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cherrysha · 3 years

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Run

Remember when i posted abt lumberjack a/b/o Uvo? well here it is!! shoutout again to ram fr helping me with this piece!! This is my first attempt at a longer story with more plot. Part of me wanted to break it up into more chapters but I like the build up thats there by keeping it in one piece. Its my take on abo (I know some people love it and some absolutely hate it but the lewding potential was too much for me to pass up) Very loosely based off of this song by hozier

Summary: Alphas are rare, Omegas even moreso. The standard for society is being a Beta, but unfortunately you weren’t born as one. Being an Omega is a presentation so detestable that it’s hard to even survive. In an era where it’s completely normal to cast you from the village for simply existing, to keep you blind from what it is to truly be an Omega, will there be any respite for you? (Yes, this is a period piece)

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: A/B/O, dubcon (since the readers in heat), predator/prey, a little blood, one slap, breeding, overstimulation, unprotected sex

“Do you ever get the feeling that they are lying to you?” you stare at the weathered wooden boards of the porch before you dare to glance at her face. The miller’s daughter was an omega as well, and often you found yourself gravitating to her if only out of comfort. The one of few in the village that could relate to you. She looked so soft in the morning sun, so lighthearted and gentle as she picked at the frayed patchwork of her dress.

“I don’t like to think about it too much or else I scare myself, y/n” she giggles.

So Naïve.

You mull it over before coming to the conclusion that you and her are not the same. “I guess I understand”

Her father always says she’s too kind, but that’s exactly what was so endearing. A world where it was normal to treat people like you and her as lesser, and she was still so kind. Absently, you wondered if you'd ever see her again after her next heat. It had been too long since an omega went missing.

“Will you still be walking with me to the market?”

“Ah, mother seems to have found some extra fabric that had been tucked away somewhere, so I suppose not. However, I’m glad you came to visit y/n!” she giggles as you stick your tongue out at her like a child.

The walk there gives you an opportunity to think of her words. Was denial better than the fear that came along with the truth?

Plenty of omegas had gone missing. When you were younger, the elders would tell you that there was a man who lived on the edge of the forest. He wasn't an alpha, or a beta, or even an omega. He was only a monster.

The path stretches before you and the heat of the summer sun is almost enough to make you turn around. But you persist, the idea of returning home empty handed was enough to make you ignore the sting on the back of your neck.

This man, this beast, would eat omegas. That’s why it was important to return home before dark, the man in the forest used the cover of night to hunt; to take. that’s why omegas always went missing in the village.

You momentarily take refuge in the cool water in the creek on the outskirts of the village, watching idly as water swirled around your bare feet.

When were you old enough to realize the flaws of that story? Was it your first heat? When with shaky hands, your mother had packed you enough provisions for the week and whispered for you to leave? Or was it the anger in your father’s voice when you asked to stay and he bitterly told you that omegas only brought misfortune?

You sigh. No, it was the day you'd found out one of the few remaining omegas hadn’t come back and that truth had only been a hard pill to swallow for you. No one seemed to care, it was as if the man in the forest didn’t scare them, had never scared them.

Not much sooner had you made the connection. Alphas were few and far between, but omegas were even more scarce. The ones who couldn’t find omegas settled down with betas, but what would a married alpha do when an unclaimed omega went into heat? Only the forest knew.

Sometimes you wished the beast was real, and still the lie had persisted. The younger omegas believed it to be the wood smith and while he was a recluse, so much so that you'd never even seen him, he was far too young to be the monster from your youth. He’d only made his appearance in the village every so often, and in truth he hadn’t lived in the area for that long. You let them hold on to their delusion instead, not wanting to be the one to burst their bubble.

Your heat was many moons away, but the fear of living still persisted.

The water feels nice on your neck, gentle and cooling as you scoop handfuls of it over your burning skin. It makes you forget about everything for a second, soothing over you like an expensive balm. Somehow, It reminds you of when you were little, before you presented and the friends you'd made in the village. Small and unassuming, no worries about presentation or etiquette. Just young and carefree. The thought brings a smile to your face.

Now, boys your age would rather die than be seen with an Omega, not that you cared about their indifference. In their minds it was completely warranted, and in yours the Betas had nothing to offer you. You both saw each other as fundamentally useless. No one gave mind to insects, most of the time they were just there. Some were cruel, yes, but most went their way, and you went yours. That was the best you could ask for.

Sighing, you pick the coin purse out of your pocket, taking a moment to count the few coins your mother had given you.

It was barely enough to buy thread, but you weren’t surprised. Her and father were still angry that you'd ripped another hole in your dress again since it was one of the little clothing items they had granted you. If it weren’t for the fact that the hole steadily became bigger, threatening the integrity of the entire garment, you don’t think it would’ve been mended at all.

The wind swirls around you, reminding you of your task and the repercussions of wasting time.

With a grunt, you force yourself back up and onto the road, sidestepping a rather large man carrying probably one of the largest baskets of wood you'd ever seen.

Mother says that its impolite to stare, so you don’t let your gaze linger for too long, but the sight was unusual to say the least. He’s tall, so tall in fact that you have to peer up to even try to see his face, eventually you give up and your gaze ends at the well toned muscles of his chest that are thinly veiled underneath a rather dingy tunic. You couldn’t judge him, right now you were wearing the same dress that desperately needed patching up. Still, he was somewhat of an unbelievable height, it was hard not to wonder of his presentation. Surely, there couldn’t be Betas that tall, but it was even more so unbelievable for him to be an Alpha. The Alphas in your town were well known, their large presence in the village applauded by most and avoided by Omegas. Like the tavern owner with wandering hands under the guise of drunkenness and the butcher who stared a little too long that one might find it indecent.

as you make your way through the village opening you can feel his presence pressing closer behind you with each step. It’d be easier to know for certain if the wind carried his scent, but at the present moment it was blowing yours in his direction, a thought that was a little unnerving to you. Nevertheless, you persisted, pushing past the mounting feeling in your chest that seemed to get worse the louder his footsteps became behind you. Surely, he was just selling the basket on his back at the market. And since he was a stranger to you, It would make sense for him to follow you so closely there if he wasn't from the village.

You let yourself relax, tense shoulders easing up as you finally come to the only conclusion that made sense. You were an Omega; A Beta had no better reason to follow you other than directions.

The sun still beats overhead, making the exposed skin of your face damp with sweat. With little thought, you wipe it away with the handkerchief stashed inside your pocket. It was little more than torn fabric that mother had no use for, but you appreciated when she had given it to you nonetheless.

The market wasn't busy for this time of day, which you were grateful for. Less people to cast you a distasteful glare as you silently perused through the stalls in search for thread. It only takes a few moments to find it at a stand with colorful fabrics, pins and needles and textiles that were definitely worth more than anything you'd ever own.

The smile on your face lights up as you find the cheapest option available, speaking quietly to the stall owner you ask for it.

You're met with silence, its only when you look at them that you realize they aren’t even looking at you. Instead, you follow their gaze behind you, to the burly man who had somehow gotten close enough to block out your view of the sun.

“Gorgeous too, huh?” he smiles down at your shocked face, even daring to lean down, hand gripping your jaw to force your head up, leaving your neck exposed to him. He’s not quick about it either, his nose coming to scent you as he indulges himself in the smell he finds there.

“And where have you been hiding?” he whispers it, a secret between the both of you that your too scared to acknowledge. In stark contrast, you've been rooted to the spot, too scared to do much of anything as the complete stranger ungracefully takes his time mulling you over.

It’s a funny thing, he can smell just how frightened you are, but it doesn’t mask the scent that made him follow you in the first place.

The scene is far too intimate for such a public space, and subconsciously, you're aware of that. You know this isn’t right, you shouldn’t be letting yourself get so carried away by the stranger, even if he does smell wonderful. Nothing like any Alpha you’ve met. Although his presence is completely overwhelming, his scent isn’t, and he lets out a breathless laugh when you subtly try to scent him back.

The only thing that snaps you back to reality is the stall owner clearing their throat, forcing you to realize how blatantly improper you were being. It’s far too embarrassing to handle, and mortification sets into your bones. The man pays them no mind, instead using one of his large hands to slam a few bills onto the counter.

“Whatever she wants” his voice comes out as a low and guttural thing, hoarse from days of disuse, as his breath fans across your face. He thinks it’s cute, the way your eyebrows shoot up makes his grin even wider.

With shaky hands you point to the cheapest bobbin of thread, hands fumbling for your coin purse before he grabs your wrist. “What did I say, Omega?” its stern, but all you can manage to do is bumble over your words, eyes cast downwards as you try to ignore the embarrassment settling on your face. He was just trying to be nice, maybe he was a tad bit uncivilized about it, but his impropriety shouldn’t make it okay to decline such a kind offer. The thread is taken from the counter, his hand slowly ruffling the folds of your dress as he finds your pocket and drops it in.

At this point you’ve become a spectacle, passersby muttering not so subtly about just how close you are to him, how rude it was to make a scene like that in public. With a cough you back away, surprised to find that he doesn’t follow, only aims a grin at you as he continues to stare. Not wanting to leave on a sour note, you ask

“What’s your name?”

Maybe one day you could repay the favor, although he didn’t look like the type to need to buy thread. He didn’t look like the type to care that much about his appearance at all, if you were being honest.

“its Uvogin. Gimme what’s in your pocket.”

“The thread?” with a wolfish smile he shakes his head no. It takes you a moment but clumsily you pad at the dress before finally finding your pocket and dipping your hand in to pull out the tiny wad of fabric in question. The only other thing in your pocket besides your coin purse. Your handkerchief. You don’t think about it as you hand it over to Uvogin, your head feels fuzzy just by his proximity. Don’t even think about how closely he must’ve been watching you to see that you had one, or how long he’d been doing so as he walked behind you and into the market. Right now, he could ask for a lot of things and you'd gladly hand it all to him with no second thoughts about it.

“You should head home. Maybe get some rest before it happens” he leans closer to sniff at your throat one last time, albeit a lot quicker than he had in the past “Although, I don’t think you’ll have much time.” The end of his sentence comes out in as a laugh, jovial enough to make you forget how sinister his final words were. With little grace, you slowly backpedal, eyes still on his before you turn around and walk out the way you came.

You smell. You reek of him. It’s the only thought in your mind as you clutch at yourself tightly, eyes cast downwards to avoid the shame of looking at others. There wasn't a pair of eyes that didn’t linger on you, most likely smelling exactly what you smelled; The stench of an Alpha. So thick and cloying that you couldn’t pretend it was anything other. Maybe you could rinse it off in the creek before you got home, but you doubted it. The smell permeated through your dress and settled into your bones. Quickly, you head out of the village and towards the sound of running water.

He was handsome, his scent so alluring that it made your mind wander as you tried desperately to rinse it off of your skin. A hint of sweat, pine and something sweet you had no name for. Sitting on your haunches, you let out a whine at the fact that nothing you did could rinse it off, and part of you didn’t want to, anyway. He’d ruined your dress by doing little more than touching it. If your parents smelled it, who knows what they would do. Probably cast you out like they’d planned on doing when you tore your dress. Any little infraction was worth your disappearance. This would give them every reason not to want you around.

It seemed to be getting hotter. So hot in fact you were half tempted to wade into the creek, dress and all, just to get the feeling to go away. The sun had been hidden by an overcast sky, clouds threating to burst at any moment, and you prayed they would. It could drown out any scent lingering on your skin, your clothes, the far recesses of your mind that held onto it like a bloodhound. Why was it so hot?

Wordlessly, you waded into the water, thinking little of the repercussions of coming home with a sopping wet dress as you sat down, letting the stream flow over you and around your shoulders. It felt soothing at first, like a cool bath when you were sick, but all too soon the water felt just as warm as you were. It. Was enough to elicit another strangled whine from your throat.

Slowly you stood, the weight of the fabric hugging tighter against your skin all too noticeable. This wasn't right. The sun was gone, the water cool, so why did you feel so sick all of a sudden?

It took a minute to fully accept it, as part of you didn’t want to. But you couldn’t excuse the need growing in your abdomen as anything else.

You had to leave here, quick. Get as far away from the village as possible. Away from the Omegas and your family, away from everything in order to have a chance at saving yourself.

Wading out of the water, you give no pause to the way your skirts cast dark droplets onto the dry ground.

With little to no hesitation, you make your way back onto the road before veering right, into the underbrush as you picked up the pace. Before, you'd have a day’s head start to get as far away as possible, but this was different. The telltale signs of your heat stirring low in the pit of your belly was a fortnight too early. Your thoughts were already starting to fog around the edges, an in a few hours all you'd be able to do was cry out from the sheer pain of it all.

With every step you find yourself walking faster, legs getting whipped by the low lying brambles. The way they so easily tear into your skin going almost unnoticed by you in your sheer panic. It wasn't supposed to be this way, it’s a type of confusion that adds on to the delirium already buffing away at your subconscious.

After a few minutes of running, only your panicked gasps keeping you company, the clouds burst above you. Fat drops soaking the underbrush and you along with it. In no time the ground beneath your feet becomes even more treacherous, mud and leaves and errant roots making you stumble and fall at every opportunity. After one nasty fall, you can't help but sit for a moment, a manic chuckle ripping through your chest as you examine your skinned palms. Your dress is filthy, the tear even larger than it had been when you set out this morning. Absently you wonder if mother will let you try to mend it before she casts you out for it. Without looking down at your legs, you already know the bruises that will be there from every bump and fall you’ve taken on your little journey. It does little to worry you, once the adrenaline wore off, maybe then you'd feel yourself start to care again.

With a sigh you let yourself rest. Hypervigilance slipping as you gaze up at the canopy in awe. How could rain be so loud?

Mentally, you try to assess your location. There was a place not far from here that served as your hideaway in times like these. A fissure in the face of a sheer cliff, only big enough for you and any other Omega that had the misfortune of being cast out into the woods. It wasn't much, the crack was uncovered, the rain and wet still able to reach you, but that wasn’t what was important.

Standing up gives you a better view of your surroundings. With little thought you start to head in the direction you remembered, down the slope of the hill in hopes of finding your salvation at the bottom.

It doesn’t take long before you hear it. Crackling branches under heavy, heavy footsteps. It’s not a promising sign, to say the very least. Feverishly you pick up the pace, mind racing as you try to figure out who would’ve followed you. It’s not like you did much to hide where you were going, in truth you didn’t think about it at all. Mind glazing over, you don’t notice the thick tree root that’s in your way, stumbling over it as your palms meet the forest floor once again. Ungracefully, your body tumbles easily down the rest of the slope, a cry leaving you as you hit the ground repeatedly.

Uvo’s laugh is audible over the thunderous sound of rain. Its jarring. A wretched reminder that you're actively being hunted down like an animal.

“Sounds like I’m getting close, huh?” he yells, still too far away for you to see him under the darkened canopy. His voice echoes and you can't tell where exactly he is behind you, only knowing that its entirely too close for comfort. Hazily, your mind makes the connection, his voice rattling back in your ears over and over again as you pick yourself up.

You can’t say that you've gotten any faster after realizing who exactly was chasing you. The ache in your body from multiple falls was finally catching up to you, along with the heat that was settling low in the pit of your stomach that seemed to be burning even brighter than a few minutes ago.

After a few minutes of running, you see it and almost sob with relief. Thick with vines, the opening of the rockface, your salvation, is almost within distance.

“I hope you're not thinkin’ of doing what I think you're gunna do.” Its not a yell. Not anything other than an irritated statement thrown so casually and so, so close to you that it causes goosebumps to rise on the back of your neck. Quickly, you look behind you, a slight yip leaving your throat as you take in the distance between the both of you.

In a last ditch effort, your body works on autopilot. Fear drives you, pushes you faster and faster until the only thing you can hear is the thrumming of your own heart in your ears. He’s loud behind you, yelling something unintelligible as you try to make your escape. You're within reaching distance of the opening now, but his hands grab at you. The slickness of the rain serves in your favor. Easily you slip from his grasp, body lurching forward and into the opening as he tears at the shoulder of your dress.

The air surrounding him seems to vibrate with raw anger, something akin to a roar tearing through him at just how close he’d come to having you.

Big hands come to slam against either side of the opening as he peers down at your shrunken form. Chest heaving, the rain glints off of his skin and the image alone is enough to make you whimper in submission. He’s so tall, broader than any Alpha you'd seen, and he’s incredibly angry. Uvo’s gaze doesn’t leave you as the seconds tick by. After a few moments of him trying, and failing, to collect himself he finally speaks

“I’m not gunna hurt ya, now come here” he says, and it sounds sincere enough that your fuzzy brain almost believes him. Almost gives in to the temptation of his scent, his open arms goading you to leave the small space.

“I don’t believe you” you whine, shaking your head ‘no’ as if he wouldn’t understand the meaning of your words.

It’s so unbelievably hot. The fat drops of rain hitting your face and soaking you through to your very core did little to relieve the feeling. if anything, it overwhelmed your heightened senses, every little drop on your skin felt like something you needed to pay close attention to.

“Just wanna make you feel better” the statement alone forces a whimper out of your throat, body edging backwards as if to physically deny him

“You can't make me feel better, no one in this damn town can make me feel better.” it’s a lot more hysterical than you meant it, but Uvo’s face contorts in confusion all the same.

It’s quiet for a moment as he assesses you. Big green eyes rake over your shivering form, more anger than pity bubbling to the surface of his features as he realizes how much he doesn’t like what he sees.

“You don’t know anything, huh?” he mumbles to himself, letting one of his large hands swipe away the excess water on his face before settling on his hip “What’s it gunna take for you to come out then?”

You want to tell him to leave, to let you be alone but another part of you wants something. Something you can't explain enough to even know yourself.

“Just don’t hurt me, okay?” no matter how much you try to calm yourself down it still comes out too whiny and nasally for your liking.

Uvo laughs at that, boisterous and loud and it almost seems to overpower the sound of heavy rain hitting the tree branches around you.

“I just told you I wouldn’t, you forget that already?” you have half a mind to nod in affirmation, “Come on out then” he gestures towards you, wolfish smile marring his face.

As if to try and soothe you, he asks for your name. The question eats away at the open air before you finally find your voice enough to answer him.

In the quiet that precedes your answer you realize numbly that It’s getting darker out. You have no provisions and now you’re drenched. If you didn’t listen and stayed put, the rest of your heat would be torture. There’s a lot to consider, truthfully too much to consider in your current state. The ramifications of your actions, the honesty of the large man in front of you, the means in which he planned to help, how long you could actually survive out here without him. Your brain functions moved with the viscosity of syrup. The more you thought about it all, the less it seemed to make sense.

Quietly, you make your way to the opening, Uvo lets out an excited laugh as you crawl ever closer to him. It doesn’t take more than a few steps before a gasp is being torn from you as he grabs you by the arm, pulling you completely out and into his embrace. It feels nice, albeit a little jarring, but you won’t deny the full feeling in your chest at his proximity. A big and sturdy hand rakes up your side as the other holds you to his chest.

With little thought, you bury your face in the crook of his neck, relishing in the scent that hasn’t been completely washed away by the rain. Its calming, maybe he’s pumping out pheromones to induce that emotion within you, but at the same time it makes the coil in the pit of your stomach reach incredibly high temperatures. It hurts, oh god, it hurts

“Hurts, huh? I can fix that.” You don’t remember saying it aloud, but the burly man responds quickly by tearing the flimsy fabric of your dress, making sure to rip through your underwear as well. When you whine at the sensation all he does is mutter “Didn’t expect me to let you keep that ratty thing did you?”

It’s a makeshift blanket once he tosses it onto the ground, saving your back from most of the drenched forest floor as Uvo sets you down, his own body hovering over yours. His warmth is so nice, nothing like what’s eating you up inside, and with needy hands you run your fingers through his hair, a high pitched whine leaving your throat at the groan you coax from him.

“Fuck” he growls “M’gunna knot you so good. Bet it’ll only take one time before I get you nice and round”

You nod up at him, delirious and wanting. The only thing on your mind being the feel of him under your fingers.

With little finesse, Uvo thumbs at the opening of your sex before sliding over the bundle of nerves that lies just above it. He smiles at the confusion on your face before slowly, slowly sinking one of his large fingers inside of your heat. Your body writhes with broken sobs at the feeling. Its unlike anything you ever experienced before.

“All this for me, huh? Must really want it.” It comes out in a huff, his smile ever growing as you nod in affirmation. You can hear the slickness he’s referring to as his finger pumps in and out of you.

Right now the wind was bustling, rain beating down harder than it had been all night, but all that you could feel was the comfort Uvo gave you. As if his wandering hands were stroking your very soul.

Unbeknownst to you, Uvo’s already dipped another digit inside of you, marveling at the way your body so easily opens up to his touch. It’ll only take him a few more minutes of his fingers dutifully scissoring you open before he’s able to lay his claim.

“Doesn’t hurt, does it?” he smiles as you shake your head, mouth open and panting as your lovestruck gaze meets his “Of course it doesn’t.”

He takes his time, languid strokes and teasing bites against your chest. No rush in his movements until you brokenly sob for him. The feeling in your gut was only getting worse with every movement. With weak hands you claw at him, trying desperately to pull his body closer.

His hand moves from your cunt, popping his digits in his mouth with a groan. When he finally sucks them clean, his hands go to his belt, “Impatient little thing” whispered from his lips.

The sight alone makes your mouth water. Too long and jarringly thick, his cock slaps up against his stomach.

“Gunna make you feel a loot better” he mumbles, taking himself in hand. God, you want it, want every bit of him no matter the repercussions. He kneels above you, chest wet and heaving with excitement as his gaze lingers on your exposed pussy. A Grecian God chiseled from marble and sent here just for you.

With steady hands he presses you your legs up, folding you in half until hes achieved the angle he’s looking for. You have no choice but to comply, whimpering as he guides himself into your aching cunt.

The stretch of it burns, it makes your body quake almost as if the size of his cock alone has rendered you weak. It’s an overwhelming sensation that eats away any rational thought until you can only focus on the piercing sharpness of it.

“Stop, please, s’too much.” You can't recognize the sound of your own voice. Its hoarse as if you'd been yelling for hours. Uvogin buries his nose in your neck again, hands coming up to press your legs to even further against your chest.

“Here… got somethin’ to take your mind off it”

With little warning his teeth are in your neck, tearing a wretched scream from your throat as Uvo draws blood. True to his word, he sinks the entirety of his length within you without your notice. Only thing on your mind is the feeling of your flesh being torn open by him, claimed by him.

There’s’ little compassion in the way his hips snap against yours. Its brutal, making you cry out even more as the force of it jostles the teeth still buried snugly in your neck. Your hands claw at the ground before eventually settling on his back. Uvo groans at your nails digging into him, spurring him on to go faster, harder, to give you everything he’s got until you drain him dry.

The noise of Uvo thrusting into your warm cunt is loud, almost deafening compared to the rain around you. It’s all you can hear; All you can feel as he doesn’t waste any time in finding the exact spot within you that makes you scream.

Every shift of his hips is maddening. Every sharp thrust enough to push the air out of your lungs. Eventually Uvo’s mouth pulls away from your throat, lapping at the bloodied mess he’d left there. You can't focus on it too much. Can't focus on much of anything at the present moment, only the slick sounds of his cock dragging in and out of you filling your mind.

“Gunna need you to do somethin’ for me, doll” his words are almost too far away for you to hear. As if he’s underwater, it takes a light slap to your face in order for you to process them.

“Huh?” you ask dumbly. You can't remember if your voice always sounded that small. That meek.

“M’not gunna last long with the way you’re suckin’ me in like this” he growls “Gunna need you to bite down.” One of his hands that was previously holding your thigh up reaches for the nape of your neck, pulling you up until your face is flush against the side of his throat. Something is growing inside of you, burning through your very being and he’s the cause of it. It’s mind numbing, this pleasure you’ve never felt before. Lazily you recognize it enough to know that your own orgasm is mere seconds away.

“Right here.” you nod, heat searing through you as his hips stutter. There’s something catching against your cunt now, impeding every kiss of his hips against yours as he struggles to fit the rest of his cock inside.

With an audible groan being your only warning, Uvo cums inside of you. It sears against your insides as something finally stops his movements, his body unable to do anything besides grind against your own. So full, you jerk with the feeling, finally letting the coil inside you snap. The scream that leaves your broken throat is cut off by Uvo shoving your face harder against his neck and, dutifully, you bite down. Its mere instinct driving you, or maybe the need to drown out your warbled cries for him. Either way, the wound makes him laugh, his hand pushing harder against you as if to force your teeth further into his skin. The tang of metal in your mouth does little to stop the ebb and flow of your orgasm as it washes through you. It’s too good, so good in fact you find yourself pulling away only to be met with Uvo’s unshakeable grip. Tears prick at your eyes at the sensitivity of it all, the overwhelming buzz that courses through you with no end in sight.

It takes a minute of blindly thrashing against him before you give up and settle on the wet ground below.

It’s completely pitch dark now and the rain has quieted into a slight drizzle. You can't see him, can only feel as the hand not gripping your neck finally lets your other thigh down to ghost over the plains of your face.

“You're mine now” he whispers. Silently, you nod your head in agreement, not fully understanding the meaning of his words. It didn’t matter. Nothing truly mattered anymore besides the man above you. Uvo presses a lingering kiss to your neck, your jaw, before landing on your spit slicked lips. It’s almost soothing, the gentle touches his attentive hands leave on your body. Soothing enough to make you forget how you got here.

With a gentle tug, he finally pulls out of your sex. The laugh that leaves his throat as his fingers explore the wetness that paints your lower body is euphoric. Soon enough he’s pulling you into his arms and standing up.

“Feel better?” it sounds like more of a statement coming from his mouth, but you nod all the same. As he starts to walk your eyelids droop in exhaustion, mind focused on the way his chest vibrates with every garbled sentence you can't quite hear.

#abo uvogin #uvogin x reader #Uvogin #uvo x reader #uvo

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heyiwrotesomethings · 3 years

Text

Afraid to Love Again

Lady Tamayo x They/Them Reader

A/N: Heyooo. Tamayo is great, but I kind of struggle writing her. I tried anyway though because I love this demon doctor lady. Be prepared for sickness, death and a dash of angst. There is a happy ending though (my delicate heart wouldn’t be able to take it if there wasn’t)! Also, it’s kinda a reincarnation/ soulmate kind of deal but I didn’t really develop that angle too much. And I can’t remember how much of Tamayo’s backstory was discussed in the manga vs the anime so just a heads up on that. It’s not super spoilery or anything (I think you could guess how that went) but just in case I thought I’d let y’all know. Hope you enjoy! Word Count: 6,939

The village had fallen on hard times. Work was scarce, poverty and disease was rampant. Over the past several months, (Y/n) had seen many family, friends and neighbors fall ill and never rise again. Those who had the strength to leave did, and many offered passage to (Y/n) as well. Though they were thankful for the offers of sanctuary, (Y/n) remained in their family home. They converted it into a makeshift hospital and began caring for the people who no longer could take care of themselves.

There were no doctors in their little village. The nearest, (Y/n) heard was days away. They couldn’t risk leaving all of these sick souls without someone to look after them, they would surely be dead before they could get back. If these people, their people, were going to die either way, they wanted to be there to make the process as easy as possible.

(Y/n) had seen more death and sickness than most. They had almost forgotten what it was like to truly live.

“(Y/n)-san?”

(Y/n) paused their movements wiping sweat from an old woman’s body, and turned to the cot behind them.

“Yes, Ichiro?” (Y/n) smiled kindly, though their eyes reflected just how tired they were.

“I don’t feel so good.” The young child coughed harshly.

“I know, I’m sorry. Let me get you some water.”

(Y/n) quickly finished bathing the old woman left behind by her family and tucked her in. (Y/n) suspected she’d be dead before the next morning. The rattling, gurgling breaths were just about the only sign that she wasn’t already gone.

(Y/n) put the rag in a basket to be washed for later, then they retrieved some water for the sick boy. They made their way through the sea of moaning people waiting for death, checking in with the more lucid villagers as they went.

(Y/n) was caring for thirty-seven people in their ancestral home and they did so alone. Any healthy people that remained in the village avoided the plagued building at all costs. It was hard work, keeping all of these people as comfortable as they could. But compared to the seventy people they had started with during those first weeks of winter, it was much more manageable.

“Here you go, drink as much as you can.” (Y/n) spoke softly, helping the boy sit up to receive it.

He took a few sips before spluttering, excess water slipped down his chin. He sniffed and held his throat, curling back into himself.

(Y/n) skimmed their hand over Ichiro’s burning forehead and watched him struggle forlornly.

How much longer would they all have to live in this hell?

(Y/n)’s question, however rhetoric, was answered the next night.

(Y/n) groaned between blinks of sleep. They had fallen asleep while standing, again. The noise that so rudely awakened them sounded like someone was rattling the door of the main entrance.

Who could it be at this hour? Weary travelers? Surely they had a fair choice in vacated homes already. No matter, (Y/n) figured once they caught the full blast of the smell of death permeating the air they would retreat quickly enough.

They approached the door sliding it open with little preamble. Even if the smell wasn’t enough to deter the unwanted guests, surely the look of utter despair (Y/n) wore would scare them off.

“I’m afraid if you came searching for lodging, I cannot take you.” (Y/n) spoke, barely perceiving the two people before them. “There are, however, many empty homes you have passed by that you are more than welcome to help yourselves too. I would recommend to be on your way quickly, sickness is rampant here.”

“That is why I’ve come.”

(Y/n) allowed themself a puzzled face, finally looking at the woman and her stern looking companion more carefully, taking in the delicate beauty of the stranger before them.

“I’m a doctor.”

(Y/n) suddenly felt more awake, staring at the woman with unrestrained hope and awe.

“Really?” They whispered, as if afraid this was all just a dream or a sleep deprived hallucination.

“Are you doubting her?” The young man spoke up sharply.

“Yushirou.” The woman warned, leveling a look at her companion that immediately shut him back up. The woman turned back to (Y/n). The soft, empathetic look in her eyes made (Y/n) feel weak. The softness of her voice as she addressed (Y/n) again made them feel fragile, all the while they shook like a leaf.

“Allow me to evaluate your sick. I’ll do everything I can.”

“Please,” (Y/n) nodded, making room for the pair to enter their home turned sick ward, “even in my wildest dreams I never thought anyone would actually come for us. I’ve tried so hard to save these people, but I am no doctor.”

The woman came forward, gingerly taking (Y/n)’s shaking hands in her own. (Y/n) noted how cold they were but still held on to the offered hands like a lifeline.

“You’ve done well with what you have, your kindness is immeasurable. Sleep now, and leave the rest to us.”

“Who are you?” (Y/n) asked, suddenly feeling as if they were about to collapse. Just hearing those words was like a weight was dropped from their aching shoulders. The woman caught them before they could fall, the young man, Yushirou, let out a strangled noise of displeasure but stayed back.

“You may call me Tamayo.”

***

When (Y/n) awoke, it was still dark. They assumed they must have only slept a few hours. At least, they thought so until they noticed a crack of sunlight shining between the curtains.

(Y/n) held their head in their hands and grimaced. They couldn’t even remember the last time they had slept in their own bed before now. They didn’t even remember how they got there. They sighed. It didn’t matter, they needed to get up and see how everyone was doing. They had already been negligent long enough.

(Y/n) noticed as they walked through the halls that all the curtains were drawn. They found it odd. The curtains were always kept open regularly, (Y/n) couldn’t be bothered to deal with such minor details in the grand scheme of things and they wouldn’t start now. They left the curtains closed and continued on their way.

“What are you doing up already?”

(Y/n) turned, shocked at the clear and present voice. It had been a long time since they heard someone who sounded so strong and healthy. They turned and saw a grumpy boy staring sternly at them.

“Who are you?” (Y/n) asked, holding on to the wall as a dizzy spell passed through them.

“Tsk, get back to bed. You clearly aren’t well.” The boy said.

“Yushirou? Did you find any— oh, awake already? You should rest more.” (Y/n) turned back down the opposite side of the hall and saw the woman who had been in their restless dreams the night before.

“You’re... You’re real?” (Y/n) asked, mostly to themself, peering at the woman with blurred vision.

“Yes,” Tamayo smiled sadly approaching (Y/n), “you don’t need to worry anymore. Yushirou and I are taking care of things. Please, rest.”

“No, wait. I want to help. Please, teach me everything you know.” (Y/n) pleaded, sliding to their knees as they gave out.

“Like you could help anyone like this. You were already way past your limits before. Stay out of Lady Tamayo’s way.” Yushirou stated harshly.

“No need to speak in such a cold manner, Yushirou.” Tamayo scolded lightly before coming to kneel at (Y/n)’s side, rubbing their back. “How about this, you rest until you are back to full health, then you may observe my work. Is this acceptable?”

(Y/n) frowned, but nodded in agreement. “Yes, thank you.”

“Of course. Yushirou, help our host back to their room please.”

Yushirou readily complied, easily picking (Y/n) up and retiring them to their room.

“And stay there this time.” He grumbled.

(Y/n) fell back asleep almost immediately and when they awoke once more, another day had come and gone. They felt a lot better, just hungry. So they got up and made their way back down the hall to see what was left of the foraging they had done a couple days prior. Hopefully, Tamayo and Yushirou were well versed in the plant life of the area and got some more.

They stopped at the sick ward first to see how things were going. Yushirou wasn’t around, but (Y/n) saw Tamayo whispering to a sick man. Whatever she had asked him, he shook his head looking a tad uncomfortable. (Y/n) moved closer and Tamayo turned, like she could sense their presence and offered a tight smile.

“You look much better. How are you feeling?” She asked.

“As good as I can be. How have things been going here?”

“I apologize, we lost three while you slept.” Tamayo informed solemnly.

