s almost ready,” I remarked, feeling completely the disconnection between us in his tone. Half of me was glad he accepted the separation we needed to make, the other mourning the severed bond we had formed in the connection of our bodies. But I had to let it go, whatever was left of the fragile link that survived the night.

I continued preparing the hot meal, separating the foodstuff between Poe and Vixur’s crew. Once I’d gently placed a share in front of Poe at the table, a smile meeting him fleetingly, I took the rest with me, balancing the four dishes on my hands and forearms, moving cautiously through the hallway.

With impeccable timing Vixur and his students were conversing between each other, obviously having woken just before I came to greet them.

“I’ve got breakfast for you all,” I announced, setting it down at the meeting table across from my computer. It was generally used as a place I could sit with patients and their families when giving them their diagnosis or explaining treatment plans, but today it would have to work as a secondary dining table. All four men jabbered back thankyous as they moved quickly to sit and eat, their appreciation evident in the way they gulped down the meal without hesitation. I returned to my quarters to find Poe picking lazily at his food, only a few bites eaten.

“Does it taste bad?” I asked from behind him, before circling to my seat at the table.

He looked up swiftly, as if I’d startled him. He must have been deeply lost in thought not to hear me treading down the hallway.

“It’s delicious,” he urged. “I’m just… not that hungry.”

“Are you feeling alright? Are you still sore? Are you-“

“Alex, I’m fine,” he interrupted. “You can’t fix a bad mood with any of your treatments.”

I looked at him curiously. “Bad mood?”

Did I do that to him?

“Did you not sleep well?”

He didn’t answer me right away, a subtle scowl settling in his lips. “It was actually... the most restful sleep I’ve had in a long time.”

I fought the urge to beam at him, a smile waiting to form, but the gloomy expression he wore held it down. I had to agree with him - it truly was the most comfortable rest I’d experienced in recent memory. And knowing I would never feel that peaceful, dreamless slumber in his arms again made me fully understand why he was frowning.

“Thank you so much for the meal Alex. I just... don’t have an appetite right now.” Poe rose from his seat and took his plate to clean, his sombre mood spilling into my body and taking over. Wringing his hands dry, He turned back to me. “Is it still alright if I keep using your office to continue working on BB-8?”

I nodded. “It would actually be preferable. Most of my patients today are women, and I need privacy for their appointments. I’ll let you know when it’s safe to come out, okay?”

Poe understood what I’d only hinted at. “Sure thing. I won’t step a foot out that room without your permission.”

A kind smile formed on his lips, but it fell as he moved from my quarters, leaving me to my breakfast, which now seemed extremely unappetizing.

“Well, Kaia, you’ve got a couple of options,” I started. It was my 5th appointment of the day, and I was starting to lose all hope in the young generation that followed mine. “You can get the implant, which lasts 5 years and protects you from pregnancy. But it can be a painful procedure, and unfortunately the implant itself is quite expensive. There are injections which last 3 months, but you’ll have to see me again in that time frame. I know that’s hard for you being from the South village. But there’s always prophylactics, which your partner has to use, every separate time you want to be intimate.”

Kaia was a 17-year-old human girl who had obviously not been taught any helpful sex education. Although, that wasn’t uncommon in these villages.

“But, like,” she began to question. “Can’t he just, like, not, um, finish in there?”

I drew in a deep breath. This wasn’t the first time I’d explained this today. “Technically yes, if he withdraws from you before that moment comes, it does lessen the chance of pregnancy. But Kaia, there’s a lot of fluid already leaking from him before then, fluid that can contain sperm. It doesn’t protect you. Not fully.”

Kaia was thoughtful, taking in my words. “But what if he doesn’t want to use the sheath?”

“Well... that’s his decision. But then you have to make yours. A decision that you’re more than allowed to make. One night could lead to either a future of motherhood or even diseases that could cause a great deal of damage to your body.”

“Ew,” Kaia recoiled. “I mean, I get what you’re saying. But Miss Jago, haven’t you ever been so swept up in the moment that you didn’t think about any of that?”

