#…..i will post my ocs here eventually too…. sweating…

[spoopup]

couldnt stop thinking about frye grabbing shiver’s waist in the grand festival art……haunting my mind……..plaguing my thoughts

[jeankluv]

Birdie - Satoru Gojo | Chapter 18

summary: While everyone adored him, you stood apart in your feelings. It wouldn't be accurate to say you hated him, as " hate " was a strong word, rather, you harbored a profound dislike towards him. The problem was he knew that and his irritating presence seemed to persistently cling to you whenever he crossed your paths. Now, you found yourself paired with him for your semester project, and the thought made you wish to hurl yourself out of the third-floor window. Three months of working alongside him loomed ahead. Adding to the discomfort, you were currently under the scrutiny of hundreds of eyes, each gaze feeling like a murder attempt. It seemed everyone coveted the opportunity to collaborate with Gojo Satoru, except for you.

tags: modern au, college au, fem!reader, academic rivals, he fell first, fluff, old money Gojo Satoru, abusive parents, slight slow burn, Satoru is a softy, secondary couple (Geto Suguru x oc), a bit of angst, no use of y/n, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, Gojo plays basketball, Gojo needs a hug

warning for this chapter: +18 nsfw content, p in v, ridding

notes: it’s been a while since I posted this fic, but I was on vacation and right now, I’m stuck writing chapter 19, like I already have Birdie planned out but chapter 19 is like stuck there and I don’t know when I will be posting the next chapter, I hope that in two weeks time. So let’s pray

Sorry if there are any mistakes or typos, this was published unedited

materialist | previous chapter | next chapter

Jujutsu Kaisen materialist | ao3

You clung to the blanket that Satoru had given you after changing into one of his shirts, no matter how hard you tried you were unable to stop shivering.

But your pulse and breathing were agitated after the encounter with Naoya. You clenched your fists and cursed yourself for letting it get to you so much.

“Here you have.” Satoru entered the room with a cup of chocolate in his hands. 

You smiled and grabbed it, feeling the smell of chocolate and the warmth of the cup. “Thank you ‘Toru.”

He sat down next to you on the bed and put an arm around your shoulder, while gently caressing your arm. “Do you want to talk now about what happened?”

You took a deep breath, feeling Satoru's presence and comfort with you, and you began to tell the story of what happened.

2 hours earlier 

You took the wine Utahime gave you and drank it. The taste of the wine went down your throat and you felt a sweet taste run through your mouth. Your lips became slightly sticky and you ran your tongue over them. Utahime was drinking her wine and your eyes drifted to search for Satoru’s figure, hoping he would come soon.

You didn’t mind spending time with Utahime, but your heart ached thinking Satoru needed to face his parents on his own once again. You wanted to stand beside him.

“He will be here soon.” Utahime smiled. 

“Yeah… I just.” You sighed. “I wanted to be with him.” 

“I get it.” She nodded. “But now, relax and try this one.” She gave you another glass.

“Utahime.” You cried. “I think it is too much.” 

“It is not.” She smiled. “Take a sip, it’s really good.” She said drinking it. 

You did as she told and in fact it was good, it tasted really expensive. “It’s really good.” 

“Yeah right?” She grinned.

“Oh, there is no way.” A voice spoke and your eyes slowly opened.

Your hands started to sweat and your breathing started to be irregular.

“Ugh Naoya.” Utahime spoke. “What do you want? Go to another place and bother someone else.” 

Naoya laughed and the laughter, which was familiar to your discomfort, stabbed you like knives. “I’m here to say hi to my old worker.” You saw how a smiled crossed his face.

Utahime turned to look at you. “You know him?” 

“Yes…”

“Doll…” He walked towards you. “Last time we met your friends were pretty rude, but I know Utahime won’t do shit, so why don’t we speak?” 

Utahime ground her teeth and positioned herself next to you. “I don't know what the fuck you want, Naoya. But get out of here.”

“I just want to talk.” He said smirking. “Did you come as Utahime’s plus one?” He questioned. “That seems unlikely… oh.” He gasped. “Don’t tell me you came with the Gojo kid?” 

You frowned. “That doesn't matter to you.”

He laughed. “So yeah…” He scratched his chin. “Did you just jump on him like the bitch you are?”

You could feel the gazes of those present rest on you. Your breathing began to accelerate and unlike in class, where you had behaved calmly and had ignored what they said about you, you couldn't there. You felt enormous helplessness.

“Gojo probably needed somewhere warm to stick his…”

“Naoya! Shut up!” Utahime shouted out. 

Utahime's voice only caused the stares to grow and your nervousness to increase. You had wanted to go unnoticed, to go there to support Satoru, but now…

“What? It’s the truth… Rumors say that he likes to sleep around.” He smirked. ““He probably saw it as easy to get under the dress of a poor thing like her.” She took one of the glasses from her and took a sip. “Who would want to date a woman like her? Two jobs, scholarship, living in a one-room apartment, abandoned by her father, dead mother.”

“You stupid piece of…!” Utahime tried to slap him but you held her hand.

“Utahime… no.” 

You didn't want to cause any more fuss, you didn't want it to escalate any further. You squeezed Utahime's hand tightly, feeling like tears had begun to fall.

Why?

Why are you crying?

You weren’t the type to cry, you could hold yourself pretty well but right there, you were feeling every emotion possible. You were ashamed of what Naoya was saying, ashamed because everyone was looking and hearing those words. You didn’t want Satoru to have bigger burdens, he already had enough dealing with his family matters, you didn’t want now for him to be pointed out for dating someone like you. 

Without realizing, you started to shake, as if you were out in the cold of a winter night. Utahime quickly noticed it and stood next to you, trying to calm you. 

“Naoya you better leave or I will make sure they kick you out of here.” Utahime said loudly. 

Time began to distort around you and when your mind reconnected you felt a familiar warmth next to you, a relaxing caress and safe eyes.

Present time

“That’s it…” You whispered, waiting for Satoru to say something or do anything, but his silence was killing you. “I’m so sorry…”

“Why are you saying that?” Then he spoke with a harsher tone than the one he usually used, one that made you feel intimidated.

“I… I caused a fuss.” 

He moved in the bed and positioned himself in front of you. “Listen.” He said your name while holding your hands. “You didn’t cause a fuss, Naoya and Naoya alone did it, okay?” You looked at him. “Please love, tell me you understand.” He raised his hand to your cheek. 

Your stomach turned as you heard that word from his lips again, “love”. The way he had said it, on both occasions, made you lose all sense of the world and make you feel dizzy. God, you loved that man and you didn't want to let him go, you didn't want to lose him for anything in the world.

Satoru's eyes widened, panic showing in them. "What happened? Why are you crying?" He said, wiping away the tears that had wet your cheeks.

“I love you.” You said and you noticed Satoru’s surprise look on his face. “I love you ‘Toru and I am so afraid… I am afraid of losing what it’s starting, I don’t want to lose you, lose us.” You hugged him. “I was so afraid, because I don’t know your world and… everyone was looking and I thought… what if his family finds out about who I am about my family.” 

You stopped talking, to hug him even more, if that was even possible. “And I felt so small, so vulnerable. I didn’t want to cause a scene, I didn’t want to be a burden to you.”

Satoru broke the hug and cradled your face, he kissed your tears. "Don't say that." He told you in a whisper. “You would never be a burden to me.” He emphasized the words “never” and then placed a soft kiss on your lips. "I love you." He whispered. 

Satoru wrapped his arms around you while caressing your back and kissing your head, it felt good, very good. You would like to stay that way forever, to feel his warmth, his love, for all of it to invade you.

“You wanna take a bath?” He whispered.

“With bubbles?” You looked at him. 

Satoru chuckled and smiled. “If you want it that way, I will do it.”

“Thank you…” You kissed his lips. 

“Anything for you my love.” He kissed you. 

The cold caught you as soon as Satoru left you, even though you were wrapped in a blanket you felt his absence. You watched from the bed as Satoru prepared the bathroom, he was still wearing his suit pants and his white shirt. He looked so good. 

“I can feel you staring.” Satoru looked at you from over the shoulder. 

“I was just thinking that my boyfriend looks so good right now.” You said.

“Well my girlfriend looks better, she was stunning tonight, a real queen, a goddess.” He walked up to the bed and placed his arms on either side of your head. “The bath is ready…” He whispered against your lips.

 “Will you bathe with me?” You asked him. “I want to do it like in the movies, to cuddle and relax.”

“Of course.” 

You stood up from the bed and took off your clothes, you didn’t mind anymore. Satoru did the same, although you weren't embarrassed to strip naked in front of him because he had already seen and touched every part of you, it was still hard not to feel nervous when you looked at him. Turning your head, you walked to the bathtub and got into it, so that a few seconds later Satoru got in with you behind you.

He leaned down and his lips gently brushed against your shoulder before he began to rub your back. The touch was tender but deliberate, each stroke of the sponge carrying a silent intimacy that seemed to envelop you both. In the tranquility of that moment, the closeness between the two of you felt palpable, as if the outside world had become insignificant, as if it had been erased and only you and Satoru existed. You could feel the warmth of him against your skin, his soft breath against your neck.

You wanted that moment of intimacy to last forever. To keep it in your mind and in your soul. 

“Babe you are going to fall asleep.”

A new nickname, how many did he have to keep calling you? But now you didn't care, you liked them, every one of them from birdie to my love, all of them.

“It’s just… it feels so good.” You closed your eyes, letting everything invade you.

“I’m so glad…” He whispered against your skin. 

You could feel his hot breath against your wet skin, how your skin bristled under that warm breath. Satoru placed wet kisses on your shoulder, while he continued soaping your body, treating you like you were royalty, a queen.

“Okay… I think it is time for you to rest.” He moved behind you and got off the bath. 

“But…” You pouted.

“No buts.” He kissed your cheeks. “Let’s get ourselves dry and sleep okay?” 

That night you gave yourself completely, letting yourself be cared for and loved without reservation. Every word Satoru whispered and every soft touch of his fingers left a lasting imprint on your skin, etching itself into your heart and soul. 

The warmth of his body wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. It was an eerily familiar sensation, evoking memories of home, peace, and a deep sense of security.

The dream welcomed you like an old friend and in the arms of the one who had captivated your heart you managed to rest and let all worries go away.

When the first light of day began to filter through the large window of Satoru's room, your eyes stung, that light was annoying, you wanted to continue sleeping, dreaming of dreams that you would later forget. But as you turned to circle Satoru's torso, you found the cold sheets next to you. Your eyes snapped open and you looked around the room. But it was completely empty, there was no sign of him.