“You don’t need to apologize. It means the world to us that you care to try at all.” (Y/n) replied, sincerely. “I’m sure you’ve noticed we don’t have very much in value. Not many people would work like this for no incentive.”

“You must be one of them.” Tamayo’s eyes softened, “you could have left, but you stayed with them. You have a kind heart.”

“...Thank you.” (Y/n) rubbed the back of their neck and looked away, feeling heat gather around their cheeks.

“I just realized I don’t know your name.” Tamayo said. “How rude of me to not ask sooner.”

“It’s alright. I haven’t exactly been conscious most of the time you’ve been here.” (Y/n) let out a dry laugh, “I’m (Y/n).”

“Just (Y/n)?” Tamayo blinked.

“If I can call you Tamayo, please call me (Y/n).”

“Very well, (Y/n).” Tamayo smiled. “I have a few more people to visit with at the moment. Would you care to observe?”

“Yes, I—“ (Y/n) stomach growled before they could finish speaking, they held onto their gut, abashed.

“Oh, you haven’t eaten? You should have told me, we must keep you healthy. Come,” Tamayo guided (Y/n) to their own kitchen where Yushirou was watching over a boiling pot.

“Yushirou, when the broth is done give (Y/n) a bowl please.” Tamayo asked.

“I just finished it Tamayo-sama. I’ll get on it right now.”

(Y/n) slurped down the broth with vigor and thanked Yushirou profusely, making him blush and turn away. They fed the rest to the sick. (Y/n) had asked Tamayo and Yushirou why they hadn’t taken any for themselves to which Tamayo replied that they had already eaten not long before (Y/n) had woken up.

After a long day of absorbing any teachings Tamayo had to share, (Y/n) was sent back to bed for the night much to their dismay.

“But, I slept just recently! I can still help!” (Y/n) frowned as Tamayo ushered them back to their room.

“I don’t know if you remember this, but humans are supposed to go to sleep every night. Yushirou and I have everything under control.” Tamayo assured.

“You guys need to sleep sometime too you know.” (Y/n) retorted.

“Don’t worry, we rest in turns.” Tamayo spoke. (Y/n) couldn’t explain why, but they felt as if Tamayo was being a bit deceitful with her words. However, they let her be for now and went back to bed without anymore fuss.

When (Y/n) woke up the next morning, they were surprised to see that some of the people looked much better already. Of course they were still quite ill, but (Y/n) felt hopeful for them. Unfortunately, the man, Jiro, that (Y/n) had seen Tamayo talking to the day before had died sometime in the night. A few others seemed to be not far behind him in that aspect. Still, (Y/n) worked hard and learned everything they could about the medicines Tamayo crafted and how to distribute them.

“Tamayo?” (Y/n) asked one night before being sent back to bed by the motherly woman.

“Yes, (Y/n)?”

“I was just wondering... what made you come through here? Our village hasn’t had outsiders since last spring, if even then.”

“I was simply looking for somewhere quiet to practice my craft. We were passing through when we realized this village was a little, too quite.”

“Mm, yeah... well, you’re welcome to stay. You can even live here forever if you want, I don’t mind.”

“That’s a rather, bold, offer.” Tamayo replied after a short pause. It was then that (Y/n) realized how that may have sounded and got embarrassed.

“I mean, because— sorry if that was weird. I just, it’s nice having you and Yushirou-san around. I can tell your both good people, you know? I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable!”

“You didn’t,” Tamayo had a far away look in her eye, but she still reached out to pat (Y/n)’s arm in a gesture of kindness, “I appreciate the sentiment, but it will be best for all of we take our leave once we are done here.”

“I see,” (Y/n) tried to keep the disappointment out of their voice, “we’ll just have to make the most out of the time we do have.”

“I suppose. If that is what you wish.”

Over the next several days (Y/n) noticed several odd little behaviors and happenings in their home. They went out one morning to gather certain plants and herbs for Tamayo and when the came back, they noticed a piece of paper with a strange symbol drawn on it that they had never seen before. They questioned Yushirou about it since he was the first one they saw upon returning.

Yushirou scoffed, saying it was a healing symbol and told (Y/n) under no uncertain terms that they shouldn’t look at it, much less even think about touching it. (Y/n) promised him they wouldn’t and backed away into the kitchen with their basket of herbs and a bead of nervous sweat running down their chin.

They also noticed how neither Tamayo or Yushirou appeared to ever eat or sleep when they were around. Even when (Y/n) made something as light as tea, they were refused by both travelers.

Another oddity was that Yushirou always yelled at (Y/n) for peeking through curtains to see if the sun was shining. For some reason, he and Lady Tamayo did not seem to be fond of the sun. Perhaps they were just light sensitive or burned easily. They both seemed to be very fair skinned. (Y/n) was often sent off alone on errands during the day as well. They didn’t complain though, they were happy to help in anyway they could, even if the doctor and her assistant were a bit odd.

Stranger yet was how Tamayo would speak so softly to the deathly ill who showed no signs of recovery. The soft lilt of Tamayo’s voice was not what (Y/n) found strange, they were quite enamored with its dreamlike quality. It was the soft urgency in which she spoke so quietly that always left (Y/n) curious. They only witnessed such events a few times, but they always had ended with the recipient of Tamayo’s whispered words dead mere hours later.

(Y/n) didn’t fault Tamayo for such coincidences. The good doctor probably knew who would die the second she entered the room that first night. (Y/n) figured she was just giving them some form of solace in their final hours to help them find peace.

It was one night where (Y/n) had woken up with a painful thirst for water when things became... complicated.

“We need to think about leaving soon, Tamayo-sama.” (Y/n) heard Yushirou speak as they neared the kitchen. “You have already gone past your limit of resistance by a few days.”

“I’ll be fine, Yushirou. Soon there will be a good handful of people who will have their strength back. (Y/n) still has much I can teach them... we mustn’t leave just yet.”

“The blood here is diseased and of poor quality, even if you could get some without anyone noticing, it would not be filling enough to do much good. Please my lady, let’s keep moving to the next city like we planned.” Yushirou stressed.

“I can’t Yushirou, not when these people need help that only I can adequately provide. I can go a little longer...”

(Y/n) stood still in the hall as they listened in. Tamayo needed blood? For what, a transfusion? They took a deep breath and entered the room.

“If you need blood—“

The air was suddenly knocked out of their lungs as Yushirou came forward with inhumane speed and knocked (Y/n) hard into the back wall.

“Spying? Why couldn’t you just keep your nose away from where it doesn’t belong!” Yushirou hissed, tightening his hold.

“Yushirou!” Tamayo warned, coming up behind him, willing him to loosen his grip, “don’t hurt them.”

Yushirou clicked his tongue in agitation and allowed (Y/n) to slide to the ground in a fit of gasps and coughs.

Tamayo knelt beside them and checked them over with a worried frown.

“I’m sorry, (Y/n). You aren’t hurt are you?”

(Y/n) took a moment to catch their breath before answering, “I, I don’t think so.” They coughed again, “Damn Yushirou, you are a lot tougher than you look!”

Yushirou growled, but upon seeing the stern look Tamayo leveled at him he backed off and looked away, almost sheepish. He looked more like a scolded guard dog than anything else.

Tamayo turned back to (Y/n) looking forlorn, “How much did you hear?”

“You need blood or you’ll have to leave.” (Y/n) answered honestly, “If you need blood, you can have some of mine... I don’t know if it’s the right type, but if it’s what you need, I’ll be more than happy to give it to you.”

Tamayo shook her head. “(Y/n), I don’t think you understand what you are offering.”

“It’s my blood, I’ll offer it to whomever I please,” (Y/n) staggered back to their feet, “and I want to give it to you. You don’t even need to tell me what for.”

Tamayo scanned (Y/n)’s face before closing her eyes and turning away. She walked towards a nearby window and pulled open the curtains, allowing the full moonlight to glide over her skin and flowery kimono. (Y/n) swallowed thickly, clearing their throat they turned to look out the window as well. The young doctor was bewitchingly beautiful and (Y/n) could not risk missing whatever Tamayo had to say.

“Before you commit yourself to this decision, you must first understand what I am.”

“Tamayo-sama!” Yushirou called out only for Tamayo to raise her hand to call for his silence.

“...What you are?” (Y/n) cocked their head to the side, confused. “You look like a normal person to me.”

“That’s what makes a lot of my kind so dangerous.” Tamayo sighed, her eyes still trained on the moon, “Monsters in human skin. Although there are many who wear their sin in grotesque and prideful ways.”

“I’m not sure what you’re getting at, but it’s not like all humans are great people either. Like how Ichiro’s parents left him here after he got sick and still haven’t wrote back like they promised. Even if you are different from humans as you are claiming, I can’t say that your any worse than the people I know. In fact, I’d say you’re better than a lot of the people I know.” (Y/n) tried to explain.

“I’ve done more evil and unforgivable deeds in my time on this earth than I could ever atone for. Even as I work to do better I know I can’t take back all the harm I’ve caused.” Tamayo shook her head and turned to (Y/n), cupping their cheek with a chilled hand, “I’ve aided in more atrocities than you have years on this planet. Do not let what you’ve seen of me in these short weeks fool you.”

“Okay, so you’re committed to believing your evil and irredeemable, is that right?” (Y/n) grasped the hand at their cheek, holding it in their own, “Well, I’m sorry, but I’m not going to believe that. I don’t know what you’ve done, but you’re obviously torn up about it. I can’t say someone who was pure evil would think twice about that.”

Tamayo pulled her hand away, cradling it close to her chest and turned back to the window with a slight tremble before whispering, “I’m a demon, (Y/n). I’ve turned Yushirou as well. We get by on blood these days but before then, I have killed and devoured many humans in five hundred years. Tell me now you don’t find me repulsive.”

“I don’t!” (Y/n) spoke immediately and resolutely, surprising the demon doctor and Yushirou to an extent with their resolve. “I don’t know who you were or what you were going through back then, but the Tamayo I know is kind enough to stop in some nowhere village to take care of sick people she doesn't even know while expecting nothing in return. I can’t say my word means very much in the grand scheme of things, but I don’t think you’re a monster. Monsters don’t mourn over their victims. I think you’re a good person Tamayo, worthy of my blood if you’ll just let me give it to you.”

The determined look on (Y/n)’s face made Tamayo feel as if she’d seen a specter from her past. She felt tempted to reach out again but held back, afraid of what, she wouldn’t allow herself to dwell. (Y/n) took her silence as a hesitation and insisted once more, bearing their arm up to the crook of their elbow.

“Take what you two need. Please don’t make me try to do it myself.”

Tamayo closed the distance between them quickly and held (Y/n)’s arms as if she was frightened of them doing something dangerous to themself.

“Yushirou, please get the phlebotomy kit from the travel bag.” Tamayo asked softly.

Yushirou nodded. Though he was not particularly fond of how close his master was to the human, he was glad she would finally be getting some sustenance.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” (Y/n) tried to joke to lighten the mood.

“You can revoke your offer whenever you wish. If you want us to leave you may ask us to do so without fear. I promise you.” Tamayo said, nothing but sincerity in her tone.

“I’ll keep it in mind, but I’ll do no such thing. Now, I hope you don’t think it rude of me for drinking some water myself first before I get you your... beverage. It was the whole reason I was walking through in the first place.” (Y/n) said as they walked across the kitchen and fetched some water.

Tamayo’s lips curled ever so slightly into a wisp of a smile aimed at (Y/n)’s back as they drank.

***

Now that (Y/n) knew they were sheltering a couple of demons, the strange behaviors they had noted prior made more sense and they took them in stride. They loved teasing Tamayo and Yushirou about the quality of their blood. Often making Tamayo flush faintly or earn a quick jab to the chest from Yushirou that was probably harder than he should be hitting a fragile human.

They kept the knowledge of their species to themself, not wanting to stress the sick or endanger Tamayo in some way. They had since learned that the strange papers that were littered around their house were actually some kind of warding seal that Yushirou could produce to keep their presence hidden to outsiders. If all that Tamayo had told (Y/n) about the realness of demons held true, they were surprised that they hadn’t encountered them sooner. Perhaps the constant scent of death and decay had kept them at bay, figuring there was no fresh flesh to tear into.

However, that was all changing now. Of the twenty-six remaining villagers, twenty-five were making marked improvements in their health and many could even walk about the the house without being too fatigued. (Y/n) had smiled so brightly when they saw Ichiro slide out of bed one morning that they had brought a hand to their mouth in delighted shock. They couldn’t remember the last time they had smiled so earnestly. Tamayo had surprised them, taking their hand away from their mouth.

“Let your joy shine through. The light you have to share could lift anyone’s spirits. I know it has lifted mine, so don’t hide please.” Tamayo said kindly.

“Right!” (Y/n) laughed sheepishly as heat crawled up their neck. They were sure Tamayo could hear the blood rushing through their system but thankfully she was polite enough not to comment on it.

“(Y/n)-san, can you take us outside?” One of the other young children asked.

“Mhm, only for a little bit though. Don’t want to over do it now, do we?”

“Tamayo-san, do you want to come?” Ichiro asked hopefully.

“Tamayo-san is very busy. But I’m sure she’ll be happy to read you a story later. Won’t that be nice?” (Y/n) smiled, saving Tamayo from having to come up with an excuse to avoid the brightness of the spring sun.

A small group gathered and slowly made their way outside, blinking hard against the bright sun stinging their eyes. Still, they felt overjoyed. Many never thought they’d make it through the winter so they took in the scenery before them with a range of emotions.

When they returned, (Y/n) helped everyone get settled again. As they did, they noticed Tamayo speaking quietly to the young woman in the corner cot. She had been fighting against the illness for a particularly long time and had been getting worse as of late. Keeping the interaction in mind, (Y/n) made their way to the kitchens to see if Yushirou needed any assistance with lunch. Now that everyone’s appetites were returning they had to produce a bit more than they had in the past.

When everyone was fed, (Y/n) had managed to find Tamayo alone. The doctor had found the old ceremonial tea room and enjoyed the space, so naturally (Y/n) had given her permission to do with it what she liked. (Y/n) knocked and announced themself, waiting for Tamayo to beckon them in before entering.

“(Y/n), does someone need something? Do you need something?” Tamayo asked, momentarily pausing in her herb crushing to look up at them.

“No, everything seems fine right now. Although Kotori does not appear to be doing well at all.” (Y/n) sighed, kneeling across from Tamayo. “...She’s going to die, isn’t she?”

“Yes.” Tamayo nodded solemnly. “I gave her medicine to dull her pain, but she’ll be dead before the next morning. There is nothing more I can do for her.”

“What do you tell them?” (Y/n) asked, “I mean, I’ve noticed how you talk to the dying ones before they pass. What do you say to someone who’s dying like that?”

“Many times they already know the end is near and have accepted it. Many are relieved to know the fighting and pain is almost over for them. What I offer them... is a second chance at life.”

(Y/n)’s eyes narrowed in concentration before shooting back open. “You offered to turn them into demons, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

“It can be, only if you don’t have someone to look out for you and remind you who you are. I would be there for them as I was for Yushirou of course.” Tamayo assured, though she looked guilty. “You must think it cruel of me to offer this cursed existence.”

“Not at all. Many people fear death. I can especially understand it from a perspective of those who have yet to truly live. As long as they can remember their humanity, I don’t have a problem with it.” (Y/n) smiled, “I’m sure with you to guide them they would be just fine.”

Tamayo blushed and got back to work, grinding her herbs.

“Though I’m surprised, has no one taken up your offer since you got here?”

Tamayo shook her head, but a small smile pulled at her lips, “No. I’m content with their choices though. I think they were all very brave choosing to face the unknown.”

“Speaking of unknown,” (Y/n) mumbled between their fingers as they watched Tamayo carefully scoop her powder into a jar before moving on to the next herb. “Everyone will be more or less back to full health soon... are you still planning on leaving?”

“(Y/n), we’ve already discussed this,” Tamayo frowned, “I was never meant to stay here.”

“But you could.” (Y/n) said, an almost frantic waver in their voice, “you taught me a lot about medicine and how to be a physician, but you’ve quite literally have hundreds of years more experience than I do. Not to mention everyone here loves you, I love you—“ (Y/n) tried to shut themself up but it was too late. As made evident by the roundness of Tamayo’s eyes.

“Oh (Y/n), I’m sorry.” Tamayo said, the pestle held in between her fingers shook.

“Don’t be sorry, just, stay?” (Y/n) stuttered. “You can forget the last part if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“This just further proves that I mustn’t be here.” Tamayo put the pestle down and covered her eyes with her hands.

(Y/n)’s heart ached so much they felt compelled to rub the the spot in an attempt to soothe it. “Is the idea of me loving you really that awful?” They asked, a watery chuckle falling from their lips.

“(Y/n), it’s not that simple.” Tamayo tried to explain, but (Y/n) was already getting up and heading out of the room.

“It’s fine. I’ll try to stay out of your way. Stick around a bit longer for the sake of the village is all I ask.” (Y/n) didn’t wait for an answer. They went to their room and felt numb the rest of the day.

They were jostled out of their upset thoughts by the sound of pounding feet drawing closer and before they could react any further, Yushirou barged in practically foaming at the mouth. (Y/n) was not intimidated by the display however.

“Would it kill you to knock?”

“What have you done to upset Tamayo-sama?” He seethed, his voice a dangerous whisper.

“I’ve momentarily burdened her with my feelings. Don’t worry, once you get on the road again I’m sure she’ll feel much better. And you’ll have her all to yourself again, you must be thrilled.” (Y/n) bitterly informed.

“Don’t speak as if this is no large matter, you’ve left Tamayo-sama very distraught! What did you do? Why was she crying?”

“Crying?” (Y/n) asked, the information chilled them like a sudden torrential rainfall.

“Yes! Now what did you say to her you mongrel? Spit it out!” Yushirou growled, grabbing at the neck of (Y/n)’s clothing to shake them around a bit.

“I kinda... told her I loved her?”

“You what?!” Yushirou bellowed with rage and envy befitting a rival.

“I’m pretty sure you heard me the first time.” (Y/n) still had the gall to tease the demon knowing full well he could think of ten different ways to kill them with one hand tied behind his back.

“You idiot! Don’t you know what she’s been through? And you just think you can say such things and be on your merry way? Honestly, a goddess like her should not have to shed tears for such insolence!”

“What are you talking about?” (Y/n) grunted. The hold Yushirou had them in was very uncomfortable.

“If I tell you, you must never bring this up to Tamayo-sama, and you will apologize right away for your unsavory actions. Do you understand?”

“...yes.” (Y/n) nodded tentatively. Yushirou let go of them and they rubbed at their tender flesh where he had dug in.

“Tamayo-sama was ill once as well,” Yushirou began, observing the books (Y/n) had strewn around the room with a bit of disdain for the mess, “when she was human, she was desperately searching for a cure that would save her from an agonizing death. Then, as fate would have it, one day she met a man who promised her a cure for her ailment. What that man did to her turned her into a demon. It was true that Tamayo-sama was freed from the pains of her illness, but at the cost of everything she held dear. For you see, the man had not explained what she would become and with no way to control herself, she had killed and devoured her husband and children.” Yushirou crossed his arms tightly, “Do you understand now? Can you imagine what that must have been like?”

“I had no idea.” (Y/n) looked down at their feet.

“Yeah, then you come in and— argh! What are you still hanging around for? Go apologize already! You’ve already waited the daylight away, get moving!”

“Okay, I’m going! I’m going!” (Y/n) batted the angry demon away and jogged down the hall. They checked every room until they made it to the sick bay.

They asked around and quickly learned that Tamayo had gone out for a moonlit walk. They thanked the patients and quickly made their way out the door, shutting it tightly behind them.

They looked out from the engawa, scanning the scenery they saw no sign of the demon doctor. Deciding the nearby forest was their best bet, they hopped off of the engawa, bare feet against the grass and dirt, and jogged into the woods.

“Tamayo?” (Y/n) called for her, searching around for any clues to her whereabouts.

They traveled deeper still, teasing the edge of the deep woods where not even the sun could shine through on the brightest of days, much less the soft reflection of the moon. They heard a rustle.

“Tamayo?”

(Y/n) felt the hairs on the neck and arms scrape to attention. Their heart was beating frantically as the noise drew closer. It couldn’t be Tamayo, she surely would have called out in return.

Then, (Y/n) screamed.

They couldn’t remember how they had ended up on the ground. They blinked sluggishly up at the moon only for it to be blocked moments later by a blurry figure. (Y/n) swore they saw swirls of colorful flowers dancing at the corners of their vision. (Y/n) winced and gurgled. Why did their chest hurt so bad, what was this pressure?

“(Y/n), please, tell me what to do. What do you want me to do?” A muffled voice cried, confusing (Y/n).

They tried to take in another breath but it just felt like they were drowning. The voice sounded farther away, but no less pleading, mixed with far away screams and angry yells. Neither of which sounded like they belonged to the figure before them.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”

‘For what?’ (Y/n) wondered, the pain had faded greatly. Whatever was happening, it was better than the pain. Perhaps they could go back to sleep now.

And so, they did.

***

When (Y/n) awoke, it was to the soft brushing of knuckles against their hair which was almost immediately drowned out by a ferocious hunger. They bent to snap at the fingers but something had kept them restrained. (Y/n) struggled and growled, the need to tear into flesh was, all too fittingly, consuming them.

“(Y/n), take a little at a time. Control yourself.” The voice beside them gently urged, presenting (Y/n) with a tube. They were highly uninterested at first until the further end of the tube was released from a pinched grip and allowed blood to flow down to their waiting mouth. It wasn’t fresh or hot, but it was better than nothing. After a few minutes of stopping and starting the thick slide of blood, the figure took the tube away all together, causing (Y/n) to growl and hiss with displeasure.

“You will need to learn to pace yourself, the sooner you do, the better.” The soft voice informed, not that (Y/n) really understood them.

(Y/n) wasn’t sure how long this had gone on, but they learned quickly not to bite the hand that feeds you, even if it was only aged blood on the menu.

Then slowly, they felt their brain working overtime. Apparently, there was a lot of information hiding under all of the bloodlust, and (Y/n) thought maybe, just maybe, there was a part of themself that detested those desires for human flesh and bone.

Then one night, it was like a fog had finally rolled out of (Y/n)’s mind and they struggled against their restraints for a whole other reason.

“How did I get here?” They yelled, breathing heavily though they had no real need to breathe at all anymore.

(Y/n) heard the soft patter of footsteps on the matted floor out in the hallway. They were honestly surprised they could hear such a slight noise to begin with.

The door slid open and Tamayo stood there, observing them nervously.

“Tamayo!” (Y/n) sighed in relief, “Where were you? All I remember is going out to look for you. How did I even—“

Tamayo was over in a flash, resting her forehead against (Y/n)’s with her hands cupping their cheeks.

“I’m sorry.” She sobbed, “I didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t speak for yourself. I should have just tried to make your passing quick and comfortable, but I was selfish. I’m so sorry.”

(Y/n) winced, thinking back hurt, but with that last ‘sorry’, they were back in the moonlit woods, bleeding out with Tamayo above them and Yushirou dismantling the low level demon that had jumped them.

(Y/n) leaned their forehead up to meet Tamayo’s more firmly since their arms and legs were still tightly bound.

“You don’t need to apologize, but I forgive you.” They rasped, drawing more tears from the demon doctor.

“I couldn’t lose you. Not again.”

“What do you mean?” (Y/n) asked, puzzled.

“Do you believe in reincarnation, (Y/n)?”

“I think it’s a nice idea, to be reborn as something new.” (Y/n) shrugged as best as they could.

“When I first came to this village, something pulled me to this old house, and it wasn’t the smell of death and ruin. Something inside me told me this was where I needed to be,” Tamayo ran her thumbs along (Y/n)’s cheekbones, “it all led me to you and though you are unique from any other person I have met in all my years roaming this earth, I feel like I knew you life times ago.”

“I feel like I felt something similar.” (Y/n) whispered, “Something about your eyes just felt so familiar. Do you think...”

“Yes and no,” Tamayo smiled sadly, “I believe my husband had a hand in bringing you to me. You may have the same soul but you are still you’re own person with unique experiences. I like seeing little reminders of him in you, but I’m also growing very fond of who you are on your own.”

“Then, why didn’t you tell me before?” (Y/n) asked.

“Because I was afraid and I had every right to be. I almost lost you again.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you.”

Tamayo raised her head to brush a kiss over (Y/n)’s forehead, “Forgiven.”

“...Do you think you could maybe untie me now or...?” (Y/n) asked with a goofy smile on their face.

“Oh, yes, I should do that. So long as you promise to tell me if you ever feel like you’re losing yourself.”

“You have my word, my lady.” (Y/n) replied, leaving Tamayo a bit flustered.

“So, how is everyone?” (Y/n) asked with a stretch, sitting up from the bed.

“They all left for new opportunities in the southeast. I apologize, but Yushirou and I thought it best if they believed you had died. A bear mauling.” Tamayo’s nose crinkled very subtly, but (Y/n) easily saw her displeasure.

“Don’t worry, I understand.” (Y/n) said with a melancholic smile. They leaned over hesitantly and kissed the faint wrinkle of Tamayo’s nose away, making the doctor fall forward to bury her head in (Y/n)’s collarbone.

“I worry that you’re too understanding.” Tamayo commented shyly, earning a laugh from (Y/n) and after another moment of stillness, (Y/n) spoke up again.

“Where is Yushirou anyway?”

“I’m in the kitchen and I can hear ever word you say you blood sucker!” Yushirou yelled, making the doctor and the new demon jump at the volume. “You better get travel ready soon, because you gobbled up the last of our blood supply!”

“Sorry!” (Y/n) called awkwardly, snorting only after Yushirou replied with a handful of sounds that made no sense, but got his grumpiness across.

“Don’t feel too bad. It’s a process Yushirou has endured as well. He was no less needy and feral than you were when I changed him.” Tamayo said.

“Needy and feral,” (Y/n) groaned, “I wish you didn’t have to see me like that.” Tamayo chuckled lightly, raising her head from (Y/n)’s chest to look into their eyes making their breath hitch.

“That hasn’t harmed my image of you at all,” Tamayo kissed their cheek, “you are still the sweet,” a kiss to the other cheek, “selfless,” a kiss to the nose, “person you were before this.”

(Y/n) tentatively raised their hands to cup Tamayo’s cheeks, noting the pale blue hue of their previously clear nails as they did so.

“Forgive me if this comes off as needy, but could I kiss you?” They asked, barely above a whisper.

“Please.” Tamayo responded quickly, pulling in (Y/n) from the back of their neck.

Soft lips glided together, occasionally leaving their target to land sweet pecks elsewhere before diving back in. When they finally drew apart, resting their foreheads together, Tamayo smiled brightly. It was a feeling she hadn’t had since she was human all those years ago.

#kny x reader #kny oneshots #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer oneshots #lady tamayo #lady tamayo x reader #tamayo #tamayo x reader

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kittydemon9000 · 3 years

Text

SO MERLOPIAN KAI PART 2 ELECTRIC BOOGALOO

So, with Kalmaar, he ofc immediately goes to his parents about his feeling, slightly placing his revenge on hold. They are...dubious about it, but Maya raises the point of how there has never been a human/merlopian hybrid before, and from what Ray has told them about having two EM parents it’s possible for Kai to have some water abilities himself, which could be what gave Kalmaar his feeling. So, they agree to look into it.

Moving on..... Uh. Kai doesn’t have a fun time in S6, as briefly as he’s there. You see, Nahdakahn knows exactly what buttons to press and is able to get Kai into a panicked state where he, on the verge of a panic attack and mental breakdown, just says “I wish that I could just be normal! I wish I could just go home! I wish I could be with dad and mom and father and Kal and Bentho and Nya!!!”

The “normal” comment comes from how they weren’t able to completely hide Kai’s heritage since yeah, there were other people on the boat who saw him. That and he also tried a lot less to keep it hidden. And because some humans are assholes, he has to deal with that.

So ofc, Nahdakahn interprets it in the worst ways and as two wishes. Kai is now a full human yes….but was also sent to where the fish fam currently were……which just so happened to be at the bottom of the ocean.

So yeah, double trauma for both groups. Kai got to experience what drowning felt like, and his fam was essentially forced to watch him die since there was nothing they could do. They were too far under to take him to the surface and too far from the palace to take him there.

But dw, it gets even worse.

You see, the whole reason Nahdakahn is being this malicious about Kai’s wishes is because he learned that Kai was the reason the Preeminent was destroyed, thereby destroying Djinjago.

Nahdakahn is then able to do a “oh? Is this not what you wanted? I thought you wished to be normal.” Which ofc sounds really bad since it’s in front of his family. “But, I understand. You grow tired of the stares in the street, how they whisper behind you back about what you are. Not human, not merlopian, not normal. Just a freak masquerading as one of them.”

This ofc supremely pisses off the fam. Like, weapons drawn ready to commit murder.

But then Nahdakahn stop them with a “ah ah ah, I wouldn’t do that if I were you. After all, I am the only way your son has a chance at living. So go ahead. Make a wish.”

Trimaar ends up being the one to do it, and is smart enough to know this uh will twist it in anyway he can so says. “I wish for Kai to be sent safely to the surface without harm done upon him.”

Blah blah blah, your wish is yours to keep, Trimaar realizing “wait there’s a lot that could be interpreted” but too late BAM now Kai’s kinda stuck on the Misfortune’s Keep.

And he....generally has a pretty bad time. Think Jay but this time it’s personal.

However, Kai’s appearance had Trimaar get the Merlopian army and start heading to the surface. The remaining ninja have a brief moment of “are you kidding me two enemies at once” before learning that this is Kai’s lost family and they’re here to help.

So now the ninja have a whole ass fish army to help them, plus a very protective, very angry fish family.

But for the rest of canon, the only difference is that when they’re leaving Tiger Widow Island, Nya gets snatched along with Jay(who was taken because he hadn’t used his wish yet) and they aren’t stuck on the island, and then later that Kai gets sucked into the sword when the ninja launch their rescue mission.

But yeah, it gets all Un-Happened by Jay’s wish(which at seeing Kai physically hurt and being emotionally torn apart at his baby sister dying, wished that none of this ever happened and that Nahdakahn was never found), only like canon Nya and Jay still remember what happens.

Nya is now firmly on team Kai Is Alive and tells her parents everything about what happened and the wish Jay made, and more importantly where Kai is.

Unfortunately, they need to take some time and prepare. Trimaar and Maya have been doing their best over the years to open the populace possibly making bonds with the humans, but now it’s finally happening. They can’t just go up there out of no where, since from what Nya has told them 1) most humans don’t even know they exist and 2) in the past few years they have been subject of many attacks, mostly from non-humans, so they need to make sure the humans understand they don’t mean any harm.

So DotD happens, then the beginnings of S7 :)

Right out, Kai never liked the museum curator. Up to that point he’d only ever caught fleeting glimpse of him but something about him Kai just despised. As a result, he also visited the museum as scarcely as possible, and thus didn’t notice a very interesting painting containing a two very strange figures.

When he learns his name was Dr.Saunders.....things don’t go well.

It happened when Kai brought the helmet with his dad’s symbol on it. As much as he disliked the curator, he was the most likely to be able to recognize what kind of helmet it was.

Then in his anger he gets himself captured.

He’s taken to a special cell lined with vengestone and has guards around the clock, and Krux takes extra care to make sure Kai doesn’t know where Ray is.

ofc it’s around this time that the Merlopians arrive and express their wishes for a possible alliance between their two races. Unfortunately they showed up at literally the worst time, and double unfortunately the people in charge of diplomacy decide to bring some of the ninja in as an extra precaution because of the villains have been running around.

So the people who join the meeting are Lloyd and Jay from the ninja(they would’ve brought Kai but he hasn’t returned from his missions yet and isn’t answering their calls) as well as some police officers and from the Merlopians is the whole royal family plus a few guards.

Both Jay and Nya have a silent moment of staring at each other since “I know and I’m not sure you know but I think you know but I don’t want to say anything since you might not”

And just as they’re about to start, The Time Twins attack. Because why the hell not.

They’re actually able to hold them off for a while, but unfortunately there are too many Vermillion. Then Kalmaar whips out his Water Powers which causes him to get kidnapped since they need both Fire and Water masters for the blade.

While they’re recovering, Lloyd then gets a panicked call from Zane saying that he checked the museum footage and Kai has been captured. The gets overheard by the royal family, and then Lloyd asks why they looked so upset at which they learn(sans Jay since wish) that Kai is royalty. The eldest son actually, and thus first in line for the throne, as well as being presumed dead for the past five years.

So basically Krux has kidnapped the King and Queen’s husband, the crown prince, and the second in line prince(if anyone knows a more fancy term for this please let me know)

Maya, Trimaar, Nya and Benthomaar are not happy. Not with the Ninjagian people, no they’re fine, but they’re bout ready to murder Krux, and they don’t even know about Ray yet.

So they offer any help they can.

Zap back to how Kai and Kalmaar are doing.

Kalmaar is….kind feral tbh. Like, he’s biting, clawing, trying to strangle them with his tentacles, and before they got vengestone cuffs on him was trying very hard to drown anyone.

Ofc, this does little to the Vermillion and soon Kalmaar finds himself in the cell right next to Kai’s. He’s overjoyed to see his brother again, albeit upset that this is why.

They both reluctantly come to the conclusion that there isn’t much they can do at the moment, and there are many Vermillion guards right outside their cells, so they decide to start catching up.

And for pretty much the rest of the season canon is pretty much the same, just shuffle around the characters a bit and add a protective Fish Fam.

