#if spy decided to tell scout the truth why would he be asking for advice like wouldnt he want to keep it out of anyone elses business | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

delu-jean · 3 years

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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫: 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

(Jean x fem!/reader) -> (supposed to be angst but...major fluff) -> 4.9k

Notes: This chapter is a little longer, there’s an extra cut at the end, and loads of fluff! Hope you enjoy and chapter five is yet to come!! ^^

Ⅲ > Ⅴ

Jean stood there shocked at the corpse that lay in front of him. How did this even happen? Marco wasn’t that far the last time he checked.

“Is that...Marco?...”

He stood there petrified as his hand clenched. How could this have happened in such a short time?...a lady then asked for his name. Jean was very deep into thought, but eventually gave in.

“Marco...Marco Boddt.”

“Thank you young man.”

---

You left the place where you were last standing. You were still upset because of what happened, but decided to let that go as you watched Jean. He seemed so...helpless. You didn’t need to know much to understand that someone probably died...and Marco if anything (since he wanted to go and check on him).

Instead of forcing him to tell you anything, you put your hand on his shoulder. It showed comfort from a distance which gave enough space. He seemed grateful for your gesture, and looked back at you. Teary eyed, he placed his calloused hand onto yours. The Bonfire was now taking place, and you brought him to an area where you both could sit.

Jean hugged his two knees together, and yet still managed to hold your hand. You didn’t move it though, knowing it was helping him cope.

Sasha and Connie joined not much later, and you all huddled together. You felt the sorrow they expressed and well...you felt such sadness as well. You may have not known everyone, but Marco was still a dear friend to you, heck most of the people in your squad (being Eren, Mikasa, Ymir, etc) were somewhat dear to you. You just, never let them get too close was all. You wished you had let Marco at least. He had always reminded you of Bertholdt...except...he was more optimistic and confident. You truly did enjoy his company, and were sad that it was now gone.

As you all sat, you then saw Bertholdt who stood alone. You sighed as you got up, slipping out of Jean’s grip, on your way to Bertholdt. Yes you were still very angry at him (along with the other two), but you’ve always had a soft spot for Bertholdt. Since he was like an older brother, you could never not forgive him. As soon as you reached him, you gave him a hug. He returned the favour as you whispered:

“Thank you...for warning me in advance. Honestly, I’m still pissed off that you guys didn’t say anything, and did things without my input. But at the same time, your advice did save my behind...somehow,” you chuckled as he nodded.

“I’m sorry Y/n...in truth, I should’ve stayed quiet...but I knew I needed to do something.”

“Yeah...just...no more secrets. Okay?...” he stood there as you sighed yet again.

“Let’s go,” on your way back, you hear as the two teased Jean.

Halfway through, Bertholdt stopped and told you he needed to meet with Reiner, whereas Jean had noticed your presence and tried pushing the two away.

“Ahhh, so that’s your competition. Although, I don’t think incest is a good idea-”

“He’s not her actual brother...idiot,” Sasha scolded which caused the two to argue.

“Guys, shut up. Y/n is coming,” they both quiet down as you approached, smirking at each other in “secrecy.”

You sat beside Jean still concerned. He seemed to relax a little now that you were beside him. That being the case, you finally asked:

“So, how are you feeling?” he looked at you, and then your hands.

“Ah yeah...I’m feeling better,” he cleared his voice. He looked shy for some reason...maybe it wasn’t that, but him being vulnerable?

“What about you?...I know Marco was also a good friend of yours.”

“Hmm...honestly, I miss him a lot. If he were here, he would say something motivating, inspirational even. I wish I got to know him a lot better seeing how nice he was. Well...regardless...I’ll make sure that lives like his don’t go in vain.”

“Mhm,” you scooched in closer.

“Are you still going to join the military police?” you asked as he looked troubled. Maybe he wanted to join the Garrison? You stretched your arms as he stared you down.

“If it helps, I’m joining the Survey Corps.”

“What, why?” a tone of concern splashed over as you eyed him.

“Well...I think everyone...deserves a fair chance...a fair chance at life. And if titans are the obstacles weighing down that opportunity, then I'll try doing anything that will help you guys get one step closer...I really will.”

If only you could do this back at home, in Marely. But killing off titans would never be the answer, not there at least. The heavy boulders they placed on each, and everyone of your shoulders, would never allow the chance of a fair life. One that you have always wanted. So if you couldn’t live out that dream (for yourself at least), you would try to help those here.

At first, you would never have thought to do such a thing, but as time passed, you accepted this place as one with just as many problems as your own. They weren’t that different, except Paradis had a better chance at a newer start. You then looked up to see the stars glisten so freely. One day, you hoped you would be able to as your hand reached for the sky.

“I think...I think I know what I want to do, thanks for that,” honestly, you had hoped he would pick the Mountain Police. It was a lot safer compared to the corpse, and well...it was something he had always gravitated towards. You didn’t want him to die out there...you couldn’t imagine him doing so.

Something you found a little funny was the difference between Jean and Bertholdt. Bertholdt and you were very close, and you would never want him to die. But if he ever did, you were prepared for such an event. But imagining Jean going through death was something that you couldn’t even bring up. You knew Jean was somewhat special to you, but in what way exactly? Maybe in a...no. You couldn’t. You couldn’t think such thoughts.

“Here, we should get going,” he offers his hand and helps you up.

You both walked to your quarters. While doing so, you could see that Jean seemed on edge. You weren’t sure as to why, but by the time you reached the door, all you could do was stare. It seemed as if both of you needed something...but the real question was “what?” What did you both need.

He then put his hand in his pockets, looking downwards as he mumbled the words:

“Well...goodnight.”

“Night.”

He started to make his way, and so did you. Before you could close the door, he caught it mid-way exclaiming:

“Y/n, wait!”

He gives you a small violet. It was a little roughed up (due to his pockets) but you admired it anyway. The way the petals clung, and they way he looked so disappointed in himself (for roughing it up) made you smile. You then put it on top of your right ear, adjusting it the best you could without a mirror, to then asked:

“Does it look good?” he moved it once more and swept a strand of your hair.

“Yeah, much better,” he then drew back quickly as you felt your heartbeat.

“Sleep well, okay? Jean?”

“Yeah, you too.”

---

It was finally the day where everyone had chosen their regiment. Annie ended up joining the mountain police. Based on what they told you, she would be a spy from a different (and more “important”) standpoint. Jean however, decided on the scout regiment, along with the rest of your friends.

“Jean, are you sure? The interior is a lot safer if anything, you should go before it’s too late-”

“You can’t convince me otherwise,” he winked as you shook your head.

“Plus, I can’t let you guys have all of the fun, killing titans? Yeah right, also, I won’t let Eren beat me.”

‘Oh...he must mean Mikasa,’ you thought.

At this point in time, you decided to accept that you had feelings for Jean. Though it was hard at first (because of your boundaries), you eventually gave in with each moment you spent. You were smitten with his charms, laugh, and smile. They kept drawing you in and never disappoint.

You weren’t going to lie, you were scared. Not only were your walls down to such an extent, but you were getting so attached to Paradis. Him just being one of the sources of that connection. It terrified you alright, but that warmth Jean gave, comforted you instead.

The way he would always tease you, make your day brighter, and just grab your attention in general, made you happy. But what kept you anchored was both your fears, and reality. Hearing that he wanted to beat Eren, reminded yet again as to who he liked. Mikasa. Even though you knew she loved the hot head, Jean liked her, and if you could support him, that’s all that mattered.

You crossed your arms in disappointment.

“If you want to beat him, there are so many other ways.”

“Like?”

“Your looks?” you both stood there in an awkward silence. He then tried to laugh things off.

“Okay okay, I’ll be truthful, I can’t let you go out there alone-”

“I have Reiner and Bertholdt-”

“Nonsense, you may have those two, but you’ll need a Jean as well.” You laughed at his remark and so did he.

“No but...being a part of the interior would be a safer option, plus...isn’t that what you’ve always gone for?”

He looked back at the others and said: “Yeah but, now this is what I’m going for,” you smiled a little worried, but knowing Jean, you guys could pull through together (hopefully).

Erwin said the last of his congratulatory speech, and you all headed for the stables. You were getting ready for the expedition that was yet to come. You watched as Eren, Mikasa, and Armin grouped together. You and Jean had just started walking, so the others (along with the trio) were in front of you.

“So, you’re telling me that you’ve all decided to join the corps?”

“Of course, why else would we be here?”

“Then Jean, Marco, and Annie joined the interior?-”

Jean then appeared in front of them along with you.

“Marco’s dead.” he said bluntly. Eren looked very shocked.

“Marco’s not, you must be joking-”

“Yes...he is…” you ensure as your arms crossed.

“I wish I could say I wasn’t, but he is.”

Your cloaks were then given out. “The wings of freedom…” Hopefully, one day, you could grasp onto that feeling along with the people who stood beside you.

---

“Listen Mikasa, unlike you we’re not willing to just throw our lives away for Eren.”

“We need a reason so we don’t hesitate when the time comes.”

“Show us your worth.”

You felt guilty while listening to this. Yes, you would “try” to sacrifice yourself for any comerdae, but when it came to Eren, it would probably be best if another titan ate him (you cherished him as you friend, but also acknowledged him as your enemy).

Yes, it may sound cruel, but your mission would be back in operation if he did so...but then again, did you really want to succeed in such a cause? The look on Reiner’s face reminded you of what your purpose was, and you sat there composed as Jean went on.

You admired his character. He really had grown up a lot during the time he’s spent here. Everyone agreed with his statements whereas Eren took it as a hard pill to swallow. You then all went to your horses (needed for the expedition) and started preparing for the fight ahead.

He was saddling up and looked over at your side, you caught him in the act and made a face. He made things so obvious which amused you. He shot up immediately as you proceeded to tease him.

Show us your worth,” you playfully said while giving him a dramatic stare.

“H-Hey! I did my best, quit yapping,” you both laughed as he came up and pulled you in by your belt. You were baffled (and flustered) to then see him tighten your buckle.

“Just in case...I can’t lose you to another incident...like I almost did last time.”

He probably said that due to the fact Marco was now gone...you nodded and grabbed his hand before it left you, shaking it. He was a little confused, but then heard the words:

“You can trust me, so don’t you dare wipe my trust away,” he chuckled at what you said and tightened his grip.

“I won’t. So stay safe out there, okay?”

“I will, and you better as well-”

“OhOho, am I intruding on this lover’s quarrel? I sincerely apologize with my utmost apology,” Connie teased as Sasha joined in:

“Jean, how dare you. Stealing my girl away? You can’t! She makes the best pancakes there are! Don’t do this to me!” Sasha sobbed as Jean turned red

“OH SHUT UP!”

To your surprise, Reiner jumped in.

“They have a point, if you’re going to take our Y/n away, you better have our approval if anything. Remember, no sneaking out past 9-”

“Says you,” you scowled as he laughed. You have to admit, when Reiner was in his warrior mode, you hated it. He was such a jerk and you needed that personality to disappear, and be on its way. But when he was himself, he was genuinely kind. Yet every kind smile had it’s fair share of frowns. You still wanted to know more about him, and hey, if this Island deserved a chance, so did he.

“I, ugh. Let’s get going, I don’t need a lecture from Captain Levi.”

You laughed and followed along with everyone else.

Jean POV

I liked Y/n...if you couldn’t tell by now. I knew I could make things obvious, but was pretty sure I could cover up my tracks. I’d say I’m pretty good at that...yeah…. Well, regardless, I’ve known for a little while, but wouldn’t say it’s been a very long time.