You got out of bed and walked to the kitchen in search of your white haired boy. A smile appeared on your lips when you saw him sitting in one of the seats on the island. He was wearing gray sweatpants, his torso was exposed and his hair was a mess.

With a slow step, trying not to let Satoru hear you, you approached him. When you were close enough to him, you wrapped your arms around him and let out a “bo!” causing him to get scared.

You smiled at him. “Good morning.” 

“Good morning.” He kissed you. “Did you sleep well?” 

“So good…” You closed your eyes, enjoying his hug. “You look good this morning.” You said looking at him.

“I know…” You rolled your eyes with a smile drawn on your face. “You liked this morning view princess?”

You bite your lip and nodded. “A lot.” 

You knocked your kiss together, feeling how this one was deeper and hotter than the one you just shared. 

Satoru ran his hands under your thighs and sat you down on the kitchen island, causing a small moan to escape your lips as the cold marble collided with your skin. He placed himself between your legs and began to draw drawings on your legs, while the kiss you shared was filled with passion and heat.

His hand began to go up until it got under the hem of the borrowed t-shirt that you had taken from him last night and his fingertips, hot like a burning fire, traced your abdomen, causing a soft but lustful sigh to escape from your lips.

“‘Toru…” You gasped as his hand started to go up on your body.

“What love don't you like it?” You saw his smirk, his blue eyes now dark with the desire that had settled in them.

Your head snapped back when you felt his fingers pinch your nipple. “Oh…”

Satoru grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to him, making you stick with your legs on either side of his body. Your body was beginning to burn under his touch, feeling how his hands began to explore your body.

“I love how good you look with this t-shirt on, but I need you without it.” He whispered against your ear, his soft, hot breath hitting you.

“Take it off…” You said under your breath.

Satoru clacked and he grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it up, taking it off and throwing it away. The difference in temperature between the environment and your body, which was almost on fire, was evident, and a chill ran down your spine. 

Your fingers tangled in his white hair and he began to kiss your neck and then your collarbone, biting and sucking on the places where his lips landed causing your body to react. 

His right hand pinched your nipple again and you pulled at his hair, feeling the arousal corrupt you. His tongue began to descend along the edge of your breasts until it reached your nipple, which was already swollen from the pinches that Satoru had not stopped giving it.

Your legs surrounded his hips at the same time his mouth sucked on your nipple, you were too excited, too hot. Your hips began to move instinctively, seeking friction with Satoru. You knew he probably was hard rock down there.

“F-uck…” Satoru trembled when you touched his boner.

“Sa-toru… please.” You said moving your hips again against his boner. 

You could feel his grip tighten and his shoulders tense with every movement you made begging him. The atmosphere had become fucking hot, your bodies were burning and you had begun to sweat, while your hot breaths had become disordered.

Satoru pulled away from you and began to pull down his sweatpants. “Get off and turn around.” Your skin crawled as you heard his husky voice and the authoritative tone he had used.

That turned you on even more. You got down off the island and got off your underwear, leaving you completely naked. You felt Satoru's hands on your hips, as his thumb gently traced circles on it. Even though the atmosphere was charged with lust and excitement, Satoru was still delicate and careful with his movements. 

You felt his breath hit your skin and instinctively arched your back and neck back against his bare torso. “You seem so needy?” He bit your shoulder and you pursed your lips. “Come on little bird, what do you want?” You hated that he hesitated like that, you hated it but at the same time you loved it.

“Sato-ru…” You heavily breathed. “I… need you.” 

He chuckled and his grip around your hips tightened. “That’s what you want? Huh? You want me inside of you?” 

You nodded. “Please ‘Toru…” You looked at him with crystallized eyes and you could see how the fire lit in his. 

“You're so fucking beautiful.” He said, smashing his lips against yours at the same time he entered you. 

The moan in your throat was drowned in the wet kiss you shared. One of Satoru's hands left your hip and began to move up your abdomen, burning every place his fingertips touched. His hand came up to your chin and he grabbed it, breaking the kiss.

“You are taking me so well princess.” He smirked and your nails dug into the island counter, feeling him move inside you.

“Ah…” You moaned as Satoru's hand landed on your neck and made you throw your head back.

Satoru was rough and his movements were strong and penetrating, each thrust he gave felt like it went deeper than the previous one, causing your eyes to rotate inside your skull.

His left hand surrounded your neck, while his right hand rested on your lower abdomen. His mouth laid on your ear as he moaned and said your name softly. You bit your lip feeling each thrust, you wanted to be able to turn around and dig your nails into his skin, but you had to settle for being that way.

In the place only your gasps could be heard, mixed with the clash of your naked skin. 

You could feel how Satoru had grown more confident than the first night you spent together. You enjoyed that night, you couldn't deny it, Satoru had made you reach orgasm and he had made you feel like a queen but you had felt that he wasn't letting go completely, that he was holding back on you. But at that moment? Oh no, at that moment he was making you feel everything.

“Fuck baby!” He said deep inside of you. “I need to see your pretty face.” 

You protested when it came out of you, you wanted more, you wanted everything. Satoru grabbed your hips and turned you around, so that you were both face to face. His face was agitated, his hair on his forehead and cheeks were crimson red. 

Without letting you breathe for long, he grabbed your legs and put them on his hips and then entered again. You stifled a scream and buried your nose in his neck, it was the first time you were doing it in that position.

“C’mon babe, let me see your face.” He said as he moved his hips.

You looked at with tears of pleasure running down your cheeks. “Oh Satoru!” You tightened your grip on his shoulders as he moved in and out of you. “Fuck…”

“That’s my girl, taking me so well, doing that beautiful face.” He said biting your bottom lip and then kissing you. 

He came out of you again and you felt how you moved around the room and then sat on the couch. 

“Baby, do you know what I want you to do?” You looked at him through your tears and nodded.

You took his member in your hand and gently lined it up with your entrance and then let yourself fall into it. Your entire body reacted, with that position you felt bigger and deeper. Satoru raised his hands and began to massage your breasts, pinching your nipples while you moved your hips seeking orgasm.

Satoru’s face was red and his eyes were so dark, full of desire and pleasure, and completely focus on your chest as you were riding him. You grabbed his face and kissed him, in a burning kiss thirsty for pleasure, accelerating your movements even more.

“Fuck babe.” He mumbled. “I’m gonna cum…” He squeezed his eyes shut.

You let out a moan, you had come all over him and your entire body was vibrating and leaving you without energy. Satoru pulled out of you and took off the condom masturbating a bit more, cuming on your abdomen.

Neither of you moved, your chests rose and fell and you rested your body on his, closing your eyes and resting.

“You were…” You began. “So rough.” 

“You didn’t like it?” He said, and you were able to hear a hint of concern in his voice.

You shook your head. “I love it. You were rough but gentle.” You looked at him.

He sighed with relief and smiled. “I'm glad, I thought you didn't enjoy it.” He kissed your lips. 

“We're all sweaty…” You whispered against his lips. 

“Yes, we should shower.” You nodded. “Round two?” He asked. 

“Were you not satisfied?” You asked. 

“Oh yes I was, but I will always need more of you.” 

You couldn't help but laugh when Satoru started kissing and making ribs all over your body, so much so that you felt your belly hurt from laughing so much. After that you both took a shower and yes, there was one more round and in the afternoon you spent watching movies and to your surprise, Satoru was more emotional than you had thought, since you couldn't help but cry after watching La La Land. 

When the sky began to turn orange and pink, Satoru took you back home. He had insisted that you stay the night but you had no clothes, only the dress from the party and the giant sweatpants and t-shirt that he wore. Satoru had lent you. So at the door of Kyoko's house you said goodbye with a tender kiss, wishing to see each other again the next day.

As soon as you stepped inside the house Kyoko appeared and rushed to you with a huge smile drawn on her face.

“Who was it?” She asked. “Did you enjoy the night? You looked like an absolute princess.” She smiled. 

You bit your lip, remembering the night, you couldn't keep hiding the fact that you had seen Naoya and you couldn't pretend like nothing had happened either. Kyoko quickly noticed your look of circumstance and the smile on her face disappeared.

“Something happened right?” You nodded. “Okay let’s talk about it.”

“Yeah…” 

Kyoko took the dress from your hand and you both headed to her room, where you sat face to face.

“Did something happen with Satoru's family?” She asked first.

You shook your head. “Not at all… I only met his grandparents but they were nice.” You told her. “No… the thing is that I… I met Naoya there.” 

Kyoko looked at you, as if she was holding her breath.The more she looked at you, the more nervous you became, you felt every inch of your being speed up and your breathing become more and more erratic. You knew what she would say and you knew how she would react when she found out you had met at the club.

“Oh…” She finally said. “Did he do something?! Did he try something?”

You sighed. “He was his usual disgusting self.” You looked at her. “And he said some mean things, but… doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter. If it affected you it does matter.” She held your hands.

“Utahime was there and then I talked about everything with Satoru, so it’s alright.” You smiled trying to calm her down.

“You are sure?” She questioned.

“I’m sure…” You looked at her. “There is something else, I never told you this but… I also met him at the club that time.” 

Kyoko opened her mouth. “What?!” 

“Kyoko, relax please.” You tried to calm her down. 

“No, no, you are telling me that asshole appeared there and… wait was when you got hurt on your wrist?” You avoided her gaze. “Was him?!” You nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me?!” 

“Because you were going to get worried and it was pointless, besides you were having a good night I didn’t want to ruin that for you.” 

She sighed, obviously mad. “I don’t understand why you would do that. I’m your best friend, if you get hurt I will obviously get mad and want to kill someone, especially that someone.” 

“Well… sorry okay?” You whispered. “But… I just…”

“Stop, don’t say it was nothing or that I didn’t deserve to be worried because that’s something I decide.” She looked at you. “Next time, I don’t care what it is, I don’t care, you must tell me. Alright?” 

You felt your eyes getting teary and nodded. “Yeah… I will.” 

Kyoko hugged you and you let yourself be enveloped by her essence and warmth, closing your eyes on her chest. You stood there in silence for a while and then resumed your casual conversation. Before you knew it, your conversation had gone on for longer than expected and you knew that tomorrow you would wake up with dark circles under your eyes.

That week you spent it between Kyoko's house and Satoru's. Your boyfriend insisted on picking you up from work and that you stay the night with him. You didn’t mind, you actually liked spending time with him, the quality time both of you were creating was comforting. 

But spending more time with Satoru didn't stop you from spending time with your friends, and you also found time to be with Kyoko and now your extended group, which also included Shoko and Utahime.