Though their little trip back in time is quite sight for the Past EMs, especially because of how Kalmaar is using his powers, which leaves Kai mostly stuck in his Fish Form. This time they don’t even bother trying to explain, just give instructions on how to defeat the Vermillion and jumping into the battle.

And I mean just imagine that from the EMs perspective. An enemy you thought you defeated just returned with a giant metal creature and an army of snake things that don’t look like any kind of Serpentine they’d ever seen. Then a shark person and squid person??? show up and not only do they know how to fight the snake things but they also seem to be Elemental Masters???? Despite the fact Ray is very much alive and they didn’t even know there was a Water EM. Then the two not only summon dragons but they also fuse their dragons into an even bigger one with two heads.

And then all of them disappear into the sky without a trace.

W i l d

But yeah, after that it calms down quite a bit. Kai spends the time skip before S8 reconnecting with his family and his dad, and through some tech courtesy of Borg they're able to bring Ray with them :D

And Kai actually goes to meet the Jade Royal Family since y’know. He’s the crown prince. He’s kinda important and legitimately forgot about it. Luckily Kalmaar is able to help coach Kai through it, but is also a bit smug about how he finally has something to teach to his older brother. Kai was actually the one who suggested asking the ninja for help protecting the mask.....but we know how that inevitably ends.

Bentho, Kal and Nya were actually on the ship for this particular adventure, and then Nya and Bentho were dragged along when they got sent to the First Realm. Bentho, despite being the youngest sibling and to the surprise of literally everyone, was actually really good with kids and spent the most time with Little Wu, right behind Cole.

But yeah S9......Nya and Bentho have a really bad time in the First Realm beause of the heat, but at least they don’t get captured. Kai on the other hand....

Yeah at some point he gets accidentally splashed with water and well.....it definitely doesn’t help with the Oni accusations. The Dragon Hunters decide to burn him along with the Wind Dragon, which moves up their Build Our Own Dragon time table.

After they escape Faith is actually pretty chill about the whole fish thing, but she does ask a lot of questions.

And then S10..... kinda the same. They end up dropping off as many people as they can with the Merlopians since the smoke can’t reach them.

I might make a Part 3 for the rest of the seasons, but yeah. this is where we’re at.

#merlopian royalty au #info dump #ninjago #kai #kai smith #kalmaar #prince kalmaar #trimaar #king trimaar #krux

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bluebellhairpin · 3 years

Text

Taishiro Toyomitsu X Reader

A/N: I am happy to announce that this fic is not only for a Collab, but also released on time - isn’t that great! I urge you to check out the collab link below, I’m sure there are some cool fics there you might like checking out too ;) - Nemo

Summary: Peace is dead. Evil rules the world and it’s people. The earth brings forth the first of a new hope, and who to first meet this new hope but you - someone who doesn’t believe in the gods.

Warnings: I don’t proofread.

Listening to: ‘Almost (Sweet Music)’ by Hozier - ‘Tell me who, and I'll be thanking them... do I owe each kiss to lip and cheek as soft.’

Collab Masterlist

Masterlist

The old gods had died a long time ago.

The ones that were supposed to rise after them, were cruel, and harsh. They ruled with iron fists, and set grueling demands for those who followed them. The world went from peaceful, to unyielding. Everyone was looking for a new era - a new hope - with new gods as deliverance from the workload they were under.

In your area, everyone worked for the patron god of health. He was supposed to help rid those who worshipped him of sickness, to heal injuries, to help them cheat death. But the only thing he did to those who gave him offerings and prayers was keeping them alive.

A plague was passing through town and city alike, and with it, everyone turned to him to help. But he was nothing like the old gods, and he was one of the worst of the new ones. He took everything the people gave him, and returned as little as he could get away with. Patons lived, yes, but they were not cured. They were not healthy. They were barely better than walking corpses.

You were nineteen when the plague first came. The day it took your younger brother - him barely older than a toddler - was the day you stopped putting your faith in any god.

He only knew two things when he woke up. His name, and his purpose.

He was Toyomitsu, and he was the God of Prosperity. He brought satisfaction, and fullness, and he knew that this world was lacking both - that’s why he was born.

As he moved, he felt stiff, and had to brush off caked-on stone before he felt free enough to move, to walk. He didn’t know where he was, but it was nice. Trees rose around him, and a ledge behind him looked like it was missing a chunk of rock, it’s pieces were scattered at his feet. Small bushes were all around his legs, and across from him he spotted a stag.

It stood tall, eyeing him with some kind of fierceness that was seconded by the striking awe of its antlers - wide and thick. It was less of a creature, and more of a beast. Turning its head, the stag moved, hesitating only a moment to look back at Toyomitsu. He followed it, only reaching so far as to meet a river, before he got distracted by his surroundings. When he looked again, the stag was gone, lost to the forest once more.

Toyomitsu looked around, noting the scarce water running across the riverbed, and the silence. He was new to this world but he knew no healthy river should be so quiet. There should be birds, and running water - maybe even some people - but there was none of this here.

Then he looked upriver, and he saw you.

You knew going to the river would be a little useless, considering no one could get water worth drinking from it. So nothing was expected from your trip aside from being an excuse to get out of town.

You definitely didn’t expect to find a scarcely-clothed giant staring at you as you crouched down to run your fingers through the tiny stream of water.

Jumping back, you scrambled out of the riverbed and onto the bank, and then as you settled at a safer distance you stopped to look at him. Although he seemed to be doing the same to you, you ignored him in favor of your own once over.

The most obvious was his height - no doubt he would stand over you, and would have to kneel at least if he wanted to meet your eye line. The second was how big he was - his arms looked as thick as stone, his body was as big as you were tall, and thighs might as well have been tree trunks. With his glowing skin and golden hair you could tell this was no mere giant - this was a god on earth.

So you turned and started walking away.

Toyomitsu was in awe.

He’d never seen a human before, but something in the back of his mind told him they didn’t all look as beautiful as you. So when you turned tail and started walking away after looking him up and down, he did what any fool would do and followed.

As you noticed him trudging after you, your pace picked up, and so he did too. Stumbling over fallen trees and pushing aside branches, he found you weren’t making it easy for him to follow, so he tried out his voice for the very first time.

“Wait, please. I want to talk to you!” And that stopped you in your tracks.

You turned to him, and he once again got a look at your face, now a little closer. The fierce color of your eyes, the imperfections that littered your cheeks like stars in the sky. He could see a crinkle in your nose and the frown that narrowed your brow downwards at him like he’d done something wrong.

“Why did you run from me?”

“You are a god,” you hissed, voice quiet as if you were fearful but yet still speaking your mind, “and there is no god alive today that a human shouldn’t run from.”

He didn’t understand. Sure, gods had power and needed respect, to be worshipped, but to run from them did not make sense. This area was one that clearly lacked any godly blessing, so why were you not asking for one since you had an idealistic opportunity to do so?

“What has happened here?” he asked.

You didn’t know why, but you told him.

With poison-filled words and rage-lusted eyes, you told him every tale you could recall about the cursed gods who broke open hell and rained it’s spoils onto your homeland.

You didn't know then, but that was why you were here now.

You could tell from the way his face fell and his shoulder slumped that this was not what he wanted to hear.

You didn’t know why, but you felt bad for him.

There he was, brought to his knees by nothing but simple words spoken by an even simpler human. You didn’t know it then, nor ever in your lifetime, but this was a moment that would turn into a tale too. The first one of the new age.

That day in that forest, the first good god in decades was born, and he was soon followed by many more. Toyomitsu, the God of Prosperity, was the first god born of the earth. He was the first god to bring back peace, and health. He brought peace, and so the gods who once caused pain were gone - replaced with good.

Now, with your eyes fluttering open, you saw nothing but sun and clouds.

You were the last of the New Gods, born from longevity, and contentment.

Something brushed your cheek, and you turned to face it, unstartled and somehow knowing it was okay. The person rousing you from your sleep was okay. Here, up in the wisps of clouds and streams of sunlight, you were with the man Taishiro who you fell in love with.

The god Toyomitsu who you fell in love with.

#gods!au collab #gods au #fatgum x reader #taishiro toyomitsu x reader #fatgum one shot #fatgum imagine #taishiro toyomitsu imagine #taishiro toyomitsu one shot #bnha x reader #bnha one shot #bnha imagine #boku no hero academia x reader #mha x reader #mha imagines #mha oneshot

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fanmoose12 · 3 years

Text

catch me if you can

Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Erwin Smith, Kenny Ackerman

Genres: Mystery / Romance

Summary: The Ackerman duo. Just the mention of this name filled Hange with so many feelings. Mostly, when she reread the files of their cases over and over, until her eyes watered, she felt pricking annoyance. Sometimes, when she stared at the dead bodies of those scarce unfortunates who stumbled upon their crimes, she was filled with hatred and a pushing need for revenge. Hange couldn’t deny, however, there were times when she marveled at the impudence of their crimes. And, when she was investigating the Ackerman’s cases and saw just how meticulously planned they all were, she couldn’t help but feel something close to fascination.No one knew who they were. No one had seen their faces, no one knew their true names. Almost everyone knew of their crimes.Hange was determined to unravel every last one of their secrets. She will put an end to their crimes and then she will get the elusive Ackermans behind bars.

Chapter 9/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

“We aren’t looking for Krista Lenz. We’re searching for Historia.”

Despite the evidence quite literally staring right back at her, Hange could scarcely believe what she herself had just said. Krista Lenz, the missing girl she was searching for, wasn’t actually Krista Lenz? Apparently, the girl’s name was Historia, at least, according to the birth certificate. But it didn’t make any sense, and, what’s worse, it raised so many additional questions…

The main question, of course, was the reason for why the girl was living under a false name, and how did Kenny Ackerman acquire this piece of information? And for what purpose?

Luckily, she had the person, who, hopefully, could shed some light on this new mystery. Hange shoved the photo and the document in Ackerman’s hands, staring at him expectantly. “Do you know something about this?”

He didn’t answer right away, and that gave Hange a semblance of hope. Perhaps, it was just a misunderstanding? Perhaps, the photo and the birth certificate were put into one envelope by a trick of fate? And Krista Lenz was truly Krista Lenz? Hange certainly hoped so. It would save her so much trouble.

Ackerman’s eyes were narrowed as he studied the document. Hange watched him with bated breath.

Her world crumbled when he gave a little nod.

“I think I know where Kenny got it. Remember the robbery of that politician’s manor? Kenny stole this thing from the guy’s safe.”

Hange remembered that robbery, remembered that murdered man. But how could it possibly be connected to her recent case?

“How did you know where to find it? And why did your uncle need it in the first place? It makes no sense…”

“On the contrary,” Ackerman shook his head. “Now everything makes perfect sense. I couldn’t understand why Reiss asked us to rob that guy’s house, but now I’m starting to think that your missing girl…”

“Wait! Wait!” Hange silenced him with her palm on his mouth. She whirled around, starting to pace around the room. What he was saying just now? He didn’t mean it, right? At least, not in the way Hange comprehended it. It couldn’t be, she refused to believe it. But what if Ackerman was telling the truth? What if— Hange turned back to him, her eyes pleading for him to say it was an ill-timed joke. “What was that about Reiss? Did you mean Rod Reiss, the member of the parliament? That Reiss?”

“Naturally.”

Hange slowly sank into an armchair. Her head was spinning, her thoughts were going in circles. Rod Reiss, the model politician, the law abiding citizen was working directly with Ackermans. It seemed completely outlandish.

“Are you serious?” she asked quietly, to keep herself from shrieking. “Are you actually fucking serious?”

Ackerman shrugged, looking so nonchalant, a stark contrast to her frantic appearance. “Why would I lie about this?”

Why indeed… Logically, Hange knew there was no reason for him to lie about Reiss’ involvement, but, damn it, she just couldn’t wrap her head about this. Even the notion seemed utterly ridiculous, like it was taken from a dumb conspiracy theory.

“Just before I dropped your case…” Hange began, desperately trying to find a way to contradict Ackerman’s claim. “He wanted to help me solve it. He offered me money and people, anything to get you behind bars.”

And that meant that he wasn’t working with them, right? It meant that Reiss was actually a good guy, who wanted to fight the bad ones.

He’s a politician, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Erwin reminded her. You can’t get so high just from being good.

Despite her endless stubbornness, Hange couldn’t disagree with that. Those who held a lot of power didn’t acquire it from being honest and honorable.

Reiss claimed he wanted to catch Ackermans, but that desire could just be his attempt to cover up his traces.

Fuck.

Ackerman was right. Everything was starting to make sense.

“I guess Reiss wanted to get rid of us,” Ackerman confirmed her guess. Hange’s heart sank. “Maybe, that’s why Kenny didn’t return him this,” he showed her the birth certificate.

Hange felt another wave of nausea. If she correctly understood what Ackerman was implying…

“Are you saying that the missing girl…” she swallowed, reluctant to end that sentence. It would become more real then.

“Yes,” Ackerman nodded, his voice a little softer. Was it his attempt at giving her a bit of comfort? Did he simply pity her? “I think that your Krista Lenz is actually Historia. And that her father is Rod Reiss.”

Even before he spoke, Hange knew that Ackerman had reached that conclusion. Reluctantly, she was almost ready to agree with him. But… her inner world was practically in shambles. Rod Reiss, the good-willed, kind looking man with a gentle smile, was working with the criminals. He had a secret daughter.

She really couldn’t trust anyone, huh? She should have learnt this simple truth by now. Levi Ackerman did a great job of teaching that lesson to her, after all.

Hange dropped head into her hands, letting out a deep, bone-weary sigh. Couldn’t she have at least one simple, easy case? One that wouldn’t make her revalue all of her relationships and lose her faith in the humanity?

A case like that would have been real nice.

But instead she had a case that grew more complicated with each clue and a girl who was waiting to be rescued.

If nothing else, Hange couldn’t let Krista Lenz down. Or Historia, whichever name was the correct one.

“Hey listen…” a tentative touch to her shoulder and a gentle voice in her ear made Hange jump. She looked up and saw Ackerman, standing right next to her. He was… gods, he looked worried. Hange didn’t know if she should be amused or slighted. Just how pathetic she seemed just now, if Ackerman decided to comfort her? “I know it’s a lot to take in…”

Hange brushed his hand aside, abruptly jumping to her feet. Ackerman could take his pity and fuck himself with it. It was a lot to take in, but she was fine. She had taken it all in, she dealt with that mind-blowing revelation. Well, she didn’t really deal with it, but she took a pause in dealing with it. She’d finish the processing after this fucking day was over and she’d get drunk at some shitty bar. But now, she had work that needed her attention. And Hange was ready to begin.

“Give me that,” she snatched the birth certificate out of Ackerman’s hand, studying it intently. The graph with the father’s name wasn’t filled, but the mother’s name was there. Alma. There was no last name, but still, it was a start. Certainly not very promising, but Hange did more with less.

Alas, there was nothing interesting about the document except the name of the child’s mother. The child was born here, in their city, twenty two years ago. Krista Lenz was exactly twenty-two years old. A small detail that simply couldn’t be overlooked.

Next, Hange turned her attention to the photo. The picture showed adult Krista, and it was shot from distance, only her profile visible. Could it mean that someone was spying on her? If Krista was Historia, and a daughter of Rod Reiss, it made sense that he was keeping tabs on her. However…

Hange’s eyes widened, the realization swiftly settling.

The photo and the document, it didn’t come from Reiss. Reiss asked Ackermans to steal it for him, meaning…

“Do you think Reiss has enemies?” she asked Ackerman. “Do you think that someone wanted to expose him?”

“Perhaps,” Ackerman tentatively replied. His eyebrows furrowed, as he continued, rubbing his chin. “The guy that we killed… he wasn’t supposed to be at home that night. Reiss said he wasn’t going to be at home.”

“But he was.” Hange uttered, confused.

“He was,” Ackerman agreed. “And I think Reiss knew about it.”

“You think he tried to set you up?”

“Possibly. Or it was a pure coincidence and the guy just decided to return from the party earlier. Or…” he spread his arms, his point more than clear.

Closing eyes, Hange rubbed her temples. Possibly, Ackerman said. Well, she was definitely getting into something she shouldn’t. Secret children, Ackermans, nasty politicians… It was well above her paygrade.

But she couldn’t just give up. And, fortunately, she knew a place where they could find more information. If the person spying on Krista wasn’t Reiss, then it was someone who was actively trying to expose him. Someone who had died before he could reach his goal.

Hange still remembered that brief conversation she had with the politician’s widow, remembered her mentioning something about a girl that worked for her late husband. Perhaps, that girl was the one who took that photo of Krista. And if she found Krista once, perhaps, she’d help them to find her again.

The plan of action was prepared, and that was enough to calm Hange’s mind. At least, for a short while.

“We’re going to visit the politician’s house,” she announced to Ackerman. “His widow might know something.”

“You want to go to the house of the guy we robbed and killed? Awesome.”

Hange hummed, letting her eyes linger on Ackerman’s bored face. There was a question that’s been bugging her for a long time now, ever since she learnt about his true identity. They weren’t in a hurry yet, so she decided to take another moment to satisfy her curiosity. “That guy… were you the one who killed him?”

Ackerman stared back at her, his eyes surprisingly honest. “Would it make you feel better if I tell you that my uncle did it?”

Would it make her feel better to know that he was just a thief, and not a murderer? Maybe. Or, maybe not. Hange wasn’t sure what feeling this knowledge would provoke. These days, she wasn’t sure what to feel at all. The only feeling she was certain of was the exhaustion.

“Back at the museum…” perhaps, bringing this up was unreasonable. Perhaps, completely unnecessary. But she had been thinking about it, a lot. She had already formulated an explanation. Now she wanted to hear Ackerman’s reasoning, and see if the two versions were compatible in any way. “I know you weren’t the one who shot me, your uncle is much taller. When he raised that gun, he was aiming at my head, I could see it clearly,” she laughed, the sound too broken to be genuine. “I thought I was already done for, so why…”

“Why what, four-eyes?” Ackerman snapped. “Why did I stop him? Do you actually not know?”

Ackerman was staring right at her, his impassive mask slipping to reveal his anger and… frustration? Hange couldn’t clearly interpret the look in his eyes, not when she was so confused herself. She swallowed heavily, her heart pounding as she struggled to look away. Ackerman’s gaze… was burning.

“I wouldn’t have let Kenny kill you. I couldn’t bear the thought,” he said, his voice raw. He took a step towards her, and, subconsciously, Hange took a step away from him, her back now pressed against the wall. Despite their height difference, Levi seemed to loom over her, his eyes brimming with feeling. The feeling of… what? Hange didn’t know if she wished to know the answer. “Do you actually not understand why I did it?”

Ackerman was wrong. She did understand. She had him figured out, all thanks to dark, long and sleepless nights.

“You still needed me, right? That was your reason? I was still useful to you, that’s why—”

“Useful?”

Hange flinched at his tone. There was no protest there, no anger. His voice was thick with pain. Her eyes widened at the realization.

“What did I use you for, Hange?” he grabbed the lapels of her coat, roughly pulling her close to him. His breath was hot on her skin, and his fists were clenched so tightly she could almost hear the sound of the coat’s fabric ripping. “What did I ever use you for? Did I steal something from you? Did I get some piece of information out of you? You gave me the keys to your damn office, I held your shitty notebook in my hands, and did I use it?”

In the face of his outrage, Hange felt numb. She didn’t try to push him away, felt too weak to escape from him. She could only stare helplessly at him, feeling small and insignificant. Feeling like she had missed something vital, a central piece of the puzzle.

“I don’t know,” she murmured. “I didn’t check, perhaps you did take something—”

He breathed a curse into her face, his eyes a liquid fire. Just as suddenly as he had grabbed her, Levi let her go.

His back was now facing her, as he stared out of the window, his breathing loud and irregular.

“You can think whatever you want about me,” he said, deadly quiet. “You can think that I am a liar, a thief and a scumbag. But I didn’t use you Hange. It was never my intention. And if you really don’t know why I didn’t let you die, then you’re a shitty fucking detective. No wonder you couldn’t catch us.”

He stormed out of the room a second after, leaving Hange to stare incredulously after him.

His words, his touch, his eyes, it weighted down on her. They made it hard to breathe.

The places where Levi had touched her were burning, his words were still ringing in her ears and she couldn’t quite shake off the image of his eyes, his stare furious, but simultaneously hurt.

She was hoping to gain some clearance, hoping to deal with one of the many mysteries of her life. But now she was even more confused.

She took one deep breath after another, clutching at her chest. What the heck had just happened? What was Levi so worked about, what was he— it was another lie of his, another act, it had to be, Hange at last decided. What else it could be? Levi, no, Ackerman, he couldn’t really speak the truth just now? Because if that was the truth, then—

The loud bang of the closing door snapped Hange out of her reverie.

She was being naïve and foolish, again.

She was letting him get into her head, she was allowing him to fool her once more. But she wouldn’t let him do it, not after everything she had gone through.

She also couldn’t let him distract her from the case. Be her name Krista or Historia, but that girl needed to be saved. Hange had to save her.

And she wouldn’t be able to find her if she continued to stare numbly at the wall.

Hange shook her head, pushed the hair back from her face and fixed the lapels of her coat. She had no time for confusing feelings, she had to get back to work.

She was fully intent on doing that, until she remembered what had helped her get her focus back. The front door was thrown closed…

Hange shrieked, her hands flying to her head. Ackerman! He had escaped!

With a lightning speed, she rushed out of the room and out of the apartment. She took two stairs at the time, hurrying to get to the bottom of the stairwell. Her mind worked just as fast as her legs, as Hange tried to predict what direction Ackerman would take. Where would he go? Would she be able to find him? Should she even find him, after everything that just transpired?

By the time, she reached the exit of the apartment complex and tumbled out on a street, Hange was completely out of breath. She took a fleeting second, doubling over in an attempt to stop her lungs from burning out. Shit, she was getting too old for this kind of thing.

With her breathes still coming out way too rapidly, Hange slowly straightened out. Left or right? Which direction Ackerman would take? Maybe, if she was lucky, she’d catch him before he ran away.

But as Hange turned her gaze to her left, she was surprised to see that the escaped criminal… didn’t actually escape. He was standing right next to her, lazily smoking a cigarette.

“I thought you had a girl to save, detective?” he asked in a bored, indifferent voice.

Hange hated how good he was at concealing what was going on inside him. She was still shaking.

She also hated how attractive the damn bastard was, especially while smoking.

But Ackerman was right. There was a girl, and she needed to be saved.

Hange shrugged, adopting a more confident stance. She couldn’t let him know she was worried that he left. Or how handsome she thought he was. She had embarrassed herself plenty already.

So with a determined face, Hange lifted an arm, hailing a taxi.

There was no time for feelings. Not when there was work needed to be done.

***

The time they’ve spent in taxi was spent in silence.

Hange was looking out of the window, stubbornly refusing to even look in his direction. Levi himself was staring at his knees, lost to his own thoughts.

There was a lot he had to think about, the main focus, of course, was on Kenny and his involvement with Reiss and his new-found daughter.

Levi had kept a faint hope that when they got to their apartment, Kenny would be there, laying on a coach with a cigarette in one hand and a bottle of beer in another. Until the very end, he hoped that this whole ordeal with kidnapping and letters from Kenny the Reaper was a result of a weird coincidence.

Unfortunately, his hope was crushed without mercy.

Kenny wasn’t at home, and what’s more, the state of their apartment frightened Levi. Kenny wasn’t as obsessed with cleanliness as him, but he had never created such messes either. At least, it had never happened during all these years they’ve lived together. Was the mess caused by the fact that Levi had left? Or was Kenny truly going crazy?

If he decided to kidnap a girl, Reiss’ daughter, and then run off to god knows where, then he was definitely not quite right in his head.

But that wasn’t the only thing occupying Levi’s mind. Ashamed as he was to admit it, Kenny wasn’t in his thoughts nearly as often as was Hange.

Their fight back at his apartment was, for the lack of better word, a complete disaster. He made a mistake, he shouldn’t have lost his cool, he shouldn’t have admitted the things Hange didn’t have to know.

For fuck’s sake, he practically admitted that he was smitten with her. Worse yet, he almost admitted just how far he was willing to go not to hurt her. It was dangerous and it was foolish. Luckily, Hange wasn’t too interested in listening to what he had to say.

And still, the things that she had said hurt him. More than Levi was ready to admit.

She really lost all trust in him, didn’t she? Perhaps, this outcome was not at all surprising, but… painful nevertheless.

Levi stole a glance at Hange - she wasn’t looking back at him. So he allowed himself to admire her profile. Her bright, brown eyes, that hawkish nose, those enticing lips… He sighed, tearing his gaze away.

Coming here was certainly a mistake, he could have hid a little better, could have tried to run from Hange for the second time. He could have done so much more, could have at least attempted to not get caught in all of this.

Too late for any regrets now, he thought bitterly. Besides, it wasn’t like he had come here for Hange, right? He had to get Kenny out of whatever shit he had involved himself into this time.

Kenny, he was there for Kenny. For him and him only.

He had to repeat this to himself a couple of times more, because with Hange sitting so close to him, with their thighs slightly touching in the backseat of the taxi, it was hard to remember his main and initial goal. With Hange so close, it was getting hard to focus at all.

He had to think of something else.

Levi looked out of the window, watched the streets they passed by. They were getting close. Close to the house of the man he murdered.

Levi gulped. Perhaps, the idea to focus on something else wasn’t as sound as it seemed at first.

Another train of thought then. He turned to look at Hange again.

He couldn’t think about her, but there was the matter of their case. He could try and pay attention to it.

“You mentioned that the girl is missing for almost a week. Why are you the only one who’s working on finding her then? Aren’t these types of cases supposed to be…” he waved his hand around, gesturing uncertainly. “Especially time-sensitive?”

Hange sighed, showing just how stressed she truly was. “They usually are time-sensitive. But… thing is… no one actually cares if I solve this case or not.”

“Do you mean—”

“Yes. Krista, or, well,” she winced, “Historia, doesn’t have a family. She doesn’t seem to have any friends either. We received the tip about her disappearance from a fucking anonymous call. No one even noticed that she is gone. I talked with the students at her college, and some seemed sympathetic, some even mildly worried about her well-being, but no one actually cared about her. No one truly knew her too, at least, no one knew her well enough. As I asked about Krista, I got the same answer. She was kind, always ready to help. She was attentive and diligent during classes. And that world ‘was’,” Hange shook her head, her palms clenching into fists. “It seemed like everyone had already accepted that she was gone for good.”

Hange sounded so sad, so frustrated, Levi desperately wished to give her what little comfort that he could. He understood now, why she was so determined to find that missing girl and bring her home.

It was good to know that people like Hange existed. People, who would do their best to try and help someone else.

Levi could be that girl, he realized. If he went missing and Kenny wasn’t there to find him, no one would care to help him. If something like that ever happened to him, he could only hope to come across a person, who would be as selfless and kind as Hange.

If there were more people like her, perhaps, his life wouldn’t be so miserable. Perhaps, he’d be a different person.

But pondering on it was pointless now. He was who was he was. For the better or worse, Hange was who she was too.

“So no one is pushing you to hurry?” Levi glanced at her beneath his fridge. “Then what was that shit about? When you ran out of my apartment, red in face and panting like a dog?”

“Oi,” Hange slapped his knee. “Fuck you.”

“Fuck me?” Levi raised his eyebrow, remembering their first conversation. “Aren’t we moving a little too fast?”

“Shut up,” she grumbled, turning her face away. Just before she did, Levi saw the red on her cheeks.

Hange blushed. Hange, the hot-shot detective and a huge pain in the ass, had actually blushed after his stupid joke.

Well… now Levi had something to be proud of.

“I just thought—” she huffed, moving hair from her face. “It doesn’t matter what I thought, but… thanks for not running away. I… appreciate it. Looking for you would be a large inconvenience,” she gave him a side-glance, her lips twitching. “Thanks for not creating even more problems for me, I guess.”

And who said that Hange wasn’t a paragon of politeness? Levi almost felt good about himself. He almost thought that things between them were… not as disastrous as they actually were.

“We are almost there,” Hange announced, nervously tapping fingers against her thigh.

The bubble busted. There was no time to fool around. There was no time for playful banter and witty back and forth. There was no time to… appreciate that bright sparkle in Hange’s eyes.

Levi nodded, acknowledging her words, but remained speechless. What was there to say? He was going to the house that belonged to a man his uncle had killed right in front of his own eyes. And he was going there willingly. God, his life was just a string of one fucked up shitty event after another.

Hopefully, this visit would help him learn more about Kenny’s new job and, maybe, even find Kenny himself.

Hope… that’s all he had these days.

The taxi took a turn and drove up to the tall, black gates. Levi remembered climbing over it during that awful night two months ago.

This time, he wasn’t climbing over it.

Hange got out of the taxi, just as they approached the front gates. She spoke through the intercom, requesting entrance. After a long moment, the gates slowly opened and the taxi drove inside, bringing them to the large doors.

Front doors. Last time Levi was getting inside through the back door. Well, another improvement. Another sign that this visit, hopefully, wouldn’t end so horribly.

Hange paid the taxi driver and told him not to wait for them. Together they exited the car.

As they walked to the door, she leaned in to him and whispered, “It’d be best if you don’t tell the grieving widow that your uncle killer her husband.”

“I’m not an idiot, four-eyes.”

Hange chuckled and lifted her arms, palms-up. “I’m just saying. I don’t think she’s eager to meet us as it is.”

When the front door had finally opened, they were met by a butler. A fucking butler, dressed in a suit and tie and with glasses on his face. Levi stared at him, incredulously.

Killing people in general went against Levi’s principles, and killing the owner of this house in particular was obviously wrong, but stealing from him? Perhaps, he and Kenny should have also taken a few paintings.

“Good day,” Hange smiled – to Levi the expression seemed a little forced. “I’m detective Zoe and I wanted to—”

“I know,” the butler bowed his head, gesturing for them to follow him. “The Lady asked me to bring you to her office.”

The Lady? It took all of Levi’s willpower not to scoff. Rich people were ridiculous. That’s why he preferred to steal from them. Served those fuckers right.

The butler led them through a big, brightly lit hall, up the majestic stairwell, through a row of ugly paintings, and finally they stood before a brown oak door.

“The Lady is inside,” the butler said, taking a step back. “I’ll bring tea in just a few minutes. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

Hange waved her hand, obviously not interested in his false politeness. She threw the door open, walking inside without waiting for the invitation. So that was detective Hange at work? Levi watched her, hiding his amused expression.

“Sorry that we didn’t give you a heads-up,” she spoke to the woman that was sitting behind a long, mahogany desk. Suddenly Levi realized it was the same room, where Kenny had killed a man. Suddenly he realized that he was staring at the face of a woman, who had lost a husband because of him and Kenny. Avoiding the widow’s gaze, he did his best to hide behind Hange. “But there’s something we wanted to discuss.”

“Did you find my husband’s killer?”

No, but I'm his nephew and I was there when your husband had died, Levi almost blurted out. But Hange had warned him. So he wisely kept his mouth shut.

“No,” Hange walked further inside, plopping down on a chair. Much more humbly, Levi did the same. “But we think your husband is related to our other case. So we were wondering if we can ask you a few questions?”

“Who are we?” the widow arched her perfectly thin eyebrow. “Last time we spoke, I didn’t remember you having an assistant.”

Hange’s smile became strained. “That’s, um, Levi,” she gestured at him. “My, well, he’s sort of my partner.”

“A partner, huh?”

“He helps me with the case,” Hange answered vaguely. “Now about our questions…”

The widow arrogantly waved her hand, allowing Hange to continue. “Just be quick about this. After my husband’s death, I have a lot of work on my hands.”

And all of it because of him and Kenny. Great. Levi sat lower in his seat.

“I remember you mentioning…” Hange took out her notebook, Levi cringed at the sight of it. As he watched her shift through it, he briefly wondered if that note he had left for her was still there. Did she tear it out, rip into pieces and then burn the rest? Or did she… leave it there, so she could stare at it whenever she felt especially angry? Levi wasn’t sure which option was more preferable and which one would make him feel more sad. Meanwhile, Hange continued, “A girl who visited your husband. Do you remember what she looked like? Can you describe her to us?”

The widow scrunched her nose, clearly displeased. She reached to the desk’s drawer, taking out a pack of cigarettes. She opened it, putting a cigarette in between her lips. “If you don’t mind,” she mumbled, flicking up a lighter. The widow took one long drag, letting the smoke curl up towards the ceiling. She lazily traced its movement, then, when the smoke had dissipated into nothing, she spoke, “I saw her only once, she was leaving our house late in the evening. It was dark and I didn’t get a good look on her face, but I remember that she was tall,” she squinted, looking at Hange. “Slightly taller than you. Had brown hair, gathered in a low ponytail. Her clothes were baggy, and, overall, she looked just like…”

“Like what?” Levi snappily required. “Like a criminal?”

“Well, yes,” the widow agreed, throwing the ash off her cigarette. “I think she was doing some shady work for my husband.”

“Do you by any chance have a way to contact her?” Hange asked. “A phone number or a home address…”

“And why do you need it?” the widow looked at them skeptically.

“Classified information,” Hange smoothly replied. “But it’s for the greater good, believe me.”

The widow huffed, obviously not buying it. But she put the cigarette down and reached for the drawer again.

“I don’t know if that will be of any help, but,” she rummaged through the drawer, taking out a yellow envelope. “I found this when I was looking through my husband’s things. He must have destroyed the letter that was inside it, but there is the sender’s address on the back, so…”

“Thank you for your time,” Hange spoke sincerely, snatching the envelope from the widow’s hands. “You really helped us. A lot. You might have even saved a young girl’s life.”

“Whatever,” the widow rolled her eyes. “Just get out of here already. I have the work I need to do.”

“Thank you,” Hange repeated, rising to her feet. “Have a nice day.”