Even though I had confronted my own feelings, I never tried doing the opposite. It’s not that I didn’t want to confess, rather, some things held me back. One: there’s never been a good time to say anything. As of recently, things have been so hectic and well, Y/n and I have barely gotten any alone time. Two: I was a little insecure when I started liking her. There were just so many other guys who seemed more beneficial than me...even EREN if I had to admit...no...I take that last part back. Lastly, three: I didn’t want my feelings to ruin our friendship.

I really did like her though. Also, I’m not going to deny that I did have a thing for Mikasa (way back when), but after getting to know Y/n better (and myself in general), that feeling of pure attraction faded away. She’s a nice girl, but not my type of woman (whereas Y/n was).

I heard the war cries of those beside, behind, and in front of me. Each filled with ambition along with mine. Not knowing if this would be their last day, or if there would be a tomorrow, made their yells and screams even louder.

I watched as everyone around me poured their hearts into their calls, while Y/n simply sat there, prepping for the battle ahead. From an outsider’s perspective, she might have looked scared, but knowing her, she was just focused. Trying to get a piece of mind before another war commenced.

I rode off with my squad, things were going according to plan until titans started showing up one, after another. Luckily I was able to escape in the midst of it all. Though terrified, I tried my best to keep myself level headed. Even so, I almost died in the process. A titan was on its way to crush both my horse and I, but one of my cremates killed it. Unfortunately, the next titan to come took him out as I ran.

` I was then riding on my own, hoping I could scope out Y/n if the chance was given. I searched everywhere while riding faster, and faster. Although no traces were found, I did bump into Reiner, Armin, and a large titan.

“Why is she running infront of us?”

Armin then explained his theory, about someone else hosting the controls of that titan. Although I wanted to think of something else, I couldn’t just disregard his statement. This being the case, next thing you knew, I was a diversion trying to get the best of the female titan. I swung from her backside trying to get to her nape, but she protected it as I flew.

To my failure, Reiner decided to be a suicidal maniac (yet again) and plunged straight towards her.

“You maniac-” only seconds later, did he escape and we were on our way to find a safe zone.

We ended up going to a remote place with no titans, a couple of trees, and well...ourselves (along with the horses). We sat there hopeless wondering about what our next move would be.

‘I wonder where Y/n is…no...we need to find a way to get out of here first, then I can think about her…’

“Only two horses eh...I guess one-”

“Jean, I found your horse while riding. It seemed terrified.”

“My horse, Buchwald!” I calmed him down by brushing on his mane.

“I’m surprised you came," Reiner said to Christa.

“Well, I wasn’t too far and had Jean’s horse as well. I simply followed it, and it led me to you guys.”

“Wait, Christa, did you happen to see Y/n by any chance?” I asked worried and she thought to herself.

“Hmmm, last time I recalled, she went west from my squad. I haven’t seen her since but, if she’s with Ymir, she should be fine!! Don’t worry too much.”

Even though I felt uneasy, Christa’s gratefulness (towards us being alive) took my mind off of things. We then started to ride around the field, looking for any squad nearby. Luckily, we spot one in the nick of time, and join them.

---

“Yeah, I’m sure the commander is looking for shade, that way, he can set up a picnic for his scouts.”

“That’s very...unlikely,” Armin replied.

‘Great, we have to sit in these trees for gosh knows how long. This is going to be a pain,’ I swung along with the others.

Titans sprawled all around us and we all sat waiting for other orders. Not only wasI agitated at that, but also at the fact I haven’t seen Y/n even once. Where could she have gone? Last time I saw, she didn’t venture too far from me...well...that was at the entrance, so who am I kidding.

I looked around the trees to see many cadets, but not Y/n. Armin caught me doing so, and sighed as I then looked back at him.

“What?”

“You’re worried about Y/n-”

“Maybe I should use my ODM gear to look for her-”

“Jean,” Armin interrupted.

“I’m sure she’s fine, she’s with her comrades. Plus, have a little faith in her. She’s a fighter you know?” he smiled as I sighed.

“Yeah...she is...really is,” I then grinned hoping that...she still was one...literally.

“It’s not that though...I just...don’t trust her surroundings,” I peered down and saw almost a dozen titans. Armin nodded and then said:

“Yeah, and we shouldn’t either.”

I started to think to myself. I knew he meant that in a more “literal” way, but looking at it in a “metaphorical” stance, got me thinking differently. I know I’ve gotten to “know” Y/n during the time given, but have I really gotten to “know” her?

I think I did?...but then again, Y/n has always had a side I’ve never been able to reach. You know, she’s always talked about finding freedom for others, giving them the chances they deserved...but never talked about what she wanted. I hoped...truly hoped that maybe I could help her reach that feeling as well.

---

We all retreat in failure. The female titan had gotten away, and now here we were. So many lives lost for such a useless operation.

‘No Jean...let’s not think like that...I wonder where Y/n is,” I started riding faster to the front of the brigade, hoping I could find her.

I passed horse by horse, person by person, yet to my dismay...nothing. I broke a sweat while riding to see Ymir. Reminding myself as to what Christa had said, I approached and asked:

“Where’s Y/n?”

“Ah, she’s in the cart over there. Don’t cry too much,” she smirked as my eyes widened.

‘Why the hell was she laughing?...the hell is wrong with her?...’

I rode towards the cart Ymir pointed to. I didn’t think to look through any, because I had assumed she would be alive. I gave myself a moment to prepare myself for the worst. Even though I did so, I knew nothing would be able to prepare myself for her death...never…. I could feel my eyes water, still shut, ready to open until I heard a voice.

“Jean?”

“Y/N!? YOU’RE ALIVE!?” my eyes widened almost immediately.

“Yeah...I lost my horse and hurt my ankle during the process. Ymir basically carried me the entire time, but once we had decided to retreat, I told her to drop me off here.”

‘That wench-damn, she really got me thinking differently,’ I sighed and nodded my head.

“Are you okay though?”

“Yeah, it’s nothing to, ouch-” she winced and my reaction was to swoop in, but I pulled back as she adjusted the cloth given.

“Okay then...I’ll ride beside you until we get back,” the person riding the horse then winked at me and I panicked.

Hoping Y/n didn’t see, she grinned saying: “Alright, don’t miss me too much though.”

“Haha, I won’t.”

‘Because I already have...so much…’

Original POV

When you had gotten in the walls, you weren’t welcomed with the best greeting. Jean had made it his priority to shield you, and you were grateful for that. As soon as you made it back to the stables, before the medical team could take you, Jean insisted he would instead.

You weren’t exactly sure as to why, but you didn’t oppose it. He carried you by resting his right hand under you, and his left behind you, making sure he didn’t crush your legs in the process.

“Could you...um...cling onto me?” you quickly draped your arms around his neck as he started walking. It only felt like seconds before you both appeared at a field. Tall grass roamed everywhere, along with an assortment of both insects, and flowers (more grass if anything though).

He analyzed the area to then shake his head.

“Ah, I’m really bad at this,” he muttered.

“Sorry…” he placed you on the ground (gently) and then took off his cape. After doing so, he then placed you on top of his cloak, and you giggled.

You wouldn’t deny that it was cute. Even though your clothes were splattered in blood, he still put in the effort so you wouldn't dirty yourself even more. He seemed very stiff, it looked as if he was nervous. You weren’t sure as to why exactly, but regardless, you gave him the time he needed to adjust. You teasingly patted to your left, and he quickly moved over to sit. You let out a small laugh at his attempt, which put him at ease.

“It’s very pretty.”

“Not as pretty as you are.”

“I’m sorry, what?-”

“I-I mean, well...UGH DAMN IT!”

You sat there stunned. Did he really meant what he said? You looked at him shyly as he started to mumble to himself. What if he did really mean it?...But Mikasa?...you were so confused. Very actually. He exhaled and looked back at you.

“Is your ankle feeling better?”

“Yeah...I guess so,” you both sat in silence, until he said:

“Y/n...you’re a good friend,” all optimism had gone down the roof as you sat there confirming your thoughts about him, and Mikasa. He could tell the mood had instantly changed, and tried fixing it.

“No, wait, that’s not what I mean damn it. Here goes nothing...Y/n...I like you...like you a lot to the point it drives me crazy. I couldn’t stop thinking about you throughout the entire expedition. Wondering if you were safe or not...if I would make it out alive in time...”

“You know, originally, I had thought that I would need the right time to tell you how I felt, but I soon realized that time wasn’t going to wait for me. It may sound a little cheesy, but we could die today or tomorrow. That being the case, I needed to tell you as soon as I could.”

You looked at him as his expression had softened. Although he was looking at the sun setting in front of you, you could tell his heart was seeking elsewhere. That place being you. This feeling... the warmth...it felt so familiar, but instead of feeling foreign, it felt natural. You gazed as fingers played with the grass that lay beside you.

You felt as ease knowing that he liked you back, and that the Mikasa ordeal was over with...hopefully...since that doubt still ran through your mind, you asked:

“Wait, you do?-”

“Before you say anything, I need to prepare myself.”

“For?”

“Rejection.”

“What?” you laughed as he closed his eyes.

“Of course, only a girl such as yourself would give up on this beautiful masterpiece. That’s how special you are.” he winked as you rolled your eyes.

“No but...I am being serious. Although I confronted that way I felt not too long ago, I’ve always had this lingering feeling in my gut...for you…” he blushed and you followed. But just to make sure:

“What about Mikasa? Didn’t you want to beat Eren?...what happened to that.” a little scared for his response, he said:

“Oh, I meant in general. I gotta try and surpass him at least. He may be a titan but well...I’m Jean,” you both laughed.

“So...what about you?”

“I...can’t...I like someone else…”

He paused, shocked. Sure rejection was one thing, but thinking you liked someone else made his heart sink.

“It’s Bertholdt I’m assuming?..”

You shook your head.

“AHH DON’T TELL ME IT’S EREN!!” you laughed and kissed his cheek. You could feel his face burn up after you doing so.

“No, I’m just kidding. I like you too, a lot...a lot more than you know.”

He held his cheek for a moment, it almost seemed as if...he wasn’t functioning (A/N: ExE JEaN hAS StopPEd WorkiNg). He then looked at you shocked, and beamed brightly (to the point it was blinding, but in a good way).

“You mean it!?”

“Of course-WOAH!”

He lifted you up out of joy, you winced a bit (bc of your ankle) and he immediately stopped. He’s a tad worried (but more excited) and immediately asked: “sorry, you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” the cape that was draped around you, was now wrapped around your figure since he adjusted it. He then puts his head in the crook of your neck and said: “thank you Y/n…”

“For what exactly?...”

“For not rejecting me,” you laughed and you could feel him smile on you.

“No but in all honesty, for being there. You’ve always had my back in times where I never knew I needed it. Humbled me when I should’ve done so myself, and cared for me when I was reckless. And now...you’ve given me the best gift I could ever have.”

“That being?”

“You of course.”

Your smile softened as you kissed his cheek yet again, making his head raise, meeting eye to eye.

“You’re one of, if not the best thing that’s ever happened to me...Jean”

ExtRA (in dot jots/hc’ish):

Warning: slangish grammar

EVERYONE WAS SPYING

Y'ALL COME BACK TO SEE CONNIE'S BALD HEAD WAVING THROUGH A WINDOW

JEan yELlEd aT thE PooR Boy

He (being Connie) then rats everyone out and they come forth (with such spying eyes)

Eren then yells: “SO ARE YOU GUYS DATING NOW, OR WHAT!? WE’VE BEEN WAITING FOREVER!”