You couldn't wait for the weekend you would spend with Satoru in Kamakura, and show him the place where you were raised.

Your only hope for one thing, that made your heart feel in your mouth.

Everything needed to be okay, you just wanted that.

notes: bit of nsfw content before the things that will happen in the future, hehehe

— comment if you want to be tagged

🏷️: @lavender-hvze , @crybabytoru , @sanriosatoru , @norvacaine , @sadmonke , @faetoraa , @hexipessimistic , @gojoful , @kitzusune , @sh0jun , @manyno , @ropickle , @anniegojo , @milk3evee , @crunchypotatoooooooooo , @catobsessedlady , @zoeyflower , @starlostwish , @tinydonkeysforlife , @mimisq11341 , @n1vi , @olanii1019 , @vtrulvamp , @yjuisu

[cinnamongorll]

a fragile line - chapter 30

read on ao3! (139k words) | previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC

Series tags: extreme slow burn, age gap, older man/younger woman, protective joel, jealous joel, hurt/comfort, pov third person, mutual pining, angst, sexual tension, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, feral joel, parental abuse, eventual smut.

Series synopsis: three years ago, Juliet escaped her father's religious survivor camp, ending up in the Boston QZ. Juliet created a life for herself in Boston, desperate to forget the trauma of her upbringing. One day, Juliet arrives home to find a mysterious letter which forces her to return to her home town. Juliet can't travel the harsh post-apocalyptic landscape alone, so she enlists the help of the grumpy and, at times, frightening man she works alongside: Joel Miller.

Word count: 3.6k

Chapter 30:

Juliet's POV:

“Joel.”

His name caught in her throat like a burning hot coal. 

He stared down at her, his chest moving quickly as he struggled to catch his breath. A layer of sweat shone on his head, illuminated by the singular light hanging in the corner of the stables.

His eyes scanned her face. They were open wide, allowing Juliet to see the confusion and desperate fear burning around his pupils. 

“I have to leave,” she croaked out and forced her head to turn away from him as she bent to grab her bag. 

Juliet hadn’t moved an inch before Joel’s hand gripped her forearm, demanding her attention. Her head swung back to him. 

“Explain, now,” he commanded breathlessly, visibly holding his rage back.

Juliet swallowed and shook her head. Her eyes didn’t leave his face. 

All Juliet could hear in her mind was the memory of her father’s bitter cold words, smashing her entire life into sharp, foreign shapes. 

She didn’t know who she was anymore.  

How could she explain that to him? 

Her brain was screaming at her to push past Joel, to get on her horse, to find where she came from, to find out who she truly was.

But Joel’s grip on her was strong, stronger even than the hand holding her in place. 

Juliet wet her lips, then she lay her shattered heart at Joel’s feet:

“He wasn’t my father,” she whispered. 

Joel’s hand tightened as the line between his eyebrows deepened. 

“What?” 

“I remembered,” Juliet murmured, then cleared her throat and shifted her gaze to lock on Joel’s forehead so she didn’t have to watch his reaction. 

“I remembered what he told me that night… before you found me.”

Joel flinched and Juliet felt his fingers flex against her forearm as his jaw tightened. 

“He wasn’t my real father. Elijah -” Juliet’s breath caught as the foreign name left her lips. She had never referred to him by his first name; it tasted like ash in her mouth. 

“Elijah killed my parents, Joel, my real parents,” she whispered, not daring to say the words too loud, lest they become too real in her mind. “He told me right before he died.” 

Joel stayed silent. The tightening of his hand on her arm was the only assurance that he had heard her. 

“I have to go back -”

“No.” 

Juliet gasped as Joel’s other hand gripped her other arm, now locking her fully in his grip. 

“Joel, stop,” Juliet argued as she struggled against him. 

Joel shook his head as his eyes darkened even further in the low lighting. 

“Not a chance,” he ground out as his hands moved from Juliet’s arms to her waist and, with a deep groan, he lifted her up over his shoulder.

He started moving almost immediately, striding out of the stables as Juliet’s fists began to pound against his back.

“Let me go!” Juliet grunted. She was panicking now as her anxiety grew into a fierce flame in her chest. 

She couldn’t stay here. She couldn’t pretend that she didn’t know.

Juliet wanted closure, she craved it. She couldn’t close that chapter of her life now that her memory had wedged the door open. Juliet couldn’t push out the horror that seeped through the crack and pretend that she was healing, she had to confront it, she had to face it. 

She had to go back. 

Saying that to Joel, when he had fought and killed to save her from that place… Juliet almost choked on her guilt. 

But the knowledge that she wasn’t her father’s daughter, that maybe she wasn’t destined to end up like him, and that there might have been people who actually loved her… that desperate need to find out more was stronger than her guilt. 

Juliet’s world was upside down as she swung over Joel’s back.

Through blurry eyes she watched the grass he walked on descend into stones then into the concrete lining Jackson’s mainstreet as her fists slowed and her cries quietened. 

Joel wasn’t letting go. 

But neither was Juliet. 

When his weakened stride finally stopped, Juliet recognised the dark wood of his front door and she squeezed her eyes shut as she remembered her knuckles striking off of it all those months ago. 

“I’m gonna put you down and we’re gonna go inside and talk,” Joel instructed, and Juliet could feel the rumble of his voice against her chest. 

A small gust of wind blew against her face, drying the tears which had gathered under her eyes. Juliet waited for her feet to hit the ground. 

“You hear me?” he said louder, startling Juliet. 

She should feel angry that Joel stopped her and that, once again, he had taken away her choice. But Juliet’s rage was a tall candle in a frosted window; its flame burned quietly, but it couldn’t go anywhere. 

She was tired and she was restless. Her anger was second to the wild, desperate need within her to run, to listen to the voice that called her home.

It was difficult to remember that only hours ago she was at the dance, watching her friends twirl under the Christmas lights. It was still the same night, the sky hadn’t begun to lighten and yet everything had changed. She had changed. 

If only she had gone to bed, and not walked down those basement stairs. Juliet would have still be hopeful. Hopeful that she might become a whole person again, hopeful that her and Joel might be able to mend the cracks between them. 

In her basement, Juliet came face to face with the rotten mess of her soul once again. But this time, she could see a way to cut it out, to rid herself of it forever. She couldn’t give up that chance. 

“Yes,” Juliet agreed, her voice was numb and lifeless.

Slowly, Joel’s hands brought her back down until her boots hit the wooden porch. 

She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. Juliet knew that she would either see that same numbness reflected back into Joel’s eyes or worse, an echo of the hurt she felt. 

Joel reached around her and turned the handle on the door, pushing it open into the dark house. Juliet sucked in a breath when he drew near but forced herself to turn and step through the doorway.

She stood in the hall as Joel turned on the lights, moving slowly as he switched on the lamps in the living room. 

When he was done, the air turned expectant, like the house had awaited her return. 

Juliet looked up, searching for Joel and found him standing by the coffee table. He stood tall, his typical iron stance was in full effect. Juliet would have thought it was a usual night in Jackson for him, if it weren’t for his trembling hands curling into fists against his jeans.

The sight made something inside Juliet seize up. She wanted to rush to him and close her fingers around his. To get on her knees in front of him and beg for his forgiveness, beg for his permission to leave him, to leave this sanctuary.

Juliet knew that she didn’t need his permission. 

But god did she crave his forgiveness. 

Her footsteps were quiet and careful as she moved into the living room and sunk into the leather couch. Joel followed her movements like a hunter with a rifle. 

Then he took his shot:

“I shouldn’t have hit him,” Joel said, rubbing his fingers over his jaw. 

Juliet’s eyebrows scrunched as her heart rate slowed. Joel’s hand dropped suddenly and he shifted his stance, then met her eyes again. 

“If that’s what this is about… if i’ve scared you, if you wanna stay away from me, I get it,” Joel practically stuttered, his voice low as his hand tapped in a nervous gesture against his thigh. 

“No,” Juliet breathed, shaking her head. 

Joel continued as though he hadn’t heard her denial, maybe he hadn’t. 

“But you don’t gotta leave Jackson,” he ground out, as though the words pained him. 

“It’s not you, Joel,” she said quickly, “I have to go back. I have to know -” 

Joel’s cold laugh cut her off. 

His mouth was curled in that way she remembered from their time on the road, when Joel’s armour was thick and immovable. 

“No, see, I just don’t believe it,” he said with a shrug as he raised his hand in front of him, emphasising his point. 

Juliet straightened her spine. 

“I just don’t believe that you would be stupid enough, after everything we went through to get here, everything you went through… that you’d just go back out there,” he paused, running a hand over his face, “on some fuckin’ fool’s errand.”

Juliet flinched. 

She dropped her gaze to her hands and allowed her eyes to follow the trails of scars which littered her pale flesh, while she listened to the sound of Joel’s breathing.  

With a shaky sigh, Juliet stood, rising from the couch as Joel shifted his stance, sweeping his gaze up and down her body. 

With a trembling hand, Juliet caught the edge of her top and lifted it up until she met the edge of her bra. Then she stopped until she could meet Joel’s eyes. 

His black stare was glued to the brand on her stomach. 

“Remember this?” she asked quietly.

Joel’s eyes flashed to her’s. They were burning with what she knew as the cold, dark rage that simmered within him.

Juliet didn’t drop her hand, she let her father’s initials hang between them. 

“When I found out he was dead, I had this strange thought that he could never hurt me anymore, that maybe I could actually be rid of him,” Juliet began, stopping to laugh humorlessly at her stupidity.  

“Then I saw this,” she forced out, tilting her chin down to look at the letters burned forever on her skin. Her father’s claim on her. 

“And I knew that I was a fool,” Juliet’s eyes blinked up at Joel when she noticed him straighten. “I was a fool to think that I could ever escape him.” She paused, inhaling slowly. “I realised that in the QZ when he sent me that letter, and again when he forced the poker onto my skin.” 

“But the worst way I realised was when I started to kill people the same way I killed the infected. With no remorse, nothing but fear for myself, and… fear for you,” Juliet stopped suddenly, dropping her top and running a hand through her hair. 

“I thought that my father’s sickness had got to me through the blood we shared,” she whispered. “That I could never escape him because, in truth, I was just like him.”

Joel hadn’t moved; just stared down at her. 

“Then I went down into that fucking basement tonight,” Juliet laughed, rubbing her neck, “and it came back to me. He had told me what he’d done, but for some reason I just didn’t remember till now.” 

“He’s not my father,” Juliet said in a low voice, still struggling to verbalise her knowledge. “I don’t have to be like him anymore. Maybe the brand is the only thing left of him.”