My jaw clenched, catching me off guard with her question. None of the other women had posed it to me. “It’s not been an issue for me,” I said flatly.

“Because of the birth control, right?” she surmised. “Which one do you use then?”

Oof, caught me out again.

“I don’t have the need for it. Kaia, this is not about me-”

“Wait, what?” she gasped. “But you’re so pretty?”

I soaked my voice in its professional tone. “This is your appointment Kaia, we’re not here to discuss my personal life.”

Kaia refused to comply. “But you’ve done it, right?”

I sighed, irritated. “Yes Kaia, but we took all the necessary precautions.”

“Well that doesn’t make it sound very fun,” Kaia huffed.

I tried desperately to hold back the aversion wanting to show on my face. It hadn’t been fun. It was clunky, awkward and somewhat painful. And I felt a spike of envy that this teenager already seemed to have had better experience with the opposite sex than I did.

“Look, your options are there. If I had to choose one, and I was with a partner I could trust had nothing that could spread to me, I’d go with the implant.”

She contemplated my advice, pulling her hands up to let her chin rest on them. “I think you’re right Miss Jago. But my parents would never help me pay for it.”

“That’s alright,” I replied, already knowing the home situation Kaia found herself in. She’d made the trek to my clinic alone, without her parent’s knowledge, just to see me for this single reason. I doubted they even knew she had a boyfriend. “How about I put the implant in today, and we figure out payment later?”

Kaia’s face lit up, eyes brimming with delight. “Really?”

I smiled at her and nodded.

“Thank you!” she squealed, face barely containing her excitement.

Really, this was for both her benefit and my own. I wasn’t about to face her parents when it would ultimately be me providing the news their daughter was pregnant. I didn’t want Kaia to go through that, a young pregnancy in a poor village after her parents would most likely cast her out.

“Remember I said this can be a painful procedure, and you’ll be sore for a day or two afterwards.”

Kaia nodded, understanding, yet unable to hold back her joy.

I worked my way through the process of setting her implant, my mind on autopilot while I thought more about the question Kaia innocently queried. I’d never come close to the type of desire that would have caused me to throw away all caution and rational thought. Not until-

“Hey Alex!” I heard from the other side of the curtain I’d drawn for Kaia’s discretion. “I know I said I wouldn’t come out until you said, but I’ve got something I need to show you.”

Poe’s voice was exuberant and proud, annoyingly unaware of the fact I had my hand in a very delicate place. My eyes shot to Kaia’s, her cheeks already flushing red with mortification.

“Poe!” I fumed, not hiding my anger. “I asked you to do one thing!”

I sensed his panic from behind the fabric separating us. “Kriff! Sorry!” His voice changed when he spoke next, a hurried whisper. “BB, come back here! We can’t show her yet!”

A streaming mechanical movement could be heard in my periphery, turning my head to see a shadow moving along the bottom of the curtain. I took the moment to stop what I was doing, covering Kaia with a sheet.

I was thankful I did that when the BB-8 droid slip through a break in the drape, caring little for what Poe had ordered him to do. His little head sat hovering above his balled body, for the first time actually staying in position. The photoreceptor, which looked like a singular eye, was also finally lit as he zoomed closer. While an impressed smirk started to beam as I realised Poe had managed to get his little friend working, it was rapidly overtaken by irritation at the droid’s lack of courtesy.

Poe was cursing under his breath, then apologetic. “Alex and uh, patient, I am so sorry. BB, get out of there!” BB-8 let out a few indiscernible beeps, a language I didn’t understand, although Poe seemed to. “I don’t care! They need privacy. You can see her later!” he hollered.

The droid made what sounded like a high-pitched huff as its head dropped, like it knew it had been scolded. Its head swivelled around on top it’s body and rolled away, again sliding through the break in the curtain.

“Come on, back this way.” I listened to the combination of footsteps and mechanical whirring move back into the hallway, a door eventually clicking closed. Looking apologetically back to Kaia, her face was still stunned at the intrusion.

“I am so sorry. I told him to stay put until my appointments were over. It’s okay if you want to stop for a moment,” I offered, trying to stay as calm as possible.