“And…” the widow hesitated. “Good luck with your case. I hope you do better this time.”

The smile on Hange’s face faltered, but didn’t disappear. “I’ll do my best,” she promised, before walking out of the room.

Throwing a quick last glance at the widow, Levi dutifully followed.

***

The address on the envelope led them to the worst part of their city. To the streets that were filled with garbage, where the walls had paint falling off and most windows stood completely smashed.

Hange in her fancy light brown coat looked starkly out of place. Perhaps, Ackerman was right about her having too much privilege. Right now, the contrast between her and the more unfortunate ones were sharp as ever. Although, Ackerman’s attire wasn’t that humble either.

Hange stepped a little closer to him, in a futile attempt to hide from the unfriendly gazes that followed after her ever since they stepped into this part of the city.

“I’m surprised you’ve agreed to come here,” she spoke to him in a quiet voice, “Since I know how much of a clean freak you are.”

The look Ackerman gave her could probably freeze someone to death. “I wasn’t always living in a nice and neat apartment, four-eyes. People like me usually come from the places like that.”

Hange’s eyes widened at the realization. She glanced at the man beside her, tilted her head to study him more intently. It was hard to imagine sharp-dressed and clean-shaved Ackerman, or younger Levi living in a place like that, walking through the dirty streets with broken windows. He came a long way, it seemed. Hange was amazed at his perseverance.

“I think this is the right house,” she pointed at the grey four-story building. Hange took out the envelope, checked the address again. “Yes, this is it.”

Wordlessly, Ackerman started walking in that direction. Hange caught him just before he pushed the front door open.

“Shouldn’t we, like, knock?” she asked, doing a poor job at hiding her nervousness.

Ackerman just rolled his eyes. “Don’t be an idiot,” he scolded, adding a quiet ‘tch’. “There are several apartments here. You’re not trespassing on someone’s private property yet.”

“Oh, alright,” Hange mumbled, letting him open the door and following him inside.

The inside of the building… was dirty. There were bags of trash lying around, shards of broken glass and half-shattered empty bottles. The house wasn’t silent too, from somewhere deep inside the building a child’s wailing was heard. It was accompanied by the sounds of a fighting. Or, maybe, extremely passionate love-making. Hange desperately hoped it was the latter.

“We need to go to the basement,” she said to Ackerman, trying her best to sound nonchalant and confident.

“Basement?” he repeated incredulously. “Is the address actually pointing to a basement? Are we looking for a vampire?”

“I don’t know who we’re looking for. But here,” she thrusted the envelope to him. “You can check it for yourself.”

He pushed her hand away. “I’ll trust you on that one.”

They made their way down the stairs in silence. Not wanting to see something that wasn’t meant for the police officer’s eyes, Hange kept her gaze focused on Ackerman’s face. Unsurprisingly, his expression was indifferent. But his breaths were coming out more raged than usual and he was walking with his head bowed low.

Compared to his regular level of emotionlessness, Ackerman seemed almost overly distressed.

Was this place affecting him so much? He had hinted at his not so happy childhood before. Were bad memories the reason for his emotional state right now?

Hange placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Ackerman, listen…”

Roughly, he slapped her hand away. “I’m fine, four-eyes. Focus on the task at hand.”

She stared at him, affronted. Here she was trying to— what was she trying to do? To comfort him? Because she was worried about him? Hange conceded. Perhaps, Ackerman had every right to scold her. She was losing her focus. She couldn’t allow herself that.

As they climbed to the end of the stairs, Hange looked around, searching for an apartment 009. It stood just at the end of the hallway, and without hesitation she marched right there.

She knocked, quite forcefully. And received no answer. She huffed, ignoring Ackerman’s amused gaze, and knocked again. Again, there was no answer.

Hange put her ear closer to the door, listening to any signs of life inside. There was… nothing.

“I think no one is at home,” she announced mournfully to Ackerman. “Perhaps, we can come back later…”

“Or we can stop wasting precious time,” he rolled his eyes. “Move your ass, four-eyes, I’ll get us inside.”

Ackerman went down on his knees before the door, searching for something in the pocket of his jacket.

It took Hange a long moment to realize what he was about to do. As soon as that realization kicked in, however, she rushed to pull Ackerman away from that door.

“What are you doing?” she cried out. “Ackerman, it’s illegal!”

He gave her a pointed look. “I’m a criminal, remember?”

“I’m not! I can’t let you break inside someone’s house, I’m a police officer!”

“And can you let a young girl suffer? My uncle is an impatient man, if she pissed him off…”

“Don’t joke about it!” Hange scolded. Fuck, she didn’t know what to do. On one hand, she couldn’t let Ackerman just break into someone’s house. On the other, she couldn’t really waste any more time.

“You can look the other way, four-eyes,” Ackerman proposed, his voice an octave softer. “I won’t tell anyone.”

Damn it, Hange couldn’t believe what she was about to do. Ackerman and his damn influence, if Erwin ever finds out…

She sighed, surrendering, and turned away from that door. “Do your thing already,” she urged. “I’ll be… on a look-out. Or whatever you people say.”

“You people?” he repeated teasingly. “What kind of people?”

Hange could practically hear the laughter in his voice. Well, at least, someone was enjoying himself.

“Criminals,” she gritted.

“Just don’t forget that it’s a nasty criminal,” he said, “That helps you solve this case.”

Gods, what a fucker. But he was right. He was helping her. For his own reasons, sure, but even so, Hange was working with him for merely a day, and already she accomplished so much. Perhaps, after all of that mess was over, she could even thank him.

If he wouldn’t give her another reason to hate him.

Ackerman dealt with the door just in mere seconds. Hange didn’t know that it was possible to break the locks so swiftly. He surely was talented.

“Wow, you really are good at it,” she marveled under her breath.

“Figures why you couldn’t catch us, eh?”

So he was not only a fucker, but a cocky one as well. Hange shouldn’t have found that trait of his attractive. He lied to her, for god’s sake. But she had to admit – he looked damn good while doing it.

Ackerman opened the door and let Hange go in first. She did, a bit precautiously.

The first thing she noticed was, of course, the absence of the light. Outside the afternoon sun was shining brightly, painting everything in warm orange colors, but here, in the basement, it was dark as ever. Distinctively, Hange could hear the sound of the pipes leaking, the steady drop, drop, drop that set her just a little further up on edge.

She blindly searched for the switch on the wall. As soon as she had found it, a lone lightbulb filled the room with faint light.

Apart from that, the interior of the apartment wasn’t so different from the interior of the whole building. It was in similar bad shape, with torn wallpapers and leaking ceilings. But, surprisingly, the apartment also seemed strangely empty, like whoever was living there didn’t actually consider it their home.

As Hange looked around, she found nothing personal there, no photographs or postcards or any other kind of trinkets people usually treasured.

There were some clothes thrown here and there, but that was about it. The rest of the apartment was disappointingly empty.

“I don’t think we’ll be able to find something here,” Ackerman said, as he walked inside beside her.

Truthfully, Hange was of the same opinion. But they came here. They broke inside. She wouldn’t leave until she finds at least something remotely useful.

“Let’s look around,” she said, deciding to start with the kitchen.

Unfortunately, there was nothing useful in the kitchen. The only thing Hange found was the insane amount of instant noodles and cheap beer.

No clues were found inside the living room as well. She looked under the dusty old couch and the rug, behind the shattered TV-screen and the wardrobe. But she found nothing.

Met with the absence of the clues and Ackerman’s increasing impatience, Hange was starting to get desperate.

“We’ll find something,” she murmured, to assure both Ackerman and herself.

He simply clicked his tongue. “I searched the bedroom already. I didn’t find anything that might be of some interest.”

“I’ll go and have another look,” Hange stubbornly pushed past him. “Perhaps, you missed something.”

“Or, perhaps,” he countered, his voice laced with venom. “This lead is a dead-end. And we’re just wasting our time.”

“Need I to remind you that this is the only lead we have? Because you’re unable to find your own uncle.”

Hange knew she had said the wrong thing as soon as the words had left her mouth. She didn’t mean it, not really. But she was frustrated. She was tired and lost, and Ackerman’s proximity and their shared history were making her even more stressed than she already was.

But all of it didn’t mean that Ackerman deserved her bitterness. Not in this moment, at least. Hange knew she was in the wrong, she wanted to take her words back, but then— then Ackerman decided to retaliate.

“And need I to remind you that the only reason I’m here is because you can’t solve this shitty case all by yourself. So stop accusing me of being useless when I’m helping you out of the kindness of my heart.”

“Out of the kindness of your heart?” Hange repeated, completely scandalized. She couldn’t believe that she was meaning to apologize to that shithead just moments ago. And he had the audacity— Gods, he infuriated her to no end. “You’re a fucking asshole, Ackerman. When you were lying to me like a total scumbag, were you doing it out of the kindness of your fucking heart as well?”

Ackerman was getting riled up to, his face became contorted with faint lines of anger. His hands clenched into fists, he took a step forward, breathing heavily. “Are you still going on about that thing, really? Yes, I lied to you, but I’m sure I’m not the only person in this life who did it. So can you just let it go already?”

“Let it go?” Hange felt like she was boiling, there was so much fury inside of her that it seemed like it was pouring out of her. She wanted to smash or break something, preferably Ackerman’s stupidly handsome face. “Are you seriously asking if I can let it go? Do you really not understand how much—” she faltered, choking on the hurricane of her emotions. “I trusted you, Levi, I believed you were a good man. For god’s sake, I was starting to develop f—”

Hange abruptly stopped herself. She was angry, true, she was overwhelmed as well. But she was not so lost as to reveal to him just what he truly made her feel. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how good his lies were and how much they’ve hurt her.

After taking a deep breath, she risked a glance at Ackerman. He was staring right at her, wide-eyed and shocked and… was that sadness in his eyes?

Before Hange could decipher his expression, it changed again, became more cautious.

She blinked, and Ackerman was already moving, rapidly, in her direction. All out of sudden, he was standing right beside her, close enough for Hange to hear just how loudly his heart was beating.

Confused, she wanted to push him away, she meant to do it, but before she could react, Ackerman had her encircled in his arms. He pulled her to the side, and just as Hange was trying to get away, they swayed and tumbled. In a mess of limbs, both of them fell onto the ground.

No more than a second later, Hange heard a loud, sudden noise.

A noise she knew so well. A gunshot.

Confused and with her ears ringing, Hange tried to make sense of her surroundings. There was a gunshot, and she fell but she wasn’t on a ground. Ackerman was on the ground, and she was lying right on top of him. Hange stared at him, wide-eyed and shaken.

Their sudden close proximity made her thoughts move even slower.

Still in Ackerman’s embrace, she turned her head in the direction, where that gunshot had come from. A girl stood there, her gun raised and aimed at them.

How long had she been standing there? How in the world Hange hadn’t seen her enter?

The reason for her lack of caution was still beside her, holding her tightly to his chest.

It felt good to be so close to him, Hange felt so warm and safe—

“Get the fuck off me,” feeling her face burn, she pushed Ackerman away, and jumped up to her feet.

“That’s the thanks I get for saving your life,” he grumbled, standing up as well and dusting off his jacket. “And I did it for the second time, four-eyes.”

“Shut up,” Hange gritted, returning her attention to the girl who almost shot them both. She was tall and brown-haired. Could it be their mysterious lead?

“I’m terribly sorry to interrupt… whatever that was,” for a second the girl’s lips curled in a wicked smirk, but then she gripped the gun in her hands tighter, her finger going to the trigger. “But who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my house?”

Still slightly shaking from the whole ordeal, Hange’s fingers trembled as she took out her police badge, showing it to the girl. “I’m detective Hange Zoe, and I came to ask you some questions.”

The hand that held the gun didn’t lower. “Regarding?” the girl asked.

“Regarding Krista Lenz’s disappearance.”

The girl relaxed. The gun was tucked safely inside her leather jacket. “So the police have finally taken notice of that case? Took you long enough.”

“I’m hoping to rectify that mistake. And I hope I’ll be able to bring Krista home. What is your name?” Hange smiled and tentatively offered her hand for the girl to shake.

“Ymir,” just as cautiously, she shook Hange’s hand. “And Krista isn’t her real name, you know?”

“She is Historia, right?” the smile on Hange’s face widened, as she saw Ymir’s genuine surprise. “We found that bit of information already.”

“Seems like you’re a real deal then,” Ymir concluded with a nod. “I’ll share what I know with you. But,” she raised a finger. “I have a condition – you’ll let me join the investigation.”

Their crew was rapidly growing, and two-thirds were presented by criminals, Hange thought grimly. Well, she was ready to do anything to bring Historia home. It seemed like she would have to stick to her own promise.

Just when Hange was ready to accept Ymir and her proposition, Ackerman took a step forwards. His eyes were narrowed to slits as he glared at their new companion.

“And what guarantee we have that we can trust you?”

“You have no guarantee,” Ymir replied, staring down at him. “But as long as our goals align and as long as you promise not to hurt Historia, I promise not to betray you.”

Ah, so their crew was rapidly growing and they couldn’t really trust each other. A recipe for a horrible disaster, but… Hange had no other options.

She clasped Ymir’s shoulder, giving her the most convincing of her smiles. “Welcome aboard then. What have you managed to find out?”

Ymir grinned and turned around, gesturing for them to follow. “Probably much more than you did. Come with me, I’ll show it to you.”

#the quote from community perfectly summarises this chapter #'i think you two like to partner up on cutesy capers so you can hold hands in the dark and address your urges in semi-acceptable scenarios'#nothing else in this chapter but this!#levihan

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doiefy · 3 years

Text

yellow // na jaemin

genre: fluff, angst, soulmate!au, slice of life pairing: jaemin x gn. reader (feat. lucas) warnings: none word count: 1.4k

a (possibly non-canon?) epilogue to blue that i’ve been meaning to write for weeks and finally got around to. and just in time for my lovely beta reader @neojaems’ birthday!! hope you have an amazing day and thank you again for all your support while i was writing blue. love you bub <33

would definitely recommend reading blue before this (it’s a long one, but also my baby). there’s a lot on soulmate mechanics and the other characters here that probably won’t make sense without the context of blue.

You never realized how much you missed Seoul.

It wasn’t the busyness you missed—the hustle and bustle of city life was ever-present in Hong Kong where you’d moved to three summers ago—nor was it really the people you had to leave behind. And as a matter of fact, you hadn’t even thought much of Seoul while you were gone, too caught up in hectic schedules and settling into your new job. Only when you arrived in the Incheon Airport did you notice a certain emptiness being filled with the familiarities of your mother tongue, the sights and smells of your city, your home.

You supposed your home was no longer limited to just a city though, not when the love of your life had eagerly dropped everything to be next to you. Home was in his arms.

After everything, after Jungwoo and Mark and Donghyuck and Jaemin… it seemed so unreal. You’d reread the test papers again and again, struggling to decipher some of the intricate characters of a language you were still so clumsy with, scared you would wake up from some fantasy the universe had so cruelly shoved into your head. God knows how long you sat there, fingers tracing over the coloured stripe at the top of the page. But you never found a mistake in the results. You never woke up to the coldness of an empty bedroom. Your test had come back yellow.

The morning after your arrival in Seoul, you woke up just before sunrise, to comforting arms around your waist and the faintest sounds of morning traffic outside. You lay there for a few minutes, and when you realized there was no chance of you falling back asleep, slipped out of bed.

“Where are you going?” You heard Lucas murmur softly as you slipped into a pair of jeans and a sweater, his voice swallowed up by the pillows.

“Just taking a walk. Might grab us some breakfast while I’m at it.” You leaned over to press a gentle kiss to his forehead, brushed a few pieces of his brown hair aside. “I’ll be back in a bit.” He mumbled something in reply before promptly burying his head back into the duvet, and you felt the corners of your lips turn upwards fondly.

It was cold out; much colder than what you’d become accustomed to in Hong Kong. Autumn was upon you, and the cold wind swept away the scarce bit of warmth that’d accumulated in your layers of clothing. You made your way down the street towards the Han River, where you could watch the sunrise. The park was relatively empty at this hour; you could spot only a few joggers making their morning laps and a group of kids on the basketball court, passing a ball back and forth between them. You used to come here with Mark in the 70s, long before the city built sidewalks and fences and recreational centres, when there were only small paths leading down to the riverbank and an elderly man offering boat rides at the dock.

The leaves at your feet scattered, parting for you as if you were a gust of wind rushing past. They skittered along the sidewalk, rolled and tumbled over themselves, collected in piles next to the brick fences of the park and in the muddy puddles of the main road. The breeze danced by your side, laughing mischievously in your ear while trying to grab the cap you wore on your head.

Someone was sitting in your usual spot: the carved wooden bench by the waterfront that Mark had shown you years ago. You’d brought Donghyuck and Jaemin here, and you made a note to show Lucas as well when you took him on a tour of the city. But for the time being, you awkwardly made your way past him to look for a different spot. Until you recognized him.

He was just as you’d met him some eight or nine years ago—dark eyes, fair skin, a fitted black sweater and wool coat, his hair now dyed black and swept back neatly. He looked a bit older, more rugged than you remembered, weathered by age. A surge of memories washed over you and you stopped, wondering if you were seeing correctly.

“Jaemin?”

He looked up, shocked, confused. The two of you stood there for a moment, unmoving, as if both uncertain of what to say. You were suddenly aware of the blue pendant hidden beneath your shirt, the way the coldness of the glass pressing against your skin brought back memories of purple irises, glasses of wine, softly whispered words in the early morning hours.

“What are you doing here?” Jaemin asked, smiling as he invited you to sit down. “I haven’t seen you in years.” There was a certain sadness to his voice, and you couldn’t help but feel an unsettling bit of guilt in your chest. It was only inevitable that you drifted apart, you supposed, when your phone calls and text conversations came to a stop, when you began to busy yourselves with your own lives.

“I just got back. Last night,” you explained, sitting down next to him. Perhaps the decision to move back to Seoul was a bit abrupt, now that you thought about it. At least, abrupt enough that he didn’t hear about it through your friends.

“Hong Kong just wasn’t for you?” He raised a brow. “I heard it’s a beautiful city.”

You giggled, shaking your head. “It’s lovely there, Jaem.” The old nickname came naturally, and you didn’t know how to feel about it. “But I never intended to stay that long anyways. It wasn’t a permanent thing. It was just to…”

“Catch a break. Get away from all the changes here.”

You gave him an amused look. “How did you know?”

He smiled sadly. “You left so suddenly, I figured there was something bothering you… Mark getting married. Doyoung’s passing.” A pause. When he spoke again, his voice was small. Far from disappointed or bitter or sad, but quiet, thoughtful, in a way that reminded you of Jungwoo. “And me.”

“Not you, Jaem,” you murmured, looking wistfully out at the water and now reminiscing the summer you’d spent here with him. “Seoul is just… too many memories, too many emotions. Sometimes I need time away from all the reminders. To find some sort of calm.”

“Did you find what you were looking for then?”

For a moment, you thought he meant Lucas, and you wondered how he could’ve possibly known. You laughed, nodding.

“Yes,” you said. “And among other things. I found him. My soulmate.”

There was a moment of surprise before his face lit up with a genuine smile. Some time ago, maybe he would have thrown his arms around you in a bone-crushing hug. Some time ago, he might have taken your hand, told you he was thrilled for you, kissed you on the cheek, whispered something only the two of you could understand. But as much as your mind drifted to those times, you were content with what it was now.

“Oh my gosh, you found them,” he repeated excitedly as he held you at an arm’s length. “What’s he like?”

“He’s, well—” You paused for a brief moment before continuing shyly. “His name is Lucas. And… he’s wonderful, Jaem. He’s funny, he’s kind, he’s smart… I got lucky.”

“Not lucky,” he corrected you, beaming. “You deserve each other.” He sighed, and his eyes glazed over, the way they did whenever he broke away from the present reality to visit some moment in the past. “You deserve so much, Y/N. So much more than what I gave you, you know?”

“Don’t discredit yourself like that,” you chided him lightly and he laughed, shaking his head.

“I’m happy for you. Really.”

Happy that the universe finally gave you what you needed most, his eyes seemed to say. Happy that after all these years, you still remembered him. So many unspoken words, but there was no need to vocalize them—you sat there in comfortable silence, and you knew. It almost felt like old times: wordlessly watching the sun rise over the city, watching the world come alive from slumber. Knowing that you were in two different worlds, yet not quite apart either. Your paths would continue to diverge; you would return to the boy asleep at home and he to the girl waiting for him, you to your life and he to his. But the diverging of two lines could only mean that they’d intersected at some point in the past.

The sky glowed golden above you.

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annabethy · 3 years

Text

doctor, doctor

in which Annabeth is pregnant and Percy is a super hot sexy doctor,, percabeth

Annabeth isn’t entirely sure what’s her imagination and what’s reality anymore. To be quite honest, she doesn’t care to decipher between the two either because her stomach is protruding far enough from her body that her sleep is scarce, and she’s not about to ruin that just to see if Percy got out of bed.

She doesn’t need to open her eyes and check anyways because he’s pressing a kiss to her forehead a second later. It causes her to stir, and she kicks up one leg to her side, stretching her arms.

“Hey, beautiful.”

Annabeth cracks open an eye and a lazy smile morphs onto her lips. The sun still hasn’t popped over the horizon – she estimates it’s around six in the morning. She yawns. “Why are you up?”

Percy brushes her hair out of her face before his hand trails down to circle around her bump where her shirt has ridden up. His fingers tickle the skin lightly. “I have to go to work.”

Annabeth frowns. It’s dark in the room and her vision is still blurry, but she can see the backpack he’s holding that she knows contains the things he’ll need throughout the day. It makes her unjustifiably sad because she knows the backpack means he’ll be gone for a long time. She’s so close to her due date that she can’t go to work herself, and all she really wants to do is snuggle up against him and sleep, which she can’t do if Percy’s at the hospital until she’s asleep again.

“Stay with me,” she pleads, hands blindly reaching out to grab him by the shirt. He concedes and leans down next to her so he’s on his knees facing her. He kisses her a few more times and nudges her with his nose.

“I wish I could,” he says softly. “But I have to saves some lives first.”

Annabeth groans, rolling over so that her back is to him.

“Hello?” Percy pokes her back playfully. “Anyone home?”

“Not you,” she deadpans.

“Aw.” Annabeth hears Percy stand back up and grab the bag by his feet. “Sick people need me to help them feel better.”

“What if I’m sick and need you to make me feel better?” she questions.

“Are you sick?”

Annabeth pauses. “Yes.” She pointedly coughs.

“Cute.”

She looks over her shoulder and finds him staring at her lovingly.

“I shouldn’t be gone too long,” he promises, rubbing her back soothingly. “Three in the afternoon.”

“You love your job more than me,” she breathes dramatically.

Percy laughs lightly. “That’s not possible. Now I have to leave now, so are you going to give me a kiss?”

“No.”

“Please?’

Annabeth pouts but flips back over. It’s actually quite mortifying the way she struggles to face him, her stomach proving to be an obstacle, but Percy helps her sit up. The kiss is short and sweet, and when he pulls away, he brushes her face affectionately. “I love you,” he says.

“Love you too,” she says back, but she’s pouting. Percy kisses her once more.

“I won’t be gone long. Go back to sleep, okay? You need the rest.”

She rolls her eyes and nods, laying back down. Percy helps lift the covers around her, and he disappears for a moment to refill the glass of water by her nightstand. It makes her roll her eyes fondly when he comments on how thirsty she is, but it also makes her feel warm that he’s noticed. It’s something he’s been doing recently, bringing her water in the middle of the night because he cares about her.

Annabeth feels oddly deflated when she hears the front door shut behind Percy when he leaves for work. She lays in bed for at least an hour, just watching the sun slowly begin to rise through the closed blinds of the window. Sleep doesn’t come for a while, and she blames Percy for waking her up in the first place. But she’s also glad he woke her up because as disappointed as she is that he left, she’d be even more upset if she just woke up with him gone.

He’s going to be such a good dad, she thinks. A hot dad, too. She’s sure she’s told him a million times but there’s just something about him in scrubs that gets her going. When he was in his residency, she didn’t think he could get any more attractive than in those light blue scrubs, but then…

Those navy blue attending scrubs makes her a bit more hot and bothered than she cares to admit.

At some point, she thankfully does fall back asleep. It’s some of the best sleep too because after being awake for hours in the early hours of the morning, there’s something otherworldly about sleeping in. She’s content sleeping until Percy gets home actually, but all hope goes flying out the window when she wakes up and feels overbearingly nauseous.

She stares at the ceiling trying to figure out what exactly woke her up, but it takes a few seconds of fighting the urge to pass out before she realizes her phone is ringing beside her head.

"Hello?"

Percy’s voice appears over the line. “I’ve been calling you. Are you okay?”

“I’m great.” Annabeth’s following cough says otherwise. “What do you need?”

“Nothing,” he says, laughing. “I’ll be home in an hour. Do you want anything to eat?”

Annabeth groans, the sound of any food disgusting. “No thank you.”

“I’ll get you something for later then.” Percy pauses, and Annabeth closes her eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay? You sound sick.”

“Because you jinxed it by leaving,” she tells him. “I told you to stay and play doctor with me.”

“I’ll come play doctor in a little bit,” he says jokingly. “See you soon. I love you.”

She barely musters the energy to repeat the three words back before he hangs up, leaving her to wallow in pain and misery. Realistically, she just kicks her blanket off in a sudden wave of heat and she falls back asleep.

When her eyes decide they’re ready to blink back open, it’s to Percy sitting next to her, a hand pressed to her bare stomach.

She smiles lazily, taking in the sight of him. He’s still in his scrubs, much to her delight. “Hey, sexy doctor.”

Percy purses his lips to suppress a grin at the comment. “Hey, you. You’re sick.”

“Nah.”

Percy raises an eyebrow. “Nah?”

“Mhm.” “You have a fever,” he says. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “You wanted to go see your work wife,” she accuses. “I don’t have a work wife,” he tells her.

“Sure you don’t.”

Percy looks at her as though to say, really?

“I’m okay,” she assures, “I’ve just been sleeping all day.”

“Did you take anything to help?”

“No,” she admits. “I was waiting for my personal doctor to come help.”

“Where is he?”

Annabeth pokes Percy’s neck, and he grabs her finger to press the tip to his lips. “Right here.”

“Yeah? You want me to take care of you?”

“What’s the point of dating a doctor otherwise?”

“We’re married, you doofus.”

Annabeth snickers. “I forgot.”

Percy’s hand is still rubbing her stomach as he stares into space blankly.

“What does the doctor prescribe?”

“Lots of cuddles,” is his answer.

Annabeth opens her arms, smiling when Percy settles into them. He rests his head on her chest gently, and it makes her heart feel full. He’s usually the one to hold her, so moments like this are rare. It just makes her wish she could live in this moment forever.

“You’re too warm,” Percy mutters against her neck. He kisses the skin softly, nuzzling against her. He tries to move a second later, no doubt going to grab her some medicine, but she tightens her grasp on him.

“Stay here,” she complains.

He gives in, resting against her once more. “Only for five more minutes, then I’m going to take care of you.”

“You’re taking very good care of me.”

“I don’t want the baby to be too warm inside your tummy,” he says.

She makes a sound of agreement but doesn’t move to let him go. “I wish we could listen to her.”

He stays silent for a while, and she thinks nothing of it until he lifts his head suddenly so that he can lock eyes with her. “Do you want to?”

“Is that possible?”

Percy smiles widely, wiggling off of her. “Let me show you something I learned not too long ago.”

As he runs out of their bedroom, she watches him in his childlike excitement. He bangs around the kitchen for too long, and it has her calling out, “Hurry up.”

When he does pop back in the door, his arms are entirely full. He’s holding a cup and a stethoscope, and of course, there is a fresh glass of water in his hands.

“You’re going to love this,” he says, nudging her over on the bed. She reaches out to mess with the fabric of his scrubs as he sets the water down on the table.

“What are you doing?” she asks when he lifts her shirt up and the top of her pants down right below her stomach.

He places the stethoscope tips into his ears, gentle fingers pressing the bell to her lower stomach. He places the cup over the stethoscope, moving it around slightly, and then a soft smile breaks out across his face. “Here,” he says, taking the stethoscope out of his ears and handing them to her. He helps her put the ear tips in, and she suddenly can’t wipe the smile off of her own face.

There’s a steady thumping in her ears that she knows is her baby’s heartbeat. It’s subtle, but it’s there. She begins to feel overwhelmed with love as her eyes tear up and her hand presses against the bump.

“You hear it?” he asks.

She nods, unable to speak.

Percy kisses below her belly button. “That’s our baby.”

“I still can’t believe we’re going to be a family,” she whispers.

“Mh-hm. You’re going to be the best mama.”

She laughs wetly, tossing her head back. “God, I love you.”

Percy kisses her stomach for a few long seconds. “It sounds like our baby girl is nice and safe inside of there right now, so why don’t we take care of you now?”

Annabeth’s hand darts down to press over his, preventing him from moving. “Just a few more minutes? Please?”

They fall into a silence, and Annabeth continues listening to the beating heart. It blows her mind that in only a few more weeks, she’s going to get to meet this baby, and they’re going to be a family. She can already see it, Percy holding their baby, maybe even dressed in a pair of clean scrubs, while she watches him talk to the baby like she’s the only thing that matters.

“You’re going to be such a good dad,” she tells him.

“Yeah?”

“And a super hot one.”

Percy snorts.

“A dilf.” “Oh my god, please never call me that again.”

“Thank you for marrying me,” she says.

Percy softens. “Of course I married you. I love you more than anything.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she admits. “You wouldn’t be listening to your baby’s heartbeat with a stethoscope and a cup.”

She smiles. “No, I wouldn’t.”

“You also wouldn’t have a super sexy, smart, funny doctor husband.”

She shoots him a look.

“You said it, not me.” “I didn’t say that.”

“Well, you called me a dilf, so.” He shrugs. “Same thing.”

Annabeth shakes her head at him, amused.

“Come on,” he says, sitting up. He pats her on the stomach and drags her up as she complains. “I want to make sure you’re okay, and then we can keep intruding on our daughter’s womb.”

“Is that a pun?”

“What?”

“Room? Womb?”

“Shut up,” he says fondly, kissing her on the forehead. “Let me take care of you. I’ll even keep the scrubs on.”

“Now that I can live with,” she says teasingly, pushing him away with her foot. “Go on, then. Play doctor.”

He does, but she can’t help grabbing his butt when he turns. He looks at her over his shoulder as he leaves, and she smiles into a pillow.

Yeah, she’s pretty lucky she married a super sexy, smart, funny doctor.

Percy’s words, not hers.

(Not that she doesn’t agree.)

#percy jackson #annabeth chase #pjo #percabeth #percy jackson and the olympians #my writing

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 4 years

Text

Skinship

This one is dedicated to my dear friend and fellow TWST writer, @twstpasta!

Congrats on making it to 3k followers and for making the grand debut of your new blog mascot~ I look forward to seeing your future works, as well as all of the (inevitable) Vil brain rot once your EBG (Extreme Bias Game) is over!

Imagine this...

“Unacceptable.”

“Eh?”

“Your skin,” Vil clarified. “It is simply unacceptable. You don’t truly intend on marching to the opening ceremony looking like that, do you?”

“My...skin?” Your hands subconsciously trailed to your cheeks. “What’s wrong with--”

He cut you off, his pupils dilating in absolute horror. “No...!! Don’t touch your face! Your hands are breeding grounds for all manner of nasty bacteria!”

Your hand jolted away at Vil’s remark. He sighed in relief--but the repose is short-lived.

“You haven’t even properly buffed out the sunscreen along your hairline. See to it that you wash your hands and blend it in. Now.”

“Ah, I must have gotten some grated parmesan on me while I was making my mac ‘n cheese for lunch,” you explained, your expression sheepish. “I only put sunscreen on when I work out, Vil-senpai.”

“Excuse me?!” He brought a finger to his chin and frowned. “I don’t know whether I should be more appalled at the fact that you somehow got cheese in your hair or at the fact that you scarcely wear sun protection...What, if I may ask, does your typical skincare routine look like?”

“I splash water on my face once in the morning and once at night. And I already told you about the sunscreen when I exercise.”

“...That is all?”

“Yup.”

Vil cradled his head in his hands.

“...Sit.”

“Huh? Oh, sure.” You seated yourself on a sofa and glanced up at your senpai. “But won’t we be late for the ceremony if we wait around for too long?”

“It will only take a few minutes,” Vil insisted with a dismissive wave. “I will be right back.”

The Pomefiore dorm leader swept out of the room, his dark sleeves billowing out behind him. The intricate golden designs on his robes seem to twinkle and dance under the lights.

He soon reappeared with a tray--upon it, a few towels, several small bowls of water, and an assortment of containers. Vil sat down beside you, placing the tray on a low coffee table.

“We can’t have you going out looking a mess,” he declared, “so I shall be giving you a quick facial.”

“Whoa, really? Thank you so much for this, senpai.”

“Don’t thank me yet. The magic has yet to start.”

He took a pump of soap, working it into a rich lather, then dipped his hands into a bowl of water and patted dry with a towel. Vil dispensed a viscous substance from another bottle and swiped it on your face--from your chin to your forehead, massaging in circles.

“What’s this slick stuff? Moisturizer?”

“It’s an oil-based cleanser,” Vil corrected, “Listen well, potato. There are three essential steps to every skincare routine--the first is cleansing.”

“But I’ve already washed my face today.”

“We need to break down your sunscreen first before we apply more product,” Vil chided, wetting his hands again before running them across your cheeks. “Next is a water-based cleanser.”

He popped open a tube and squeezed out a coin-sized amount. Rubbing his hands together produced fine suds.