Finally, Joel moved, shaking his head so viciously Juliet couldn’t help but take a step backwards when he took a step towards her. 

“You’re nothin like him,” he practically growled. 

Juliet’s eyes pricked with tears and she looked away, towards the door, then back to Joel. 

“Maybe,” she replied, inhaling another deep breath. “But I need proof.”

That broke Joel from his frozen state. 

He moved quickly, gripping her arms like he did in the stables. Gentler, this time, like his anger had been replaced by his terror. His hands moved up her arms, unable to settle on a place to touch her but unwilling to let her go. 

“I can’t stand by and watch you go on a suicide mission,” he fumed, his pupils flaring as he said the words. “Even if you make it there, and that’s an if, that town’s gonna be decimated. There’ll be nobody left.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw as he continued to stare down at her. His gaze wasn’t gentle; it felt like fire on her skin. 

“They barely had any food when we were there, and I killed their fuckin’ leader,” he scoffed. “It’s winter now,” Joel continued, “raiders will have got to them by now, you know that as well as I do.” 

He wasn’t wrong.  

Juliet felt the weight of his words land on her shoulders. 

“Danny,” she murmured, as the plan began to solidify in her mind, “Danny will know.”

“Who the fuck is Danny?” Joel demanded, tilting her chin up with his fingers until Juliet met his eyes. 

She swallowed. “He owned the bar,” Juliet clarified, “Ethan said he helped you both get me out.” 

Joel’s jaw shifted and his hand tightened on her arm, as though he was remembering that night in vivid detail. 

“What about him?” he said slowly. 

“He always said that he’d known me since I was a baby,” Juliet said lifelessly, “if anyone knows about my parents, it would be him.” 

Joel removed his hand from her arm to wipe it down his face as he groaned. 

“How’d you even know if he’s still alive?” he demanded, his voice hard and angry. 

“I don’t,” she whispered, blinking up at him. “But I have to go, I have to try.” 

He shook his head slowly.

“I can’t let you do this,” he decided.

Juliet stepped backwards, attempting to free herself from his grip, but he only tightened his hold on her.

“It’s not your choice, Joel,” she said quickly. 

“I’m not gonna let you get yourself killed,” he ground out, his eyes widening. 

Juliet flinched. 

“Don’t treat me like a child,” she whispered, repeating the words she said to him only hours ago, before they promised each other a future neither of them had the power to determine. 

“Don’t act like one,” Joel replied, standing taller. 

Juliet knew him well enough now. She knew that when Joel grew mean, it meant that he was frightened. 

But so was she. 

Juliet pulled herself from his grip, stepping backward until her legs hit the leather couch. 

Everything inside Juliet screamed to ask him to come with her. But she couldn’t. Joel had done too much for her already. She couldn’t ask this of him. 

Juliet had set her mind on this journey. She couldn’t live in Jackson and pretend that she didn’t know, pretend that the memory of Elijah wasn’t eating her up inside. 

Looking in his eyes, Juliet knew that Joel wasn’t going to let this go. Whether it be right or wrong, Joel would hold her down if it stopped her from putting her life in danger. 

He wanted to protect her, to keep her safe, even if it hurt her. 

Juliet squeezed her eyes shut when she remembered the look on his face that day outside her house, when he threw away everything they had built. Then she remembered, only hours ago, when he told her that he had done that for her, to protect her. 

She could do that too. 

That recklessness within Juliet was burning her alive from the inside. 

“I know about your daughter, Joel,” she said, forcing herself to look him in the eye, “Maria, told me.”

“Don’t,” he cautioned. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I know you’re scared to lose people, but I can do this. I can look after myself.” 

“Don’t say another word,” Joel warned with a quick shake of his head, eyes locked onto her.  

She shouldn’t have mentioned his daughter. She thought that if he were angry at her he might let her go, but her words seemed to have the opposite effect. 

“Joel -”

His hands curled into fists against his jeans.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he said forcefully, “I’m not lettin’ you go.” 

He reached up to rub his neck and for the first time all night Juliet realised how tired he looked. 

“It’s late,” Joel reminded her, “let’s go to bed. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”

From his tone, Juliet knew that his words were just to appease her. There would be no conversation in the morning. His mind was made up. 

‘Let’s go to bed’ 

Juliet almost teared up at the thought. 

She nodded and watched as Joel’s shoulders practically sagged with relief. 

He led her up the stairs with a gentle hand on the small of her back, not daring to let her walk behind him, lest she disappear. 

They lay on his bed, cushioned by his navy sheets and soft duvet. Juliet hadn’t realised how tired she was until her head hit the pillow and the crushing weight of the day fell onto her. 

She lay on her side, watching as Joel stared at the ceiling. 

Juliet ached to know what went through his mind in that moment. 

Just that morning, they had practically been strangers and now…

Juliet knew what she had to do. She couldn’t pretend she didn’t know; she couldn’t tuck that memory back in her mind and settle into life with Joel as though she had any idea who she was. 

No, Juliet had made up her mind. 

She only hoped that Joel would forgive her in the morning, when he found the space next to him empty. 

…………………………..

The winter sun pushed through the gaps in Joel’s curtains, spreading its rays across the room. 

Juliet rolled away from the window and swung an arm over her eyes, groaning. Then, like water had been poured over her, she sat up, suddenly reminded of where she was and what knowledge ran through her mind. 

Juliet’s breathing was heavy as she whipped her head to the side. Joel wasn’t there. 

Her feet hit the hardwood floor and she was up, speeding to the bedroom door as the fog of sleep still clung to the edges of her mind.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Juliet had meant to wake up at first light and sneak out without Joel realising, then head to the stables before the first patrol went out. 

She should have been gone by now. 

Her hand gripped the door handle and swung it open, then she was down the hall, swinging around the bannister as she raced down the stairs.

Fuck, she cursed herself. She’d missed her chance.

How could she be so stupid? To let herself sleep next to Joel, as though she’d ever be able to leave him like that?

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, Juliet stopped.

Stopped so suddenly that she had to reach for the bannister to stop herself from falling forward.

To her left, in the living room, sat Joel, on the couch, his elbows on his knees, bent almost in a prayer-like position. 

His head swung up when he noticed her. 

“Joel?” she breathed as her eyebrows furrowed.

“I don’t like it,” he said quickly as he straightened his back then lifted himself off the couch. 

Juliet’s eyes dropped down his body until she noticed the boots on his feet, wet with what looked like fresh snow.

She opened her mouth to voice her confusion but closed it just as fast when Joel drew closer. 

“It’s a bad idea,” he continued, standing in front of her now. 

Juliet’s stomach had dropped to her feet. What was he going to do? Block the door? Prevent her from ever leaving? 

“Joel, I know this -” 

“Shh,” he interrupted, raising his finger. 

“You goin’ out there alone, it’s not happenin’” Joel declared, his voice had a frightening edge to it. 

Juliet swallowed, then opened her mouth to protest. But Joel’s rough finger on her lips stopped her. 

“If you’re determined to do this,” he said with a shake of his head, “I know I can’t stop you.”

Juliet nearly stopped breathing.

“We do this together,” Joel vowed, brushing his finger over her lips, “and when we get back… that’s it, no more puttin’ our lives on the line, no more fuckin’ suicide missions.”

Despite the terror swirling around her heart, Juliet’s lips stretched into a small smile and Joel followed the movement with his careful touch. 

“Agreed,” she whispered, tilting her head down in a nod. 

Joel stared at her for a moment, his eyes roaming over her features, then he dropped his hand and turned around, reaching for something on the coffee table. 

It was his jacket. She’d left it at the mess hall the night before. 

“Found this,” he said quietly, turning to look out the window as though he were suddenly shy.

Juliet put the jacket on immediately. It still smelled like him. 

“Spoke to Tommy,” Joel revealed as he ran a hand over his face, “he’s not happy about it but he’ll let us go, said he’d spare a horse.” 

“That was nice of him,” Juliet said, stunned. 

Joel coughed out a laugh. “Yeah, well, it better be worth it.” 

Juliet‘s guilt began to creep in again, but she didn’t let it fester. This was what she wanted, she was finally going to get the closure she craved. 

Joel had turned around, heading over to the shelf in the living room where he kept some supplies. 

“Thank you,” Juliet breathed, watching closely as he stopped moving and turned to face her again.

“I told ya, not lettin’ you go again,” he replied, his voice rough. 

Despite everything that lay ahead of them, despite everything that raged in her mind… 

Juliet smiled.

________________________________

@amyispxnk @casa-boiardi @http-paprika @shotgun-shelby @weeping-werewolf @mysaviorjoelmiller @chlojoceycom

[sarahlizziewrites]

OC Kiss Week 25 - Day 6 - "Forbidden"

In which Davy confesses. (787 words) WIP: The Electric Pavilion (Chrissieverse Book 2) - post-canon Characters: Davy Cramps, Molly Molloy Taglist: (+/-): @novel-emma, @tabswrites, @mrbexwrites, @glbettwrites, @vacantgodling, @imsoveryveryconfusedatlife, @harleyacoincidence, @thescatteredscribbles Content warning: themes of internalised transphobia, including self-deadnaming and misgendering. This story is set in 1924, when the terminology used to talk about trans people would now be considered quite outdated and harmful, but I have avoided as much of this as possible.

“Molly - there’s really something you ought to know, before… before.”

I hold her at arms’ length, my palms on her shoulders. She had been about to kiss me - About. To kiss. Me! Why am I stopping her? - but I have a piece to say, before she does. The embankment gardens are quiet around us, surrounded only by the sound of buzzing bees. My sandwich sweats in the sun on the bench beside us.

She raises one shapely eyebrow, as though to say, ‘What nonsense are you about to spout now, Davy?’, but says nothing. A tiny tilt of her chin says instead, go on.

Here it goes. Nobody outside of my family knows my past, and Molly met me after I’d already been dressing as a man for several months - and by that point, I’d been getting rather good at it, if I do say so myself. I take a sharp breath in, focus on the marjoram-green of her eyes, and finally tell her.

I squeeze my eyes shut to say it. “I was born a girl. I’ve been misleading you. My birth name was… was Dorothy.” Aloud, my old name tastes like poison in my mouth. I wait for her to pull away: carrying on with a girl I have feelings for was bound to go poorly eventually. If she hadn’t found out now, she would have found out someday soon. When she doesn’t pull away, I cautiously look at her again.

There’s a frown between those pretty eyes, now. Beneath her hat, I notice that her bright coppery hair has begun to loosen from its curl in the heat. My own fair hair will begin to curl, too, and I absently wonder whether I applied enough pomade this morning.