“WHAT!?” you both exclaim

Sasha *visibly crying for a dramatic effect*

Christa looking like a saint blessing a marriage between two doves

Ymir: “y’all ain't slick, that’s all imma say.”

Bertholdt be giving older brother vibes, and don’t say anything. Reiner on the other hand, makes a face (teasing of course) and walks away with Berty (it’s like, giving his baby away...which is illegal)

(Jean feeling like he’s committed a crime after Bertholdt’s reaction-)

Mikasa smiles for once, and is awaiting for your answer

“Well-”

“Yes, yes we are...if he’s okay with it-”

“O-of course I am,” you both blush as Eren rolls his eyes (teasingly)

“You guys are like a bunch of kids. Alright, we should head to bed now. Y’all have all the time in the world to be lovey dovey, but for now, let’s hit the hay.”

For once, Jean agrees with eren who gives you both a playful grin

“Especially you horse boy, you gon need it-”

“WHAT DID YOU SAY!?” -a very angry JeAn

Armin taps your shoulder and whispers “congrats,” as he catches up with the other two

Jean is visually embarrassed, but then looks at you and feels nothing but happiness, along with yourself. One you hoped would never disappear.

Ⅲ > Ⅴ

#aot #attack on titan #aot fanfiction #aot x y/n #jean #jean kirschtien #kirschtein #jean kirschtein x reader #jean x you #jean x female reader #jean x y/n #jean x reader #series #one of them #chapter four #horse boy #attack on titan x you #attack one titan x reader

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reluctantly-plus-ultra · 4 years

Note

So....I'm literally in love with your rei&lov stuff and wanted to ask if you're still taking scenario suggestions? In case you do; how about dabihawks, in which dabi figures out/always knew that hawks is actually a spy but convinces hawks to actually become a villain? Or literally any hawks&shouto interaction in which they talk for some reason(internship?) And bc of that hawks figures out that dabi=touya and endevour=horrible and has kinda a breakdown? (Bonus points of shouto already knew) Thx

First of all, thank you so much! I’m definitely still taking requests- sorry this one took a while to post, but I’ve been in finals this past week and things have been hectic. Second, I’m going to have to apologize in advance because I saw all of your awesome suggestions here and instead of tackling this like any sane person would by choosing one thing to write about, I decided to write all of them in one request… So in other words, this sucker is LONG. Anyway, without further ado, enjoy the piece!

[REQUESTED] DABIHAWKS: DARK SIDE

- All it takes is one boy being saved for everything to go absolutely batshit crazy.

- Keigo “Hawks” Takami is a cunning man, ruthless when it comes to intelligence, speed, determination. He’s been trained- raised his whole life to be the personification of the perfect working hero: instinctive, quick, capable of wearing as many masks as it takes to get the job done and hiding all of that deadly capability behind a warm, smiling face that keeps him the darling of the public eye.

- And yet, despite his wit, despite his impeccable skill for analysis, despite every sign that should have given him a few warning bells about this situation, Hawks had stumbled in completely blind. Nothing could’ve prepared him for this.

- It had started off as nothing more than a basic street brawl. Hawks had taken the day to patrol with Enji and Shouto, the young man having returned to his father’s agency for his internship. In fact, it was mostly because of Shouto that Hawks had decided to head out with Endeavor in the first place- he was curious about the youngest Todoroki. The boy already had a pretty impressive reputation regardless of the fact that he hadn’t yet gone pro, and Hawks was curious to see whether or not he would hold up in person.

- So when they’d gotten the call that there was a robbery four blocks away and that a fight had broken out in the square, he hadn’t given two thoughts about it, really. Hell, the kid had faced off against the League shortly after entering his first year and come out without a scratch. He could take a couple amateur thugs no problem.

- And at first, things actually go really well. Shouto’s got some serious skill, and it doesn’t take long for them to get the situation sorted out-

- That is, at least, until a few familiar faces show up.

- Hawks swears he’s going to kick Dabi’s ass into next week when he, Toga, Compress and Twice all round the corner and straight into the whole mess. Like, it’s bad enough that now he’s going to have to put up a fight with them, but for fuck’s sake the last thing he needs is to be gearing up to face them while also trying to put on a nonchalant expression as Toga starts laughing her ass off at the sight of him being there.

- So of course shit goes sideways and a second fight breaks out. Hawks has never been more thankful of Twice, because the man just keeps sending clone after clone his way and it’s keeping him busy enough that he doesn’t have to throw punches at any of the others. After all, the League had just started warming up to him, and he really doesn’t want to be sending anybody home packing black eyes on his account.

- But that also leaves three villains against two Todorokis, and while that still shouldn’t be a problem, it turns out to be.

- In hindsight knowing what he’d come to learn much later, maybe it was the way Endeavor barked the boy’s name. Maybe it was how he’d whipped around so suddenly the flames on his body guttered and flared. Maybe it was even just the simple matter of having his arm raised when he turned.

- Either way, whatever he’d been going to tell his youngest child goes unsaid, be it advice or otherwise.

- All Hawks knows is that it takes a full two seconds for Endeavour to shout his son’s name, to wheel around to face him, arm still rigid above his head from the last burst of flame he’d sent at Compress, hand exploding into a raging blaze once more- and then Dabi is fucking sprinting.

- And at first, Hawks almost goes after him because it seems like the fire-user is about to take out Shouto and quite frankly, it didn’t matter who you are: going after a child is a low blow, plain and simple.

- So when he dispatches Twice’s next clone in a messy hurry and moves to follow, he’s stopped dead in his tracks by a display he never thought he’d witness: the patchwork villain yelling “Sho!” so loudly his voice cracks before quite literally hauling the young hero behind him and bracing his free arm in front of them both in a gesture that is so inherently and naturally defensive it makes Hawks pause.

- Half a second later, there’s an explosion of blue fire so fierce and bright that it’s damn near blinding. It takes a few moments for the winged hero to blink the light from his eyes, but when he manages to do so, it is only to take in the sight of three faces equally painted in horror.

- And here’s the thing; Hawks expects some kind of reaction from Shouto, so the fact that he’s still stunned and unmoving behind this villain isn’t exactly a surprise. Hell, he expects a reaction from Dabi too, because that degree of defensiveness, that scale of fire, the sheer desperation in his movements seconds before the explosive blast- it’s so unlike him, especially over some hero’s son?

- But it’s when Enji Todoroki blanches just as pale as the other two, eyes wide as Shouto’s, hands shaking like Dabi’s, that Hawks feels an uncomfortable clench in his gut. That feeling persists, too, as the fighting stops around them, and everything falls into silence, ashes falling down around them like snow. It’s the first time that Hawks has noticed that the walls of the surrounding buildings have been scorched black from the heat, smoke still rising in the air.

- There’s blood leaking down Dabi’s face, his arms, past his burnt jacket sleeves and the collar of his shirt. He’s in pain, Hawks can tell, even from where he’s standing. That move took a lot out of him-

- But there’s also no way he wouldn’t have known that before doing it, and that raises more than a few questions.

- All three men look like they’re reliving some kind of flashback, some kind of memory or unanimous nightmare. It’s Shouto who speaks first, voice wavering, and even then it’s only one word, indistinguishable from their current distance- but it’s enough to snap Dabi out of whatever reverie he’s in and cause him to snarl and bolt.

- Nobody goes after him, not even Endeavor, and in seconds the patchwork man is gone, lost to the shadows and alleys. Being realistic, it would take Hawks less than a minute to soar up above the buildings and scout him down, demand some answers, but Twice is quicker to the punch.

“Let us handle this for now- you can take of him later, I’m not handling his broody side.”

- The rest of the League is in the process of disappearing as well as Hawks makes his way up to the pair of still shell-shocked heroes, quirking an eyebrow and tugging at a few feathers that got bent in his fight.

- “You want to tell me what that was all about? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

- The hard glint in Enji’s eye as he glances at him and then spins around on his heel without a word, walking in the opposite direction is all the confirmation he needs to know that maybe they have.

- Days pass. It had been hard enough not asking questions for the rest of their patrol but when, four days later, Endeavor still won’t give him the time of day and Dabi won’t respond to any of his texts and calls, Hawks has had about enough.

- Aizawa’s not exactly thrilled about the Number Two hero calling in to ask if he can take part of the morning to talk to Todoroki about some of the events of their last patrol, but he presses that it’s important, and Aizawa eventually gives in on the grounds that it’s safer for them to talk at the school about mission work than anywhere else, really.

- And that’s how he and the dual-quirked boy end up facing one another over cold coffee in the otherwise vacant teacher’s lounge, Shouto guarded as ever, and Hawks feeling a bit nervous despite the circumstances. Truth being told, he isn’t sure what he’s looking to find here, exactly, but the whole situation has been burning a hole in his stomach for half a week, and something about it really isn’t sitting right.

- “…This is about the whole… Incident with him, isn’t it?” Todoroki asks eventually, tone flat, and Hawks has to admit that he’s chosen some interesting phrasing.

- “Pretty much, yeah,” Hawks scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, unsure where to even start. The whole thing seems pretty absurd. The youngest Todoroki hums and sips at his cold coffee, the light rippling of the liquid being the only thing betraying the slight tremour of his hands.

- “If you have questions, why not ask him instead?” Hawks immediately wrinkles his nose at that.

- “Who, Endeavor? Something tells me he wouldn’t be the most willing audie-”

- “Not Endeavor.” Shouto fixes his cup back on its saucer before turning curious but carefully blank eyes on him, “Dabi. You two seem close enough for it.”

- Well, fuck.

- Hawks’ brain is going a mile a minute trying to figure out how Shouto managed to put two and two together. There’s no way he’d figured it out from that patrol day- they hadn’t even interacted at all, and Hawks had been careful not to mention the patchwork villain around any of the other heroes so as to not raise suspicion with his mission, or to have anyone go snooping too deeply into something that could also get him in a huge deal of shit.

- Not really knowing how else to play his cards but to try and save face, Hawks squints and shakes his head at the boy in confusion, hoping the “dumb-bird” act will save his ass. Underneath the surface, though, he can feel the pinpricks of an impending anxiety attack, the boy’s blunt and unexpected words having shredded every assumption of caution that he thought he’d put up. Hell, if Shouto has figured things out this far, has he also figured out Hawks’ connection to the League? Has he told anyone else? The Commission is going to skin him alive when they found out-

- “I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about,” Hawks tries, grimacing at the end of the statement for effect, “Unless you’re meaning because I didn’t intervene when everything went down and help you guys out- sorry about that by the way, but I figured you two would have everything under control, and when all the fighting stopped, I just froze.” He shrugs, trying his best to look sheepish, “It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes when the shock is great enough I’m more of a natural freezer than a reactor. Probably some kind of weird bird thing.”

- Shouto regards him for a solid second, unblinking, before cracking a small smile.

- “You’re a good liar.” He says simply, before sipping his coffee again. “But that’s not what I’m talking about at all.”

- Those pinpricks return again, and Hawks’ wings flutter somewhat nervously on their own accord. He resists the urge to let them expand just to give himself a bit more of a size advantage, and instead tries playing it off again. Shouto’s eyebrows raise at the attempt, and it’s with almost exaggerated disbelief that he sets his cup down for the second time and announces, in that odd, cool way of his, “So you just let any villain wear your feathers, then?”