“You’re washing my face again?” you asked, giggling while Vil worked the product onto your face. The lather tickled a bit—and it smelled like a field full of raspberries, bright and bursting with sunshine.

“Skin has both fat and water. Therefore, you should wash once with an oil to bind to oils, and water to bind to water—this will give you a thorough cleanse.”

Vil’s words were stern, but his touch remained gentle. Even as he chastised you, you could not help but indulge in the moment, melting in his voice—rich and velvety and decadent.

Hehe...like mac ‘n cheese...

You could feel a trickle of drool forming in the corner of your mouth.

“...45 to 60 seconds washing with each cleanser,” Vil recited in a murmur. “Upward and outward circular motions to promote lymphatic drainage, and to keep the skin from sagging. Be sure to exfoliate at least once a week...Are you listening to a word of what I’m saying, potato?”

“Huh? Uh...yeah, yeah, I’m listening.”

“Hmmm.”

“I-I swear I am!”

“Pop quiz, then. How many steps are there in a basic skincare routine?”

“Three! Four if you count washing twice!”

Vil cracked a small smile. “Excellent. I expected nothing less from you.”

He moistened his hands again and removed the bubbles on your face . Then Vil patted you down with a towel, leaving your skin just a bit damp.

“The next step is moisturizer. Normally, I would have you apply a toner, essence, and serum first, but we do not have the time for that.”

Vil unscrewed the cap on a tall, frosted glass bottle. The contents were pure white, sloshing around like melted snow

“Isn’t moisturizer usually like...lotions and stuff? That doesn’t look like a lotion to me.”

“This is a 2-in-1 toner and moisturizer. Cream skin,” he explained, carefully pressing the product onto cheeks and forehead.

Ah.

His fingers. They were so plush, so soft through the thin slip of the product—like clouds brushing against your face, planting dew drop kisses.

Your eyes drifted shut for a few moments, relishing in the feel of him.

“And, last but not least, sunscreen. You must always wear sun protection, even in winter and on cloudy days. UV rays can wreak havoc on your skin.”

“Y-Yes!”

Vil sighed, squeezing a generous heap of white goop into his palms. “If you understand, then you must promise me that you will take better care of yourself in the future.”

“I promise...”

“Good.”

His hands ran across your face, tracing every contour and curvature until each spot was slathered with sunscreen. Vil was the artist, and you were his canvas to be molded into a work of art.

A sweep here, a dab there, and...

Done.

Vil held your face, cupped within his hands, and gazed upon his work. His lips pulled into mirthful smirk—and his eyes glittered like amethysts embedded with stars.

He was so close--yet you cannot make out even a single pore or imperfection on his milky face. Your heart hammered from his intense gaze, and how his pink lips--today, the color of raspberries--were parted just so. How soft they must be, if he takes such good care of his skin.

“D-Do I look better now?” you asked nervously.

“See for yourself.”

Vil passed over a handheld mirror.

In the glass, a familiar, yet unfamiliar, face stared back at you. Your reflection bore a plump complexation—all rosy cheeks and supple skin. No white cast, no oily sheen, no flaky patches, no rough texture.

It almost doesn’t seem like yourself.

“Well?” Vil inquired, his arms folded.

“It’s me, but like...way better. It’s like you cast a spell or something.”

You cautiously poked your cheek. It conformed, then bounced back.

“No touching!” Vil hissed, yanking your wrist back with a frown.

“Whoops...ehehe, sorry. I forgot.”

“Honestly,” he groaned, reaching out and grasping your other wrist, “if you are going to disregard my advice so blatantly...”

Vil flashed his pearly whites in a sly smile. “ ...then perhaps I should keep a firm grip on these traitorous hands of yours until further notice.”

He lifted the back of your hand to his mouth and planted a kiss. His lips were every bit as tender and smooth as you had imagined them to be.

A single thought emerged from the back of your mind: just what would those lip of his taste like, set upon your own?

You reddened.

“That color is most becoming on you, potato,” Vil chuckled, pulling back. His grip on your hand remained firm, yet somehow also delicate--as though handling a precious gem.

“Come. We cannot afford to dawdle any longer. The ceremony awaits us.”

Hand in hand, you venture out into the world--

--putting you best face forward.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Vil Schoenheit #Vil Schoenheit x Reader #disney twisted wonderland #Reader #self insert #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland scenarios #imagine this #bulli

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angeli-marco-writes · 3 years

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∘◦ ღ ◦∘ Harrison Osterfield - Quarantine ∘◦ ღ ◦∘

A/N - I wrote this during the first lockdown that Britain were in. ow we’re in the third, and almost a year later, I’m uploading this onto my Tumblr from my Wattpad. And yes, before everyone says it, I am fully aware that the Holland’s and Haz were isolating in two different houses and haven’t been living together for months, but this makes it more amusing, and as I say, it was written a while ago. I do not know Harrison, nor do I claim to; this is a work of fiction and entirely my own.

Warnings - cursing, smut, detailed sex, cockwarming, oral, kinky names, mentions of sleeping around... you know the drill by now.

Summary - Quarantine with a bunch of sex deprived twenty-odd year old boys isn’t your idea of fun, especially not when the only one you want refuses to pay even the slightest bit of attention. Taking measures into your own hands is only simple until you get caught.

YOU AREN’T SURE HOW, but in some strange twist of fate, you’ve ended up in self isolation with the Holland’s. But it doesn’t end there, no, not just the Holland’s, but Harrison and Tuwaine too.

You have a bed in the attic, the other side of Harrison’s room, but you’re hardly sleeping in it. Seeing as you’re the only girl among an entire collection of (ahem, horny) and barely adult boys, you were most certainly on their beckon call. You didn’t mind being called to Sam, Harry’s, even Tom’s rooms late at night; you simply wished that you'd be asked to sleep with the one you actually wanted. Harrison.

You and he had been friends as long as you could remember, neighbours from age 4 and friends ever since. Even through uni when you studied a double major and you had zero free time, he was still constant in your life. You’d met Tom and the boys, the twins being closer to your age, and gotten on with them all as well. It just so happened that you ended up on a job with Mr Holland, and that’s what brought all of you closer together with you being in their house often to work on this project it also just so happened that you’d been hanging around with them all when lockdown was announced, leaving you to be in trouble if you drove halfway across London to your own home, so they invited you to stay and had any and all necessary items mailed to you by your roommate. You were only trusted to stay with Harrison after your history together and nothing ever having come of you two, though Mrs Holland did not trust the other boys enough with you and therefore did a bed check every night and every morning to make sure you were alone, though it was always a deceitful check on everyone’s behalf.

You didn’t thank Tom, Sam or Harry post-sex since you’d always have to return to your own cold bed, next to a sleeping Harrison, a sleeping Harrison who wouldn’t dare use you as a booty call like the other three did. It was safe to say that Harrison also had no idea of your truancies since he slept like a light and no one would discuss your actions at the dinner table to save your dignity, and their own necks.

Tonight though, you have other plans. Harrison has some papers to look through and will therefore be sitting at his desk, procrastinating before his computer for hours, only to be left to flick through the contract at an utterly ungodly hour, and he’d proceed to sleep tomorrow, all throughout the day. You were going to help him relax: maybe a massage, a cuddle, a blunt. Or you’d sit on his lap, watch to see whether he’d tense or relax beneath your bare legs, or whether he’d pick up on whose shirt you were to wear. That was the only tell: you’d steal a shirt from each brother to wear as a mark the next day, but you’d simply claim they were more comfortable than your own tight fitting button downs and crop tops. Harrison hadn’t noticed, not yet though as far as you knew, but each brother wore a slight smirk every day that you wore their shirt.

It hurt that Harrison wouldn’t be able to tell with his usual obliviousness, but you’d shower before seeing to him tonight, and wear one of his shirts so that when he got it back it might smell like you, a scent he claimed to enjoy.

As soon as dinner finishes, you leap away from the three boys all vying for your attention.

“I have work to do, and a shower to have. Plus, I’m tired.” You respond to all three on your journey up the stairs, hearing Harrison groan very loudly from the attic, followed by his head hitting the keyboard of his laptop. You smile sadly to yourself, a mix of nervous anticipation and excitement expelling from your body while the water lashes at your skin, soothing any pain or fear you may be feeling. You increase the heat, allowing the steam to fill your pores as you lean your head forwards to keep your hair dry, held in a messy bun.

You imagine his touch all over your bare body, his finger tracing your jaw, but a knock on the door and a yell to hurry up snaps you from your trance, making you turn off the water and wrap a soft towel (that you know to be Harrison’s) around yourself. You scowl at Harry on your way out, in response to which he sticks his tongue out childishly.

You end up mostly dry after taking a longer than usual walk up the steps to the attic, lingering on each one until the balls of your feet become sore. You peek your head around the door, only to see Harrison in a hoodie and boxers, a grimace on his lips while attacking his keyboard with a ferocity that you’ve scarcely seen. His anger causes you to furrow your brows, silently wishing that you succeed in calming him instead of making him feel worse.

You slip into a pair of panties and grab your favourite of his shirts off one of the hangers. You pull out your phone under a guise if he spots you, absentmindedly scrolling through your feed while eyeing Harrison. He slows his typing and begins clicking his mouse at the screen slowly, intently reading the reams of white on his laptop.

It’s time, you tell yourself, standing up from the bed and walking behind him. You place your hands on his shoulders, splaying your fingers and digging your thumbs in. Harrison’s body goes lax, his hands falling from the laptop to the desk, laying his hands flat on the wood. He lets out a groan and rolls his head back, falling right onto the pillow of your chest. You continue to rub his shoulders, enjoying the way he’s slowly relaxing under your therapeutic touch, that is until he swats you away with a small, sad smile. You sigh, having none of it, and crawl your hands down to the hem of his hoodie.

“What are you doing?” He asks, his tone dripping with boredom. “I have this contract to read, you know I do.”

“Exactly.” You reply after thinking for a moment. You want to say the right thing, you want this to go seamlessly, so every word has to be perfect, not to mention every action.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t battle against your bid to remove his hoodie, and obligingly lifts his arms up over his head so that you can pull his jumper off. You toss it to the side and hear something fall to the floor, but that’s somehow the least of your concerns. You reward Harrison with a kiss to the soft, unblemished skin of his neck - but it won’t stay that way, not for much longer.

You thread your fingers into his beautiful brown locks and tug a little, just to let him know that you mean business. His lips part as though intending to let out a groan of some kind, but it doesn’t come, so with disappointment you continue to play with his hair the way you love to. He doesn’t stop you, so that’s something, right?

When he hasn’t given you attention for too long, albeit about five minutes, you walk around in front of him. His eyes are forced to retrain from his screen to where your breasts show in his top. Apparently, going braless in one of his tops has its perks, not talking about your nipples.

“Looks good on you,” he murmurs. He pushes his chair out and gestures for you to drape yourself over his legs and lap, which you do more than willingly while wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging at the wonderfully soft curls at the nape.

“I know this isn’t ideal, you need to do proper work and be having contact with your girls, but I’ll get you out soon, I know the boys are a lot.”

You simply hum in acknowledgement, adjusting your seat on his bare legs. Skin on skin, electrifying in every sense of the word.

“That is why you’re doing this, right?” He asks, nervously almost, and you instantly feel as though you’re molesting him, until he wraps his strong arms around your back. You could moan at the contact, his muscles tensing all around you, the feel of Harrison and his smell radiating around you, you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

You move your hands to his shoulders and begin to massage again, just from the front this time, a feeble attempt to procrastinate against your goal. Harrison’s gone back to reading his screen, so while he’s still gathering what he’s reading, it’s your only shot.

You twist on his lap until you’re completely straddling him, your forehead pressed to his. The beautiful blue-green of his eyes sends you into a trance, melting your insides. You can swear that you see him nod a little, so you begin to move your hips. You grind and swirl on his lap, undulating your hips in a perfect figure of eight when you feel him harden beneath you.

With your ministrations paused momentarily, you take a sharp intake of breath and say, “This was never about attention because I’ve been stuck with the boys, this is because I want you.”

Harrison’s face instantly melts into an expression of relief, a goofy smile on his (what you hope to be) soft lips.

“I thought you didn’t want me because you were sleeping with the others,” he says, and you shake your head, tears of relief and happiness almost spilling from your eyes. You feel warm and fuzzy despite the guilt, shame and anger bubbling from your truancies with the Holland boys.

“You knew then?”

“How couldn’t I?” He remarks, “you’re all they talk about when there’s no adults and no Paddy in the room. What they did to you, how many times they made you cry out their names, the marks they tried to leave on you until your own dominant side came out. Every conversation I had to excuse myself out of mainly respect from you, because what they said upset me but I just couldn’t say so, but then I just came up here and imagined what you’d be doing to me.” Your heart hitches in your throat, butterflies filling your stomach and travelling into your every limb, making your skin tingle. Your stomach rises in goosebumps, as does the skin of your thighs, and you notice that it’s because Harrison has his hands underneath your (his) shirt, and he’s skimming over your waist and legs, holding you and savouring the feel of your skin beneath him. He kisses your neck, once, twice, and it’s gone.

He turns back to his computer and continues his work, looking over your shoulder and letting his eyes train every tiny black line of script on his screen. Your neediness is at an all time high, one hand resting absently on your hip, just above your bum while his other hand clicks at his keyboard and mouse like it’s second nature. The speed of his fingers makes you even needier, craving for him to be inside you already, so you climb onto his bare thigh and trap it between your own.

You dig your hips down into his leg, grinding and aching for friction, and you already know that you’re dripping onto his skin. The fine hair on his thighs gives a delicious amount of friction - not too much but not too little. As you go further, your mouth parts a little more, allowing you to let out a strangled whimper. Your thigh brushes Harrison’s cock through his boxers, and you feel his hand grip your waist tighter, almost painfully.

Your pussy starts throbbing, aching for more of him, while your hands rake his back, leaving scratch marks in their wake. Your head falls to the crook of Harrison’s neck as you approach your high, moving your hips more fervently and letting out moans is anticipation. You wonder if Harrison is even able to pay attention to his contract anymore with what you’re doing to him, but that thought is set to rest when you’re right on the edge, but both of his hands grip your hips and move you off his thigh, the skin glistening with your essence.

For a minute, you think he’ll be angry, make you clean it up, but instead he just kisses you. His lips catch yours more desperately than you could’ve dreamt, immediately biting down on your lower lip, trapped inside his mouth. You let out the loudest moan you could in the moment, but Harrison finds it heavenly, delving his tongue into your mouth to deepen the kiss while his hands grip your ass. He pulls away, looking at you with those puppy eyes that he knows you can’t resist.

“Sit on my cock? Just ‘til I finish this section, then I’ll take you as hard as you want.”

You look sceptical, and Harrison can tell, you know because he kissed you again and moves his hands from your bum to wrap his arms around your whole body and keep you close to him. His lips pressed against your own is enough convincing, so you move your panties aside and accommodate while Harrison takes his boxers off.

When he does, you’re surprised at how big he is, bigger than any of the lads you’ve been with before. Long and substantial, you want to drool just looking at his dick standing proud against his stomach. Nervously, you slide down on him. His girth stretches your every wall and his tip hits new spots until finally you’re balls deep. He groans and exhales, eyes closed while trying to gather his bearings.

“Fuck.” He says. “Your cunt bottomed out on my cock, keeping me warm and hard, you’re an angel.”

His words drive you crazy, making you moan and involuntarily clench around him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. You wrap yourself around him like a koala bear, craving to have as much skin to skin contact as is possible. Your head lays on his chest to stay out of his way, and he seems thankful to be able to see the screen but also feel you.

You stay seated on Harrison for no more than ten minutes as he taps away at his keyboard and scrolls through the pages. Occasionally he moves, stimulating you enough for you to gasp or tighten around him, and in those instances he kisses behind your ear.

You listen to his heart, slowing or increasing its speed depending on your movements. The steady heave of his chest moving with his breathing is strangely calming, making you feel closer to him, more stimulated and comforted, something like love.

Suddenly, his laptop slams shut and he thrusts up into you. You yelp a little and snap your head up, nose nudging with his and your lips grazing.

“You’ve been driving me crazy, and you’ve done it on purpose. Were you sleeping with the others to get my attention? Am I better than them already? Bigger?” You whimper, his words building a fire inside you. “You don’t have to answer, love, I can already tell by your body.”

You cling to him even tighter than before as he clears everything off his desk, breaking a pencil pot while he’s at it, and you can’t help but chuckle.

“You choose a desk to fuck me on when we have two beds up here, both of which will make a lot less noise?”

He looks downcast and releases a giggle. “Yeah, didn’t think of that.”

“It’s fine,” you say, cupping his jaw and caressing his stubbled cheek, “you can fuck me harder on this and let the boys know who I belong to tonight.”

He places you down beneath him on the desk, still hard inside you, but instead of attacking you again in a ferocious kiss, he looks down at you and marvels in your beauty just for a moment, his scrutiny surprisingly doesn’t phase you, it only makes you feel treasured, so as your eyes follow the movements of his rippling muscles, he smiles faintly and kisses you softly.

“Fuck me Haz,” you whisper, those simple words being all the motivation needed, because he pulls out, leaving you whining at the emptiness of only his twitching tip inside your core, but within seconds he pushes all the way back in.

He feels heavenly, your eyes rolling back into your head and a surprised moan leaving your lips. He smiles down at you before pulling out and thrusting back inside you, setting a steady pace. Every move feels like paradise, every jolt of his hips swindling shockwaves of pleasure through your craving body, having been desperate for him for a good while.

He feels heavenly inside you, his tip grazing that special spot inside you. “Harrison!” You cry, as quietly as you can. He leans down and pulls the neck of your (his) shirt down so that he can get access to your breast, immediately latching his lips onto your nipple, biting at it viciously while pressing his hands onto your spread thighs. You feel yourself approaching an edge, a timed coil curling inside your stomach as his ministrations continue.

He’s so much better than the others - not that they weren’t good, they have a basic idea of what to do with you and how to use you, and they’re decently sized, but they can’t make you feel the way Harrison can.

“I’m close...” you whisper between incoherent murmurs. He’s not too noisy, which may or may not be a blessing paired with the slamming and squeaking of the desk beneath your bodies, it’s mostly just breathy grunts and occasional curses.

“Me too, beautiful.” He dances his forefinger up your thigh and rubs circles around your wetness, allowing you to let go.

The coil within springs open, and you feel your body fall loose, vision blurring with stars in your eyes and core clenching around Harrison - it feels like heaven. Feeling this, he climaxes soon after you and to save from screaming, kisses you in a messy fight of teeth and tongues, half muffling the pornographic moans that would otherwise be bound to spill.

Harrison falls down onto you, chest heaving and breathless, but nonetheless he still places open mouthed kisses to your neck.

“I’ll wait for you to get your breath, shall I?” You tease while running your finger up and down his spine. He chuckles and climbs fully on top of you, cuddling you into his chest. “Well, now I can see why you don’t have a girlfriend yet. Can’t even go for one round without ending up flustered. Lucky that I’ll have you no matter.”

He hums into you, holding you and savouring the silence filled with only your breathing and a few sounds from downstairs, but soon the wood becomes too uncomfortable.

Harrison slips an arm beneath you and carries you across the room to his unmade bed, as opposed to your neatly tucked in one with your entire collection of clothes and makeup on top of the sheets, but his bed is probably comfier since he’s always in it.

“Round two?”

Your heart rate increases, a burning blush rising to the tips of your ears as well as a shy smile snaking its way across your lips, still swollen from Harrison’s attack, not to mention the swollen parts of your skin where he paid a little more attention, leaving marks and memories for days to come.

“I’d like to see you try.” You tease, keeping your cool resolve despite feeling anxious straddling him, his eyes flitting between your chest, eyes and lips, unsure of what to do or how to use his mouth, a definite rarity for someone like him.

He seems desperate, putting his hands on your hips and thirstily jolting his hips upwards - if you’d been a few inches further down, he would’ve been straight back inside you, and maybe that’s what he was hoping for.

“Any hole’s a goal, isn’t that what Tom says?”

He loves it when you tease him, that much you’re learnt over the years. Every girl he’s been with you’ve found a way to tease him about it, anything he says, anything he does, and he loves it since it usually ends in a play fight and him surrendering control of the tv remote to you. This time however, it ends in something far different.

He tugs the shirt up further and pulls you roughly so that your calves are either side of his neck, your once again dripping core hovering above his face and awaiting tongue.

“Only if it’s yours.” He says, his breath sending shockwaves through your body straight from your core.

His tongue deftly finds its way through your folds and inside your tensing cavern, and it feels heavenly. His nose nudges at your clit while his tongue laps up all around you, his lips working in tandem while his tongue dances inside you. The moans leaving your mouth are otherworldly noises that you’ve never quite made before, maybe because you’ve never sat on anyone’s face, never mind someone as experienced as Harrison, something that you’re now learning is far from a bad thing.

“Harrison!” You cry when he delves a little deeper. His eyes remain between your own and the way your boobs bounce inside his shirt while you squirm on top of him. Every noise the pair of you make masks the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs to the attic, and muffle the sound of knocking on the door.

Harrison’s mouth continues its assault on your needy heat, your one hand weaving into his hair while the other massages your breast through your shirt, bringing stimulation to your nipple and bringing your climax closer and closer...

“Haz, we get that you hate work but you really don’t have to make so much noise- OH MY FUCKING GOD!”

You freeze, your recently shut eyes shooting open and darting over to the door, ajar with Tom standing just over the threshold, staring right at the two of you with a face of horror and disgust. Harrison however, bites down on your sensitive nub in his state of shock, and your second orgasm washes over you in such a state of unexpected euphoria that you lose all your bearings.

You cry out Harrison’s name like a prayer, chanting it while he cleans you up, and it’s not for a solid minute after your climax ends that you realise Tom is still in the room with you, rendered speechless, mouth agape and dumbfounded.

When you clock what’s happening, you grasp Harrison’s duvet and yank it up to cover you both while you climb off Harrison’s face, his lips still glistening with your cum. He seems lost for words, too, blanching more and more with every passing second. He gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. No one moves, except for Harrison’s cock twitching under the duvet.

“It’s not what it looks like...” you say, your words getting lost in the thick tension of the room, like a rubber band pulled so tightly that it could snap at any given moment.

“Really? Because it looks like Harrison was just eating you out!”

You can’t fault Tom's logic, it is exactly what it looks like, so you just blush and pull the duvet up to your chin while wishing for a black hole to swallow you up.

You can’t help but notice how beautiful Harrison looks though, plump lips and that wonderful glint in his eyes, messy hair and no top.

“Ok, so it’s exactly what it looks like, surprise?” You can’t figure out what to say to him in the current situation, but instantly feel relaxed when Harrison begins to rub his palm up and down your thigh beneath the duvet .

“What- oh, this is why you called?” Sam now makes an appearance, folding his arms and standing next to a resolute Tom. You can’t decipher if he’s angry, amused or something else. “Our plan worked!” He suddenly shouts, and within seconds, Harry arrives beside the pair, a smirk on his lips.

“Really? So shagging Y/N and talking about it in front of me was all a ploy to get us together? And if so, why does Mr Fancy Pants here look so angry?” Harrison asks, and you can feel him willing his boner to wilt while in the presence of the brothers.

“Yes!” Comes paddy’s voice from the doorway, swiftly standing in front of Tom.

You smirk, but Harrison scowls, unable to accommodate this situation within his mind.

“He’s probably shocked because he walked in on you two... you know. But yeah, it was all a plan, sorry by the way.” Harry says, you just wave it off but Harrison’s grip on your leg tightens.

“Don’t be angry, it worked didn’t it?” Sam chimes in, patting Paddy on the back before making his way out.

Tom has to have the last word, you can see it on the settling lines on his forehead, so you brace yourself closer to Haz. “And don’t I bloody know that it worked!”

Maybe the drama was worth it for the laugh out of Tom’s reaction, though Harrison would argue with you there.

#harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield #haz osterfield #tom holland #tom holland imagine #haz osterfield smut #haz osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield smut #Simon and mark #Tom and haz #holland boys

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pinkhairedlily · 3 years

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Chapter 10 - Student Council President Sakura

SCPS AO3 | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

To Sakura, world still revolved normally; nothing changed between them, nothing mattered enough for her to behave differently. To Sasuke, the world shifted in its axis, having revealed a glimpse of his true feelings to her however falsely convenient she deemed them to be; everything changed between them, everything mattered enough for him to behave differently.

Like flinching at her slight grazes on his skin or his ears picking up her voice in the middle of the crowd noises or his eyes following the trail of her rose hair tied up in a ponytail, bewitched by the sway of the strands as she tousled to get to the front of the fray, her fingers burning a hole through his sleeve.

“HOMERUN!” The announcer screamed through the microphone, the feedback running through ripples in the throng of people. “Uzumaki Naruto nails a clutch win in the last inning for his team in their first ever nationals!”

Screams erupted around them, and as others jumped and cursed and hugged each other, she stood there frozen in time, her hands on her mouth. “He won. He won, Sasuke.” Her voice quivered, and he knew then that she was crying.

“Yeah, the blonde idiot won.” He allowed himself to smile, picking the blonde among the ruckus that enfolded below.

An hour and lesser filled stadium after, the two went down to congratulate their friend with open arms despite the sweat and the grit. Sasuke went with the flow, jumping up and down and circling about in the middle of the pitcher’s mound. They broke away from each other’s hold after several minutes, breathless in the undertaking, and flushed with all the gleeful screaming.

Two firm pats on Naruto’s back and a ruffle on his porcupine hair. “You did well, idiot.”

“Ah I earned a compliment from grumpy. This truly is the best day of my life!” His teammates broke in laughter in the background.

“I’m so proud of you. I’m so glad we took the bullet train to watch your game,” Sakura said through tears. Perhaps it was the height of the celebration or the ride of her emotions; she reached for Naruto’s face and placed a kiss on his cheek.

Sasuke turned away just in time, thankful for the screams, hoots, and whistles that possessed the student body. In his aversion, he also saw another face who kept looking anywhere but at the two. Hyuga Hinata, his ironic comrade in heartbreak.

Haru was in the group of spectators earlier, a pseudo-coach and mood-raiser for the team, his undercut prominent against his cap. Sasuke guessed him and Hinata were civil enough to be enclosed in a common space. He walked towards her, hands in his pockets.

“I’m gonna confess to him in the cultural festival,” she told him before he could reach her side.

He leaned against the bleachers, shutting out the continuing noises from the student body. In the midst of it, he can hear Sakura scolding all of them for misunderstanding. “And you’re gonna get rejected.”

“At least I told him what I felt,” she replied. “Did you already?”

He shrugged, unsure himself whether he got the point across or not.

“You better make it clear. You berated me for giving mixed signals after all.”

“You don’t hold your punches, Ms. Hyuga.” Sasuke sighed. “I think she rejected me already.”

Hinata let out a small laugh, the first in his vicinity. “Well, I’m just giving back your advice. If you think it so, you should ask again.”

“A second heartbreak won’t do me good.”

“The future has a lot in store.” She finally landed her gaze on Naruto and Sakura who separated now and were engaged by Haru in some funny exchange. “Good luck to us, Uchiha. I’ll take my leave.”

Sasuke detached himself from the bleachers. “Without saying congratulations?”

But Hinata continued on her exit without giving him a reply. To his surprise, it was not only him who caught her leaving; a pair of blue eyes also followed after her, mouth agape, hesitant to call her name not when he was in the presence of her ex-boyfriend and ex-captain. Ah, we’re all stuck in this complex hell, aren’t we?

His phone vibrated against his pocket. On normal days, he would ignore the call, but today wasn’t normal and he had to act nice for the favor he asked.

“Did your best friend win?” Itachi’s voice greeted him.

Sasuke didn’t correct him on the terminology. He just grunted a small yes, and somehow, he can hear his brother smiling on the other end of the call.

“Glad my donation helped fund their team’s expenses. I take it you also spent some for the bullet train?”

Again, another small yes.

“That’s nice.” It was the first time he heard Itachi chuckle again after the accident. “I’m glad you have friends.”

They’re not my friends fell silent on Sasuke’s lips. All he wanted was to consistently rank first, have uninteresting interactions…but all of those foiled because of the two. “Yeah, something like that.”

He heard the beeping pager in the background. “Gotta run, little brother. See you.”

Little brother. Sasuke swallowed back an unfamiliar sound.

It was a sob.

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

Sakura tried to look at anything but him – the titles of books on his shelves behind, the heads of other faculty members bobbing, the ticking of the second hand on the wall clock. Kakashi clucked upon seeing her career sheet.

“Haruno, you’ll be graduating salutatorian, just points away from Uchiha Sasuke and yet you haven’t listed a university or a job listing. It’s referral season, and you’ve done a lot of good in this school.” Kakashi held his eyes steady on her, a firm line on his lips. “Don’t you want help?”

She mustered a smile, if that was what they call it nowadays, and handed him a filled out form. Whether he could see that it was written with wavering hands, she’d never know. “I settled on fashion design. I’ve always wanted to be a seamstress myself.”

That was a lie, and she knew Kakashi knew judging by how the firm line stayed. He briefly nodded and let her go.

Sensing the bubbling anxiety, she traversed the noisy hallways and almost sprinted to what has also become her safe space – the hidden spot of the boys behind the library. It wasn’t lunch time yet so Sasuke and Naruto wouldn’t be here. She slumped against the wall, sobs racking throughout her body.

Aimless was what she would describe her direction, untethered her depth, and a black hole her emotions.

“I wish you would let me help you.” Kakashi’s voice made her jump. She scanned her surroundings but cannot find a telling strand of silver in the hedges. He was probably standing on the entrance, just before the canopy of vines. “I didn’t follow you. I just knew the three of you went here for lunch and after-school chats. I’m a faculty, Sakura.”

“Please go away.” She never heard her voice sounded so small…and vulnerable.

“Sometimes, talking it out would make the burden feel lighter.”

She didn’t respond, and he didn’t wait for it. His audible footsteps were an indication he was moving away so she took the bait. If this was one way to be near him, why couldn’t it be in the guise of her pain?

She emerged in the hedges, eyes bloodshot red and strained, only to find him leaning against the wall, waiting with a handkerchief for her.

In an ironic turn of events, he brought her to the program she initiated. When he turned to leave to give her the privacy she needed, she asked him to stay. And that simple silent gesture gave her the courage to face her reality.

That her parents were divorcing, and in a futile attempt to cope, she made herself scarce, almost invisible.

Perhaps she was too much work for a middle-class couple with a lot of bills and unemployed siblings to feed. Maybe if they didn’t have a child that hindered their defining career opportunities to relocate or get promoted to an overseas position. Her outstanding community work and numerous distinction medals just weren’t strong enough to warrant a reconsideration of their decision.

And maybe it was a wrong move to get a part time job and dissociate from the pink-haired, studious Sakura and be the adult black-haired, funky cashier Sakura because it only gave them the idea she can live just fine on her own without any of them worrying about her instead of seeing the whole thing as a call for help.

“If you’re ready, you should share your problem to the two,” her sensei said when they finished with her therapy consultation.

“They have heavier baggage,” she simply replied.

“They’re not comparable. Naruto has an empty baggage, a kid with no past, yet he drags it around. Sasuke has sand for load, it’s leaking at the seams but he refills it. And for you, it could be air or water. It’s because you’re compressing them all inside that they become heavier.” He laid a hand on her head, an action of a sensei to a student. “Thanks for sharing some of those with me, Sakura.”

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

Cultural festival was an amalgamation of confessions, last clinchers, and stolen moments. Whoever snatched a dance with someone they liked would be blessed with good relationship – that was how the saying went among the ranks of students.

It was the reason why Sasuke and Naruto hid throughout the day in their spot, content to eat instant ramen, batches of onigiri, and packs of orange and tomato juices. Throngs of freshmen and second years were on the hunt for their feet as dance partner.

“If only they knew I have two left feet,” Naruto grumbled. “I can’t even enjoy the day with Sakura. It’s pathetic to think I’m stuck with you.”

“I second,” Sasuke said. “Do you think she’ll confess to Kakashi later?”

“She hasn’t made a move yet?”

Sasuke shook his head.

“Wait what do you mean you second?”

Minutes of silence ensued. Sasuke put a whole onigiri in his mouth, too flustered to say it right at his face. “I like Sakura.” The words were jumbled with his chewing, and he was sure Naruto didn’t catch it.

But the idiot grinned and laughed maniacally. “The great pretender finally admits! When did you realize it? Did you have the fireworks in your head too?” He even mimicked a rainbow with his hands.

“That’s a rainbow, you idiot.” Sasuke scratched the back of his head. “When she was busy looking at Kakashi playing the piano.”

“Ah, will we ever have the chance?” Naruto snickered. “Let’s confess tonight, grumpy.”

“Already thought of that and already prepared for it.” Despite the seemingly downfall trajectory of their common affections, Sasuke still managed a smirk.

Not to be one-upped, Naruto pulled out his phone and flashed a small bouquet of dahlias. “Ready to be picked up tonight.”

A Greek tragedy, that was them; two best friends falling in love with and being rejected by the same girl.

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

Majority of the school population have gathered around the giant bonfire on the campus grounds, but Sakura knew Kakashi would be stuck in his cubicle in the faculty lounge, nose-deep in a novel, headphones in to drown out the noise, and feet propped up on his desk.

Tonight was the night she would bare her other truth naked to him.

But before she could even step foot in his space, she already heard the voice of his favorite book drifting across the nooks and partitions.

“You should be with your students.” Giggling and a sound she would only assume was a string of kisses.

“I don’t have much time with you. Let me be greedy just this time.” Hearing her sensei say that painted him in another light. So there was this very attached Kakashi, far from the laidback and chill professor she knew.