I continue, desperate. “I’m sorry, I should have said before. But I’m not a man. I’ve got the wrong…” I gesture vaguely to the seat of my trousers, “...parts.”

Still she says nothing. Just as I’m growing desperate for her to speak, for better or for worse, she does.

“What on Earth are you talking about?”

Incredulity has always sounded nothing short of brilliant in her Dublin accent. I can’t help but give a sad chuckle when I add, simply: “I’m a girl.”

“No, you’re not.” Her voice holds a laugh, too, and something in me eases. “Look at you, for one.”

Look at me: taller and scrawnier than both of my sisters, wearing my brother-in-law’s borrowed tie. Hair shorn by a barber across the city and jacket shoulders padded to feign broadness. Trained resonance in my voice to make it sound deeper. I’m little more than a modestly successful fraud.

“I should have told you before,” I add, but she takes my hand and shakes her head, curls falling free from her hat.

“No,” she says, “what I mean is - if you’re a girl, by that logic, I’m a man.” Her voice drops an easy octave halfway through her sentence. It’s my turn to look incredulous, my mouth falling open.

“You–?” I stammer, but all at once, I see it: the jawline I had admired as so statuesque; the rather dated shirt-waists she wears to accentuate her waist and hips, in preference to the boxy, boyish frocks that are the style nowadays; the way my hands can fit completely within hers, long fingers wrapped comfortingly around mine. Everything suddenly makes a huge amount of sense.

“So if you think you’ve got the wrong parts, love,” she says, voice still deep, private, just for me, “then so I have I, an’ all.” 

I want to kiss her all over again; I want to hug her tight and dance through the streets. I want to hold on to her and never let her go. All that jubilance stays within. I don’t know what to say.

She continues. “You’re as much a ‘Dorothy’ as I am a ‘Donal’,” she says, “which is to say, not at all. And if anyone tries to tell you otherwise, they can fuckin’ fight me. Now,” she says, with a grin as bright as the sun. “If that’s all - can I kiss you, you wee shite?”

I find myself nodding. There are very few people around, but even so, when she pulls me close once more and presses her lips to mine, I feel a thrill of the forbidden - a private sin that only she and I share. What the world sees is a lad and his girl, sharing a kiss on a park bench. And if anyone asks, that’s all we are. Nothing wrong about that at all. Her lips on mine are a balm and a blessing, and I swear, as long as I live, I’ll never let my girl go.

[bks-writing-adventures]

The Fish (Aemond Targaryen X OC, Sapphires and Carnelian Part Two.)

Read part one here!

https://www.tumblr.com/bks-writing-adventures/754389761267056640/sapphires-and-carneliansource=share

I also have this on Wattpad where I update almost every day, and you can find edits of the story on my tiktok: bk.calliope.

As the raven left with the letter, he found himself watching it until it was merely a black dot in the sky. He cursed beneath his breath. Could the raven not fly faster? It was like the creature didn’t even want to deliver the letter. As the bird dissolved into the clouds, his focus went back to the miniature in his hand. The more he looked at it, the more he could see beauty in her face. She did not have the sharp, neat look of ladies at the court, but something more charming, a bit more wild. And different was nice. He was different, so it would only make sense that his future wife be so, too.

Unless, of course, he was too late and the girl was already married. It had been several years afterall. And she was only five and ten in this photo, awkward with the touches of puberty and the expectations of society. He took a deep breath, and eventually, placed the picture down on his bedside table, scolding himself as he saw the marks his touch had left. The corners were crinkled from the weight of his sweating thumbs, and his cheeks got rosy as he blew on the parchment in hopes of evening it out. He couldn’t believe his own behavior, it was humiliating. 

He knew it would probably be days before they received any letter, if they received one at all, and so he found himself going to the training yard. He looked over all the options for swords, and every single one of them seemed dull. The sun was doing the aged metal no favors, and they were far from luxurious. Where had royalty gone wrong? He had seen depictions of old gowns and garments, ones that were divine and godly. Sleeves used to puff, and head pieces were worn like treasure. It was like they were moving backwards. All of that wealth going to the garbage. When he got a wife, and surely he would, she would never look plain. He would cover her in the best of gowns, have her hair braided with flowers and gems. She would be a true Princess. 

“My Prince, looking for a challenge, are you?” Ser Criston chuckled. Aemond looked back at him, a ghost of a smirk on his face. 

“If I was looking for a challenge, I would not be looking for you.” He responds. He had beaten Ser Criston time and time again, and sometimes he wondered what life would be if they were not just practicing. Perhaps, if he could, he would take Criston’s head clean off. He didn’t care much for the man, no matter how much he pretended. He was a man with no honor. One with loyalty to no one. He was no great knight, and he did not deserve his title, nor his cloak. He had broken his oaths time and time again, and it would not be long before someone suffered from his negligence. Constantly leaving his post to sleep with the Queen in the midst of the knight, rinsing his mouth of the taste of women. On his knees in the Sept, as though that washed away the lasting effects of his actions. That man could crush the whole realm to pieces, the way he crushed women like sand beneath his feet. 

“Oh, is that so?” Ser Criston smiled, grabbing a sword. “Then we should ensure that you do not get rusty, like all those cocky knights before you,” He spoke, and the two men took their positions. “I am not like the men who came before me,” and for better or worse, the words were true. At least he was exactly who he claimed to be. He was not a bastard, and he was no hypocrite. And he would never be like his father, who married a child. And he would not be like his uncle, who whined and cried and created drama left and right. He would not be like his brother, who made every person miserable every time he opened his mouth.

He was not sure who he would be, only that he would not be them. Perhaps he could be a good husband, a good father. And he could pray to the gods to make him King. If only Aegon was not alive. He fought harder against Criston’s weapons as the thoughts swam around his brain. How easy it would be to find Aegon in his delusions, wrapped in women at the brothel. It would not be so difficult to slip milk of poppy into his wine. Just enough so that he would not wake up. How easy life could be, then. 

But then of course, there was Rhaenyra, who his father loved more than anyone. But even that love was not pure. There was something dark inside his words. Something ingenuine, because the only thing a King can ever love, of course, was his crown. The thing must be cursed, for every time it touched the head of man, he became insufferable. Sitting on the iron throne filled the blood with ignorance. Maybe that is why the realm was spinning further and further into poverty and misery. With a final blow to Criston’s sword, the metal split in two, and the Knight smiled. “With those skills, you should be ready for a Tourney.” He said proudly, and Aemond tried to ignore how much it touched his heart. Hearing someone be proud of him, it was the finest luxury he had ever known. That validation that made his soul come alive.

 “I don’t give a shit about tourneys,” He said, taking a deep breath as he went to return his sword to the barrel. His wrist ached ever so slightly, and boredly, he cracked his knuckles. 

“Perhaps you should. That is the easiest way for a fine man to catch the attentions of a fair lady,” Criston responded as he slid his sword back to his holder. With a smirk, Aemond looked back at him. 

“Is that what happened to you?” He asked, making the knight go quiet. 

“I am only saying that it is worth a try. If you wait any longer to marry, you were no longer be in your prime.” As if he knew anything about marriage. Aemond rolled his eyes, shaking his head with an empty laugh as he approached the gardens.

 “If this is my prime, it will be a miserable life to live. I am not even twenty.” He responded. And besides, it was not like a mans seed could ever die. “And besides, I am already taking steps, for your information. And perhaps it would do you best to care about your own relationships. I am sure my mother would appreciate it.” He spoke, walking alone to the gardens. His book rested heavy in his cloak, and he walked until he found his favorite tree, a large willow older than himself. A robins nest sat in the depths of the branches, and as he sat to read, a ladybug ran across his book. His instinct was to smack it away from the parchment, but he held his breath. Helaena was always going on and on about the value of life, in things big and small. And guilt ate away at his belly, until he eventually took the bug on his fingertip and gave it a gentle blow of his breath, sending the small insect flying calmly to another tree. His head leaned against the bark as he propped himself up, his book in his lap. A History of Dragons. He had read it twice before, but what was the harm in reading it again? Besides, it was good to keep his knowledge fresh. And it was not as though a new book was going to come any time soon. 

That was his only problem with the library. It was all too limited. The histories of Westeros, the Science of Dragons, the Philosophy of The Seven. All fine literature, but all old. All things said before, time and time again for centuries on end. The newest book was still thirty years old, at least, and there was not a single novel about romance or magic. No fiction, no escaping the present. It was exhausting. And so, he decided, that tonight would be the perfect time to take himself to the city, to the small bookstores and presses until he found something that would interest him. The evening meal was nothing special. Rosemary potatoes and pulled pork. It was good, but it was all the same as any other day. “Did you embroider a lot today, Helaena?” His mother asked, but her daughter was far more fascinated with the grooves in the table, looking at them over and over. 

“I am excited,” She said quietly, and Alicent’s brows raised. That was a rare thing for Helaena, any form of happiness.

 “You are? What for?” She asked quietly, and Aemond looked at her, too. 

“For the fish.” She said quietly, a smile forming on her face. Alicent blinked, brows furrowed. As she was about to speak, Aegon opened his mouth. 

“This isn’t fish, it’s pork. It’s pig,” He said, laughing as he shook his head and filled his mouth with wine. It was a miracle that his lips weren’t permanently stained with purple. Helaena hummed, her eyes wandering quietly. Alicent shifted uncomfortably in her chair, looking at all of her children with her big brown eyes.

 “The weather was nice today. Did you get out to the gardens, Aemond?” She asked, and he nodded silently. Trying to create conversation at the table was like trying to turn water into wine. 

“Yes. I read a great deal of pages.” He mumbles. Silence again. The sound of forks against plates echoed off the walls, and Aemond was itching to leave. It was a miracle when the dinner hour was finally done, and he went to his chambers in a hurried manner. Looking under his bed, he carefully picked out his sack of coins, looking at them under the light. Books were a luxury, especially amongst the common folk. But he was good at bargaining. It was quite the thrill. Taking two coppers and a single golden dragon, he grabbed his cloak and went to his washroom, making sure to pin all of his hair away from his face.

If the merchants caught glimpse of the silver wisps, he would be overcharged, he was sure. He was silent as he moved through the streets, his cloak pinned to the very top of his head. So long as he stayed away from the Streets of Silk, he was as good as invisible. The book stores were nothing fancy, a simple hole in the wall with an oil-filled lantern to keep it from getting too dark, bugs buzzing on the walls as he looked over the titles. He could not find a single shop that only sold books, for all of them sold a plethora of things. But this one, Books and Beads, was quickly becoming his favorite. 