- Hawks chokes on his coffee.

- This time, he legitimately does not know what the hell Todoroki’s talking about, but it turns out that the observant teen had caught sight of a long stretch of cord that had shifted somewhat out from under the other man’s loose shirt when he spun around to run.

- And there’s nothing weird about that in itself. Dabi’s kinda a jewelry guy, and Heaven knows he’s got enough piercings to prove it. But when Todoroki gets to mentioning that there was a small red feather on the end of the rope, Hawks can’t help but flush pink just a little bit because he’d left that feather as a calling card to tell the other man he’d broken into his apartment two weeks ago and he’d gone and strung it on a necklace what an absolute fucking dork-

- “I don’t think Endeavor saw,” Todoroki continues absently, “So it’s just me that knows, and I don’t want any of the details,” He looks at Hawks solemnly again, this time his voice growing quieter, “I’ll keep your secret, but forgive me for using it to make sure you keep mine.”

- Hawks examines him for a slow moment, fully aware that neither of them are moving, and the air is growing tense. This boy could bring his career crashing down around his ears with a few words muttered in the right direction, and yet Hawks is inclined to believe him when he says he’ll keep a secret. With a sigh, the winged hero extends a hand.

- “Deal.” He agrees, shivering at the contact of ice on his palm, Todoroki apologizing for the slip under his breath. “Now, what’s this secret, then?”

- Shouto chews his lip for a moment before sitting back in his seat, hands clenched into fists.

- “I need to tell you a story.”

______________________________________________________

- An hour later, the entire fucking world has been turned on its head, and nothing is ever going to be the same.

- Shouto Todoroki sits quietly for a moment, before calmly reaching out for his coffee cup again, more for the simple grounding action of holding it than anything else. The silence in the room is stifling, especially after the burrage of information Hawks has had dumped on him in the last sixty minutes, and his brain is still sluggishly trying to process most of it.

- “He’s… He’s your brother?” The hero manages eventually, mouth feeling dry, stomach churning. That panging ache in his stomach that he’d felt before has returned tenfold, and it takes everything in Hawks’ apparent willpower to not run for a garbage bin and puke from all the nausea.

- Todoroki won’t meet his eye, and Hawks doesn’t blame him- after everything that’s been revealed at this coffee table, he’s not sure he could look the younger man dead in the face without breaking down in some way. Seeing his scar, mentally comparing it to Dabi’s many, brain running lists of all their similarities and those lists coming up remarkably long.

- The worst of it is the carpet that got all but torn out from under his feet as Shouto had explained what his father had put them all through, his involvement at home, how they had assumed for so long that their oldest sibling had died, and that it had been their father’s fault, no different than Rei’s hospitalization and, by extension, Shouto’s burned eye. It’s this news that curdles his stomach more than anything, makes his blood freeze in his veins.

- He can already tell that when he allows that news to settle, it’s going to hit like a bombshell, but he can’t do that in front of Shouto, so he pushes it to the back of his mind for now until he can handle it later and instead tries to focus on the subjects that he thinks can be safely discussed.

- Todoroki just nods, seemingly spent on this whole ordeal as well, and also not really knowing what to do with it.

- “I’d had some suspicions,” He admits softly, fiddling with his hands, “But I didn’t want to think on them too closely or get my hopes up- he was dead, or supposed to be anyway. And then that patrol happened, and… I don’t remember much of him, really. The memories are all hazy. I was so young- but he used to call me Sho as a nickname when we were kids. When he ran out in front of me though, I…”

- “You remembered it wasn’t the first time.” Hawks concludes, and Shouto nods again, his shoulders slumping.

- “It was exactly the same,” He murmurs softly, “And it just… Triggered memories of all of these things I’d forgotten, but now they’re all coming back, and I don’t-” He sighs in frustration, taking a deep breath to rein in his thoughts, “I don’t know what to do because he’s not dead anymore, but at the same time, I’m not sure that he’s really alive either. That part of him that I knew might be gone entirely- I’m willing to believe that his actions during our patrol were out of memory reflex more than anything.”

- But Hawks is already thinking about all of those times that Dabi has helped Toga arrange her hair into buns when it’s being too stubborn, and the almost-petty sibling banter he slings back and forth with Shigaraki sometimes just to get a rise out of him. There are other habits too, just little things here and there, but the more Hawks imagines Dabi being a former sibling, the more connections he sees.

- They clean up their dishes quietly, dirty laundry aired, secrets hanging heavy. Before they leave, though, Hawks turns back to Todoroki one last time.

- “You know I can’t bring him back, right?”

- It’s a harsh reality, but a very real one. Quite frankly, Hawks suspects that there’s a lot of the person Todoroki remembers in this new Dabi figure, but no matter how much of that remains, no matter how many different and surprising and kind, soft, gentle, loyal angles Dabi has, it doesn’t change the fact that he is first and foremost a villain. That takes precedence over anything, and there’s really no turning back from it, not now, and not after the extent he’s gone to. Shouto nods, hair falling in his face, though Hawks can see through the fringe that his eyes are clear. There’s no judgement, no upset. He’s more than aware, and something in Hawks’ chest twinges again at how quickly this child had to grow up, seeing the world with such adult eyes.

- There’s something else still tickling the back of his mind, and at first he hesitates to ask it. Shouto’s been through enough today as it is, and he doesn’t want to push too far, but at the same time, he’s dying to know. There’s this sense in him that it’s probably important, and Hawks has long ago learned better than to ignore his gut.

- “One more thing- what did you say to him that day? Right before he ran?”

- Shouto’s hand freezes on the doorknob, literally freezes on the doorknob, ice crawling over his fingers. For a second, Hawks is considering apologizing and moving on, afraid that he’s overstepped a boundary. But then Shouto’s grip on the handle eases, and the ice crackles and falls away from his hand, falling to melt in the fibres of the carpet underfoot.

- “Touya. I called him Touya.”

- They leave the room and don’t look back.

_______________________________________________

- Hawks walks Shouto back to class, only to pull Eraserhead outside for a moment and explain nothing more into the situation than that the youngest Todoroki experienced some stressful things during their last patrol, and that after their discussion that morning, it probably wouldn’t hurt to have him take the rest of the day off just to recuperate a little.

- And with any of the other teachers, he might have been hit with a hardass no, but this is Shouta Aizawa, and if there’s anything that man cares more about than cats, coffee, and the occasional witty remark, it’s rest and his students. As much as he likes to deny it, he keeps a better eye on those kids than they know, and he’s caught Todoroki acting a bit more reserved than normal, less concentrated. He nods slowly, dismisses Hawks with a casual comment about wasting his time, and goes to fetch Shouto from the classroom again.

- The winged hero leaves to the sound of Aizawa telling Shouto that he’ll get a notes package done up for him for the day, and to go rest. There’s some muffled arguing before the older man makes some statement about mental health that effectively shuts Shouto up and sends him back in the direction of the dorms, Hawks grinning to himself the whole way down the hall, until he can no longer hear the two. Shouto Todoroki has had one hell of a life, that much is certain, but nobody can deny that he’s in good hands now and that itself is a relief beyond words.

- That being said, it takes all of ten seconds upon returning home to his apartment and getting the door shut behind him, before Keigo Takami all but collapses on the hardwood and begins to sob. Once the tears start flowing they just won’t stop, and there’s this kind of warm, gentle light streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling-windows that seems to just encourage the outpour even more.

- Were anyone to see him at that exact moment, they’d probably think it made an interesting picture, the Number Two hero weeping on his knees, wings spread about him like some kind of devastated creature of God, light pouring down his shoulders and face as though his halo had melted and dripped like tear stains over his skin. There’s this burning, raw sensation inside him that just won’t ease, and as he lies there, a crumbled statue of a once proud Icarus, he lets the truth rage over him like wildfire, lets the heat of it all melt the wax and burn the feathers, and feels it pull him into a drop he’s not sure how to recover from, or if he ever will.

- There’s this war raging inside him on how to feel, a million emotions crushing his chest all at once. The first that hits him is disgust, disgust for this man that he had looked up to for so long, who had been a hero to him even when he’d had nothing, nobody, not even a dream. He had put so much faith in him, had defended him at every turn, had stood by him as a colleague, watched his back, taken wounds to keep him safe. This was the man he’d bled for, if he deserved to be called a man at all.

- But the emotions that follow after this are so rapid-fire, they’re almost impossible to keep track of, aside from the pain- the pain lingers and grows, makes itself known in every damned crevice of his being. There’s betrayal, both to the person he is now, and to the young child who’d cheered the fire hero on, who he’d wanted to impress so badly. There’s sadness for the world he thought he knew, for the person he thought he knew, and all of that being stripped away to reveal something so much more grim and ugly. Grief for the loss, mourning for the death of something he’d seen as a foundation to his person, the pain so strong throughout.

- One of the worst, though, is the anger. When the anger arrives, it isn’t in a gradual wave like the other feelings had been, full of upset and still-numb disbelief. When the anger arrives, it is as a battering ram of rage that burns so fiercely in his core, he wants to scream. Rage for Shouto Todoroki, rage for Rei Todoroki, rage for Fuyumi and Natsuo, and damn it all, blistering, agonizing rage for Touya Todoroki and the unjust cards he was dealt. When the anger arrives, it’s with the passion of a man who has longed for family his whole life, and can’t imagine how an individual could so carelessly ruin what another would die for.

- When the anger arrives it stays, and it leaves Hawks trembling on the floor long after the tears have stopped rolling, after the damp spots on his cheeks have dried, after the pain has stopped clawing at his throat, and taken up permanent residence in his heart instead.

- And that’s how Dabi finds him three hours later as night starts setting in, and the light from the windows has faded, the warmth in the floorboards gone. Hawks is so out of it, so physically and emotionally exhausted, that he doesn’t even hear him come in, only notices him when the tall man crouches down in his line of vision, concernedly snapping his fingers in his face.

- Somehow the sight of him just manages to drive the knife in deeper, and he has to take a deep breath to keep his composure. Dabi’s eyebrows are drawn together in worry at the scene, hands beginning to rapidly check him all over for wounds of some kind before Hawks weakly bats his hands away, protesting. The cremation villain sits back on his heels, unimpressed, and flicks the other man’s forehead.

- “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all afternoon- why weren’t you picking up your phone, dumbass? I thought something must have happened.”

- The irritation in his voice thinly covers his relief, and Hawks can only manage to blink up at him once or twice before clenching his eyes shut altogether. He doesn’t mention that Dabi hasn’t responded to any of his messages until today either, figures a fight isn’t what either of them need right now.

- “I talked to Shouto today,” He says quietly, voice so hoarse from crying, it’s almost hard to listen to. Dabi stiffens, but doesn’t turn away or make a sound, so Hawks continues, “He told me… Everything. Everything that happened, everything that that bastard did,” Hawks takes another steadying breath, choosing not to look Dabi in the eye for this part, “He knows who you are- I know about that part too. And that’s fine, really, it is; I won’t call you by that name or anything if you don’t want me to. I just… I can’t believe that I looked up to him so long, and he was doing all of this and nobody knew-

- And suddenly it’s all spilling out all over again, and there are more tears, but much less than last time, a slow and steady trickle compared to the earlier downpour. Dabi doesn’t do anything but listen as the minutes pass, as the sky grows steadily darker and they’re left in the kitchen with no lights on, almost silhouettes in the room. Somehow, it feels comforting- Dabi has a way of making shadows feel less like threats and more like hiding places, and Hawks has never felt it more strongly than now.