Kaia blinked purposefully a few times before being able to focus back to me. “No it’s okay. I’m ready.”

I admired her composure, while I remained silently boiling under the surface.

“What the hell Poe?” I snarled, barging into my office where Poe sat, seemingly interrupting a conversation he was having with BB-8. I’d clawed my anger into submission for the rest of Kaia’s appointment, but now it was ready to surge outward.

Poe stood, arms held up in surrender. “I know! I’m sorry! I didn’t think, and it was just really bad timing.” BB-8 beeped in what sounded like agreeance, rolling around from behind the office desk into my view.

“It was the worst timing!” I snapped. “That girl was 17, in a very vulnerable position, and you scared the living daylights out of her!”

“I know, and I can’t apologise enough Alex, really!” His face was pleading, brown eyes soft yet desperate. “I was just so excited about BB working again, and I wanted to show you.”

His sincerity disarmed me, my fury sizzling down, suffocated by his apology. I took a slow breath in, eyes closed, reigning it in further. “Please don’t disregard my instructions again,” I grumbled.

He nodded, as did BB-8, and my eyes focused on the droid. He was oddly cute in his appearance, his small beeps already annoyingly adorable. “Hello,” I greeted, all frustration now clean from my voice. “My name is Alexys.” I kneeled down to his eye level and he immediately wheeled directly in front of me, beeping somewhat of his own introduction.

“He said it’s nice to meet you,” Poe clarified, still hesitant at the easy change in my mood.

I looked up at him, curious. “You can understand those sounds he makes?”

“Most of it,” Poe answered. “It’s a form of Binary. Having him with me for so long helped me grow accustomed to the pitch and time changes in his beeps.”

My eyebrows rose, fascinated. “That’s so impressive.” BB-8 squealed in uneven time, his eye looking over to Poe, who almost looked bashful. “What? What did he say?”

He shot BB-8 an irritated look before meeting his eyes to mine. “It’s nothing important. His circuits are still a little fried.”

I wasn’t convinced, but then again I didn’t speak droid. "I'm glad you got him working,” I said earnestly, pleased there hadn’t been any type of casualty from his crash.

Poe sighed, relieved. “Me too. He’s the best co-pilot I’ve ever had.”

BB-8 whistled happily, evidently pleased with the praise, and its sweetness made me smile.

“Alexys?” Vixur suddenly called, his voice echoing down the hall. “Are you back there?”

I left Poe and BB-8 without a word, finding Vixur standing at the hallway entrance, his clothes smeared in dirt and dark grease. “Everything okay?”

Vixur nodded, evidently tired, still an accomplished grin filled his face. “We’re done actually. The comm-tower’s fixed.”

I wanted to smile back, to show my appreciation for his hard work, but it all became too hard to fake anymore.

This was it, the beginning of my goodbye to Poe. He would now be able to contact the Resistance, his friends, and he would soon be gone from my life just as suddenly as he arrived.

I forced the tears back as I hugged Vixur, doing all I could to hide my pain and show some kind of gratitude for the selfless work he had done.

Somehow Vixur sensed the turmoil simmering through me, patting my back softly. He pulled out of our embrace, speaking softly enough so Poe wouldn’t hear. “You needed this done for him, didn’t you?”

I nodded, the sadness hard to contain on my face. Vixur’s own expression was sympathetic as he squeezed my arm reassuringly. I didn’t need to explain anything, he just seemed to know.

“If it’s meant to be, you’ll find each other again.”

I drew in a long breath, furiously smothering the need to cry. I wanted to thank him more, for giving his time to me for little in return, but I couldn’t say the words out of fear the sudden sorrow would overwhelm me if I spoke out loud.

Vixur understood this, giving me a caring smile as he took his leave. “Well, we best be heading back to the village. I’ll see you sometime soon Alex. If I don’t, I wish you luck.”

And he was gone, the clinic door closing behind him, leaving me frozen in dread. A large part of me was reluctant to tell Poe the ‘good news’, but he’d waited long enough for his rescue from this planet.

I didn’t need to turn around to know he’d slinked out of the office to find me stuck where I stood, BB-8’s soft whirring following him.