It had its own charms, figuratively and literally. Orange peels burned constantly with cinnamon, making the whole room smell like autumn, and his eye squinted as he traced over title over title. They were all things he had never heard of, unique with crooked cut parchment, and some still smelling of ink. Fresh copies. He flicked through the first few pages of a fairytale: A breakfast in the woods. It seemed fairly demonic in nature, going into the ideas of old fairytales and the old gods, and yet, he couldn’t help but feel intrigued.

Written with illustrations and brief poems, it didn’t make sense in the slightest. But it would give him something to do. He could fill a whole notebook with quotes, and perhaps he could add it some lines of his own. He would do that often, which is why he cut off his personal library to everyone else. They didn't need to know what he wrote in the margins. It was like therapy. Except, not as good, and it didn’t solve much. His eye continued to wander until he came across the most curious thing. 

The Big Book of Sea and Sand. It was the only copy, and it looked as though it had been beaten with a hammer. It was full of drawings and diagrams of sea creatures that he couldn’t even be bothered to pronounce, and passages full of words he didn’t know existed. After a moment of pondering, he went to the counter, where an old woman resided. Her hair was gray and thin, and her head was covered with a crown of shells and wood. It was messy, and ugly, but pretty in a way that was both endearing and off putting. “Just these, please,” He said, holding up both of the books. 

 “Three silvers,” She said, her fingers trailing over the titles as she wrapped the hard covers in gritty paper. He scoffed, shaking his head and placing his hand down. 

“They are not worth that much and you know it. That book looks as though it has been stomped on by a herd of filthy sheep,” He said, eye narrowed. He knew he could afford it, but there was a thrill in the bargain. And besides, if he walked out with a good deal, he would be able to buy more books with the same pocket. The woman raised her brows, her forehead wrinkling like the face of an old dog.

 “But the knowledge is still worth three silvers. The covers may be ugly, but the value does not change,” She said, wrapping the stack in twine. He sighed, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he looked down. 

“Two books do not cost three silvers,” He mumbled.

 “How about this. Two books, and one fine quill.” She spoke, holding up what seemed to be a peacock feather. It was large and extravagant, the fibers of the feathers shining with the colors of the deep sea, swirls of green and rich violet. “You have a deal,” He said, popping the three silver coins on the counter and pushing his package into the pocket of his cloak. As he moved for the exit, he walked past a bin as large as a wagon, full of glass beads. Some were humongous, while others were the size of a pin head. Small burlap sacks were placed next to the box, along with a sign.

A bag of beads for a copper. What was anyone to do with so many of them? Make bracelets for a whole kingdom? He chuckled to himself, shaking his head as he left the shop, before an idea tickled his brain. What did women love more than money and flattery? Gifts. And what was better than a gift? Something handmade, with love. Slowly, he walked backwards until his feet were back on the wooden floor, and he didn’t bother looking as he filled up a burlap sack with two scoops of beads, glass and nut and wood. 

“This, too.” He said, putting the copper down before the woman could respond. The night was growing old, and he did not care to be out when storms were brewing and sex was in the air. He groaned as he moved through the forest, the cold air lapping at his warm skin and nipping at his exposed ears. He could see the glow of candles gleaming in the windows of the maids quarters, and the silhouette of Helaena doing her nightly pacing. Perhaps she would like a bracelet, too. And he was very aware of how many beads he had purchased. Maybe one for his mother, as well.

Even though he knew that she would not wear it. His hands twitched as he dragged himself to his chambers. Whoever built the Keep had to be smoking something stronger than the Gods if they thought this place would be walkable. It took him half an hour to navigate in the darkness, until he finally collided with his bed, slapping his purchases down on his bedside table as exhaustion climbed up his spine. But he could not sleep just yet. 

He would have to bathe, to wash the scent of the city off his skin. There was a constant smell of smoke and sweat in the air, and his shoes would need a wash too. He had no idea what he had stepped in that smelled so vile, and he wasn’t certain that he wanted to know what was in the mystery substance. He poured himself a cup of wine, running his bath until his mirror was coated with steam. His heart thumped as he stared at his reflection. He hardly ever had his mirrors uncovered, he often forgot what he looked like. It was easier this way. His eyes wandered down to his chest, covered in small bruises of love bites and knicks and scratches from training.

His hands were calloused from holding swords and reigns. He’d let himself be hardened like a diamond in the earth. With a sigh, he slowly sat in his bath, wincing from the heat as his skin flashed bright red like a boiling crab. He pulled the pins from his hair, letting it get covered in water, the artificially straight strands scrunching into their natural curls. How he hated it. It was too Hightower. It took away from his regal appearance, in his opinion, at least. 

He only bathed every few days, and he knew the morning would be spent in his chair, hours of having a hot comb scraped across his scalp and ends. It would only last three days before his hair would get too heavy with grease and need another wash. His ankles rested on the edge of the tub, and he drank his wine until a splash spilled into the water, twirling like blood. He groaned, downing the rest of the cup before he finally washed himself, scratching his scalp with his nails as a mountain of shampoo grew on his skin.

The sun would be up soon, and just as the first touches of sun spread across the sky, his cheek hit his pillow. He knew it was close to noon when he heard the loud screeches of the birds and the maesters, and he groaned as he lifted his blankets over his head, burying his face in the plush. His hair was a mess of frizz all around him, like an unkept mane of a lion. A knock hit against his door, echoing off his wall. With a huff, he slowly sat up, pawing around for his eyepatch that had gone flying off in his slumber. It was upside down and hardly secured to his head when he called out, clearing his throat.

 “Yes?” He calls out, waiting for a response. After two seconds, he rolled his eye, standing up and throwing on his long, heavy robe, swinging the door open, finding his knight. “Yes?” He repeated tiredly.

 “Your mother requests your presence in her solar,” The guard responded. He didn’t understand why his mother could never come to his chambers to speak to him. It made him feel a certain way, one that he didn’t really understand. She frequently visited Helaena, and yet.. He was not worth the effort. He nodded quietly, thanking the knight before he rang his bell, summoning his maids. There were maids that were meant to help him dress, but he didn’t care much for people touching him, or seeing his bare body. Especially people that he would have to see around his home. It was an odd concept. And he liked the one that did his hair. She was quiet, and she didn’t expect anything. She would simply light a candle and heat the metal comb, wiping it on wet fabric until it sizzled. 

“You could do well with a thinning.” She said. He didn’t respond, sitting still and biting down on his lip as the teeth of the comb bumped his skin. It took nearly an hour for all of his hair to be hot and straight, and the maid helped him to get the leather bands in, keeping it out of his face. “It is supposed to rain today. Do not go outside, or all of this will be in vain,” She spoke, and he nodded as she wrapped her supplies back up, slipping out the door. He dressed in his day clothes, which were not so different from the ones he wore to bed. A white undershirt that was hidden by the darkness of his doublet, a golden buckled belt resting on his hips.

Giving himself a glance in the mirror, he quickly corrected his eyepatch before heading out his door, heading to his mothers solar. She had learned very quickly that when she wanted to speak with him, it was best to send for him an hour earlier than she actually expected. He took longer than most princesses to prepare for his day, knocking on the door. When his mother opened the door, she looked bright and excited, like a puppy. His brows raised. He was not used to seeing his mother so enthusiastic, so unmasked. He smiled back, slowly, though he wasn’t sure why they were smiling. “We have a response,” She says, quickly going to her desk and holding up a letter. It didn’t look to be very long, and he carefully grabbed it in his hands.

Your Grace,

We are delighted that you have chosen to reach out to us. Luckily, Emberwyn still remains unwed and is almost a woman grown. While she is not overly fond of the idea of marriage, she would be willing to meet with your youngest son, Aemond. We would like to invite you and your son to our home on the 20th day of the Moon. We will provide a dinner of fish, clams, and crabs, and would love to have you stay as guests for the night. Our guest chambers have just been redone and are in great need of a break-in. 

Lord Tully.

Aemond read the letter a few times over, just in case he misread anything. “The 20th day? Isn’t that in only four days?” He asks, brows scrunched. It would be a long journey by carriage, unless, of course, he went on dragonback. Which could go brilliantly, or lead to him horrifying the woman he hoped to court. “It is. It would do us well to start packing. And do your best not to say anything unsavory,” She spoke, waving to some maids, having them get her trunks. “Unsavory?” He repeats, staring down at her. It was hard for him to believe that he had been shorter than her, once. When he was 14, he had the biggest of growth spurts. For four moons straight, all he did was eat and sleep, and suddenly he was 6 feet and built like the statues in the Sept. 

“It would not be proper to speak of the histories and philosophies. While I know you enjoy such topics, it is not appropriate to discuss at a lunch with a lady. Be sure to stick to simple topics that could not lead to arguing. The weather, the meal, her gown, your journey. And try your best not to speak of your swords,” She spoke, and as much as he would love to argue, he bit his tongue and nodded. He didn’t understand the rules of courting. What was the point of speaking on the passing of the clouds and the burning of the sun? It would tell nothing of his character, nor Emberwyn’s. And he did not want to marry a simpleton. She would have to have at least some interest in his hobbies, as he would in hers. If she had many hobbies. And he hoped that she did. A pit grew in his stomach as he watched the maids pack up his things. It was becoming too real.

 The excitement of the letter was greater than this feeling. Of not knowing what would happen. But now that he knew he would actually be meeting her, face to face, he twisted in discomfort. He frowned as the maids packed his ugliest clothes. The coats that he hoped he would never have to wear in the public. He always found his formal clothes to be hideous. The high colors, the bright red, the gems. He only sighed to himself as he took his books and his bag of beads to the library, burying himself at a table between the shelves. They were like a protective wall around him. As he untied the twine that kept the packaging paper together, he was careful not to cut it or wrinkle it too much, stretching it out. It was as big as his wingspan, and he tried to get an idea of how short it would be. 

As he cut it with his knife, he silently ridiculed himself. Why would a noble lady want a beaded mess crafted by his hands? He only got more agitated as he tried to get the tiny beads onto the material, his eye squinting. The end didn’t want to get into the hole. Licking his lips, he took a deep breath as he sucked the end of the twine, trying to get the end to be more narrow, trying to shove it through the hole once more. It took him perhaps an hour to get ten beads on teh twine, and he stared tiredly at it, setting it down. “Maeya,” He spoke, calling over one of the maids as the sweeped the library floor. She was quiet and chubby, a bit younger and shorter than him. 