- But it isn’t until he’s done his tirade that he realizes his most crucial mistake- that in confessing all of this, he’s just botched his own story of being done with the hero world, the lies that he’d given Dabi when they first met. He’s just outed himself as a turncoat. And not only that, he’s just outed himself as a turncoat to a villain who is still kneeling over him in a dark room, and who would have literally nothing stopping him from crisping the winged hero right there, not even Hawks himself. Fast as he is, he doesn’t think his reflexes will save him quickly enough in this state, and all it will take for him to be completely defenseless would be Dabi moving his hands an inch or two forward to light his wings on fire, exposed as they currently are.

- He can feel the panic building in his chest as Dabi stays silent, breathing picking up a few notches before he’s suddenly scrambling to get into a less vulnerable position, trying to make out Dabi’s expression in the dark. Maybe if he can get out a window fast enough, he’ll be able to catch a draft and soar out of the way- it’s his best bet, but the kitchen island is against his back now because he scooted too far back, and there’s no way for him to get to a window without either getting through Dabi or-

- The panic attack that he was feeling earlier decides to kick in at this exact moment, and that’s when Hawks realizes that if Dabi wants him dead, he’s dying in this room. All of his instincts and nerves are shot, he has no sense of coordination, he can’t see, the dark no longer feels safe-

- The lights come on, and Hawks glances up sharply from his position against the island to see Dabi with his hand still on the lightswitch, expression hard to read, but not the crazed, maniacal look Hawks would have expected to receive if the villain were planning to outright kill him. He watches as the other man slowly walks forward, gaze locked, until he kneels so closely on the floor in front of him that if Hawks so much as slid his knees a centimetre forward, they’d be hitting Dabi in the chest.

- His heart is hammering so fast, he’s sure he’ll either hyperventilate or pass out at any given second, body trembling, brain unable to focus. He manages to force his eyes closed as Dabi extends a hand out, certain that he’ll be feeling those blue flames crawling his skin the second they get close enough to burn. The flames never come.

- Dabi’s fingers trail across his temple, brushing back a few strands of sweaty hair, before going to cup his cheek entirely. The action is so uncharacteristically tender that it causes Hawks’ eyes to flash open again, the scarred man looking at him with intent eyes.

- “Take a few deep breaths, pretty bird.” He says calmly, not even flinching when Hawks’ hand comes up to clench hard on the patchwork man’s bicep.

- “You took all of that info rather well,” Hawks states, almost accusingly, through gritted teeth. His breathing is starting to slow, heartbeat becoming less erratic, though Dabi’s sudden smirk isn’t helping anything.

- “I’ve known that you weren’t legit from the first day,” He scoffs, looking a touch of smug, but also somewhat offended, “Give me more credit than that, sweetheart. This isn’t news.”

- The simple, familiar arrogance of it all forces a sharp laugh from Hawks’ throat, and against all odds he can feel the adrenaline draining from his system, beginning to relax again.

- “You’re such an asshole, you know that?” Said with a tired grin. ‘I’m relieved this one corner of my world isn’t crumbling down too.’

- “Only time you’ll catch me alive saying guilty as charged.” Said with a smile as crooked as a broken law. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

- They wait like that just a few minutes longer, listening to the hum of the overhead lights, nothing needing to be said for those moments at least. Then, once Hawks has calmed down enough to relocate, they move to the couch.

- “So,” Dabi is the one to begin this time, throwing his lanky form across the whole sofa and stretching out well enough across it that his head can rest on one of the arms, his ankles dangling off the other. “You know about my shitty childhood. I`d rather not talk about that any more tonight, honestly.”

- Hawks, appreciative that he seems to be willing to let to matter of the anxiety attack drop completely, chooses to take a seat on the middle cushion, leaning back against Dabi’s hip as a support and letting his wings fall over the back of the sofa and behind it. The longest feathers drag on the floor from this height, and Dabi watches for a second as Hawks flares them temporarily to adjust his wings in a better position before continuing. “And I know about you not being true to the League. Anything else you’d care to hash out while we’re in the sharing mood?”

- “Yeah, actually,” Hawks shoots him a look and raises an eyebrow, “If you knew I was lying, why the hell did you keep me around?”

- Dabi goes entirely still, one hand subconsciously draping across his chest, and Hawks remembers the comment Shouto made earlier about the necklace. He wonders if the villain is reaching for it now.

- “You don’t ease into anything, do you?” He asks eventually with a chuckle, Hawks’ answering grin speaking for itself. “Alright, it’s… I guess, you know when you’re in a deep body of water and your head goes under, and it kind of hits you that you could drown there? And the first thing you do when you see it is reach for the light?” Hawks nods even though he’s always had an aversion to swimming due to the weight of his wings and has never been close enough to drowning to truly know. “It’s… Fuck, I’m trashing the hell out of this, but it’s like that. I could tell I was sinking, and I didn’t give a shit. And then you showed up, and I knew right off the bat that you were lying to my face, but for once, there’s this light right in front of me, close enough to reach for. I never really meant for it to be more than that.” He paused for a second before adding, “But there was something about the fact that you were batshit crazy enough to walk into the wolves’ den for your cause, and you just kept coming back. You had to know we’d figure it out eventually, and when we did you’d be done, but you kept trying anyway.” Dabi grins slightly, fingers definitely closing around the necklace this time, “That’s real hero shit. I’d spent so long hating all of them that I’d forgotten they weren’t all like the one I grew up with. And I can’t ever be like you, I’m not hero material, but… Reaching for that light here and here, it makes me feel like maybe I can be more than this someday.”

- He didn’t expect this kind of response. He didn’t expect this kind of honesty, barbless and vulnerable and kind. He didn’t really expect to find himself moving to straddle Dabi’s waist so he could be in a better position to kiss him, either, but that happens as well.

- Wordlessly, Hawks tugs Dabi’s hands from his necklace, and settles them on his hips, the winged hero pressing his own palms to either side of the villain’s scarred face, leaning forward to rest their foreheads together. He can feel Dabi’s breath against his mouth and cheeks as the other man lets out a soft exhale, his skin carrying that familiar slight chill that it always does, cooler still where his fingers rest on staples. He could stay in this forever, this moment, safe and sure and grounded. It isn’t until Dabi pulls away from him slightly to trace one hand down the curve of his wing and into his primary feathers that Hawks realizes that in his contentment he’s brought his wings up almost defensively, shielding them off from the rest of the world though there’s no one else around to see.

- “I used to hate the colour red.” Dabi murmurs, repeating the action once again, Hawks fluttering his wing against the fire-user’s calloused hand just to bring a smile to his face. That smile carries into the kiss Dabi pulls him in for an instant later. It isn’t their first kiss, not by a long shot, but there’s something more sweet and slow about this one, and it takes Hawks a second to realize that unlike the kisses they’ve shared in the past, this one isn’t laced with the premonition of an ending. Usually, there’s this sort of rushed tension in their more intimate moments, an unspoken understanding that whatever this thing they have is, it can only last so long. But that’s missing this time, the overlying pressure of awareness, of only whispering things that won’t break your heart later, of never knowing when each embrace might be the last and being prepared to cut your losses if it is. This time is different, sanguine, and Hawks suddenly gets the feeling that things are about to change.

- He isn’t wrong.

- “What if you joined us for real?” Dabi breathes, eyes hooded as they draw apart but still lingering close. Catching Hawks’ incredulous look, he runs his hands up the other man’s arms, taking on a more serious tone. “I mean it. We can get you out from under the Commission- they’d never be able to touch you again. You want a world where heroes have more spare time on their hands than they know what to do with? That’s never going to be a possibility the way things are now. Most of the groups and agencies are corrupt over the profitability of it all, and there’s a lot of heroes in the same boat. Believe me, birdie, they don’t want the crime rate going down- they just want it televised.”

- Hawks knows it’s true- Dabi isn’t just saying this to sway him. The winged hero has seen this firsthand. There are heroes out there who would sooner go into a situation after a disaster has already happened rather than stopping it before anyone can get hurt, because it’s flashier. It’s more likely to gain attention, even if it means innocents being injured or, hell, dying in the process. And there’s all the other stuff too- the notices they get at the beginning of each new year, informing them that if they save ‘x’ number of people from various minority groups, there will be a bonus payout for them by the end of the year, as diversity is good for their public image. Hawks always threw those papers away, but there were some who held onto them, kept a tally going. There are heroes who are only on the field for the money, who couldn’t care less about the people they’re saving so long as there’s a cheque at the end of it with their name on it. Hawks has even heard of a few cases where heroes staged or set up disasters and accidents to be noticed. There’s the Commission, literally grooming child soldiers and people like Endeavor who wear two faces to hide a darker truth from the public eye.

- For an organization made to help, the hero collective is a dog-eats-dog world, and it’s ruthless. Dabi’s right about Hawks’ dream being impossible- because as long as people are profiting off crime, they’ll never allow it to stop.

- Suddenly, all Hawks wants to do is sleep, cut the nightmare short and try to let himself catch up with the feeling of free-falling. He can’t go back to working beside Endeavor like nothing’s happened, he knows that. And to make matters worse, he told Shouto he wouldn’t tell anyone about this though he desperately knows he should, but at this rate he’s not sure it wouldn’t do more harm than good. There may be a time later in the future where the truth can be revealed without completely annihilating the small, fragile, bright world that the youngest Todoroki has been slowly building for himself, but to have the public come after him over something this big, demanding answers and surrounding him at all times… He can’t handle that yet, and Hawks can tell. Someday, but not yet.

- “And after you dismantle the system? What happens then?” Hawks asks quietly, noting the surprised flicker behind Dabi’s blue eyes. He hadn’t been expecting him to entertain this idea.

- “Hey, my job’s just to burn it to the ground,” Dabi snorts, nonchalant, but his hands stop moving up and down Hawks’ arms, and loosely circle his wrists, “I think I’ll leave the rebuilding to those of you who will do it right. Let the real heroes take care of the hero world, and maybe everything else will settle too. Maybe things can be better- and who knows,” He puts on a smirk, “Maybe the heroes will find they’ve got some spare time on their hands, just like you said.”

- Hawks considers this, nods once, makes up his mind and goes ‘fuck it’ while cutting his losses.

- “Fine.”

- Dabi freezes under him, confident look replaced by something much more comical.

- “What?”

- “Fine, I’m in.” Dabi goes to say something about considering options for more than three seconds, but Hawks cuts him off. “No, I’m serious. Things need to change, and that’s not going to happen with the way everything’s going now. I’m a hero because I want to help people, not because I have a license, and damn it there are more people I can help by fighting against the hero track than on it, which is really fucked up in itself. I’m in, and I’m saying that while I’m pissed off and bitter enough to go through with it because for fuck’s sake I can’t keep going back to that place and letting them wring me out until I’m dead. None of this is normal or okay, and I can’t keep pretending that it is. I need to do something.”

- The fire-user just stares at him awestruck throughout all this, and for a long while afterwards too, before eventually sitting up.

- “You’re certain?”

- “Yes.”

- “…Damn it, pigeon, what the hell am I going to do with you?”

- Hawks laughs at the weak pet name even as Dabi cups his face and pulls him in for another kiss, the blond’s laughter spilling out across their lips, fingers carding through Dabi’s hair. It’s a bright moment to end a dark day, something hopeful amid the tentative nature of something new.