“The comm-tower is ready, isn’t it?” Poe asked gently.

I forced myself to smile as I turned around, Poe’s expression not showing the relief I would have expected.

“Sure is,” I replied, the hint of quiver in my voice. “You can finally go home.”

I saw Poe’s lip tremble as he too attempted a smile, the disappointment in his eyes more indicative of his actual reaction to my answer.

Neither of us spoke for a long time, BB-8 looking back and forth quizzically, a few unsure beeps finally pierced in Poe’s direction. The sounds knocked us back into reality, as I moved to find the transmitter I’d stashed back into my tech station after determining its redundancy days ago.

The memories felt foreign, like they were from a different age. So little time had changed me so much, making me feel the most unstable and fragile I had felt in so long, on the verge of tipping into an overwhelming pain.

Poe had watched me in silence, unmoving. I eventually shifted the transmitter into his arms, an extremely aged, large box with an array of dusty buttons poking out of the rusted metal.

“It’s old, but it still works,” I insisted in a monotone, the emotion sucked from my voice. Poe only nodded, and gave me one last despairing glance as he turned away, carrying the machine into the study, BB-8 trailing behind him.

When the door closed, I couldn’t hold onto it any longer, the overpowering misery bursting free, its icy presence consuming me in a singular moment, the cold burn stinging as a few tears trickled down my cheeks.

What did I tell you?

The tears came faster at the sound of the voice, it’s condescension only making the suffering more excruciating.

No.

You’re wrong. I’m stronger than this.

I wiped away the errant tears defiantly, pulling myself together at the seams that had broken a few minutes ago, calming my breathing, trying to settle the trembling on inhale.

I’d made it through so much worse, pushed past crushing loneliness, fear and sadness, to make myself more resilient than I was behaving now. And I wasn’t going to let myself be caught in this vortex of emotion any longer.

I will not let this ruin me.

Next Chapter

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imonthinice · 3 years

Text

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 14/?

Word Count: 2.2k

Author’s Note: Y/N - Your Name

Somehow! I decided that Y/N became more of an OC, I don't know how this happened, but I might release an AU just because I clearly can’t fanfiction Y/N lmao.

Warnings: Discussion of arrests, Mentions of alcoholism, Mentions of drug use, Mentions of Jason’s trauma, Mentions of relationships ending bad, Mentions of abuse (domestic), No beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

“Your friends... all got arrested?” he paused, “Do you remember this? At all?” he questioned.

“Do you expect me to remember any of this? I was black-out drunk, Jason,” she said, “There’s a lot of questions that need to be answered now, I know that.”

“You going to worry about this now and fix it?”

“I really don’t want to deal with it. My memory of the night is non-existent anyway.”

“Getting drunk does that to you.”

“You’d think I would know that by now,” she muttered under her breath.

He chose to ignore that statement because clearly, she wasn’t prepared for everyone to know of that part of her past yet. But that was neither here nor there.

“Do you have any notes that you need to write?” he asked, trying to ease the tension. Hoping it would clearly make her feel better if he changed the subject.

“No, I can read my own notes. I only printed them out for you, Jay.”

“Well that’s very sweet of you to do, baby.”

“Got to make up for my recklessness somehow, I guess,” she laughed, “It is what it is, I guess.”

“You should be more confident in the fact that you don’t need to make up for recklessness,” he paused, “Did I ever tell you about that time I dared Dick to tuck and roll out of the car?”

“Dick mentioned it.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t tell you that he made me do the same first, actually,” he laughed, “We were with dad, he was teaching me how to drive as one does, and when we stopped so dad could answer a phone call, Dick leant over to me and said, ‘During my demo, twenty bucks if you tuck and roll out of the car.’ and me, being a stupid teenager took the deal,” he laughed, “Dad was pissed at us two and refused to take Dick on my driving lessons after that.”

“Well that doesn’t explain why you made Dick tuck and roll out of the car,” she laughed.

“I’m getting to it! So the next time Dick was going to go for a drive with Dad, probably because he wanted to tell Dad about Barbara or something, I don’t know, I said, ‘To get your twenty bucks back, you tuck and roll out of the car this time.’ Dick, also being a stupid teenager, did it,” he laughed, “And that’s why dad never takes us on car rides now.”