“Yes, my Prince?” She asked. She looked anxious, as if he were about to fire her on spot, despite the fact that he didn’t hold that authority. He always felt guilt in his belly whenever the maids reacted to him in such a way, perhaps afraid that he would treat them the same way that his brother did.

 “Come here, please. Let me see your wrist,” He spoke, waving her over. After a moment of hesitance, she lifted the sleeves of her dirty gown. Her fingers were squishy and stumpy, and her skin held no jewlery. Based on what he was picturing in his mind, her and Emberwyn were probably the same size. “You are a woman. Or a girl. You are something.” He said awkwardly as he wrapped the twine around her wrist, pinching the material where the twine would wrap comfortably on her skin. 

“...Thank you?” She mumbled, brows scurnched. She couldn’t tell where he was going with this, and her cheeks were getting a little pink. “You’re welcome.” He said, taking the twine back. “So- what do you know about women? Do you think a woman some years older than you would like something such as this?” He asked, holding up what he had so far. He was trying to copy a pattern from a book of traditional beading, but it was much too advanced for him to follow correctly. He was certain he had repeated the same step a few times.

 “...I think a woman would,” She responded honestly. “It is not my taste. But it is the thought that counts.” She spoke. He nodded, fiddling with the jewlery in his hand. “I think these beads are prettier,” She says, reaching into the bag and pulling out a few shell beads. Some were clay, but she seemed to stay away from the glass ones. 

“You like them more than the glass?” He asked, watching her nod. She slowly sat down, combing through the small spheres. 

“I think that you should use a shell as the center piece. Who is this for?” She asked, taking the twine into her own hands. “A lady. A fine lady of Riverrun.” he said, a hint of pride in his tone. She hummed, turning the project in her hands a few times. “Well. For a lady of riverrun, perhaps she would like something with a natural look. Use the wood and the shells, and try to follow a zigzag knot for the closure,” She suggested, and he nodded as though he understood.

 “A zigzag knot, of course,” he mumbles, sighing as she walked away. When he finally finished crafting the bracelet, it was time for his afternoon meal of a meat pie and eggs, and he ate as he leaned over one of his books. 

“Posture,” Alicent reminded him softly, making him sigh as he straightened up. She was one of the only people that ever saw him act like a child. Hunched over, picking at his food, mumbling under his breath. And yet, he could never see the same from her. She had played her role so hard that she forgot her own little quirks. He just hoped that he would never live that way.

 “Are you anxious?” She asked quietly, and he nodded as he set his book down. 

“I am, of course. I do not like being away from home. And I do not like travelling by carriage,” He reminded her. The last time he had done so was before he lost his eye. Since then, he was not keen on travel. He preferred to stay home as much as he could.

 “I know that. But this is only the first meeting. And once you both agree to a proper courtship, things will progress. Perhaps she could come here, or maybe she will even be interested in meeting Vhagar, but I cannot make any promises,” She responded, and he nodded as his eye wandered. 

“Eat your food before it gets cold,” She spoke, and he chewed quietly. “Enjoy it while you can. In Riverrun, all they ever eat is fish. Disgusting.” She mumbled, sipping her tea. He fought the urge to scoff, leaning back in his seat. 

“I hope you do not say that while we are in their home,” He said, and she laughed quietly against her cup. 

“Of course not. I know better. Now, we have to leave in a day, so make sure that you have everything you wish to bring,” She said as she dug into her small bowl of fruit. 

“In a day? I thought they were not expecting us for a few more nights?” He asked, to which she nodded. 

“It is a long journey. It is best to leave early than arrive late.” She spoke, and that night, he slept in his bed as a single man for what he hoped to be the last time. For the next afternoon, he would be on his way to Riverrun.

Thank you to everyone who reads!!!

-BK ♡

[yutasbimil]

Oxymoron

vyn x fem!oc | tears of themis ff. (psychology major!lead) ✦ (8/8) [series fic] !!! also posted on my ao3 acc! { here } tags: hurt/comfort ♡︎ cw: heavy on (self) angst; suicidal ideation; graphic and morbid descriptions on said thoughts, negative self-talk, skewed self-perception, mentions of attempts, self-harm. triggering topic on neglect and invalidation of family/relatives. it all eventually wraps up nicely with comfort! ;w; If I were to encapsulate Yule x Vyn's relationship in a song, I think this fits them nicely :') ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။ | ‘you were good to me’ by jeremy zucker, chelsea cutler + supposedly this is a 'x reader' fic but got too heavy eventually, I apologize truly ;; word count: 3.6k

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7

do not repost © yutasbimil (2024)

cont.

Her waking life seems to be a walking oxymoron. Yule keeps contradicting herself of her beliefs, relearning everything from the truth that was built by someone else for her.

Maybe as to why she is at constant war with herself.

Now she’s crippled in taking her own steps after being locked up for so long in other people’s chains.

But she keeps caving in.

At most it stayed stagnant as ‘suicidal ideation’ to her, ever so lingering like a cycle.

Not till recently, a door peeked off an attempt and showed up a possibility at the doorstep for Yule. 

And it scared the crap out of her.

Never she had seen a suicidal attempt an option.

As killing herself brought so much distress and inconvenience to her, the idea of her bones, guts, and body splattering all over after jumping skyscrapers, or by the cliff where she rots just doesn't bring justice to her body.

Even physically harming herself like cutting slits in her skin just brings inconvenience to her. The blood spilling, the healing process, the scarring…  it's too much of an inconvenience so she just relies on other means of self-harm.

To starvation, dehydration, oversleeping, punishing herself by lying on a pool of her own sweat and limiting herself to any means of ventilation, and just sleeping for hours on end just to avoid everything.

Major Depressive Disorder with tendencies to self-harm huh?

Not at all real!

I’m miserable! I was born on a Wednesday, I am woe!

Although I have aggression and display such hostility, it is only to myself. Yet it isn't enough of an acknowledgment that I want myself gone?

How much begging on my knees is needed to be done?

The noose just brings a cone of shame type of feeling onto her as she doesn't like her body to be seen in the aftermath.

Even after dying, you're still shamed.

And she doesn't want that.

On the contrary, she's embarrassed at most having to think this morbidly that it brings Yule to shame if she ever dies sad and as a psychology advocate in the field.

A mental health advocate dying of suicide? Oh Lord, the shame.

As if we're immune to the mental distress and agony, but alas, it's hard for people to understand that people are most likely prone to such anguish of humanity.

It's difficult for Yule to grasp that she's back in this state.

But the last time she had bed rotted? Much so that she stayed almost two weeks at worst in her bed with little to no eating, drinking, and bathing herself— It just made her parents fucking mad for acting such a way.

An insolent fool, why are you acting so pathetic?

No such words came out of their mouth but the looks on their faces didn't show any sign of concern. If anything, it's just having such a disgrace of a human coming out of their womb.

And when they demanded her to open up, which she did multiple times FYI— All they did was dismiss and invalidate her.

Yule is tired, beyond expended but she has no other choice but to just continue on to carry her flesh and bones walking this earth.

New profound demons emerged along the voices in her head to “Do it.” Do an attempt to just get it over with to prove your point, Yule.

Show them how serious you are…

The whispers have been stronger and viler ever since. But she doesn't want to cave in.

At the back of her mind, it's not at all worth it to prove a point. Pointless. How serious and severe her mental ache is… it brings more gape and hollow to her already void heart the idea of dying in actuality.

“I don't like the idea of dying, I just want to disappear out of thin air.”

And it just goes on as a cycle.

You achieved all that and yet you're depressed?

Exactly. No matter how many heights I reach… All I ever wanted was a hand to reach out to me when I was in desperate need of help.

But it's just going to be dismissed.

I want to jump off and disappear.

She had dissociated since yesterday, even the packing and unpacking of her things were more organized than her array of thoughts.

Yule could only breathe in as she heard a knock outside the bathroom door.

“You need help with anything, dear?” Vyn checks up on her, she’s taking longer than usual as he noticed.

Yule blinked, blankly looking at the unkept reflection mocking her as it showed a tear-stained face she didn’t even notice had emerged.

“N-no, just… will be done after this!” she cleared her dry throat, mouth grubby as her croak echoed in the bathroom walls. 

Vyn simply responded ‘alright’, and let her be with her business.

The bathroom door creaked open as Yule dragged the door a bit too timidly, trying to not make a sound but opposite it did. 

By the looks of it, Vyn had been waiting for her as he sat by the sofa with a tablet at hand, looking casual as he read through the screen. Vyn briefly scans her as well, retaining his glance at her for a moment to acknowledge her presence in the living room. But he kept quiet, respecting the space she needed.

Yet here she is, being unreasonable towards him…

Even as Yule gets the vacant seat across him, she quickly gets swallowed up with guilt. She scrunches up her long skirt, lowering her head. Yule can’t even look at Vyn. “Can I sit beside you?”

Vyn looks up to meet her shaky eyes, he nods and pats the space beside him.

Yule can’t help but tear down her walls.

Tackling Vyn’s figure a bit, Yule is enveloped in the silver-haired male’s arms as she bursts into tears. Vyn encapsulated the petite lady into their safety net, hovering his hand slightly over her head.

Yule hugs him tighter, barely coherent. “V-vyn… I-I…” she tried to muster words, but she could only manage to bury herself in his chest.

Vyn just stayed quiet, holding her and shushing her to calm down. Yule only clutched to his shirt as she sipped in another breath.

“Sorry about what I said earlier, and how I acted as a jerk. I warned you beforehand but that was still out of line. I’m sorry…” Another intake of breath. “I don't know what came over me, but I know it is still wrong and I want to make up for it.”

Even in the previous instances, the sudden outbursts are quite telling. It masks her shame of the obvious relapse. Even as how she interprets it... it's her catching up on a lot of suppressed emotions that she exploded to tears.

Even simmering down her tears once it starts is difficult. It just resulted in her crying for hours as she felt helpless.

She feels empty yet again.

Yet, it spiked fear in her system.

Her eyes maintained such shakiness due to panic, about how? How could I ever make up to Vyn after that instance?

“I just feel helpless and it was not the right method to ask for help when you're being warm towards me. Always, just being kind when I least deserve it.”

Vyn had to rebut her on that.

“No one deserves to be punished for trying, and I can see that with you, love.” Vyn caresses and brushes her hair, feeling the hotness of her tears and breath near him. He hopes to lighten up the heaviness she feels in her strained breathing. “You deserve kindness the most on how people can be quite ignorant of their actions, and not the reaction of people towards their behavior.”

So I am making sense and just reacting towards their actions?