- “We’re never rushing this again.” Hawks grins when they both need to take a breath, that warm embrace of security and peace having returned to him once more, settling in his chest and radiating so strongly he’s surprised he’s not glowing. Dabi hums in response, turquoise eyes mostly closed as he leans down to dust a kiss on the other’s collarbone, almost painfully slow as if to prove a point.

- “We won’t have to.” He promises, chuckling lowly at the slight gasp he receives for turning the kiss into a nip, “Welcome to the dark side, birdie.”

#BNHA Headcanons #bnha requests #dabihawks #dabihawks requests #dabihawks headcanons #bnha #mha #mha headcanons #mha requests

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stvrgrs-archive · 5 years

Text

Part 2/3 of my gift to @ishipallthings as part of the @3490fest

(part 1, part 3)

For the prompt: 5 Secrets Steve Rogers Learns About Natasha Stark + 1 Secret She Learns About Him

Huge thank you to @fanfictiongreenirises for the beta!

Hope you like it :)

3k, tw implied alcoholism, on Ao3

5 Secrets Steve Rogers Learns About Natasha Stark + 1 Secret She Learns About Him

1. She never learned to ride a bike

The silence in the garage seems to reverberate as everyone stares at Tasha. She stares back at them and Steve can see her shrink back; it’s minuscule, but still, he notices. He tries to ignore the fact that the reason he notices is not, in fact, down to his naturally acute observational skills, but rather something with a bit more personal motivation.

Oh well.

As he and the other Avengers stare, Tasha shifts where she stands next to the gleaming hot rod red motorcycle, and he winces internally at how uncomfortable they were probably making her.

Way to charm your crush, Rogers.

He tries to relax and shrugs, turning around to fiddle with his own bike, trying desperately to come up with something to say to put her at ease. Unfortunately, Clint beats him to the punch.

“The great Natasha Stark doesn’t know how to ride a bike? Like, a regular ass two wheel bike?”

Natasha huffs and glares at him, shoulders hunched in slightly.

“It’s not that I don’t know how to ride a bike – I just never have.”

Clint just looks at her and raises an eyebrow.

“Alright, genius, billionaire, philanthropist, whatever; suit yourself.”

Steve can see Tasha’s eyes flash defensively and steps between them.

“Hey, no one,” he pauses to glare at Clint, “is judging you. At all. We’re all a bit surprised is all. But really, none of us care.”

Wait.

“Wait. I don’t mean we don’t care, I just mean that it’s fine, obviously, that you can’t – or, that you’ve never ridden a normal bike.”

Tasha just stares at him, eyes slightly narrowed as she probably figures out whether he’s being sincere or not.

Steve tries not to fidget.

“Right, yeah, I don’t care anyway,” she mutters as she turns to fiddle with her own bike.

Everyone looks at each other, awkward and unsure until silence’s reign ends as they begin to shuffle into the elevator and murmur to each other, each visibly trying not to look back and stare.

Even as the doors slide shut, Steve can still practically reach out and push at the tension. He lingers as he tries to think of some way to make Natasha feel better, hating to leave things like this, and eventually blurts out the best thing he can think of.

“I can teach you.”

Natasha stops and turns slowly, frowning up at him.

Steve tries not to notice how attractive every expression seems to be on her.

“What?”

“I could teach you,” Steve repeats, “you know, to ride a bike.”

In the silence that follows, Steve realises how stupid he must sound. For god’s sake, this is Natasha Stark; she revolutionises the world practically daily – she doesn’t need him to ride a goddamn bike; hell, she doesn’t need to ride a bike, period.

What the hell was he thinking.

“I’m sorry, that was– stupid. I just thought, well, you don’t know and–” He stops, mentally kicking himself with each word.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you.”

He turns to go and is almost at the elevator so he can go lick his wounds in private when Natasha calls out.

“Actually, that’d be nice.”

He looks back and she’s smiling; it’s small and slightly lopsided, but it’s there and he helped put it there. He feels his embarrassment fade slightly.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

It’s not quite a date, but he still counts it as a win.

2. Her first kiss was with Janet Van Dyne

It’s after they’ve spent the afternoon racing each other through the park on cheap bikes that Tasha rented that they find themselves sitting round a wobbly wooden table in some poky bar, joined by Jan and Sharon. The smell of beer permeates the walls and everyone’s lax and loose after several shots have been downed.

Natasha has her arm hooked around Jan’s shoulders and he tries his best to firmly curb the jealousy crawling up his throat. He’s here with Sharon after all and suspects this might be the latest in Tasha’s attempts to get him laid, which she insists is vital to his acclimatisation to the 21st century. Hence, a cleverly arranged double date; not badly done, he must admit.

“Alright,” Tasha announces, lifting another shot, “truth or dare!”

Sharon and Jan cheer and he smiles, preparing himself for whatever drunk shenanigans await.

“Steve, Captain, Spangles, mi amore; the million dollar question: truth,” she leans across the table and points her glass at him, “or dare.”

Steve smiles indulgently and weighs up his choice. Drinking games – especially those involving Natasha – he has learned, are not something to be taken lightly. “Truth,” he responds, deciding it the somewhat safer option.

She frowns at him, apparently struggling to think through whatever they’re drunk on, and after several moments of silence, announces, “Who-” hic “was your first kiss?”

Steve smiles, amused. He’s learned that drunk Natasha is either shop talk at a million miles an hour or a 14 year old at a sleepover. Tonight is apparently the latter.

“Everyone knows it was Peggy, Tash.”

“But do we really know? You and Barnes weren’t unloading your guns, if you know what I mean.”

Steve snorts at the terrible innuendo and the equally terrible eyebrow wiggle Tasha follows it up with. “Bucky was my brother; we were definitely not unloading any metaphorical guns.”

“Mhhmmmm, okay Rogers.”

He laughs and Sharon nudges him playfully.

“Come on, Rogers, we’re your friends,” she teases, “you can tell us anything, we won’t blab. Spy’s honour.”

“Spy’s honour, huh?” he inquires.

Sharon nods solemnly.

“Well,” he starts, and the three women lean in closer, eyes eager.

“Spy’s honour doesn’t change the truth. Peggy is still my first kiss.”

The other three groan and roll their eyes, Sharon slapping his arm lightly.

“You’re terrible,” Tasha sighs, looking forlorn but quickly recovering.

“Now ask me a truth.”

“That doesn’t make any sense but alright. What about you? Who was your first kiss?”

At that Jan grins and scoots closer to Tasha.

“That would be this lovely lady beside me.”

Steve feels his eyebrows climb and that little green monster claw it’s way further up his throat.

“Jan?!” he exclaims and immediately winces at how incredulous he sounds.

“No offence.”

She grins slyly and tips her glass at him.

“None taken, Boy Scout.”

Natasha swirls the contents of her glass and stares at it thoughtfully.

“You didn’t know?”

Steve shakes his head in what he hopes is a nonchalant manner.

“Mmm, dear old homophobic dad paid to have the whole thing covered up, so makes sense that you don’t know.”

She frowns at the contents of her glass, before perking right back up again.

“Anyway! Sharon, darling, truth or dare?”

They go around like that for well over an hour, almost getting kicked out when Sharon dares Jan to give out fashion advice to three random strangers, and Jan gets way too enthusiastic about it, ending up insulting some guy’s shirt that apparently is worth enough to him to get into a fight over. He only backs down once Steve wanders over and stands firmly between him and Jan, who’s clearly enjoying herself.

After that, they stick more to truth questions.

“Tasha,” Jan asks, eyes gleaming, “what is your deepest, darkest teenage fantasy?”

Tasha snorts and gestures to him.

“Him, that. Just-” She continues wave her arm up and down in his direction. “That. He’s Captain America. Steve, you’re Captain America, I bet even you want to tap that. I mean, that’s Captain America.”

Steve blinks, trying to process. “You wanted- me?”

“Wanted. Why the hell would that change? It’s Captain America! Seriously, if you asked, I would, really Rogers, you are a fine, fine specimen. Like, really, fine-“

Sharon snorts and rolls her eyes.

“We get it Tash, you’re in love with Rogers.”

Steve tries not to choke on his pretzel.

3. She was in love with Rhodey for precisely one week

“Afternoon, Steve.”

Steve glances up as James Rhodes walks through the doors and settles himself at the island.

“Afternoon, Colonel.”

Rhodes wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. “Seriously man, call me James. I don’t know what to do with Captain America calling me ‘colonel’.”

Steve smiles, but before he can respond Natasha, saunters in through the door and brightens at the sight of the two of them.

“My two favourite men! Rhodey Bear!” She pecks him on the cheek and Steve tries not to take it personally when all he gets is a friendly squeeze on the arm.

“Steve! I wanted to talk to you.”

Steve frowns and tries to quell the butterflies in his stomach as he glances up as casually as he can from making Tasha’s coffee.

“I have been informed that last night at the bar I may have implied several things of a sexual nature between you and I, and I just wanted to apologise.”

Steve blinks. And tries not to feel disappointed.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable, that was clearly just the alcohol talking and I’m sorry.”

Oh. He gives up on trying not to feel disappointed.

“Yeah, course, course, that’s– yeah.”

Damn him.

Natasha doesn’t seem to buy his response and continues on. “You know how it is, right? You’re caught up in the moment and just say stuff with no filter, stuff that you don’t fully mean–”

Jesus, Steve doesn’t really need this.

“Of course, Tasha, don’t worry about it; really.”

She nods, seemingly satisfied until Rhodes pipes up,

“Hey, Tash, remember our first week of MIT together?”

He’s looking at Tasha, mischief clear in his eyes.

“Oh no–” Tasha starts, but Rhodey butts in, turning to Steve.

“She had a crush on me our first week of MIT together. Honestly, man, you should get her to like you because that was the best and funniest week of my life.”

“Rhodey, sugar–”

“She proposed with an onion ring, he continues, expression mock wistful as Tasha pouts next to him.

“I was a child, Rhodey, I didn’t know better; this is abuse. Rhodey, please, don’t do this!”

“Apparently she bought out the whole cinema for a date and I had to tell her I was dating Carol. It was very awkward.”

They banter back and forth like that for some time as Steve stands there and examines his mug of coffee for a way out of the situation. It presents no solution.

After a while, Natasha just shakes her head in exasperation and grins fondly at Rhodes then turns back to Steve, grin turning slightly lopsided.

“So, we’re cool right?”

It takes Steve a moment to respond and when he does, he’ll deny the squeak in his voice till his dying day.

“Of course, Tasha.”

“Great, cause it’d suck if I fell out with Captain America, you know?”

Steve can only nod.

4. Not so long ago, she woke up slumped over her desk with no memory of having got there and the worst hangover she cares to remember. Steve found her a few minutes later and carried her to bed, wearing his Sad Disapproving frown the whole time and she hasn’t drank a drop since

They’re at the annual Maria Stark Foundation gala and a waiter passes by with delicate flutes of champagne and Steve grabs two, affirming to himself that this will be a great, normal way to start a conversation with Tasha. He stumbles his way through the crowds, feeling slightly awkward delicately clutching the two glasses until he eventually spots her walking toward the balcony and forces himself to calm down. When he falls into step with her, she’s talking with a smartly dressed young man sporting a light blue velvet suit jacket, and next to him, Steve finds it hard to ignore just how much he doesn’t quite fit in here.

Before that thought tumbles out of control, a short brunet pulls the velvet jacket man away, and Natasha and Steve step out onto the balcony, finally alone together.

It’s quiet for a few moments before Steve finally holds out the second flute.

“I grabbed you a drink.”