“Have any of your other siblings tucked and rolled out of cars?”

“You say that like it’s a daily activity people just do.”

“Well, who’s to say your family is not one of those types of people?” she joked.

“Logic?”

“Logic? In the Wayne Manor? That’s rich.” she joked.

“Like you would know!” he retorted to her before grabbing her and yanking her onto his chest as he laid down on his bed.

“You’re dating a girl who flipped off the press twice, you cannot look at me and say your family possesses logical thinking.”

“That’s valid, I won’t dismiss that,” he laughed.

They let the news play in the background as they cuddled. Jason still had his stitches in and he said it was because Dick said, “You’ve been moving too much’ and the two of them laughed, knowing that that was likely going to be the outcome. They knew what they did, they knew it was worth it. Dick probably didn’t think it was worth it, if he even caught on,

Bruce had reamed Jason out for that, because Bruce did catch on. Bruce had to play the parenting role in this all, and he knew what Jason was like. He knew Jason likely wasn’t prepared for the escapade and journey they had took.

He was right. Jason wasn’t prepared for that, he didn’t have the necessary items for it. Y/N and Jason didn’t care about that at the time, so they didn’t even bother to realize. Kids will be kids, Bruce supposed, and he hoped for the best possible outcome out of this. He knew Jason wasn’t ready, he didn’t know if Y/N was ready, but he knew if what he was scared would happen actually happened, he’d support the two of them unconditionally.

But they would continue to do their own thing as time went on, and even at 3 in the morning, no one could stop them from doing what they wanted, what they needed.

That was the beauty of the chase they had done to get to this point, the drama, the love, the pain, it all got them to the point where they were side-by-side in his bed, naked. Obviously they were going to have sex eventually, they just didn’t expect it this early on, but they also seemed to be speed running the entire relationship to the good parts, where they knew each other like the back of their hands, just enjoying the quality time they got with each other.

Yes, it was soon. But it worked for them, and that’s what mattered to all of them. Not just Jason and Y/N, it mattered to his family that even if they were quickening their pace, they were happy and understanding of sometimes it just goes a little faster than one would expect. It doesn’t mean it’s bad or doomed to fail, it just means it’s clicking in a lot of ways others didn’t.

Jason had a dating rep he didn’t like to admit. He was known for being a womanizer, a playboy, someone that dads everywhere didn’t want their daughters to be with. He was given this through the fact that he did have women come in and out of his life. He didn’t want it to be this way, but that’s how it ended up being when some women, most women, would crack under the pressure of his life. He moved fast because he thought it made up for the craziness that was his life.

So, when he found out that Y/N didn’t like the press very much, he was ecstatic. He knew she didn’t know about what was being said about him everywhere, he knew she didn’t feel scared either, when she proved time and time again that she had a backbone to stand up against the press. Was she one-of-a-kind for this trait? No. Barbara also exhibited this with Dick and their relationship. But Jason had been so shit on by women he tried to date that Y/N was a nice change.

He didn’t want the press to be her new norm, that running from them would become her life, but he also didn’t know if that bothered her for a while, until he saw the articles. The ones calling her names and insulting her every feature, physical and character traits she had shown them. He knew that of course, with the games she had been playing, that they would insult her, and with the court case going on with her attacker, they were just more vicious.

That’s why he demanded she get into Dick’s car the morning after he found out about her drinking, not because he didn’t trust her or anything, but he knew with the ongoing case that she’d be bombarded worse than before. She realized this was his reasoning eventually, probably when she was in his arms.

Her dating streak had been better, but it still wasn't the best. She had a lot of secrets she felt like she needed to hide because of how they made her feel, but eventually she would come out with her stories, the assaults, the bad men, the way they used and used her and how she let it slide.

Being assaulted was something a lot of the population had to deal with and cope with, most likely never actually telling people of their assaults and just letting it simmer, deep, deep down in their brains. Wishing it would have just not happened.