Sakura should turn her heels and join the rest of the student body. She should act like a good student model, ignore her teacher’s affairs, and pretend she was never here. Except she tripped while running, and that summoned the two of them to her aid.

“Sakura? Did you need something?”

She side-eyed Rin Nohara and shook her head, her one only good chance blown to bits by her own recklessness and stupidity. She muttered an apology and starts to walk away with limping feet when Rin stopped her.

“I’ll get a drink in the vending machine. I’ll be back in five minutes Kashi.”

Thank God for women intuition, Sakura thought.

But inevitably she was left alone in the corridor with her heartbeat far stronger than the noise of the band outside around the campfire and the unknowing subject of her admiration. She held tightly to his rubber tie around her wrist, the mark etched deeper by each day she leaves it there mangled with her pulse.

He crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, a smile etched on his face, the soft moonlight falling on his features only to highlight his beauty mark. It was unfair seeing him like this only to have him break her heart.

She knew she didn’t stand a chance, but even then, she had to hear it clear and loud.

“I like you.”

Were three words ever enough to encapsulate the three years of affection she held for him? One word for each year she felt content with glimpses of him, may they only be passing shadows in the halls, an echoing voice in the adjacent room, the silent arbiter in council meetings or a silver strand she could easily pick out in a sea of black of white.

Kakashi looked at her, his smile still etched, his face still immaculate. “That wasn’t a question.”

“And that wasn’t a reply.” It was nature to look away when one was too scared to face truth, but for the many times he helped her, even without him fully realizing the extent, she owed it to him to be brave.

“But you already know the words.” A head pat, the same gesture that gave her comfort in the past was the same gesture that broke her heart just now. How easy it was for the breaker to give and take minute and mindless affections, but what right did she has to think they were special to begin with?

It was the end of an illusory conception.

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

A bouquet of dahlias and a bouquet of daffodils were hidden behind Naruto and Sasuke. It was dark, already past seven, the bonfire in its final vestiges, its sputtering flames waiting for last-minute lovers to dance in their splendid light.

Within the shadows came the girl of their dreams, hair untangled and morose emerald irises dipped in pools. Sasuke first noticed the bare wrist, the rubber tie gone, and he knew then that she confessed, and she was heartbroken.

He didn’t need to say anything to the blonde beside him. Her stance was enough to convey her present state of being. What she needed right now were her friends, not aspiring lovers stupid enough to break the friendship label.

And so they hid the bouquets on their backs, safe in the clutches of the dark, and when she reached out to them, their free hands already grasped her trembling fingers in waiting.

There they were, three broken-hearted people, wallowing in their own respective pain, sitting on the dewy grass that would leave stains on their clothes the next morning. When the school band started the last song, Sasuke stood up, abandoning his bouquet on the side, and pulled the other two up.

“Would be a shame to end our last cultural festival like this.”

Ten steps later, they were in the middle of the crowd of couples, three awkward friends holding each other’s hands and stepping on each other’s foot.

“For the love of God, you really can’t dance Naruto. Can’t you do a simple turn to the right?” Sasuke complained.

“Why are you putting all the blame on me? You’re the one who can’t differentiate the right from left!” Naruto spat back.

She laughed, and it somehow stopped their bickering for a moment. Bent at her stomach and eyes clinched shut in crinkles, that was their Sakura.

AO3 LINK | NEXT CHAPTER | CHAPTER 11

#SCPS #student council president sakura #sasusaku #narusaku #kakasaku #uchiha sasuke #haruno sakura #uzumaki naruto #hatake kakashi #this did not feel heavy as i thought while planning it #is it a good or a bad thing? hehe #anime fanfic #fanfic #fic!pinkhairedlily #fic!pseudolily

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gabriel4sam · 3 years

Text

Not love at first sight (But love at the sixty-third life defying idiocy), a CodyWan story

Written for @swbigbang, with the help of @kitcatkim in the role of the patient beta and @outernorth for artist (art just there)

Because all the other members of their small outpost were not in shape (read, hungover), Cody and Obi-Wan go on a small, simple, totally not possibilities of explosions supply run.

Cody comes back with a headache the size of Coruscant, a new hate of insectoids life. And a brand new significant other, in the shape of his exasperating General

It’s not a hangover, it’s a hecatomb. Whatever Boil had put in his new still was a terrible, terrible idea. The entire Separatist Council could do pointes in tutus on the flight deck and the vode would neither see it, nor care about it.

Cody and Obi-Wan were the only ones not drinking the day before, them and the communication officers on duty. The communication officers because they were working, and Cody and Obi-Wan, well, because they like the occasion for the men to feel free, and they can’t with their superior officers in their company.

That doesn’t mean the men are supposed to feel free enough to incapacitate the whole bunch of idiots they are apparently in charge off.

“Latrine duties, the first time we do planet fall. The whole of them.” Cody grumbles, assessing the damage with a cold, clinical eye.

“How does that even work? Does every man have latrine duties for his own latrines? Do you make them install as many latrines as they are? ” Obi-Wan remarks. He’s the usual calm and composed Jedi Master Cody knows on the outside, but the Commander is pretty sure he’s laughing on the inside. Cody had met Quinlan Vos, ok? And he poured enough hard liquor in the man to obtain confidences. Confidences which horrified him, Obi-Wan had even less survival instincts than Cody thought, but confidences he can’t un-hear. He will know forever!

Or at least, he will know until a luckier droid kills him. Cody is not an optimist about clones living long, happy, fulfilling lives. He has eyes after all and a functioning brain.

Cody glares at Obi-Wan, just in case. He has learnt, in the two years since he took his position with his General, that Jedi react pretty well to glaring. Not that it stops them from doing stupid stuff, but at least, they feel guilty about it.

If they like the glaring party only. Commander Ponds had a lot of things to narrate about Mace Windu and the horrible, horrible conglomerate mogul.

Obi-Wan takes his most innocent air, something Cody stopped believing two days in their acquaintance, when his newly minted General had destroyed a whole block of warehouses on an unnamed moon and made a grown Hutt call for its parent. It had been a bad month for Obi-Wan. No need to judge. When innocents are in danger, the cost of the repairs is less a problem and more a number for the politicians to handle. And yes, Obi-Wan knows the money used could certainly be used in other useful ways, but no amount of credits could ever buy a life, in the eyes of a Jedi. But that day, when Cody, after a few, very stressful hours of radio-silence, had finally gotten back his General, slightly charred, the hostages, hungry and thirsty and exhausted but all of them in one piece, and a terrified Hutt, in the middle of a devastated battleground, he had understood better the warning of Alpha-17. There, Cody had sworn in petto to never underestimate his Jedi, despite the irreproachable manners, the swishing hair and the smile of a holo-star.

Together, they take the time to check every soldier, to make sure nobody was busy drowning in their own fluid because they were too hangover/still drunk, to roll over. Everybody is alive, and the communication officers are getting ready to do a double shift, and ready to nib their vode about it later.

“It’s a good thing we’re on down time,” Obi-Wan remarks, “I must confess, despite the talents of your brothers, I’m not quite sure we could withstand an attack from Grievous and his various cronies right now.”

“We would get our asses handed to us, you mean.”

“Exactly.”

Obi-Wan cautiously touches one of the abandoned drink containers, with more care than he gives to explosives.

“What did he put in this thing?” he asks, fascinated.

“You’re not testing it!” Cody immediately retorts, because he knows his Jedi, “not in the name of science, curiosity or whatever.”

Obi-Wan touches the container a second time.

Cody could swear the thing moves in return, like it wants to be pet. Obi-Wan hums, his face interested and he leans a little more in the direction of the container. If the thing starts growing whatever strange means of locomotion is on its mind, Cody is using his blaster, no matter the General’s opinion. That’s how bad holo-dramas start, with an unknown thing unleashed on an unsuspecting ship/outpost/space station. He refuses to star in one of those plot-lacking dramas his brother Wolffe pretends he doesn’t love.

The thing doesn’t move anymore and Obi-Wan loses interest and goes back to helping troopers into their quarters and their bunks.

Cody helps, but that doesn’t mean he’s not plotting terrible retributions. He knows the last few weeks have been pretty hard, the hardest in a long time, that’s one of the reasons Obi-Wan and himself made themselves scarce last night.

Now, they have a week just waiting for the Negotiator to come pick them up. One week for the men to rest and to heal and perhaps to train lightly…but that’s no reason for the sort of screw-up Cody is seeing right now. Boil and his still should be transferred from the 501th and put into whatever part of the army that handles studies about biological warfare. Biological warfare that the Republic officially doesn’t indulge in, studying it only as a way to protect its worlds against it. But Cody isn’t convinced. He has a lot of questions he will never ask about parts of the army which are not led by Jedi, and that the Jedi are trying, with no success, to have access too. Obi-Wan has promoted him so much that the Commander now has access to documents he’s pretty sure nobody thought a clone ever would. He’s staying silent for now. If the Jedi need help with that, if they fail, the vode will try, but Cody is keeping this ammunition in reserve. He can only fire it once, because when natural-borns who aren’t Jedi realize exactly how much power Obi-Wan and the Jedi council has given him and some of the other commanders, they will try to strip them of it, he just knows it.

At the end, everybody is moaning in their bunks, or manning communication, and Cody and Obi-Wan raid the nice rations, the ones with the green seals, no less food of unkown origins than the rest of it, but certainly the tastiest. They sit down at the entry of the outpost, sharing a canteen of water between them. They don’t talk, most of the time they don’t need to.

Cody isn’t really hungry but it’s easier to trick Obi-Wan into eating something when those who surround him do too. The warmth of the sun, the sounds of nature, the nice, and so rare, oh so rare, knowledge that they have a little free time instead of having to run to put out another fire. All of this is making Obi-Wan soften, like a carving of stone suddenly becoming pliable.

“Commander?” Cody’s holocom disturbs them, and Cody startles, suddenly realizing he was lost in the light playing into the copper of Obi-Wan’s hair.

“It’s nothing, really nothing probably,” the shiny in charge of this particular console explains to them, “ one of the new models of probes should have been back twenty minutes ago. I tried to raise it per the procedure, but it isn’t answering.”

“We’re supposed to be alone on this world,” Obi-Wan remarks, a line forming between his brows.

“They are still working the kicks out of this model,” the shiny admits, “that’s why we used them specifically on this planet where they are in no danger. We’re supposed to go back with all of them, for study, to hammer out the last problems.”

The line between the General’s brows is growing deeper.

“I will make a report to the Council about the danger it could pose to you, to send any vode on the field with materials not totally ready, and the Jedi Order will issue a formal protest.” His shoulders are tense. No matter the number of tries, the Jedi are blocked at every corner in the Senate in their efforts to better the life of the clones, even in the small things and it’s a terrible possibility that this time will be the same.

“You know what? We should go check ourselves,” Cody decides, because he wants to erase that line, that tension. “Since Boil poisoned the men, we could do it. A little trek in fresh air before breathing the recycled air in the Negotiator again.”

“Oh Cody, I can do it myself,” Obi-Wan offers immediately, “you don’t have a lot of free time-“

“Funny, I would have sworn you didn’t know the concept…”

“I am perfectly capable of knowing when my body needs down time.”

“That’s not what Master Erin said.”

And that’s how they leave the base.

It’s almost noon, birds or other small things Cody can’t honestly identify are chirping, the air is crisp and fresh, and the sky is only slightly purple, with no risk of rain. No matter how many worlds he sees, Cody is still out of countenance on worlds where the combination of gases in the atmospheres and stars emitting other waves than the Kamino sun combine to give entire landscapes strange colours. Most of the time, he’s wearing his helmet which filters the strangeness of it, and it’s only at the end of the battle, when he takes it off, that he realizes everything is weirdly green-tainted.

Also, he’s pretty sure Arc Trooper Fives was lying when he told him once he visited a world on a body guarding mission with his own Jedi were everything was glittering. He’s not putting any money on it, because Skywalker and his men were guarding the Naboo Senator. From what Cody observes, when Naboo people enter the scene, glitter just happens. He also thinks Fives is much better being Rex’s problem than his own.

Most of their supplies have already been packed for retrieval, so Cody and Obi-Wan only took one hover bike out, and for now Obi-Wan is piloting, Cody behind, and the Commander is beginning to think he made a tactical error. The plastoid of his armour is supposed to stop him from feeling Obi-Wan’s warmth, but Cody could swear he can still feel it. For all that the Jedi can seem aloof and strange, nothing makes him remember his General is flesh and blood than encircling a linen-warped waist with his arms.

The world passes around them, the colours of the trees, the playful course of the clouds in the sky, the peaceful scenery of a wild world, with its inherent qualities and defaults. Cody likes those worlds better, untouched by sentient life. Growing up in the sterility of Kamino, there is something intoxicating in nature running its course, forests giving way to meadows, biotopes decided by climates and geology, and not by a careful hand arranging them for the maximal profits in their exploitation.

Cody understands about the need for fresh territory, with the growth of population, but certainly, certainly the most carefully hidden part of him insists quite vehemently, there must be another solution than the desolation of grey and pollution that is Coruscant. Something else than seeing the poorest people of the Republic living in deplorable conditions, never seeing the fresh green of a new leaf, as the richest ones can sample the delights of nature in carefully constructed reserves?

More and more, Cody is curious about the Agricorps, and their works to restore degraded biotopes, but he had the vague impression, when he asked questions about it to his General, that it’s a difficult subject for him.

Probably, Obi-Wan wanted to go into the Agricorps and they didn’t want him to, for whatever reasons. Cody thinks it’s more glorious to restore nature and to help feed a community than to go to war, like Obi-Wan is doing right now, or to negotiate treaties, which he vaguely thinks is Obi-Wan’s job in time of peace.

Cody’s thoughts drift gently as the journey continues, going from nature’s beauty to the exact shade of Obi-Wan’s hair when he has been under a natural sun for more than a few hours. The way the copper of it becomes richer and richer…. After a little less than two hours, they switch pilots, and Cody does his best to keep his thoughts on track. It would be stupid to crash just because he’s distracted by a flight of birds taking off with the noise of the bikes, no matter how graceful they are. He concentrates on piloting, and not on the presence of Obi-Wan behind him, his arms around Cody, and not in the colours of the forest around them, and the bucolic impression of their little expedition.

The last known position of their wayward probe put it next to a small lake, four hours away on hover bike, at the base of the mountainous regions. If this part of the world was in winter season, the most logical reason for their missing probe would be a mudslide. Cody told in his reports time and time again that the probes should fly higher, that the field itself is much less friendlier than believed in the labs, but apparently nobody listens to him.

It’s the end of spring on this part of the planet, the probe was probably eaten by a giant fish, or something equally undignified.

They unseat on a single beach, the last known location. No more probe there than dignity and decency in the Senate. Nothing. No blackened hull of the thing if it had exploded under mysterious circumstances, best known as shoddy work in the conception. Not even a trace they could track back.

Cody turns on himself, surveying the landscape. Vegetation, mountains, peaceful lapping of water on the beach, more mountains with their snowy capes, a lot of weird looking trees. For a vacation, it would be peaceful. For missing military equipment, it’s sadly lacking.

“By incredible luck, you wouldn’t sense our missing flying friend in the Force?” Cody asks, because that would simplify things. That would simplify things, so of course the answer is no. As Obi-Wan struggles with putting together the scanner, Cody gathers pieces of driftwood, intending to start a fire. If they have to circle on foot, on uneven ground, to find the probes, nothing says they can’t do it after another meal next to a warm fire. In the harsh reality of war, Cody has learnt to wisely enjoy the few moments of peace, and he would very much like to teach that skill to his General. Obi-Wan is supposed to have decades of experience in him, but apparently he’s not aware that every sentient has their limits.

Cody is less than twenty meters from the Jedi and the hoverbike, facing Obi-Wan, his arms already full of a nice load when he sees Obi-Wan let go of the scanner, which tumbles on the stones, and turns to him, a hand already at his waist, reaching for his lightsaber.

“Cod-“ Obi-Wan yells, but the sound doesn’t reach Cody, as the stones give way under him, shifting in a dip of grey sand and Cody is gulped down like Master Yoda gobbles a small fish.

For a second, he can’t breathe, there is sand everywhere around him, on his skin, in his mouth, infiltrating his armour by the neck, and the wood in his arms squeeze against his ribs. He feels he’s gonna get crushed alive and he struggles with all his strength. Death has always been the end but he wanted to leave in combat. He can feel unconsciousness threatening and just before it would take him, he’s spit up violently and he rolls over with the momentum, the driftwood, the sand, and a few bits of the armour which didn’t survive the experience.

He can see someone lean over him, no more than a silhouette, because it’s so dark, he can feel the sand under his head, and also the head wound and the blood seeping out of it, and he takes a long breath, and it burns, all the way to his lungs, and then he knows no more.

For a long time, Cody floats. He dreams. Or he hallucinates.

He’s on Kamino again and he learns the world is without mercy for him and his brothers.

He’s training and he can feel Alpha-17’s eyes on him, pensive.

He’s very young and he doesn’t understand where the last of his batche went.

He’s older and he’s meeting his first Jedi, General Tii, and she always has a nice word for every clone, but her eyes are terribly sad every step she takes on Kamino.

He’s meeting Rex and their friendship soars instantly.

He’s seeing brothers dying and he’s seeing rescues and the world is a never ending war, but Cody refuses to let that be the only thing his brothers will know. He watches and he checks and he learns and he places his brothers the best he can, and he’s evaluating Jedi and people, and planets and his mind never stops.

Cody wakes up. General Plo Koon is leaning over him and Cody lets relief seize him, until he realizes something is wrong. No eye covers, no breathing masks, and as much as Cody can see in the very low light, the thick leathery hide acting as skin is much lighter than Plo Koon’s. A Kel Dor, but not the Jedi Master that the Wolffe’s pack would follow to the end of the galaxy and beyond.

After a few seconds of his brain going round in circles, it finally stops at a very important point: Kel Dor and humans don’t breathe the same atmosphere, and this Kel Dor is without breathing apparels. Cody goes to put a hand on his mouth in instinctual movement, like he could stop himself from suffocating, but the other lays a hand on Cody’s forearm, his entire body language non-threatening, and says something he can’t understand. That’s when Cody realizes something translucent is surrounding his head, like a bubble inflating and deflating with every breath he takes. He pokes it, very carefully. It’s flexible, slightly sticky and it smells earthy, a little like those mushrooms his General insisted he try once, when he took him to his friend Dex dinner.

Cody takes a careful breath. He doesn’t die in terrible suffering, so he takes another one. The air entering his lungs still seems appropriate for his species. He tries to sit up, moving very slowly to make the stranger understand he’s not attacking, and the Kel Dor helps him.

Seated, he can better observe the place around him. He has been placed on a pallet of light fur, in some sort of carved place, the walls decorated, not in paint, but in carving, and his armour is against one of the walls, carefully stacked. Cody wants to touch his head, where he was hurt, but once again the Kel Dor stops him before he touches the bubble. The only light comes from a small clay bowl full of sizzling oil, where a wick has been adapted. It doesn’t give enough light to help Cody see more than the small room and a crude overture in the stone, leading to more darkness. He can’t even study perfectly the features of the Kel Dor, more than to be sure it’s definitely not Master Koon.

The Kel Dor says something again and Cody makes a frustrated noise.

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak your language.” The other doesn’t seem to understand that, so Cody tries Mando’a, with the same result.

He tries the Galactic Sign Language, no results.

He knows a few signs of the Alderaan Sign Language, the one from their Southern Hemisphere. Queen Organa taught him a few lessons once during a lockdown in the Royal Palace when he was guarding her, between grumbling about clones’s rights and what her husband better do about it in the Senate, and Cody learns fast. The Kel Dor still doesn’t react in any useful way.

“A common language would be pretty useful to know if I’m your guest or your prisoner,” Cody jokes. Sarcasm now. He’s spending too much time with his General.

He shifts, trying to see if he will be stopped from standing, but the other only helps him, carefully arranging on Cody’s torso the ending of the bubble. Now that Cody studies it more attentively, he’s sure the stuff is organic. It’s like they forced his head and the superior part of his torso into some sort of ring of weird looking mushrooms, the mycelium of one of them extended around his head. If this is producing oxygen for him, he really doesn’t want to disturb it.

The world tilts when he stands up but the Kel Dor pushes a shoulder under Cody’s arm and they go out. When Cody passes his armour, he fetches his blaster, and the other doesn’t stop him. Either he doesn’t understand it’s a weapon, or he doesn’t think Cody will attack him. Her? Them? Are Kel Dol gendered beings?

Exiting the small room, Cody can’t see. Everything is dark around them. He can hear movements and the air around him has the quality of an enormous space. A cave, he would think, but the little lamp his new friend has in his claws is not enough.

“Of course,” Cody remarks, “your eyes are much much better. You don’t need a bank of lamps.” He almost jumps when someone joins them and if his head wasn’t still ringing, he probably would have attacked, but it’s only another Kel Dor, smaller, with a skin more brown. They ask something to the first one, but again, there is no sense for Cody.

He’s guided to a stone bench and the little lamp is pushed into his hands. Kel Dor are going in and out of the little circle and Cody tries to evaluate how many of them there are, but he’s, to his great shame, not good enough to distinguish between the Kel Dor easily. He can isolate one or two who have more evident features for a human, like one missing an arm, but the rest of them, all dressed in a very similar way with some furs identical to those Cody woke up on, and the alien features. Cody feels anger against himself. He judges natural borns for not making an effort to distinguish between the vode, despite their efforts to gain their own identity by tattoos or dyes, and he shouldn’t be victim of the same bias.

Finally, someone sits next to him. Cody studies their face, trying to commit them to memory.

People don’t seem unfriendly. He’s pretty sure the one he woke up with is some sort of local healer, and that it is this one who came back to him several times. Children even come to him, chattering in their language in a way which makes him think of the younger ones on Kamino, before some of their batches started to disappear and they started to understand what their fate in the world would be. A particularly daring little one climbs onto his lap and Cody looks around, ready to see the parent arrive and take its offspring from the strange being. But this community seems so peaceful nobody sees a problem with the child on the stranger's lap.

The little one shows him his treasure, a cube deeply carved with symbols Cody can’t decipher. Of course. In a world without sun, carving must be a medium and painting, or writing, must be inexistent.

“It’s a very nice cube,” he says to the little one, whose gender he can’t decipher. If Kel Dor have gender. He’s pretty sure he heard once that the biggest number of genders registered for a sentient species was eight, and the smaller zero, but he has no idea for this species.

The child seems pretty happy with the answer, even if they can’t understand it any more than Cody can understand their own opinion, expressed in an uninterrupted flow.

Around him, he can vaguely perceive people going about their day. How calm. How reposing. Nevertheless, peaceful or not, Cody can’t breathe the same atmosphere as them, and the strange organic concoction they put on his head to help will soon find its limits. He’s getting thirsty, for once, and he can’t drink without taking the thing off, which he can't. And that’s not even thinking about his General, who must be trying to reach him by any means the Force gives him.

If he knows Cody is alive.

No, no, he must know.

And even if the Force, whose exact limitations Cody is quite unsure of, even if the Force can’t tell Obi-Wan Cody is alive, Obi-Wan is not exactly a man to just go back to the outpost and declare him dead. He will search and search and search, and bring Cody back alive to his vode, or his body for his brothers to honour.

Cody knows: it had been a terrible row between the Jedi on one part and the Kaminoan and the Senate on another, this refusal to abandon dead clones bodies to the elements.

And, to the surprise of the Senate who was in the habits to bully the Jedi for centuries, the Jedi hadn’t budged. But Cody had seen what it had cost them: the Senate had made them pay, in late important reports who the Jedi needed for the war efforts, on refusal of important supplies, suddenly labelled unessential…

So, Obi-Wan is searching for him at the moment, and Cody needs to go to him. The ringing in his head, present since he woke up, has slightly diminished, and he has walked with more grievous wounds.

The question is now: how to mime exit to the Kel Dor, how to ask for a guide? Because if he has to feel around the cave until he finds an exit, he will, but that would be so much easier.

“Hoping there is an exit into your cave, little one,” he says to the child, who is falling asleep on his lap, “because if I have to drill through the roof to the exterior of the planet, it’s gonna cause breathing problems for your city.”

An adult approaches them, a long plaid in their hands, and they mime Cody putting it around his shoulders. Instead, Cody wraps the little one in it and puts the resulting bundle into the adult’s arms.

“I don’t suppose you could send me to the nearest exit?” He asks, and of course, the Kel Dor doesn’t have an answer.

He takes the little lamp and leaves to explore. He can’t see well more than two meters from the circle of light, and even with it, his eyes are struggling.

Soon, he’s stopped by a wall, which he follows until he finds a low door, with only a curtain. He risks an eye, feeling quite voyeuristic, but he only sees something resembling a storage space, big amphoras against a wall.

He continues to follow the wall, finds another one, loses himself in what is a succession of low houses. Above him, the roof of the cavern is still invisible and he can’t see the walls. He finds another little place with stone benches.

Or is it the same?

No, even underground, Cody is sure of his sense of direction. It’s another one place, and the city is bigger than he thought possible. He’s also walking way too slowly, because of the problem of light and his still ringing head.

“Kriff,” he whispers, sitting down on one of the benches.

“Obi-Wan, please find me,” he whispers before scolding himself. He’s no melodrama maiden, he is perfectly capable of finding the surface again by himself.

A burly Kel Dor approaches him, mushrooms in his claws and says something.

“I’m sorry, I can’t understand what you’re saying,” Cody tries to explain. The other sits next to him and gesticulates to the mushrooms helping, he thinks, him to breath, and when Cody doesn’t do anything, he starts placing the ones he brought against the first ones. They seem to merge in a frankly disgusting scene which is probably mushrooms porn.

“Does that mean you need to change them regularly for me to breathe?” Cody asks, despite knowing he won’t receive an answer he can understand.

To add another problem to the long list Cody is already shouldering on, the cave floor starts to tremble and people start yelling.

People are yelling, and despite the language barrier, Cody can understand the panic with no problems.

The soil beneath his feet grumbles again. There is a sound like a rockslide, and more yells, and terror is the taste at the back of Cody’s throat, because he still can’t kriffin see.

Finally, the trembling is so terrible he’s thrown on his knees and the sound reaches a crescendo as a great light emerges from the rock soil, three hundred meters from where Cody is kneeling. It’s some sort of giant worm, with a maw higher than Cody. It roars and glows even brighter, the bioluminescence of its chitin almost dazzling for Cody himself.

All around Cody, Kel Dor are yelling and struggling on their feet with great difficulties, as the rock soil is still trembling. The beast roars again and it sounds like a thousand ships taking off at the same time in the confined environment. As Cody is helping a Kel Dor to their feet, the pandemonium reaches an even higher spike as another worm emerges, further than the first, and the quake of the rock sends them flat on their bellies.

Cody really regrets letting Boil distribute his production yesterday, what he wouldn’t give for ten men and a rotary canon right now! Even for Hardcase, who he’s really happy is most of the time Rex’s problem, and his tastes for explosives.

He hoists himself more or less vertical, swearing all he can at the same time. He helps the Kel Dor to their feet again and then assesses the situation.

The lights of the worms let him have a good gaze for the first time at the enormous cavern they are in and the low buildings in it. Behind them he can even see big overtures, probably an entire network of caverns. An entire city in the dark, deep in the soil, protected from the outside world and its atmosphere which the Kel Dor can’t breathe, and from the Republic scanners which never knew they were there.

Protected from the sun, too.

And now that the light has come to them in the form of predators, they are defenceless. Cody can see people trying to flee, with a hand on their eyes, and with no success. By the time Cody has succeeded in approaching the scene of the disaster, at least three Kel Dor have been swallowed.

One of the worms, the closest, roars again and Cody doesn’t lose time: the maw, unprotected by the chitin covering the body, seems like a perfect target.

He raises his blaster and fires.

Another roar, even more deafening, as blood splatters all around in a gorish scene. A good part of the mandible has exploded, but the beast isn’t dead. It strikes, trying to gobble Cody like it did the poor Kel Dor. The difference is that the Commander can see in the light, on the contrary of the first victims. He evades just in time to escape certain death.

He rolls over and raises his blaster a second time, but the angle is worse than the first time, and the shot dampens itself on the chitin with no more effect than darkening it, and enraging the worm even more.

Again, it tries to kill Cody and the man dances out of range, blessing the hours of training the Jedi gave all of them. It had been the first thing the Jedi had done, because they thought the training the vode had received on Kamino didn’t focus enough on the art of dodging.

Cody never told them it was because the trainers and the Kaminoans thought the vode easily expandable and more useful for a suicide strike. He suspects the Jedi knew, if the way they act around the Kaminoans is proof.

Dodging, advancing, retreating, taking a shot every time he sees an overture, Cody fights, more a reflex than anything, to protect the Kel Dor. He wouldn’t refuse a little help; with spears even if they don’t have other weapons, but the cavern inhabitants are useless. They are not even running away from the worms, full of the terror of death, and the light, which have come in their city.

Nevertheless, the issue of the fight was never a real question. Even hurt and far away from his usual fighting grounds, Cody was bred a warrior and he had honed the skills given to him by his genetic donor all his life. The worm, a female, is in the habit of only fighting other female worms during the mating season for access to the best breeding ponds and to gobble Kel Dor and every animal it could. It never had to fight a sentient being, especially one with a blaster.

The blaster’ shots finally damage the roof of its mouth enough and one of them burns its path to the brain. The beast dies immediately, but the nervous system needs time to receive that message. For a moment, Cody fears the convulsions of the enormous body will cause the entire caves system to collapse on their heads.

When the movements finally stop, he vaults himself over a rock slide, caused by the events, and approaches carefully. The worm is still partially obscured by the rock he emerges from, but Cody can see a good twenty meters of it. He’s bringing back a chitin part to the GAR, because he wants ships protected like that!

A sudden movement to his left makes him turn, but too late. His zoological fascination has caused Cody to make a horrible, rookie mistake, the sort of mistake which makes a rookie never have an occasion to become something other than a rookie.

For a moment, he had forgotten there was a second worm.

He brandishes his weapon, but it’s too late. Only his reflexes save him from being cut in two, but a razor sharp incisor scraps against his armour, parting it like butter and only missing the skin by half a centimetre. The worm has no interest in the Kel Dor, no matter how easy prey they are. It just wants to kill the stubborn little creature who just killed its mother. His blaster clatters on the rock, too kriffin far away. Cody rolls on himself, tries for it, but he already knows it’s too late, when the sound of a lightsaber being ignited announces the arrival of the cavalry, just in time.

Obi-Wan Kenobi arrives on the scene like an armed deux ex machina. He’s wearing Cody’s helmet in order to breath in the cavern and death is burning light-blue in his hand. Rare are the materials which can resist the power of a lightsaber, and Obi-Wan doesn’t take chances with Cody’s life, no matter how he is repelled by the taking of a life, even an animal one. The head of the worm falls on the other side of the body as Obi-Wan is still airborne from one of those improbable jumps Force Sensitive do. The second his feet touch the rock; he’s rushing to Cody, trying to assess his health.

Across the galaxy, Anakin suddenly sits down in the marital bed, sending Padmé, who was asleep across his torso, tumbling into the sheets by the violence of his movements. The vision of a chitinous torso opening, full of meaty juice, dances before his eyes.

“Ani?” The young Senator asks, once he has succeeded in making her put down the blaster she retrieved from even the Force doesn’t know where. Padmé doesn’t do peaceful when she’s woken up abruptly, something he learned quickly in their marriage. Convincing the handmaiden that every noise inside their bedroom wasn’t a murder attempt and that they shouldn’t rush in, weapons drawn, was another interesting adjustment to the married life.

“I just.….I’m not sure…” He tries to grip what woke him up, but it already has disappeared. “I think I’m hungry,” he admits, “sorry to have interrupted your sleep.”

“The droids can make you something,” she suggests, burrowing into the nest of pillows, less prone to sudden shifting.

“Do you think we have insects?” He asks.

****************************

“Cody! Cody, are you alright?”

“Obi-Wan, General, are you hurt?” Cody and Obi-Wan ask at the same time, hands searching, patting the other bodies in gestures less destined to triage of wounds and more to the simple animal need for contact.

“The air of the cavern isn’t breathable for us,” Obi-Wan says, after a few seconds and Cody nods: “I deduced that, but the thing on my head….it’s helping.”

“How did you deduce such a- Oh, um, hello.”

Around them, the Kel Dor have begun to assemble, all of them an arm on their face, trying to protect their eyes.

“Your lightsaber, turn it off,” Cody says and, making something purr in the Commander’s chest, Obi-Wan immediately obeys, no question, no hesitation.

The Kel Dors guide them away from the scene of the carnage. Cody sees a few of them with stone machetes and axes, already working on taking apart the pale flesh of the worms, working from the wounds Cody and Obi-Wan made, as the chitin is too hard on other places of the big bodies.

Cody watches for a few seconds. One of a Kel Dor yanks open the cranial cavity. Cody turns to the other side very quickly, because butchering enormous worms is apparently more than his battle-hardened stomach can take. Nothing should make the noise an axe makes against flesh.

Cody finds his little lamp again. It’s not even extinguished, the events haven’t probably lasted more than ten minutes. The universe is a hard place, thinks Cody, where he could get eaten by any abomination with too much teeth in less time than an oil lamp runs its course.

They sit next to each other on the closest bench and in the halo of the lamp, Cody inspects his General better. He’s covered in stone dust and whatever else disgusting stuff is on his tunic: he probably crawled his way there.