He’s just starting to congratulate himself on getting the words out when Natasha responds.

“Oh, actually I’m off the stuff.”

Great.

“Oh really? That’s great! I mean, good for you! I’ll uh,” Steve stares at both glasses in his hands and feels the back of his neck burn. Real smooth, Rogers.

“I’ll uh–” he tips the contents of each glass down his throat one by one and sets them on the railing of the balcony.

When he turns back Natasha is smiling at him softly and in that moment he doesn’t care if he looks like an idiot.

“Yeah,” she continues, “I’ve been trying out the sober thing for a while. Actually since, um, the lab, since– you know.”

A beat.

“Thanks for that, by the way.”

Steve smiles and stands closer as they both look out at the sky and Steve tries not to shiver at the pressure of Tasha’s gaze as it seems to bore straight into his heart.

5. Steve has inexplicably, perhaps through fate, become her home

Steve’s not sure how it happens. They’re arguing, he knows – their usual song and dance about Natasha’s recklessness in the field and following orders and blah, blah – when Tasha blurts out,

“I’m fine as long as I’m with you!”

She looks about as surprised as he feels and he stares at her, waiting – hoping – for something more to follow.

“I feel safe as long as I’m with you,” she finishes quietly.

Their respective silences are deafening and Steve steps closer, breathing quick and mouth dry and praying he’s making the right decision.

+1. Steve suffers from an unfortunate side effect of the serum

It’s approaching the end of their first three months together as a couple and seven months together as Avengers when it happens.

The team are huddled together by a collapsed building, avoiding the hoard of reporters trying to jostle their way past the security tape and police. They’re dirty and tired and injured and Tasha tells herself that’s why none of them notice Steve’s absence sooner.

Once they do, however, they race off in different directions in search of their missing teammate, after Tasha’s frantic attempts to contact him through comms gets nowhere.

It’s an agonising ten minutes later that Romanoff finds him, hunched over in an alley and vomiting. Tasha’s there within a minute, scooping him up and flying back to the tower, mind racing and heart thumping.

Once they get to the tower’s medical bay, the rest of the team not far behind in the jet, Tasha demands JARVIS run whatever tests he can. In less than a minute, she hears his voice through her earpiece.

“Doctor, I think it would be best if you stepped outside for a moment.”

Tasha’s heart seizes and for a split second she doubts the reliability of the reactor. She maintains a calm façade, squeezing Steve’s hand, before hurrying out the med bay’s doors.

“What’s wrong? Poisoning? The serum should take care of anything, I don’t-”

“Captain Rogers appears to be experiencing a severe migraine.”

He’s- what?

“He is displaying sensitivity to light and sound, vomiting, as well as brief hallucinations. Hallucinations are not usually a common symptom; however, regarding Captain Rogers’ unique position, they may be. I have informed the rest of the team, who have an ETA of 1 minute 18 seconds.”

“Shit.”

Natasha runs her hands through her hair, trying not to get overwhelmed.

Goddamn, where’s Bruce when you need him?

“Fuck, how does he even have a migraine – what about the serum?”

“My guess would be that Erskine’s serum caused chemical imbalances in the brain, which in turn led to such severe migraines.”

“How did no one notice this before?”

Damn Steve and his stubborn ass.

Once the Quinjet lands, her and Bruce hole themselves up in the med bay and work. They try everything they can think of, and after that, they try everything the internet can throw at them. None of it works.

Two hours later Natasha slumps into a chair next to Steve’s bed and watches as he drifts in and out of fitful sleep, her own eyes drooping, and suddenly she remembers that she never even showered after their battle. She allows her eyes to close, promising she’ll get straight back at it after a quick nap.

She wakes up nine hours later, the pain in her neck and back a rude reminder that she’s not in her 20s anymore. When she looks over at Steve’s bed, she’s greeted by clear blue eyes gazing softly at her and the previous day comes rushing back.

She grunts as she straightens in the chair and fixes her idiot boyfriend with a glare.

“So, Captain America gets migraines, huh? What the hell, Steve?”

Steve winces and for a second she worries the migraine hasn’t fully gone.

“I know, I’m sorry. I should have told you but I didn’t want you to worry. I’m fine now.”

Even as she shakes her head at him, she pushes off the chair and pulls back the thin sheets, climbing into the bed beside him.

“So this is a regular thing? How the hell have you kept that from the whole team all this time? We have a literal Russian spy living with us, for god’s sake.”

Steve at least has the decency to look bashful.

“We haven’t had that many missions together and it’s not all the time. Usually it doesn’t get that bad either and I can hold out till I get to my floor.”

“I thought the serum takes care of all that?”

“Erskine said because of chemical imbalances and heightened senses, they’d come and go a lot.”

He shrugs.

“So that’s like your kryptonite?”

“I understood that reference,” Steve laughs through a yawn.

They lie there quietly a little longer, curled up together.

“Well, now you can’t say shit to me when I binge in the lab, Mr I-can-handle-everything-all-by-myself.”

Steve frowns.

“Tasha, that’s not good for you–”

“Fucking hell Steve, neither is sitting by yourself in pain for hours.”

She rolls over so she’s facing Steve.

“I’m serious. You should have told me.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Steve replies quietly, tucking himself in tighter against her side.

“I want to help you with this, even if that’s just sitting by the bed.”

She pauses.

“I love you, you dummy.”

She can practically feel Steve grinning at her as he nestles himself under her chin.

“I love you too, Tasha.”

#ishipallthings #3490fest #mine

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bellatrix-la-strange · 5 years

Text

Lee Jordan’s Untold Love Story

Also on ao3 and ffn.net

Fred Weasley’s funeral was held on a Wednesday, two months after the Battle of Hogwarts.

His entire family was in attendance, as were his friends from Hogwarts, acquaintances he’d made in the brief stint of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, and trusted comrades brave enough to house and hide three escaped freedom fighters from Voldemort’s forces.

And that’s what they’d been—Fred, George and Lee. Freedom fighters.

There was a casket with Fred’s body in it. As per wizarding tradition, every member of Fred’s family had touched their wand to the wood and inscribed his last resting place with a piece of their magic. It could take on many forms, each one unique to the person who left it and their relationship with the deceased.

(When it was George’s turn, a line of fire snaked out of the tip of his wand and burned the silhouettes of a hyena and a coyote lying on their sides, heads resting on each other’s tails and turned towards each other so you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. A perfect yin-yang.)

In the back, on the outer edge of the last row, was Lee Jordan. He sat unnaturally still, only the slightest swish of wind ruffling his hair betraying his statue-like demeanour. He didn’t have a very good view of the Weasleys up ahead, but his seat was precisely positioned so as to let him see straight past the sea of bowed heads and extravagant hats to the coffin containing his late best friend.

Lee’s mourning was a silent one. He kept his lips sealed shut by mere force of will and didn’t let a single sound escape even as Fred’s casket was engulfed in white flames and the last remains of the man he’d loved were burned off the face of the earth.

George turned back and caught his gaze then, as though he, too, could sense the change in the air, a sudden heaviness, a dulling of colours as the last thing left tying Fred’s soul to their plane of existence was brutally severed.

You should be up here, George’s eyes seemed to say. With us. You’re his family, too.

Lee shook his head and lowered his gaze. While the ceremony continued around him, he concentrated all his attention on the bouquet of white dittanies and forget-me-nots squeezed between his hands.

“We can’t just stand by and do nothing! There are people dying out there, Lee, and my entire family is right in the thick of it,” Fred exclaimed, pulling at his hair with one hand and waving his wand around the air with the other. “Fucking hell, my brother is out there, running around with The Boy Who Lived, the only person in this entire fucked up world the Dark Lord wants to see dead more than anything. My little sister—Ginny—she’s…”

“Hey hey, stop. This?” Lee pointed a finger at Fred. “This stops right now. It’s not helping anyone if you worry yourself to death. We’re at war, Fred, as you so aptly pointed out, and everyone is in danger. You’re a pureblood traitor and I’m a mudblood mutt—”

“Don’t you dare call yourself—”

“I don’t believe it,” Lee hastened to add, “but it’s the truth for now. How long do you think it’ll take before they come for us? We’re not exactly hard to find.” Shrugging his shoulders, Lee turned around on the spot, arms spread wide, and pointedly looked around the colourful joke shop.

Despite himself, a hint of a grin pulled at the corner of Fred’s mouth. “I just feel so useless tucked in here, hiding, while the rest of my family is out there fighting for their lives.”

“All right,” Lee said, nodding, “I can work with that. So what do you want to do?”

Fred’s head snapped up from staring holes into the ground. “What?”

“You’re not the only one who’s been feeling restless lately. I can tell George is about two days away from blasting through the front door, Death Eaters be damned, and while there are some things I’ve enjoyed about being holed up in here for days on end with nothing better to do other than enjoy each other’s…company, there’s only so much more I can take of these four walls. So what do you want to do?”

“I want to help in any way I can,” Fred stated. “We don’t have to fight to be useful, there are other ways to help people. We opened up this store because we wanted to bring laughter and joy to other people’s lives, remind them that no matter how hard things get, they could always find a pocket of brightness in here. But they took that away from us, too. We need a way to bring that back, spread the word that we’re not gone and we’re not done. Not by a long shot. They need to know there are other people out there who are fighting, too.”

“Hope.” Lee said softly. “They need a reason to have hope.”

Fred nodded. “And so do we.”

“So it’s decided, then? We’re going to go out there and spread hope to anyone who will listen.”

“In any way we can.”

Lee and Fred stared at each other then, taking in every detail of the person they loved most in the world, one of the many they’d risk certain death with.

“I’ll go tell George.”

“I feel like James Bond.”

“You’ve mentioned him before. Is that another one of your Muggle celebrities? Oh, wait, no— is he the one who’s a spy and goes on adventures around the world? There’s a number on the cover of the book, right? Seven-something.”

Lee grinned, pleased Fred had remembered one of his favourite characters. “Double-oh-seven. That’s the one.”

Fred snapped his fingers. “Yeah, that’s the one. You’re going to have to lend me the book some time. How else am I supposed to keep up with you if I don’t get half of what you’re saying?” he teased.

“I don’t know, you seem to have no trouble at all keeping up with me any other time.” Lee turned heat-filled eyes on Fred and watched the bob of his throat as he swallowed past a sudden dry mouth.

“For Merlin’s sake!” hissed George. “We’re in the middle of a mission and you two can’t even keep your flirting to yourselves for the few hours it would take us to finish here?” There was a noise then, a crunch of twigs underfoot, and the robed figure of a Death Eater passed by their hiding place, completely unaware of their presence thanks to the many protective charms in place. Still, the trio waited ten minutes in silence before George continued. “It’s been years, surely you’re past the honeymoon period.”

“It’s all about keeping the romance alive, brother. After all, how can I truly call myself a proper prankster if I don’t find the time to seduce my fiancé on the outskirts of the Death Eater camp we’re scouting?” Fred philosophized.

“Fiancé?” asked George, eyes opened so wide Lee was afraid his eyeballs would plop out. “As in, actual fiancé? With a ring and a wedding and a marriage licence?”

“A candy ring,” Lee supplied. “I’m afraid it’s all eaten up now and I really doubt we’ll find time to plan a party anytime soon—are we even allowed to get married in the magical world?—but other than that, yes, proper fiancé.”

It was a good thing they’d used so many enchantments on their hiding spot in the end. Though no one could have foreseen it, only the strength of a thrice reinforced Silencing Charm was able to keep George’s whoops and cheers contained.