She wanted to talk about it, but she had also healed so much from it with the help of Jason. Sure, he didn’t fix all the issues she had with exes, but the fact that he didn’t treat her the way the others did, sure as hell helped.

Writing and dance also helped her cope with a lot of the bad things that had happened to her. She figured if Jason went through bad things, he had an outlet too, because he did seem torn up, but not massively affected. Maybe he was good at hiding how he felt about it all, but maybe he had a way to deal with the trauma.

She knew his parents’ stories and how he was so young during so much of it, and he hoped, prayed even, that he had coped well with those events. But she had no control over most if not all of the events that transpired and how he handled dealing with them.

Both of their minds had a thing for wandering away from them at the worst yet best moments. When she got a call.

“Hello?” she questioned into the phone, when an automated voice returned.

“This is a prepaid call from Gotham County Jail. From inmate ‘Justine Wong’, to accept this call, please dial 1.”

She did.

“Thank you for your cooperation. All inmate calls are recorded. Your account balance is $40.50.”

“Y/N?” Justine asked.

“Hey, I’m here.”

“So, we have an issue,” she joked, “How much do you remember?”

“Nothing. I don’t remember anything.”

“I figured, fuck.”

“It seems issues follow me wherever I go, huh.”

“No, no. It’s our fault, myself, Kaitlin, Thomas, Christopher, we all dragged you out of the house and got you drinking. I barely even remember how it got to where it ended.”

“Well that... that isn’t ideal, Justine. Do you know when your court date is?” Y/N asked.

“I don’t even know if the guy is pressing charges, I hope he doesn’t.”

“You can say that again,” she joked.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this mess, I took you to the bar that night.”

“You did, yeah.”

“I should have known better.”

“It’s... it’s not that you should have known better, man. It’s... it’s that a bunch of unfortunate circumstances lead us to this point,” she tried to say to comfort her friend. She did feel like it was Justine’s fault in a way, but she didn’t know if fighting with her over the phone while she was held in jail for bodily harm charges was the best idea.

“I feel like you’re mad at me,” Justine admitted.

“It’s not important, really. We can talk about it in anywhere from a couple months to a year, hoping you get lucky.”

“I think we all want to get lucky, Y/N.”

“I know.”

“I think we’re running out of time here, with the call.”

“We are.”

“Well, I love you, man. I’m sorry about all of this.”

“I love you too.”

Click. She paused for a second, with Jason sleeping next to her, she questioned a lot. Whether these friends were even worth it at the end of the day. She had changed so much since she last saw them, trying to cut clean of alcohol, drugs, partying. And trying to better herself,

But she knew all 3 of them were trying to do so too. They really had just ended up in a bad situation. It was 4:34am, and she was just lost in thought when Jason turned into her in his sleep. She smiled.

She played with his hair a bit while he slept, trying to just calm herself. He seemed sweaty, and clutched his bed sheets with one of his hands, She thought maybe he needed comfort right now, not her. She didn’t ever notice this behavior before these moments, and it concerned her.

He was a grown man having nightmares, she assumed, but she didn’t like it. He deserved to sleep peacefully throughout the night when he woke up in a cold sweat, clutching his sheets and having his hair stroked.

He didn’t question it and just laid on top of Y/N, and let her stroke his hair as he tried to go back to sleep. They didn’t say anything, either of them. It was just really early on a Thursday morning, and they were making the best of the situations they had been thrown in.

There wasn’t any tension between the two of them, but they knew they were a ticking time bomb, that eventually they would fight and the supposed ‘Honeymoon Phase’ would be over. They didn’t like that thought, that one day they might be at each other’s throats, forgetting that a problem in the relationship is them two versus the issue and not them vs. each other. Fighting with their s.o scared them.

Jason would fall asleep in her arms, slowly drifting away into unconsciousness. But he would exhibit the same behaviors as before. The fear in his face was palpable.

But Y/N was asleep this time, so when Jason woke, trying to scream, he slapped his hand over his mouth and cried, he didn’t want to wake her, but he also craved just telling her what had happened and how sleeping was so, so much harder for him than she thought.

People thought the nightmares had slowed, but he just got good at hiding them.

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