The adrenaline is still burning through Cody, and joy too, as he turns to his General. On the whole, he misses the days life was simpler on Kamino, with no worms for example, but on Kamino, he never heard the sound of a lightsaber and knew, with a certainty so burning it could have well resonated in the Force, that he was saved. There is comfort, in the hard world he’s living in, in the certainty that his General will tear apart entire solar systems to rescue any clones. That all Jedi would. For a clone, raised to be interchangeable, this strong-willed refusal to leave even one of them behind is a balm to the soul.

“You found me,” he says, and he tries to infuse that with professionalism, and fails miserably.

“I will always find you,” Obi-Wan promises. It’s strange to talk to him like that, with Cody’s helmet on his head. Cody hadn’t realized he relied so much on the Jedi’s face to understand him.

“Yes, sir, but for a moment, I confess I thought you would more, avenge me or something.”

Obi-Wan touches his shoulder.

“I’m sorry to have been so long,” he says, “the system of caves proved itself tricky, and the Force insisted I couldn’t just blow up my way inside.”

“That would let the atmosphere on the outside enter,” Cody theorized, “and I think, our hosts….”

Like they have been summoned, two Kel Dor approach them. They are dressed as simply as all the others Cody has seen, but on the bust of the smaller one, there is some sort of ceremonial pectoral and it has a very big difference with everything Cody has seen since stepping into the cave. It’s in metal.

“Obi-Wan”, Cody whispers, “look at that.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t speak the language more than Cody. He can recognize it’s not the actual principal language of Kel Dor, which he has heard before, but no more than that. Nevertheless, it’s less a problem for a Jedi. He can feel in the Force other’s intentions, enough to understand easily that the people here don’t want to harm them, which Cody had deduced himself hours ago, and that they want to bring them to see something.

Cody is very happy to leave the dead bodies of the worms behind them.

And to General Skywalker eats insects! Bless the Force that Skywalker is Rex’s Jedi.

One cave. Another. Another one.

“How many are there? How big are these caves?'' Cody asks. He’s tired, hungry, thirsty, and more or less ready to go back to camp, thank you very much.

They find a ship, or more, the skeleton of a ship, in the last part of the caves system, the deepest one. It’s less a cave, and more the memory of a crash. The ship has been cannibalized, years after years, of everything useful, to the latest scrap of metal, except for the framework.

“It was probably made with a metal too dense for the meagre set of tools they have,” Obi-Wan theorizes.

“I can’t recognize the type of ship that is, the form itself is so strange,” Cody remarks, watching it with the eye of a man trained to recognize enemy and ally ships in a nano second in the middle of battle. Obi-Wan is touching the metal with his bare skin, with great reverence.

He always loved old things, his Jedi.

The happiest Cody had seen him was for a protection mission in a dusty archive, on a faraway world. General Skywalker was with them, and the young Ahsoka too, and the intel had been faulty. There had been no attack, Obi-Wan had had his Padawan and GrandPadawan close and safe, and spent his days making amorous noises at poetry treaties centuries old.

“It’s incredibly old. Probably before the foundation of the Republic."

"But that’s….that’s old as kriff."

"During the first time of space travel, ships weren’t as reliable. They probably are the descendants of a crew of explorers. After the crash, staying inside the caves was the only long-term possibility for them, if they hadn’t the means to produce enough respiratory apparatuses. It was the only way to survive for them. Nevertheless, it stopped anyone from finding them. And little by little, they regressed technically and lost the way to contact the outside."

"Do you really think they would have travelled from their world without a way to breath on other planets?"

"Perhaps it was stocked in a part of the ship lost during the crash. Perhaps it was so long ago, it was long before the Kel Dor knew very few worlds have an atmosphere breathable for them…Every species has the tendency to think the world at large tailored for them.”

They don’t leave immediately. Obi-Wan is of the opinion that Cody is too tired to use the path he himself used to find him. And he’s probably right. Cody’s head is throbbing where he hurt it during his fall, but he doesn’t see how he could get better here, where he can’t eat or drink.

What follows is a game of mime between Obi-Wan and the Kel Dors which Cody won’t forget, ever, no matter how much Obi-Wan asks, and he regrets he doesn’t have a holocamera.

After a time, and an unforgettable time it was, Obi-Wan and he find themselves stashed in a little room, so low they can’t stand. It’s more a bed stuffed inside some sort of structure made in the same weird-looking, weird-smelling mushrooms. Cody takes off the bubble around his head and Obi-Wan takes off Cody’s helmet.

The red head has the worst case of helmet’s hair Cody has seen, ever and Cody can’t stop an unprofessional laugh around his first mouthful of fresh water.

“I don't Not a head made for helmets, do I?” the Jedi smiles, as he tore in two a strange looking loaf of bread.

They fall on the food, famished, and tease each other at the same time. There is water and what Cody thinks is some root vegetables, and flatbread, and some meat he isn’t touching with a ten foot pool, just in case it's giant worm.

“If you swear to wear armour instead of linen in battle, I swear to the Force I will never mock your hair,” Cody smiles in return, and Obi-Wan makes a face, like he did already wear good, solid protection instead of tunic and leggings and whatever he calls the multiple layers of his Jedi’s clothes.

“I thought….for a moment, I thought…” Obi-Wan stops. It’s rare to see him lost for words, he of the Silver tongue, the Negotiator.

“I’m not dead,” Cody reiterates, because there is no need to beat around the bush. Even risking their lives every day the Force makes, nobody likes the kick of adrenaline when one of your men is missing. It never becomes normal. It never should.

“And yet, for a second I thought you were. When I saw the earth opening under your feet and gobbling you. And when I arrived during your battle, the Force trumpeting in my heart about the mortal danger you were running to.”

“The Kel Dor were pretty useless against those things. Couldn’t let them get eaten like that. Not when they rescued me and helped me.”

“I know. I know. And I would have done exactly the same thing.”

Obi-Wan sits on the bed, less gracefully than he usually does. From where he’s leaning against the mushroom wall, Cody stares. He can see the lines around his mouth, and after his late-night conversation with Master Quinlan Vos, he knows they aren’t from laughing. He can see the lines at the edges of the eyes, discreet for now, a little more present every day. He can see the first traces of grey on the temples, simply a trace of silver in the red mane…. He’s, almost, sure there was no grey at the beginning of the war, he has seen the holos of Obi-Wan against Prime, against Jango, all those years ago, on Kamino.

Obi-Wan is burning too bright, burning himself.

And Obi-Wan isn’t the only one not getting younger. The accelerated aging isn’t exactly good for Cody’s health, starting with his knees.

One day, he won’t be quick enough for the next giant, bioluminescent man-gobbling worm. Or Obi-Wan will be too tired against Grievous. Since they met, an assignment Commander- General decided by Alpha-17 himself, their life has been full of Separatist assassins, murderous fauna, Sith assassins, murderous geology, Separatist assassins pretending to be Sith assassins, and Sith assassins pretending to be Separatists assassins, brain-washed murderous Senators, murderous flora, murderous black holes, and one time a murderous sentient ship.

The whole galaxy is conspiring to kill clones and Jedi, for what Cody can see.

If his math is right, he survived today the sixty-third attempt on his life from Fate since he left Kamino. Obi-Wan was there for most of them, and Cody was around for the latest attempts on Obi-Wan’s life.

And one day, it will stop.

Cody opens his mouth before he can talk himself out of it. Life is short and he’s a soldier slave, he doesn’t have the luxury to wait for another time.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” he says, and Obi-Wan looks like he has been whacked on the skull with a heavy object. It’s not exactly his best face, mouth round in surprise, and Cody only feels affection. Then Obi-Wan’s lips curve into a smile like a sun, blinding, warm, and the Jedi touches the side of Cody’s face.

The Jedi touches the side of Cody’s face.

He doesn’t speak. Not yet. His head against Cody, his breath sharing Cody’s own air, they close their eyes, and Cody experiences the strange idea that he’s detaching himself from his brothers.

For the first time, there is something in his hands, or well, in his heart, that he doesn’t want to share with Wolffe or Boil, or even Rex, who has become his closest brother.

He doesn’t want to hide Obi-Wan from them, but he wants….

He hasn’t the words. Not yet.

But, with Obi-Wan at his side, he hopes he will learn them.

And he hopes his brothers too can find something, or someone, so precious they need to share the joy of knowing it, but also to keep it to themselves, like he wants to keep to himself the smile of Obi-Wan when Cody tells “I love you”, or the small freckles at the side of his mouth, visible only so, so, so close.

The first “I love you” Cody hears from Obi-Wan is whispered against his lips.

The first kiss tastes of the bread offered by the Kel Dor, of the cave’s dust and it’s perfect.

They’re still in the same situation, two exhausted men, in a cave full of toxic gases, only protected from them by some unknown mushrooms exuding oxygen, and Cody feels like he could take over the entire Republic. He sleeps curved around Obi-Wan, like two parts of the same whole, touching as much as they can, and if the headache from his head wound brings Cody to the surface a few times during their nap, he feels rejuvenated after it.

After, the Kel Dor help them find the surface and Cody and Obi-Wan leave their new friends, hand in hand, quite happy to find back the sun and the sky, the fresh air of a late morning…and almost all their men crawling around their area, trying desperately to find them.

Obi-Wan keeps Cody’s hand in his and a few brothers less intimidated than others by Cody’s glare, embarrassed and proud at the same time, even bumped their big brother’s shoulders as a sign of congratulation. Obi-Wan immediately goes red, like he’s a teen on his first crush, and not a seasoned Jedi Master whose touch can bring life or death.

Cody finds it adorable.

*******************

It’s the middle of the night shift on the Negotiator, but Cody is still working on a different time zone, so he lets Obi-Wan sleep peacefully in their shared bunk. Their shared bunk! A notion that still makes him giddy like a shiny at their first kiss, even a month after getting together. They are taking things pretty slow, or in the wrong order, Cody isn’t sure, they sleep in the same bunk every night, but haven’t got very far in term of sex, and this perfect, because this is them, and not some sort of artificial list of relationship’s milestone. And Cody already knows, deep in his soul, that he will never love a man like he loves this one, even if Obi-Wan is killed tomorrow, and he’s sure it’s the same for Obi-Wan.

The Negotiator is in route to join with the Steadfast, so General Koth is on board after a conjoined mission where Obi-Wan and him gave Cody new grey hairs. He finds him easily in the mess, demolishing a healthy serving. The stamps outside the rations are a different colour than the ones Cody and his brothers eat.

“Can I join you?” Cody asks.

“Of course,” Eeth Koth immediately answers and the chair on the other side of the table moves on its own, offering itself for the Commander. Cody arches a brow.

“Don’t tell Obi-Wan,” the General jokes, “or I will endure a lesson for frivolous use of the Force.”

Cody sits and they stay silent for a moment, the General apparently happy to let him come to his questions in peace, continuing to eat his meal. Despite being tailored for a different species’ nutritional needs, it looks exactly as unappetizing as most rations Cody is used too.

“General Ke-“

“You can call him Obi-Wan in front of me,” Eeth Koth interrupts. “There is no need to be ashamed of what binds you.” He grimaces. “Force knows we will all need all the comfort we can get before everything is set and done in this war.”

“Obi-Wan and I, we had a bit of an adventure, last month.”

“From what I heard, you have a lot of them.”

“Yes but….it was…it was the first time I was around civilians. Normal people, I mean.”

“Not Jedi and not clones, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“Putting apart the fact that you are normal people, and that we are too, that it is a slippery slope to consider us different, because then the rights…”

“I know you’re fighting for us in the Senate. I know. That isn’t the question…I just mean. They were civilians. Even more civilian than usual. I have only met natural borns who are Jedi and Senators and politicians or some sort of official. This was different. And I realized how little we know about the world outside the GAR. And how little we know about societies, and species who aren’t us. They raised us for war only…” Cody was almost trembling with it. Eeth Koth put a comforting hand on his wrist and Cody continued:

“Obi-Wan, I don’t want Obi-Wan to become my teacher. It’s not his role. But if we want to have a chance outside the war, us, the vode, we need to learn about the outside world. I wanted to ask you if there was something…a way…”

Eeth Koth had totally abandoned his meal and Cody could feel the weight of his gaze, the same gaze as Obi-Wan, transcending their species.

“Let me call a few people,” the Jedi said.

**********

Years later, Cody thinks a lot about that moment. Eeth Koth joined the Force during the war and Cody has to remember this moment for the two of them, this simple moment around a table, this moment which became one of the tipping point of his life. Not the too numerous almost-death, not the many battles, not even his first kiss with his dear Obi-Wan. This moment, in Cody’s mind, is the one which changed his fate.

Eeth Koth died not even two months after that, one among a lot of Jedi who gave their life, alongside the vode, for a chance for the galaxy and its people. Not that people are particularly thankful about it: the discovery of the Sith engineering the two sides of the conflict rocked the easy confidence of the Republic in the solidity of its system.

Democracy is never forever, if people don’t work for it.

No, democracy is only saved for now, and never will it be saved forever and ever. But that shock to the system is treated by the most intelligent of the bunch like a chance to seize. All across the reunited Republic people are working hard, entering politics, creating organizations to teach the population, to hold those in power accountable….

It’s a sad thing so many vode, jedi and civilians had to die and suffer for that. It’s even sadder to think it didn’t almost happen. The Republic almost burned, the Sith almost won, the beloved former Padawan of Obi-Wan Kenobi almost helped murder Mace Windu, Master of the Order...Mace Windu isn’t exactly the type to hold a grunge, but Obi-Wan still needed months after that to stay in his presence, the guilt that should have eaten Anakin transfered.

Honestly, if Obi-Wan forgave Anakin much too quickly, and Windu too, the vod needed a much longer time. Skywalker had almost helped the man who had engineered them as slave soldiers, the man who would have wiped out their free will, the poor part of it they still had. The vod had needed a long time to forgive, and would never forget, but Cody still has the desagreable impression Rex’s anger is a most important consequence in Skywalker’s mind that the almost death of the democratic system and the almost rise of a dictatorship.

Sometimes, late in the night, Obi-Wan stays awake, something lost in his eyes than mediation never totally makes disappear, and Cody is sure that day figures in a good part in his dark thoughts.

Obi-Wan, and Cody too, think about what could have been. If Cody hadn’t been there that day, in the Temple, who would have been in charge of keeping an eye on Skywalker in the Council Room? No one, that who. Because Skywalker was a Council member, if a very fresh one, and there wasn’t on hand a Jedi Master with enough years to take a look at a Council Member and decide he needed baby-sitting. All those Masters were deployed, or in beds in the halls of healing. But Cody, Cody was there, and since he and his General had become an item, he had taken sometimes to act, despite what his logical brain told him, not like a soldier Anakin could order around, but like an exasperated step-father. Exasperated and concerned, as the war advanced and Anakin seemed less and less attached to his morals.

Who would have followed him to the Senate when Skywalker had refused to wait anymore, and tackled him at the last minute? Who would have stopped Anakin Skywalker from doing something as tremendously stupid as to save a Sith pitted against Mace Windu?

And all of that had been possible because Jocasta Nu had taken the first excuse she could to keep Cody on Coruscant that month. A well-known linguist was visiting for a series of talks, and she thought he could be a good professor for Cody, and more importantly that well-know linguist had enough political power to obtain permission for a clone following his courses.

And the Republic had lived, because Cody loved linguistics, or more because he had loved the little he understood of it at the time.

But Cody refuses to let the horrors of those years of war, and his terrible first years on Kamino, define him. He prefers to think, again and again, to that moment with Eeth Koth.

Cody didn’t know exactly what he wanted. His accelerated childhood, raised for war and war only, hadn’t given him the words for it. He just knew that for his brothers and he to have a chance after the war, they needed more. Or even more terrible horrors would certainly befall them. Soldiers without wars aren’t useful anymore, and tools with no use are only fated to be dismantled for parts.

Following Eeth Koth’s call, Jocasta Nu and her assistants had descended on the GAR with determination, great efficiency and anger that they hadn’t thought about that themselves. By dint of foraging the Jedi Archives, and every friendly archives of the galaxy, for legal precedent to help the Vode, they had forgotten all answers weren’t found between the terabytes of a datapad.

Master Nu is seated right next to Obi-Wan in the public and trying very hard to pretend her eyes aren’t misty, as Cody receives his diploma, earning himself the title of Doctor in linguistics, for his work with the forgotten Kel Dor city, right next to the first Kel Dor of said city to have made the jump to Coruscant.

Cody isn’t the first clone to finish his thesis. Not surprising: he left the GAR years later than some of them, refusing to leave before his lover, who had been pressed into service as long as the Senate could justify it, and even longer. With Anakin leaving the Jedi Order, Obi-Wan was certainly the most famous member of it for the public, and it was as if the Senate tried to make him pay the Jedi��s refusal to abandon the vode. But Cody was the first clone Jocasta Nu talked with, when she arrived to try to help the vode not in pleading that they shouldn’t be slave soldiers, but in demonstrating they were so much more.

Cody wasn’t the first clone to leave the GAR officially, that honour went to Rex who followed Ashoka to Orto Plutonia, the first clone to be officially accepted as a member of the Jedi Corps. For what Cody understands, his life consists of almost losing his toes ten times a month, hunting with the Taz and flirting desperately with every passing skirts, as Ahsoka flirts desperately with her own Senator and supervises Republic-Taz contacts. Obi-Wan and Cody went once during permission, and Cody swore to himself that the next time Rex and Ahsoka wanted to see them, it could be on a tropical atoll.

Cody wasn’t the first clone to find a job outside of the Jedi orbit. That honour went to Fives and Tup, who left together and chose the most pacifist world they could. “We were almost separated once, never again. I’m not touching a weapon again in my life” Fives had said to Cody that day, watching Tup, busy hugging Rex, with something ferociously possessive in his eyes. Now, they have a nursery of succulent plants on a small island, in the south hemisphere of Alderaan, and Cody still isn’t sure if they are the best friends in the world, or one of those pairs who took brothers in a quite different sense, and frankly, he doesn’t care. There is a small potted thing they sent as a gift on Cody’s desk, with red undertones and white flowers once a year, but the former Commander has a black thumb, and only Obi-Wan’s careful nursing in the Force saved the poor thing already thrice.

Cody wasn’t the first clone to enter academia, that honour went to Waxer, who now teaches mathematics on Mandalore and is busy reintroducing Fett’s genes into the population with a long string of ex-partners, who still like him very much and with who he raises an army of children, at least three of them bearing a name honouring Waxer.

Cody wasn’t the first clone to marry, that honour went to Jesse and Cody isn’t touching that choice of spouse with a ten-foot pool.

Cody wasn’t the first in a lot of things. But it’s ok. He doesn’t have to lead his brothers anymore. He doesn’t have to bear responsibilities for death and help who didn’t come, and for the horrors that were their life.

The vode are free and Cody can only be a brother like any other.

He can be only Obi-Wan’s husband, even if Obi-Wan jokes that now, it’s more him that will be only the husband of Doctor Cody Kenobi, his arm candy in gatherings.

#star wars #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #codywan #my fics

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skyriderwednesday · 3 years

Text

Agathea

On a quiet Friday afternoon, Vimes spots Drumknott walking down the street with a plant.

(G rated, HC: Drumknott has a cat, 1335 words)

Also on AO3

Vimes was used to all sorts of unusual sights walking the streets of Ankh-Morpork. He had to be, considering that the background level of 'normal' here matched other places' standards for 'out of the ordinary'. 'Out of the ordinary' in Ankh-Morpork trended toward 'highly unusual' before ever making it to 'mildly curious'. 'Mildly curious' was however exactly the classification appropriate on a quiet Friday afternoon (itself an oddity) for quiet little Rufus Drumknott walking towards him carrying a potted plant. Vimes waited until the distance between them was polite for acquaintances before catching his attention. He leaned against a cart that didn't seem to have any intention of moving soon. "Afternoon," he called. The young man lifted his focus from the smooth, even paving stones and came to a conscientious stop a little across from him, giving a wide passage to any other users of the street -- though presently there wasn't anyone else around. "Good afternoon, Commander Vimes," he said levelly, holding the plant a little protectively in both hands. "What're you taking a plant for a walk for?" Vimes asked in good humour. "I've just bought it," Drumknott said, a little affronted at the suggestion that he would carry a small pot of ornamental ivy around the city on a whim. "I'm not saying there's anything wrong with it, just asking that's all." Vimes straightened his helmet. "Gonna go on your desk is it?" "No," Drumknott examined the plant for a moment and delicately plucked off a wilting leaf. "It's going to be put on a shelf." Vimes nodded broadly. "Mind your cat doesn't get to it then, they love to chew on plants." Drumknott tilted down his head and looked at him under the brow of his glasses. "It isn't intended for my chambers." Vimes thought hard for a few moments and stopped leaning on the cart. "...I thought even the official birthday wasn't until next month..." A less professional man would have covered his eyes, or at least rolled them. Rufus Drumknott was both extremely professional and holding a potted plant. His expression barely altered. "You haven't forgotten an occasion, commander," he said patiently. "There is simply an empty shelf in his lordship's living quarters that requires an occupant." "Oh," Vimes said, slightly relieved. "So he asked you to get him a plant then?" Drumknott was quiet for a moment, studying the plant and its dark purple arrow-shaped leaves. "No..." he replied slowly. "He did not." "Well," Vimes said, trying to sound reassuring, "I'm sure he'll like it. He uses that mug you got him." Drumknott flushed a little and very carefully shifted the pot into one hand to push his glasses back up his nose. "Thank you. I hope that you are right." "Alright," Vimes said, feeling that he was a little too far away to properly end the conversation but also that closing the distance now would be awkward, "I'll see you later." Drumknott resumed holding the pot in both hands and nodded. "Yes," he said. "Have a good evening, Commander Vimes." Vimes creased slightly in almost a smile. "You too, hope his lordship likes his plant." Drumknott faltered a moment as if his plans for the conversation had been altered, then proceeded with them anyway. "Yes," he said, "good evening." He returned his focus to the paving stones and carried on his way up the street. Vimes watched after him for a few moments, then felt for a split second like he was being watched. Anyway... he shook the feeling off and carried on his own way in the opposite direction.

---

"Ah, there you are Drumknott," Vetinari said as Rufus opened the office door. "I had wondered where you were." He stopped on the threshold and held the plant low against himself. "I'm sorry to have inconvenienced you, sir." Vetinari paused in tapping excess ink from his pen. "Hm? Oh, no,” he said. “No inconvenience, I had merely noticed your absence." Rufus relaxed a little and moved truly inside the office, pushing the door closed with his foot. "I had mentioned that I was going out sir," he said, noting that the teapot on the desk was still in the position where he had left it and the cup was still upside-down in its saucer. "Had you? I apologise, I must not have been paying attention." Vetinari looked up over his reading glasses. "What is it you have there?" he asked, craning his head a little. Rufus walked over gently and placed the plant on the desk. Vetinari put down his pen and removed his glasses to look at it properly. "It's an Agatean Ivy, sir. I thought you might like it in your rooms." Vetinari lifted one of the nearer leaves with a fingertip, carefully tilting it into and out of the light. "It is certainly a striking colour," he said. "Is it permanent?" Rufus recalled what the plant shop owner had said to him. "The leaves are light green when they first appear, sir. The purple develops as they mature." Vetinari nodded lightly. "Well, it is a beautiful plant," he said, gently smoothing his beard. "I only worry for its need for light." The only natural light that entered Vetinari's rooms did so via his bedroom. The plant was intended for the sitting room, the most seldom used and therefore dimmest lit. Rufus of course had thought of that. "The Agatean Ivy naturally prefers dark environments, sir," he said. "It should do quite well in occasional lamp light." "Ah," Vetinari said. "You have considered this. I should also expect it requires very little water?" Lack of water had been the demise of the last occupant of the gap on the shelf. Rufus nodded, "A gentle mist once a week shall suffice, sir, though it will not suffer from overwatering." And the time before that, there had been too much water. Vetinari lightened. "I see," he said with a smile others would not have noticed. "Well, I thank you very much, Mr Drumknott. It shall make a fine addition to my living space." "You are very welcome sir," Rufus said. "Now, I did bring you tea before I left, sir, but I should think that it is now cold." The light changed in Vetinari's eyes as he finally and belatedly noticed the teapot. "Ah, so you did. I regret that it entirely failed my notice." Rufus nodded inevitably. "Should you like that we instate the plant and take tea in your rooms, sir?" Vetinari looked from the forgotten teapot to the plant, then up at Rufus. He picked up his pen from the desk and applied his signature to the bottom of the page before him through mere knowledge of where it was meant to be and scarcely watching his hand as he did so. Then he returned the pen to the inkwell. Rufus did not comment upon this. He merely removed the pen from the inkwell, wiped its tip on the adjacent cloth and placed it into its rest. Vetinari didn't comment on being corrected either. "Yes," he said, gently clapping his hands to his knees. "I think I shall." Rufus took the freshly signed sheet and placed it neatly upon the pile of completed documents that had accumulated in the time since he had left. "Very good, sir." Vetinari raised his reading glasses back onto his nose and studied the plant. "I think she shall require a name, don't you?" "As long as it is not after me, sir," Rufus said. Vetinari hummed in amusement. "She is an Agatean Ivy, you said?" "Yes sir." "Then I think 'Agathea' will be suitable." Rufus felt out the name on his tongue. Ag-ah-thee-uh. Older and more elegant than simply 'Agatha', less on the nose than calling the plant 'Agatea'. He smiled. "Yes sir, that fits her nicely." Vetinari smiled a more perceptible smile to match. "Then we shall put Agathea in her pride of place, and we shall take tea that is not so cruelly forgotten

about." "Splendid, sir."

#discworld #discworld fic #rufus drumknott #sam vimes #havelock vetinari #a plant! a plant for his lordship #that hopefully won't be dead in six months #look he trained as an assassin #keeping things alive isn't his strong suit #look i'm cross-posting again what's wrong with me?

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what-the--curtains · 3 years

Text

In a Week

Part 2/4 - The Importance of Being Idle

(Frankie Morales x f!reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summary: Things get easier between you and Frankie as the storm outside rages on.

Authors notes: Hello! Sorry this took so long (I forgot I had a lab report due this week so I was busy panic writing 6000 words the patient few days!) anyways this is soft makes my heart happy 🥺 thank u for all the support in the story💕💕

Tw: Swearing, dead sibling mentioned (I think that’s all)

Work count: 4.9k

Tagged: @agingerindenial @icanbeyourjedi

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Day 2

You don’t know when,or how it happened, but sometime during the night you had found your way over to the heat being emitted from human furnace Frankie Morales. Your limbs were wrapped lazily around him, with your leg over his and your arm resting idly on his chest. You blink into the light emitting a dissatisfied grumble realizing you had woken up. You hear a sigh from above and with one eye still closed, you tilt your head up to see Frankie currently hyper focused on winning whatever game he was playing on his phone.

"You could have woken me up you know.” You say, detaching from him and rolling over onto your back rubbing your eyes. “How long have you been awake?" you ask, yawning.

"Few hours, you’re quite the sleeper, slept through all 4 alarms that went off." He responds, still fixated on his phone.

"Shit, sorry about that. My mother used to say I could sleep for England" you state, earning a soft chuckle from the man beside you. Even after years of working on hospital hours, waking up was always a struggle for you, no matter the time of day. After a few moments of contemplating whether you really had to move, you rip off the covers and scoot out of bed. Tearing open the curtains you let out a dissatisfied groan when you see a snowscape where the parking lot once was. You turn around arms crossed, eyes glazed over inadvertently boring into him. You hear him say something but it doesn't register.

“What?” you ask, shaking yourself from the trance and moving towards your over packed bag to retrieve clean clothes.

“Nothing.” he says, eyes back on his phone. You raise your eyebrows and head into the bathroom to get changed, emerging in sweats and a vintage band shirt that you’d tied at the waist.

"The clash? Nice." Frankie says, as he passes by you into the bathroom, closing the door.

"Ya London Calling" you respond sitting down on the bed and pulling on some socks, not fully listening to what he had said. "I’m going to ask the front desk if we can renew the room, doesn't look like we're going anywhere anytime soon. I can see if there's another one available if you don’t wanna share" You say, when you hear the doors lock click open, knowing he may still be mad at you for not pulling over sooner.

"I mean I don't mind sharing, unless you’d be more comfortable..." he starts, mouth hanging open downturned slightly, as he rinses his hands.

“I’m fine sharing, nice to have some company plus it's cheaper this way.” you say, grabbing the room key off the nightstand.

"Let me know how much it is, I'll pay half" he says, stretching out his back, cursing the mattress for being too soft.

"I feel like you should be paying more since you get the good half of the bed.” you offer, pointing your finger at him.

“I think they call that extortion,” he says, grinning “Oh, see if they have any food while you're down there I’m starving” he calls as you exit into the hallway and make your way downstairs.

“Hey, I was looking to re-book the room from last night” you say to the receptionist who you recognized from last night. Suppose she got stuck here as well, you wonder if she’d gotten any sleep.

“For how many more nights?” she asks.

“How long do you think this storm is going to last?” You ask.

“At least a few more days, but then the roads will have to be cleared, so maybe a week? We can book you in for two more nights then go from there though, no one else will be coming in”

“That’d be great,” you say, taking out your credit card. “What about food, is there any way we can get some stuff to make sandwiches or something?” you ask

“Well the culinary staff was trapped here by the storm, another reason why so many rooms were booked, so they’ll be able to have food sent up.” You nod, the hotel was upscale and you hated to think how expensive the food was going to be, but what choice did you have?

“It's past breakfast, but we may have some spare sandwiches leftover, let me just go check.” she offers, returning a few minutes later with a couple of boxes.

“Thank you so much!” you say taking the boxed up food from her.

“Anything else I can help you with?”

“Oh yes” you say, “booze, can I buy that here?”