“You’re thinking too hard.”

“That’s funny, I recall you saying the exact opposite countless times before.”

Lee shrugged, shoulder scraping against the door-jamb. “I stand by all those other times, by the way, but it’s hard not to make a comment when you start scrunching up your face in a way I’ve never seen before.”

“Never? Are you sure?” Fred leaned back against the couch, legs spread and arms hugging the backrest as he looked up at Lee from between the locks of ginger hair falling on his forehead. They’d been on the run for months now, moving their radio operation from place to place every few days to make it harder for the Death Eaters to catch up to them. Needless to say, self-grooming had fallen on the wayside in favour of survival.

“Positive.”

Fred snorted, bringing up a hand to scratch at the weeks old scruff on his cheeks. “Harsh. I have feelings, you know? I’m not just some beefcake built for your viewing and playing pleasure.”

It was Lee’s turn to snort, but he sobered up quickly and levelled his fiancé with a sober stare. “You’re thinking bad thoughts again. I can tell when you do that, you know. You get clingy and distant at the same time. You wake up in the middle of the night and hardly get any sleep.”

“You notice that, huh?”

“We’ve been friends—best friends—for just shy of a decade. I know you better than you know yourself at this point. Only George and Molly would be able to give me a run for my money.”

“No, they couldn’t,” Fred said softly. A tap of his hand against his leg and Lee was settling down on his lap, hands interlocked behind Fred’s head and neck bent down so their foreheads were just shy of touching. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” said Lee, in that same tone of voice that one uses when confessing a deep secret. “Me too.”

“So what do we do?” asked Fred, rubbing circles on Lee’s back.

“We push through it. We don’t let it control us, but we also don’t forget that it’s there. We use that fear to our advantage because it’s always great to have just a tiny bit of it in the back of our minds; when the time comes, that little nugget of fear might just end up saving our lives,” said Lee, his voice calm and sure as his fingers teased out the knots in Fred’s hair.

“Mmm,” Fred sighed. “See? This is why I’m marrying you.”

“My superior intellect and sage-sounding advice?”

“And your smashing bod,” Fred grinned, pulling Lee in so they were chest to chest and allowing his hands to wonder and squeeze.

Not to be outdone, Lee grabbed a handful of Fred’s hair and pulled, catching his lips when his head was tilted back. They kissed for a while, lips parting, hands wandering and hips rocking smoothly, as if they had all the time in the world. Eventually, the kisses slowed to pecks and the pecks morphed to content, lazy nuzzling.

“This is what we have to look forward to,” murmured Fred, eyes half closed so only a sliver of blue was visible through a curtain of fine lashes. “After the war is over, we can do whatever we want. The shop was doing well, once we open it back up we could definitely afford our own place, one close enough to the Floo network so I can travel to Diagon Alley in the mornings and you can get to whichever news station was lucky enough to land you—maybe the Daily Prophet, after they get rid of all the Death Eaters—”

“I’d rather work for the Quibbler, thank you very much,” muttered Lee, afraid that if he spoke above a whisper his voice would break and betray the tsunami of emotions he was drowning in.

“Right, so no Daily Prophet. You go to the Quibbler and I’ll go to the shop and and since I’m my own boss, I’ll probably get home before you which means that I will cook dinner—”

“That chicken dish I like?”

“Exactly,” Fred smiled, closing his eyes and leaning back so they were now lying on the couch with Lee’s head resting on his chest. “So I’ll cook us dinner and by the time you get home everything will be ready and maybe George will have come back with me from the shop and on some nights we can invite Ron with Hermione, and Harry will be back with Ginny at that point for sure, and Percy will be just around the corner at the Ministry so maybe he’d like to join as well—”

“This place we live in, is it a home or a halfway house for wayward Weasleys?” asked Lee.

Fred shrugged and said, “Why can’t it be both? In any case, mum will insist on seeing us at least once a week so Sunday nights will be spent at the Borrow and that leaves Saturday nights at your parents’ house...which doesn’t leave that much time for us, so maybe we can push it down to just twice a month?”

“Agreed,” said Lee. Then, almost shyly, “You’ve really given this some thought.”

“It’s the rest of our lives, Lee,” said Fred, “there’s nothing better to think about.”

“...and that’s it for tonight, our dear listeners. Remember to keep your wireless at hand to catch more from Potterwatch and I know we can’t make any promises, but I’m making this one anyway: we will be back. So keep fiddling with those dials: next password will be ‘Umbitch’. Keep each other safe. Keep faith. Good night.”

George let out deep breath and removed the headphones covering his ears, shaking out his hair like a wet dog and wiggling a finger in his ears. Sitting across him on the same dilapidated table, Fred and Lee were going through the same rituals, the former stretching out his back against the chair while the latter picked up and put away their equipment.

“I think that went well,” George said. “We had twice as many people listening in than last time. With any luck, those aren’t all Death Eaters plotting out ways to find us and tear us apart limb from limb to then use our skulls as ceremonial cups.”

“You should write poetry, George,” said Lee, “who wouldn’t want such vivid imagery of their own demise planted in their mind as they’re on the run from the most dangerous wizarding organization of all time?”

“You think so? Thanks, mate,” George smiled from ear to ear and said, magnanimously, “I’m sure you have some talent too, and when you find it, I’ll make sure to encourage you as much as you did me. I won’t forget this.”

Lee shared an eye roll with Fred, who was chose to keep silent, looking on in amusement, and said, “I’m sure you won’t, George. In the meantime, why don’t you make yourself useful and—” The colour drained from Lee’s face as the words got caught in his throat. He turned panicked eyes on the Weasley twins and brought a finger up to his lips, taking out his wand and moving on light feet to the door.

The twins exchanged puzzled looks of their own but followed the protocol they had in place for situations just like this one. They charmed their feet silent with a mumbled spell and went about the room, packing up their stuff and removing any evidence that they’d been there in the first place.

When all was said and done and Lee still hadn’t moved from his vigil by the door, Fred walked up to him and whispered, “What’s going on?”

“I-I’m not entirely sure,” Lee stammered, “I thought I heard something—a cough.”

“That’s what we set up the perimeter alarm to sound like,” Fred supplied.

“I know! But it’s been almost fifteen minutes and nothing’s—”

A mild-mannered cough interrupted Lee and was followed by a feminine sneeze. Lee could feel the tension in the room suddenly reach an all time high as the three of them processed their predicament.

“Someone’s coming,” hissed Fred, “and they’ve set up Anti-Apparition wards. We can’t apparate away.”

“Any ideas?” asked Lee, shuffling lightly on his feet so his body was covering Fred from anyone bursting in through the door.

There was a resounding boom around them, followed by the house shaking on its foundations and the windows blowing out to pieces. George, Fred and Lee locked eyes and nodded their heads as one.

“Get the brooms out, Freddy,” said George, “we’re going flying.”

Dust covered every surface of the great hall. There were beds set up on the floor; the right side for the injured and the left side for the dead.

Fred was lying on his back on sheets of white, features soft and relaxed, as though he were dreaming the most wonderful of dreams. He was resting on the left side of the hall.

He was surrounded by his family. His mother held his head between her hands and rocked herself over his prone body, barely coherent enough to recognize the arms wrapped around her torso as those belonging to her husband who had his face buried in her hair, darkening her auburn tresses with his tears.

His siblings were arranged close by in various forms of distress. Ron was holding onto Hermione like she was the only thing keeping him up while Ginny had her head tucked into the crook of Harry’s neck, fingers idly tracing shapes on the palm of his hand as they both stared blindly into the distance. Percy and Charlie were sitting back to back on the dirty ground, the former with his head bowed down to his chest and hands grasping at a bleeding leg while the latter was inspecting the new ugly burns running up and down his arms. Bill was standing tall and weary with his wife in his arms and George…

George was lying down next to his dead brother, legs out straight, arms at his sides and face looking up at the enchanted ceiling. No one would be able he wasn’t as dead as his brother if it weren’t for the tear tracks continuously running down the sides of his face and disappearing into his hair.

Lee watched this all from a distance. He couldn’t tell where he was in relation to his dead fiancé and would-be family, but he couldn’t just see it all; he could feel it, too. It was a gaping wound in his chest, festering and growing by the second until it became so large it felt like it was swallowing him whole and any life he had left was being choked out of him by grief and heartbreak.

The war was won. Voldemort was dead and his remaining Death Eaters were being rounded up by the vengeful families of their victims and if they weren’t caught tonight, there always tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that, and the one after that one and so on.

They had all the time in the world now.

But for Lee, within the cavernous walls of Hogwart’s great hall, at that very moment, time stood still. And he didn’t think it would ever start again.

Lee woke up with a shuddering gasp. His legs moved of their own accord and propelled him from the bed, running to the bathroom where they landed on the floor with a resounding smack as his stomach hacked up its contents into the porcelain bowl. He spent a few seconds catching his breath before flushing his vomit down the toilet and stumbling to his feet.

The cold water felt wonderful on his overheated skin. He let it run over his hands then washed his face and cleaned out his mouth. Supporting himself on the edge of the sink, he lifted his head and stared at the reflection looking back at him in the mirror.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he muttered.

“I’ll say. I’ve been waking up to this for the past three months and I never get tired of it.”

Lee smiled and relaxed for the first time since waking up as two wiry, freckled arms wrapped around his stomach from behind and brought his bare back against an equally bare chest.

“What was it this time?”

“Another nightmare,” Lee murmured.

“The same one?”

“Mhmm,” Lee hummed.

“I’m sorry, love.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Really? Because I’d consider getting hit by a deadly, rare curse which has my family thinking I’m dead and nearly succeeds in actually killing me, leaving you with recurring nightmares of my death and the ensuing life without me, to be kind of my fault.” Fred’s voice was gritty from sleep and his breath was warm against Lee’s neck as he leaned forward and placed a kiss there.

“You’re right, I should be coming to you for restitution,” said Lee, his face betraying nothing after years of experience pulling pranks alongside the Weasley twins.

“Damn bloody right you should.” Fred turned Lee around so they’d be face to face. “I’m sad to say I’m all out of money at the moment and unfortunately Gringotts doesn’t open until well into the morning.”

“I can’t possibly imagine waiting that long,” Lee announced. “How will I cope?”

“Therein lies my problem,” said Fred, nodding his head solemnly. “

Fred levelled Lee with his best ‘come hither’ look, wiggling his eyebrows for extra effect, and Lee couldn’t take it anymore. He snorted with laughter and said, “Really? Now? And that’s what you’re going with?”

“I’m standing by it and after all, there’s no time like the present,” Fred winked. “Even if we do have all the time in the world, best to sometimes live in the moment, don’t you think?”

Lee thought back to his nightmare, to the very real memories sprinkled in between the nightmarish sequence of Fred’s death and his funeral. He remembered all those moments stolen in between missions and Potterwatch broadcasts and fights with Death Eaters. He recalled the flash of memories, one more precious than the other, which had run through his the second he’d walked into the great hall and spotted Fred’s body among the dead.

“Yeah,” he said, eyes catching on the band of gold on his finger and dashing to catch the same glint on Fred’s own finger. “We can live in the moment. For now.”

#harry potter #harry potter au #before the final battle #after the final battle #on the run #potterwatch #after hogwarts #lee jordan #fred weasley #lee jordan/fred weasley #george weasley #romance #angst #fluff #one-shot #allusions to ptsd #canon compliant until it's not #ao3 #ffn.net

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