“That, we have plenty of!” she smiles.

~~~~~

You re-enter the room with the boxed up breakfasts, a case of beer and two bottles of wine

“Here food” you say, sliding the boxes off the beer and onto the counter next to the fridge.“We missed breakfast, so it’s probably cold, and I booked the room for another two nights, but we can go from there” you say, reiterating the receptionist's words as you place the drinks in the fridge.

“Planning on sharing that or?” he laughs watching you strategically maneuver the booze into the fridge

“Hey, I get a week off work, I'm going to be drinking. Do I wish it was on a beach in sunny south Carolina? Yes, but this will have to do, and I hate drinking alone so congratulations you’ve just been conscripted” You say, as he empties out one of the breakfasts onto a plate placing it in the microwave for a few minutes.

“Here. Do you want this? You say peeling the sliced ham off your sandwich” waving it infront of his face.

“Not a fan of ham?” he asks, taking it and adding it into his own.

“Not a fan of meat in general, I’m a vegetarian”

“Course you are.” he laughs.

“Bold words coming from a guy wearing a baseball hat inside, in the middle of winter” you say, throwing a balled up napkin at his head.

“So what exactly do you do? Santi never said.” he asks, leaving you to question what Santiago had said about you.

“I’m a doctor, well almost a doctor one more year of residency, hopefully” you say, crossing your fingers.

“Shit, aren’t you kinda young to be a doctor?” he asks, looking you up and down with raised eyebrows.

“Older than I look, but thank you. How about you?”

“I was a pilot, me and Pope served together for a while, but I’m mainly just teaching now. How’d you two meet by the way? I’ve never seen you round base before, I’m sure I’d remember you hanging around” he says.

“He basically lived at my house growing up, well until he went into the military when I was in middle school. ”

“I thought you said you weren’t young” he laughs “So you didn't serve?”

“No, my brother did though, he was a few years older than Santi but they were inseparable.” you state, preparing yourself for the imminent conversation.

“Who?” Frankie asks, slightly offended that Pope had a secret best friend he never introduced to him.

“His name was Parker '' you say, hoping the past tense clues Frankie in.

“Ya I’ve met Parker! Good guy what branch is he in these days?” he says, not picking up on your word selection or how your mouth hangs slightly ajar or how your eyes have gone vacant.

“Was in” is all you say, you avert your gaze staring down at the floor “he passed five years ago in active duty”

“Shit, I’m sorry I…” he stumbles over his words trying to form a coherent sentence.

“Not your fault how were you supposed to know, besides I'm sure you’ve lost your fair share of people.” you say offering him a not very convincing, but reassuring smile. You let the awkwardness hang in the air, not wanting to speak first.

“What... kind of doctor are you?” he says, hoping to cut the tension he’d caused.

“Medical, diagnostics.” you say, exhaling as the easiness you felt around Franki came back.

“So like House?” He asks.

“Ya cane and all.” you laugh, his lopsided grin having returned to his face, as he leans in to grab your plate.

“Hey, I uh.. I need to make a phone call.” He says, washing the dishes in the sink.

“I'll make myself scarce, give you some privacy. Is it fine if I'm in the shower or did you want me to fully vacate the premise? I can go down to the gym for a bit.” you offer.

“Showers perfect.” He says, mentally questioning his word choice there. He waits to hear the water run before pulling out his phone and dialing his mother who was currently watching his daughter for what was only supposed to be a few days.

You let the water wash over you turning on some music to drown out the conversation Frankie was having, not wanting to pry on his personal life. You did find yourself wondering who he was calling just simple curiosity, nothing else. You had decided you liked Frankie despite the rocky start, the more time you spent with him the more you felt like you'd known him for years. You could see why he and Santiago got along so well they were two sides of the same coin, his calm nicely balancing out Santiago's rashness. Or should you call him Pope? What kind of nickname was that, and Santiago was anything but a saint. You made a mental note to ask Frankie for the origin stories later he may be more forthcoming about it than Santiago. Lathering your hair you close your eyes, allowing Frankie’s image to come to the forefront of your mind. He had an old beauty, a kind of beauty that was suited to a ruler of a long forgotten empire. You begin to feel the water run cold, had you really been in the shower that long? You turn off the tap and dry yourself off redonning your sweats and tying the Clash shirt into a crop. As you exit the bedroom you’re met at the door by Frankie who hands you a cup of coffee.

“Thanks” you say smiling up at him.

“Take it as an apology for being an ass yesterday, I was tired and shouldn’t have thrown a tantrum about it, you don’t control the weather”

“Well I guess I should apologize as well for not listening to you, especially considering you’re the one with training in navigating radars.”

The rest of the day is spent in relative silence breaking into conversation every once in a while about nothing in particular. You sit on the couch reading while he sits in the chair across from you book in hand as the news plays faintly in the background. The storm had been dubbed “snowmageddon” by the anchors, not particularly innovative but it got the point across, 20cm had fallen and another 30 was being predicted you groaned internally thinking about how long it was gonna take you to clear off your car. At least you'd have military help. Dinner comes and goes and he doesn't ask you many questions, unsurprising considering how the last conversion had turned out. Instead you tell him about the weirdest cases you’d ever seen come through the hospital and he tells you about the incidents that got him and Santi sent to the hospital.

“Alright I'm going to turn in” he says, as you look up from the rabbit hole you'd currently found yourself stuck in.

“Shit ya good call” you say closing your phone and rubbing your eyes. Once again he beats you to the bed, giving him a prime position to watch in amusement as you dig through your bag.

“Lost something? Seriously, how deep is that bag? What are you looking for?” he inquires.

“Normal pyjamas” you mutter, all concentration currently being used to find something appropriate to sleep in.

“What pray tell are normal pyjamas?” he asks, a confused look plastered across his face.

“Let's just say a certain king of sleepwear was packed for someone who was suppose to be at the wedding”

“Who?” he asks.

“Ah ha!” you cry victoriously, pulling out your day-to-day sleepwear. You exit the bathroom in the silk sleep set you’d gotten a few years back. Frankie’s eyes widen slightly when he sees you emerge, the pyjamas leaving little to the imagination. If those were your normal pyjamas he didn't want to think about what the other ones were. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable by coming off as a creep. Which he was already feeling like by ogling you as you bent over the sink spitting out your toothpaste. His eyes dart down to look at his hands as you walk around the bed to bed, only looking up once the covers are pulled up over you. He turns off the lamp and settles into the mattress, placing his hands on his chest and closing his eyes.

“Please for the love of god, stop moving” he mumbles after 15 minutes of patiently waiting for you to stop wriggling. Your eyes open as you shift again, completely aware of how annoying you must be to him.

“I know I'm sorry, I‘m just..” you move one more time, balling your fists up and slamming them into the mattress in frustration.

“Not comfy” he finishes for you, eyes opening staring up at the ceiling.

“Ya especially since someone took my side of the bed” you bemoan.

“Look, you’ve already slept wrapped around me once, so you can... do it again. If it’s the easiest way for you to sleep.” he says hoping the offer comes off as sincere, and not weird. You chew your lower lip for a second before accepting the fact that it was the only way you’d be able to sleep. He lifts his arms above his head allowing you to position yourself comfortably on top of him, before lowering them down. One hand on his stomach and the other wrapped around your shoulder.

“Don’t even think about trying...” you start, eyes batting sleepily up at him.

“I know you don’t know me well, but i'm not like that. It's not good or fun unless everyones fully and consensually on board.” With that you ease into him, trusting his words. Breathing deeply you drift off to sleep to the smell of clean laundry that you’d come to associate with Frankie.

Day 3

“Hey I'm going to the gym if you need to make a call or whatever” you say, pulling on your sneakers, feeling refreshed from the good sleeps you’d had the past two nights.

“Thanks,” he says, watching you leave before calling to check in on his daughter.

“Hey mom how is she? Good good ya, put her on would ya? Hey darling how are you! Yes I'm going to be home soon. Were just stuck in a big snow storm, did you see it? I wish you were here then we could build a snowman together! Yes just like Elsa and Anna. Yes we can watch them when I get home and absolutely I will try and save you a snowball. Alright, okay, I love you.” He says, a few minutes was more than he’d expected from the kid, toddlers aren’t known for their keen telecommunication skills after all.

“Hey mom, thanks again for watching her. This storm came outta nowhere. We're going to miss the wedding, I know they’re gonna be pissed. That’s not a swear Mom! No, I'm not alone. One of Santis friends she's a doctor. Yes, I mean I don’t know! Why does it matter? Look, I'm hanging up now. I am. No I won't be doing that I love you, I'll call later.” he hangs up shaking his head. Despite what everyone around him thought, the last thing on his mind was dating, his kid was his number one, scratch that, his only priority especially since her mother disappeared in the night. Leaving nothing but a note about having other reasons to live. Whatever the hell that meant. He hears the key unlock the door and watches as you re-enter, not stopping to make conversation, bee-lining straight for the shower. Knowing he’d have a good half hour to kill he dials his phone again.

“Hey Pope” he says, taking the opportunity to call his friend and deliver the bad news.

“Hey ‘Fish where the hell are you guys?” he shouts from the other end, evidently in a crowded room.

“Trapped by the storm, we're not gonna make it.”

“Shit Gen’s gonna lose it, and Stella if it wasn’t for her four sisters Y/N would be in the wedding party they were roommates for years.” He stresses.

“Damn, ya man i'm really sorry, she's in the shower, but I can pass the phone to her when she's out?” Frankie offers.

“No man, don't bother her. I'll text her in a bit. Hey you guys sharing a room?” he questions, the agenda behind it obvious.

“Wasn’t much of a choice, rooms were all booked up.”

“You're sleeping on the floor I hope” A protective tone taking over.

“You know my back’s bad Pope.” he explains calmly, hoping to de-escalate the situation.

“Catfish you better keep those hands to yourself, she's not one of your nightly conquests”

“Man I haven’t been like that since my kid came along” He chuckles, knowing full well that those days were long behind him.

“I'm a serious ‘Fish, she's too good for you, and she's in no place to be fucked over by another guy alright?”

“Look I know she'd never go for me Pope and I'm flattered you think she would. Glad i'm still handsome in your eyes.I’ll call you later” he laughs, ending the conversation on a lighter note.

“Hey” you say, pulling your Boston University sweater over your head, drying out your hair with a towel.

“Pope says hi” Frankie says, hanging up the phone

“What's the nickname mean?” you question, ready to get to the bottom of it.

“That's top secret information” he taunts, shaking the phone at you.

“Oh I'm sure I could figure out a way to get it out of you.” you smirk, raising your eyebrows

“Hey! I have military training!” he exclaims, offended at the insinuation.

“Militarys got nothing on me.” you retort, slapping him on the shoulder as you pass by.

“Well, if the plan is to ply me with alcohol, it may just work” he confesses.

“Perfect” you say, heading to the fridge opening up the wine bottle “let the games begin” you say tossing him a beer bottle watching as he uses a lighter to open it before bringing it to his lips.

“So tell me what does Pope mean?” you ask after a few hours of meaningless conversations and playing a drinking game that went along with the forensic files repeats you were watching. “Is it a dick thing” you whisper yell, causing Frankie to burst out laughing.

“Why? You wanna know what it looks like?” He asks forehead creased the trace of laughter still etched on his face.

“Ew No! but I am asking if it looks like a Pope?” you say trying to hide your amusement with a stern look.

“Which Pope?” Frankie asks in an equally serious tone, curious as to where you were going with this.

“Francis?” you ask.

“Nope” He answers after pausing for a moment.

“Fred?” You ask, now entrapped in a bizarre game of guess who, but in reference to what holy figure most resembled your friends penis.

“Was there a Pope named Fred?” He asks unsuccessfully, stifling a laugh.

“Probably? There were like three Popes at once at one point in time.”

“No his dick doesn't look like the Pope, now can we please stop talking about my best friend's penis!” he exclaims.

“Fine, but this isn’t over.” you say chewing your lip trying to think of other possible explanations when a phone ringing interrupts you thought.

“Shit, Sorry I have to take this,'' he says, pulling out his phone and walking to the next room, forgetting to close the door, leaving you to inadvertently eavesdrop on his conversation.

“Good night sweety I love you to the moon and back I'll be home soon.”

Your eyes go wide as you feel your stomach sink, of course he was married, he was too nice, too easy, something had to have been off. A ick comes over you at the thought of being unknowingly draped over a married man, and you suddenly begin questioning Frankies motives.

“Sorry about that. It's my daughter she uh, I didn’t say goodnight to her last night and she missed it” he says with a slight chuckle, pride evident on his face.

“How old is she?” you ask smiling at how he lit up at being asked about his kid.

“Three” he says, grabbing another beer and grunting slightly as he sits back on the floor next to you.

“Good age” You offer, shaking off the feeling of betrayal and disappointment that had come over you for a brief moment.

“Ya she's perfect” he beams.

“I bet, I mean I don’t know what your wife looks like, but if she's got your eyes watch out world.” You offer turning to face him only to see that his smile had faded, replaced instead by a somber hurt.

“Her mothers not in the picture” He says, clearing his throat and taking a long drink.

“Shit Frankie I'm sorry” you say quickly, feeling like a prize idiot for making assumptions about his character.

“Hey I brought up your dead brother, only seems fair you bring up my ex who abandoned us.” He says with a shrug. “Don’t, don’t look at me like that” He says, shaking his head and knitting his brows together tired of being looked at like he was broken. It was horrible when it happened. It was fucking shitty that she had left her daughter without a care, but now? Hell, he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Watching his daughter grow up was worth it.

“Fuck” you say, scrunching up your face “I hate when people do that to me.”

“You need another drink?” he offers, hoping to ease the sudden awkwardness into the room, one he was accustomed to after telling his dates about his kid, not that this was a date.

“Ya I need it to wash the taste of foot out of my mouth” you laugh, feeling worse than when your brother was inadvertently brought up.

“Seriously don't worry about it. Speaking of a palette cleanser you wanna watch a movie or something?” he says pouring the rest of the wine into your glass, before grabbing another drink out the fridge for himself.

“Ya but it's gotta be horror, the only thing i'm in the mood for.”

“Didn’t think bringing up my ex was that scary.” he laughs, handing you the glass.

“No, but talking about Santiago's penis was.” You deadpan, causing Frankie to snort out his drink. “What? Do all the girls say that about it? A real nightmare?” you continue, giggling as he coughs through a laugh. “Was it the inspiration for the creature from the black lagoon?” for some reason the stupid bit your doing causes Frankie to double over subsequently encouraging your own laughing fit. After the ache in your side subsides Frankie sits down on the couch next to you. Using his sleeve to wipe any spillage from his beard.

“Any preference?” you ask, leaning your head back against the couch. He shakes his head. “Alright, the Conjuring it is! I gotta pee first though, need anything before we start?” you ask, walking towards the washroom.

“Just you.” he calls out, as the door closes behind you. Fuck, why the hell did he say that. He shakes his head at how desperate it sounded. Jesus christ, he was embarrassing.

You were just tipsy enough that the bathroom's bright lights made you feel wobbly. You cross your arms as you pee, thinking about the words you’d just heard, about how he needed you. Well maybe that was a reach, but it was okay to pretend just for a night? In all honesty, even though this wasn't a date, it was definitely the best time you'd had with a guy… ever, something about him was just so easy. You flush the toilet and open the door washing your hands, hotels were so weird, why wasn't the sink in with the toilet? You felt like you needed to wipe the handle down after every use.

You flop back onto the couch next to him, closer than you’d been when you left, but leaving enough space between you. After a few jump scares that catch even the pilot off guard the two of you found yourself snuggled into each other. You knew the movie was getting to him, because the arm wrapped around your shoulder pulled you closer into his side whenever the ominous music began to play. He wouldn't say the movie was getting to him per say, it was just in his nature to protect others. Even if it was just a stpid movie he wanted to make sure you felt safe. After the movie ends you quickly separate from each other and clear up the glasses, leaving them to ‘soak’ overnight. Frankie gets to the bathroom first, again. Thirsty, you wander back out to the kitchen grabbing a glass and filling it with water jumping when you think you see a shadow move out the corner of your eye. It was strange, how you loved horror so much while watching it but the second it turned off, any sounds, or hat rack or shadow scared the living daylights out of you. At least this time there would be another person with you. After getting ready for bed you switch off the lights and make your way to the bed.

“What are you doing?” Frankie asks, watching you lift up the bedskirt peering under the bed. “Are you seriously checking under the bed right now?” He laughs, unable to get over how you, a medical professional was afraid of ghosts.

“Better safe than sorry!” you exclaim eyes wide as your head pops up.

“You can't believe in this shit can you?”

“Hey man you get sleep paralysis then tell me that shit isn’t plausible” you respond pointing a finger at him, before pushing yourself off your knees and up onto the bed.

You crawl under the covers and sit up parting your hair to braid it before going to bed.

“Can I ask you a weird favour” he asks, you panic slightly, fuck he was too good to be true, no way a guy was that sweet without an alterior motive.

“Yes, but proceed with extreme caution” you say.

“Can you teach me how to braid hair? I want to be able to do my daughter's hair but I’m pretty terrible at it. Her teacher once asked if she'd gotten caught in a bush on the way in.” Your heart jumps slightly, at the sincere revelation. How, how could one guy be this sweet, and thoughtful and not creepy?

“Of course I can show you.” you say and you proceed to give him a step by step tutorial, followed by a demonstration prior to actually letting him have at your hair so he can try and replicate the motions. Once he got the motion down you’d mistakenly tried to show him how to french-braid it down from the top.

“Be honest doc, how bad is it.” He says.

“Well, maybe we shouldn't have tried a french braid quite yet.” you say laughing feeling the matted mess currently on your head. You turn upon hearing him groan, watching as he leans back into the pillow bringing his hands up to hide his face.

“For someone who's a pilot i'm shocked you can't do this.” you say, hand reaching up to salvage your hair.

“Are you judging me?” he says, sitting back up when he sees you struggling to untangle the mess he’d made.

“Maybe a little.” Your breath hitches when you feel his hand grazed against yours. You drop it to the side upon contact allowing his fingers to work gently at removing the knots.

“Are pilots supposed to be good at braiding?” he asks.

“I just assumed if you could weave in and out of the sky you'd be good with your hands.” you laugh as he frees the last of your hair from the prison he'd made. He watches as you effortlessly put your hair back up into tidy braids.

“You make it look so easy,” he says.

“Well practice makes perfect, but look on the brightside, now you have a sure fire pick up line that'll work on all the MILFs youll be dating!” you exclaim turning back to smile at him.

“Malo '' he mutters, pushing your shoulder slightly as you giggle, dramatically falling back onto the bed and pulling the covers up over you. It doesn't take a moment before you're back around him, breathing silently, and fast asleep. He wasn’t far behind you, he never used to sleep well in hotels, or at all really, not after the mission, but something about this place made it easy. He's sure it's nothing to do with the idle hand on his chest or the rhythmic beating of the heart belonging to the person draped over him.

#frankie x reader #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x you #frankie x y/n #catfish x you #catfish x reader #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfiction #in a week #part 2

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fanmoose12 · 3 years

Text

catch me if you can

Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Erwin Smith, Kenny Ackerman

Genres: Mystery / Romance

No one knew who they were. No one had seen their faces, no one knew their true names. Almost everyone knew of their crimes.

Hange was determined to unravel every last one of their secrets. She will put an end to their crimes and then she will get the elusive Ackermans behind bars.

Chapter 2/?

Chapter 1

Levi entered his uncle's study, leaning against the doorframe, hands folded on his chest.

"What did you need me for? And be quick about it."

Kenny, who was bent over, studying some papers on his desk, straightened up and tilted his head, looking Levi over curiously.

"You're being snappier than usual, dear nephew," he observed with an amused smile. "Did I interrupt something important? What were you watching on your phone?"

Levi tensed ever so slightly. Kenny couldn't really know what he was doing just now, could he? Was it another rouse of his then? It had to be.

Levi kept staring straight at his uncle, refusing to be embarrassed or intimidated.

"What I'm doing in my free time is none of your business," he gritted through teeth.

It was Kenny who looked away first. He shook his head and turned back to his papers.

"How fast the kids grow, eh?" he muttered. "I didn't realize you are old enough to watch this kind of videos, Levi."

Levi didn't need to look at his uncle's face to know that there was a smug smirk on his face. And Kenny didn't need to look at Levi to know that there was a blush spreading across his features.

What was Kenny talking about? He wasn't some kind of a pervert. He didn't watch police's press-conferences for that. He wasn't looking at detective Hange Zoe like that. He just admired her passion and determination. That’s all. When she was looking right at the camera, promising that she would catch the Ackermans whatever the cost, Levi almost believed her. He felt something close to anticipation in those moments. He was almost thrilled at the prospect.

Maybe, that’s how the mouse feels when the cat is almost upon it.

And if while watching Hange Zoe, he lingered on her bright, intelligent eyes more than was deemed necessary, it wasn't anyone's - least of all Kenny's - business.

Levi walked further into the room, ignoring Kenny's eyes that followed his every move. He leaned over the table, studying the papers that were laid out there.

"What's this?" he asked, attempting to change the subject. It was a clumsy attempt and Levi knew it. Surprisingly, though, it worked. He couldn't feel his uncle's eyes on him anymore, and when he threw a quick, subtle glance at him - Kenny was looking at the desk. He was slowly scratching his chin, lost in thought. Levi returned his gaze to the desk. These weren't just regular papers, these were blueprints.

What could Kenny need them for?

"Please don't tell me you're planning another job already." Levi snapped.

"And what if I do?"

"You can't be serious.” Levi said, astonished by his uncle’s behavior. “We've just finished a job. We can't do another one so quickly, especially in the same city. The cops will become more alert."

"They won't," Kenny argued.

"If you keep targeting the city's property, they'll realize we live here. It’ll give them another, unnecessary clue. It’s bad enough they know our surname."

"You're giving them too much credit," Kenny rolled his eyes. "You know the cops, they're stupid."

They are not, Levi almost said, remembering a certain bespectacled detective. He wasn't going to say it to Kenny's face, though. There was no need to make him more suspicious than he already was.

"I refuse," Levi announced, clenching his jaw. "It's too risky. We need to lay low for a while."

"Since when are you so cautious, Levi?"

"Since when are you so reckless, Kenny?"

They stared at each other for a moment, both refusing to back down.

An end was put to the intense staring contest, when Kenny sighed and looked away.

"Fine. Be it your way. I guess you're a big boy already, eh, Levi?"

Levi raised an eyebrow, giving Kenny a flat, unimpressed look. "I'm thirty two, Kenny."

"Just like I said, a big boy," Kenny grinned. He raised a hand, moving it in the direction of Levi's head. Levi harshly slapped his hand away. Kenny didn't even blink, fully anticipating that kind of response.

"I admit I babied you a bit, but that was what I promised to your Momma."

Not a muscle moved on Levi's face. But deep inside him, something twisted painfully, as though a knife was plunged into his body. His mother died years ago. The wound this loss had left on him still ached, however.

"But it's time I start trusting you," Kenny continued. "If you say we need to wait, then alright, we wait. But not for long, Levi."

"I know," he grunted. Even a small postponement was a good thing. Levi was actually surprised Kenny had agreed. Years ago he wouldn't have listened to him at all. He'd shut Levi up before he could utter even a word of protest. It looked like his uncle was getting softer. Or, maybe, he really started to trust him.

Both possibilities, however, seemed equally far-fetched to Levi.

"That's all I wanted to discuss with you. You can go back to whatever you were watching on your phone," Kenny turned to him with a smirk. He wiggled his eyebrows and Levi's felt his eye twitch in irritation.

He flipped him off. Yes, maybe, was going to continue watching the press-conference. Hopefully it wasn't over yet. Hopefully, detective Zoe’s speech wasn’t over yet.

As he walked of the room, he took the cigarette pack out of his pants pocket. He opened it and saw that there was only one stick left.

He cursed.

"I'm going out!" Levi announced, grabbing his keys and wallet and leaving Kenny alone in the apartment.

***

Hange blinked away the dizziness that swam at the edge of her vision. She shook her head, trying to get back all of her senses. Logically, she knew she needed a break. Being as stubborn and obsessive as she was, she could only allow herself another cup of coffee.

She stood up, stretching out her numb joints. They popped with a satisfying sound and Hange let out a quiet moan of contempt. After spending all day, cooped up in her office, she was exhausted. But she couldn't stop just yet, she was on a brink of an important discovery, she could practically feel it.

Another cup of coffee and she'll be good as new. Then she could continue her work with a renowned vigor.

She approached the door of her office and opened it. Erwin was standing on the other side of it, his fist raised up in the air.

"Oh, Hange," he awkwardly lowered his hand. "I was just going to knock on your door."

"I figured out as much," Hange nodded.

"Of course, you did." Erwin smiled. "You're one of my greatest detectives after all."

Oh no. Erwin had put on his charming, ‘captain handsome’ smile. And he was flattering her. He wanted something. Something she wasn't going to like.

"What do you want?" she asked, letting Erwin enter her office.

"What the hell?" Erwin gasped, ignoring her question completely.

Hange followed the direction of his gaze.

"Ah, that," she shrugged. "I've decided to do a little bit of research."

"A little bit?" Erwin choked. He walked up to Hange's desk and stared at the piles and piles of case files with wide eyes. "Hange, did an archive explode in your office?"

"Don't be so dramatic," she rolled her eyes.

"What are you even trying to research?" Erwin took out the case file on top and opened it. "Why are you looking through case files of crimes from 1988? It happened more than thirty years ago!”

"Exactly! It happened thirty years ago and it still wasn't solved!"

Erwin stared at her helplessly. "I don't understand... What’s the point of you ‘research’?" he questioned, emphasizing the last word.

"Look here," Hange snatched the file from his hands. "It's a robbery that happened in our city almost thirty years ago and the thief was never caught."

"And?"

"Then look here" she thrust another file into his hands. "A robbery that happened two months after that. Again, not solved."

"And then look here, here and here," each word was punctuated by a case file that Hange threw at Erwin. "There are dozens cases like this."

"Are you researching police's inadequacy, Hange?"

"I found a pattern, Erwin!" Hange grinned victoriously. "I'm pretty sure that these robberies were committed by Ackerman!"

"Hange..." Erwin frowned. "Ackermans became active a dozen or so years ago. I know it's a long time but it's not that long."

"I know!" Hange snapped, ruffling her hair. She pushed the glasses onto her forehead and fixed Erwin with a disgruntled look. "But I have a theory. Would you stop criticizing me and listen?"

"...Alright. What have you got?"

"So we have these robberies that happened thirty years ago, right?" Hange waited for Erwin to nod, then she continued. "And then we have robberies that started ten or so years ago. But what if they're connected? What if they were committed by the same person?"

"But it's proven that they're two Ackermans." Erwin countered, scratching his chin.

"Yes!" Hange beamed. "There are two of them. What if one of them is younger? What if the initial robberies were committed by only one of them?"

"Are you saying that..."

"That maybe it's a duo of father and son, yes." Hange nodded. "It's exactly what I'm saying."

"That's... A plausible theory," Erwin agreed in a slow, cautious voice. Hange scowled. Couldn't he be satisfied by her efforts at least for once? She worked so hard on this.

"But ultimately it gives us nothing," Erwin concluded. "Hange, why won't you get some rest?"

Hange crossed hands on her chest. "Is it an order or a friendly advice, sir?"

"A friendly advice," Erwin smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. "But it will turn into an order if you decide not to follow it."

Hange huffed, turning away.

"Hange..." Erwin approached her, laying a hand on her shoulder. "You haven't left the office since last night's robbery. You need to take a break."

She looked up, boring her eyes into Erwin's face.

"That's not why you came here, though. What did you want?"

"It can wait," Erwin assured her.

"It can not. What do you want, Erwin?"

He sighed, the smile slipping from his lips. "Nile requests your assistance. He deemed the Ackerman case unsolvable and wants you to take other cases instead."

"Fuck him." Hange said fiercely.

"Hange—"

"No, fuck him and every member of the brass. I don't care what they say. I know I can get these Ackermans. I know it, Erwin."

Hange looked deep into his eyes, letting him see her determination. And her desperation. She spent a whole year, trying to solve this goddamn case. She needed to finish it. And Erwin was the only who could understand it. The only one she could trust.

"I'll see what I can do," he told her after a few seconds of silence.

"Thank you," Hange breathed out in relief. If Erwin hadn't agreed to take her side, she wouldn't have known what to do. With him backing her up, Hange felt a lot more confident.

"But you're going home right now, detective," he furrowed his eyebrows, putting on the strict face. "Take a break and come back with a fresh head."

"Roger that, captain," Hange gave him a weak, unenthusiastic salute. She reached out, meaning to grab some of the files, but Erwin forcefully lowered her arm, shaking his head.

"The work stays here, Hange."

Hange scoffed, stomping her feet in frustration. She glared at Erwin, but he was unmoved. If anything his expression became even grimmer.

Hange sighed, accepting her defeat.

"I'll go home, if that's what you want, dad."

Erwin chuckled, ruffling her hair. "Don't forget to have dinner, kid. And go to sleep at reasonable hour!"

Hange rolled her eyes and flipped him off, fighting off a smile.

She waved at Erwin and the grabbed her coat, leaving the office and her beloved work behind.

***

Might do some groceries while I'm here, Levi decided upon entering a local supermarket. They were low on eggs and milk, and his tea was running out too. There wasn't much left of Kenny's coffee but Levi wasn't in a mood to be nice and considerate. If his uncle needed coffee so much, he'd go out and buy it himself.

Levi walked through the shop's aisles, finding a strange comfort in the mundanity of it all. Here he was, one of the most successful and daring thief, peacefully walking through the local supermarket and picking out eggs, cheese and milk for the pasta he was going to cook tonight. The people looked at him and had no idea who he was, to them he was a simple, ordinary customer, not a person they’ve seen reports about on TV. That was strangely amusing. If he was a more expressive person, he might have even cracked a smile at that thought.

As he walked into a different aisle, his thoughts changed their direction too. He wondered about the job Kenny found for them. What was their next target? More importantly - who was their next client? They rarely robbed just for the sake of it. Of course, there were places Kenny robbed simply out of spite. Their last night's job at the bank had been exactly that - Kenny deciding to screw with them because some clerk refused to allow him take a loan. Why did he need a loan in the first place was a mystery, one that Kenny refused to share with Levi, and so he naturally concluded that his uncle was just bored and came up with a lame explanation to justify it.

It wasn't like Levi had any objections. They did sit without work for a long time. And robbing a bank with such a high level of security was surprisingly fun.

Screwing with detective Hange was fun too. He regretted not staying behind to witness her outrage. She probably had screamed in frustration. Possibly kicked something as well. Despite never talking to her in person and staring at her only from afar, Levi felt like he knew the fiery detective enough to anticipate her reactions.

This robbery was initiated by Kenny himself, but the next one probably wasn’t. Someone had hired them and that someone was impatient. Levi wondered who could it be.

As he walked up to the cashier, Levi had to pause and get those thoughts out of his mind. So concentrated on his musings about work and detective Zoe, he almost forgot about tea. He cursed and turned back.

As he grabbed the tea from a shelf, a fleeting thought crossed his mind - what kind of tea detective Zoe preferred? Did she take it with sugar? Did she like it strong? Or, maybe, she preferred coffee more?

Levi shook his head, mentally scolding himself. He was thinking about the wrong thing again. He paid for his groceries and left the supermarket.

Harsh, cold wind greeted him as he stepped out into the street. It looked like it was going to snow soon, and Levi shuddered at the thought. He hated the snow. Hated the feeling of it under his shoes. Hated how bright everything looked. Hated how it always made him think of his mother's death.

It was snowing when she died. It continued to snow on the day of her funeral. And now whenever he saw the snow, it brought back the unwanted, painful memories.

His mood considerably worsened, Levi took out the cigarette pack and put a stick between his teeth. Shielding his face from the wind, he lightened it up.

He was in the middle of his first drag of smoke, when someone bumped into him.

He stumbled down on a pavement, falling down on his hand and knees. The cigarette fell out from his mouth, his groceries - eggs and milk - suffered the same fate.

Levi looked up, ready to hurl abuse at the clumsy idiot.

Words died somewhere in his throat.

Detective Hange Zoe was staring back at him, her eyes wide open behind the lenses of her glasses.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed. Seconds, probably. It felt like hours, though.

"Are you okay?" the detective asked.

Her voice was softer than Levi imagined. The voice she used while talking during press-conferences was very different. It was low and deep, but not quite authoritative. There was a slight shaking present, like she wasn't truly confident in her abilities. That voice sounded like she was just imitating someone, most probably her superior officer, Erwin Smith. Right now, though, her voice was worried, concerned. It was filled with emotion. It was sincere.

She was waiting for his reply, and so Levi nodded.

Detective Zoe smiled. "Oh, good, you actually got me scared for a moment. You look kinda dazed," she stood up, shaking off the dirt from her pants.

She offered a hand to help Levi up. Without a second thought, he accepted it. The palm of her hand was rough, her fingertips calloused. The grip she had on his hand was gentle. He was reluctant to let go.

He had to, though. He already looked like a creep.

Levi shoved his hands deep into the pocket of his blazer, trying to warm them up. Hange’s hand was so warm. His hands were freezing in comparison.

"I'm sorry about that," she gestured to the mess of broken eggs and spilled milk on the pavement. "There is a supermarket on the corner. Let me buy the groceries you've lost because of my gaucherie."

"You don't—"

"No, no, I must persist. I'll feel very bad if you refuse."

"Alright," Levi surrendered with a soft sigh.

Detective Zoe beamed. Her smile seemed brighter than the street lamp above them.

"I'm Hange, by the way."

I know, he almost blurted out. He caught himself at the last moment.

His mind was in frenzy. What should he say? What did Hange know? She didn’t know how he looked, that was obvious. What about his name, though? Logically, she couldn't know his full name. At least, this information wasn't shared with public. Could it be that the police already discovered it?

No, it was impossible, Levi concluded. If they knew about their names, he and Kenny would have been arrested long ago. For now, he was safe.

"Levi," he managed finally. His voice sounded too weak and pathetic even to his own ears, but Hange continued to smile, ignorant to his unease.

"Le-vi," she slowly repeated his name, carefully pronouncing each syllable. "Cool name!"

"Thanks?" Levi said, not quite knowing how to answer.

"I'm sorry again by the way. You probably didn't want to spend your evening visiting a supermarket with a weirdo you've just met."

"I hope that's not a hobby of yours - bumping into people on a street."

Hange laughed, and the sound startled Levi. It was loud, not melodic at all. He still enjoyed it for some reason.

"I swear it was just an accident," she said with a sheepish smile.

He tilted his head to the side, subtly studying detective’s profile. He couldn't take his eyes off her. Up close, detective Zoe was so much brighter. He had never seen a person who was as full of life as she was. It presented a vivid contrast to her appearance on the TV.

"I'm just more tired today than usual," she continued. "The work can be quite exhausting."

Ouch.

That actually made him feel bad. He was most probably the reason for her exhaustion, after all.

"I'm, um," he cleared his throat, swallowing the lump that formed out of guilt and embarrassment. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's fine," Hange waved him off. "I enjoy my work, even if it comes with its fair share of frustrations."

Asking about her workplace seemed like a logical continuation of their conversation. For the obvious reasons, however, Levi wasn't too keen on hearing her answer.

"So what do you need to buy?" Hange took upon herself to carry the conversation, seemingly not bothered by Levi's silence.

"Nothing much," he answered, as they entered the supermarket. "Eggs, cheese, tea and milk."

"Eggs, cheese, tea and milk," Hange nodded, looking so serious as though they weren't discussing simple groceries, but a plan of secret and extremely dangerous mission. "Okay, I'm on it."

Levi fought back a smile. Detective Zoe was much more endearing that he would have thought. She was cute, he realized, as Hange consulted him about what type of cheese he needed, making absolutely sure that she took the one he liked the most.

When they arrived in the tea aisle, Levi remembered his passing thought, a curiosity that he could satisfy this time.

"Do you prefer tea or coffee?" he blurted out before he could stop himself.

If she was surprised by his question, Hange didn't show it.

"Coffee," she said. "Tea is kinda bland, don't you think?"

No, he didn't think so. Tea was sweet, bitter, spicy, fruity, vanilla, sour, earthy. It was never bland. It was delicious.

"Just what kind of tea you were drinking?" he asked bluntly.

"Um," Hange scratched the back of her head, startled by his suddenly harsh tone. "The ordinary one? I know there are a lot of different types, but I don’t know much about them."

"There's a tea shop down the street. Let me take you there, I guarantee that you will change your mind about tea."

Levi didn't know what the fuck he was doing. He didn't know why he was inviting Hange Zoe - a detective who was pursuing him for over a year now - to a cup of tea in his favorite café. It was an impulsive decision, but he had never acted on impulse.

It was definitely the stupidest thing he had ever done as well, and if Kenny would find out, who knows what he'll do to him. But. Hange didn't enjoy tea, he had to try and change that.

"And what if I don't like it?" Hange asked, staring down at him with a challenging look.

"I'll rest my case," he shrugged.

"And let me take you out on a date?"

No. He should have said no. He should have turned around and walked away. He should have run away from Hange Zoe as soon as he had seen her. He shouldn't get involved with her, especially not like this.

He should have said no. He didn't. Instead he had mumbled 'alright' and felt his heart skip a beat the sight of Hange's radiant smile.

As he continued to walk with her side by side, listening to her cheerful chatter, he kept repeating a rule Kenny once taught him. A rule that perfectly justified his behavior.

Know your enemy.

He forgot, however, the very important addition.

Know yourself first.

#soooo??????#what do yall think #levihan #levihan fanfiction

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