But… it’s still not pretty and kind. Vyn seeing me like this…Her abandonment issues heightened her anxiety.

“I-I don't know I just, feel unworthy and I want you to leave me as it's easier than to deal with this whole mess.” Her breath hitched at the thought, and she quickly took it back. “But—! I don't want you to prove it either that I am that easy to leave and unlovable—”

“You really just listen to what you want, hmm?” Vyn clasps his hands on both her cheeks to make her look at him. He sees his reflection through her dewy eyes. “Didn't I say I won't leave despite your attempts to throw me off? I am not that easy to be unfazed.”

His doting eyes bring her more tears, especially his words. “You’re so worthy, more than worthy. You deserved to be loved.”

He kisses atop her head, to her forehead, looking at her deeply once again making her meet his golden eyes. “I'll never get sick of understanding you and standing by your side. Never that I'll get weary, I get tired as I'm human, yes, but then I'll rest… Nothing a little slumber, even in the comfort of another, beside each other. Hmmm? Isn’t this proof enough that I remain holding you like this that you are worthy, Yule?”

“Vyn…”

“I love you more than enough to stay.”

“I feel ugly and disgusting. I haven't properly cleaned myself— there are others better, prettier, and saner than me. Not broken...” she voiced out but her endeavors were blocked by the stroking thumb by the side of her lips. Vyn’s eyes remained unwavering, contrarily, it’s in the midst of softened to deepening eyes striking back at her.

“And do I care? I don't care about other people as they're not you, Yule." Vyn pressed. "And you are not broken, don't call yourself such statements.”

Alas, her attempts to run away didn’t work as usual. 

“Again, I’m sorry." she breathes in. "I’m ready now to talk…”

Finally sorted out her thoughts, Yule vented out as to why she doesn’t like visiting home, on what had happened. But that’s the usual conversation laid on the table in their household. Nothing new.

She only went back to get some of the important documents she had forgotten in their home. 

“That was what occupied your thoughts since yesterday, hmmm? Explaining your dissociation since this trip began, love.”

Yule nods, and Vyn begins to piece together how much it makes sense. Her antsy behavior when it comes to time, she got so used to strict and unreasonable curfews. It was as if her body was still in panic mode, and it showed through her jitters. It really stuck even though she’s now free and already is an adult.

Being caged for so long has long-lasting effects like this.

Yule got caught up in her flow of venting, she felt her breath hot and tired. She craved water. 

“Sorry, we’re supposed to have fun and forget our usual daily lives for a moment.” Yule laughs dryly, guilt catching up her skin, but Vyn’s hand caught her consciousness first, cutting off any means of shame to develop.

“You’re supposed to let off some steam, that’s the purpose of this trip after all…”

He reaches out to her cold hands, yet his are still colder than hers. Even so, the softened gaze in his eyes radiates warmth. Like sunlight gently peeking out the curtain windows ever so slightly at mid-late morning.

She heaves in a breath to ground herself.

“Is that why you asked me on my day off to go somewhere all of a sudden?”

“Not sudden but… I had been planning since to make sure everything would go smoothly. Such a surprise needs intricate planning.”

The hints of perfectionism are reflected in his reasoning then again. But he admits a slight slip-up to his plan, a hiccup if I may.

Vyn noticed Yule was extra cautious and might have triggered her anxiety due to him ignoring her or being suspicious these past few days, adding to her abandonment issues resurfacing.

He’s guilty of this.

“I apologize it's not the best execution as it made you overthink and almost caused rapture in your trust in me. Most especially that it was an inappropriate timing due to your recent unpleasantries. But I hope you understood my intentions…” 

“You didn’t know fully what happened to me…” she shakes her head, sighing out of relief. “This made up for it, don't worry. I know your intentions very well, love.”

“Yes, but I still should've done better, I apologize, m’lady.”

Seeing her finally softening up, to her stable breathing and relaxed eyes. He can finally somehow rest easy.

Vyn continues to stroke his fingers on her hand, bringing it up close to his lips to gently caress it. “You told me last time that you wanted to visit this place, so your wish is my command.”

“I only mentioned it briefly, but you took that much thought into it?” She smiles to herself. “Your attention to detail is truly exceptional, Will.”

Feeling more loosened up and at ease, she reached and tugged the hem of his polo shirt.

“Vyn… I still feel disoriented, I’m embarrassed to ask this but… can you help me with my hair?”

“Sure, no worries…” He heaves her in to fix her posture as he’s back-hugging her. His tone showed no hesitations, whatsoever.

“But I’m giving you a heads-up I haven't washed it in days.” Yule goes onto a blabber then again. She’s just afraid of being vulnerable and him seeing her state like this, her condition of being lazy and tactless over her hygiene.

That’s when she knew it was getting bad.

Her basic functioning is blighted.

Also, this answers her attempts to avoid kissing him or anything and just isolates herself as she feels paralyzed to do anything.

Again, Vyn is that observant of her habits, it no longer hinders his interest in her.

“Want me to prepare a bath for you as well? Or… we can take a bath together?” The perk of his silver brow hints a sliver of mischievousness.

Though, the suggestion seems so convincing if it means getting refreshed. It didn’t show or imply any lewdness from the silver-haired man at all.

She could only let loose and be vulnerable; bare-naked in his presence on how gentle Vyn handles her.

-

The simple gesture overwhelms her, even with him tucking her in bed.

Vyn smoothed and brushed her hair with his fingers. He laid a chaste kiss atop her head as he whispered a soft good night.

His voice ever soothing her senses. Quite opposite of her sleepless nights in her childhood bedroom. The neon star stickers on her bedroom ceiling bring more blinding rays than calm slumber. And the random noise in their house is like storm clouds hovering over her head.

But being in his presence and his sound of breathing, equates to a calm pattering on the roof of a tranquil rain, and their shared bed a laid out like a cloud to soundly sleep in.

Lifting her chin up as support, Vyn wipes off the tears that she didn't even notice already leaked out beyond her consciousness and control.

“I'm sorry for how cruel the world has been to you, love.” He softly speaks, and he laid kisses by her eyes. “You don't deserve any of this travesty on your character.”

“No, we don't, Vyn… we deserve more than just survival." There's lightness in her chest saying this, she pulls him closer to her chest, enough that they attune to both their heartbeats. "We should be able to live.”

We deserve better, and on how Yule is crying right now, it is encapsulated in her endearing gaze towards this man.

It’s to let out all the pain, and how she yearns for a soft, easy-going life. That’s what she wanted all along. The calmness. And she’s eternally grateful that Vyn is the one to open her eyes to the possibility that she deserves this.

She deserves the light to live, to rest easy, to be able to breathe. And the privilege of living to share a breath with another.

“And your turmoil towards what they're doing is as it should, it's of reason… and does not reflect nor imply blighted blemishes on you as a person.

You are human after all, and you should be allowed to be human with vast and depth of emotions.

As not everything is black and white, my love, and I know it has been difficult for you to navigate through the opacity and hues of the grayness of it all… But I will gladly be of service to be your strength in this journey with you.”

His words serve as a soft reminder, but also shatter her in the sense that she wakes up. It's time to face reality. That everything coming up to this point in one’s life matters to shape a person, but it shouldn’t dictate you on your desired, deserved future.

It is still a matter of one’s hand how we navigate through life. But it’s also a nice reminder that she has a helping hand to count on as she journeys further ahead.

Yule truly needed that wake-up call.

This is a reminder to keep trying. To live on.

“You're no longer alone, and I hope I don't bring you shame that I am not the first person in mind to hold on to when you need help.”

“But now, I have to keep ingraining it in my mind to think of you, always… will that be alright?” Yule cups her hand on his face, tracing the mole residing by the side of his eye.

He beams, putting his hand over hers. “You have my full permission, love. And vice-versa.”

Reciprocated, as their love for each other.

Feeling the restlessness vanish, his words are the only thing grounding her tonight.

He continued his list of reminders, as tonight seemed to be the night she needed it the most. And hopefully, the last time she would be wrapped in intense anxiety instead of a warm blanket.

“You're more than that Yule, and you know that as to why it brings you so much remorse on how opposite their actions towards you with your real, actual worth.

You no longer have to be so hostile towards yourself, I'll be here every step of the way to lead you back whenever you go astray from what's doing you good.”

Like a good nudge to her timid figure, it nudged Yule to his side of the bed more, more certain with her full concentration on his.

“Their vile treatment of you gives a disservice to your kindness, and you're usually a patient person but you are put to the test when it comes to them.”

Vyn wipes the last of her flowing tears, now turning to a halt as his words assure her.

She feels seen; she feels loved.

“I hope I bring you calm instead of triggering your fight or flight mode.”

Yule laughs, in disbelief at how this is turning her overwhelmed with emotions, but now she feels safe letting her walls break loose as Vyn accepts her vulnerability.

She pulls him close to her chest, to let him know how her heart is beating at a fast pace. At most that he is one of the reasons she wants this heart to keep beating.

And only if she can stop one’s heart from breaking, it would be his, it is Vyn’s heart that she wants to protect with her dear life as well.

“I'm usually under the water, muffled at most, drowning with rage and darkness of an abyss-like pit.

I have been long lost in this labyrinth in my waking life. But upon meeting you, it was as if fate— destiny, whatever force the universe had brought us… I have resurfaced into calm waters.” With every softness she could gather, it is placed with a kiss they share.

“You keep me afloat.”

He kissed her back, and as if eons passed on how profound the feelings scattered across the warmth of both their chests. Tugging and pulling in between the skies and seas, it is left suspended.

Tranquil.

“And you are my anchor, you ground me and keep me safe from straying away. And at last, upon dreading destiny, I have come to love and accept it as it led me to you. Perhaps this was fate.”

And they wouldn't like it any other way.

They keep each other well-balanced.

Besides not getting enough sleep due to insomnia and uneasiness, she’s only able to make up for the lack of it with Vyn beside her. His presence serves as serotonin.

She hasn't had a good night’s sleep for a long while.

Her calm disposition displays the apparent glow of her recovering and getting better in being more liven up. And truly Yule’s more invigorating aura was driven to this point as they have come to a full circle. She comes off more regulated, happier.

She has been trying for so long to get off the seemingly helpless cycle.

Now she has someone quite opposite to her nature to accompany her hand in hand.

Yule is ready to accept and throw anything else that’s disheartening, as love is what's valued above all.

The golden eyes of Vyn brought her back to the ground. Being lifted and carried with such care she no longer felt the cynic air of dismay.

Just gentleness and warmth.

He embodies the tea aroma he loves so much.

He is love.

One wouldn't let oneself be this bare without trust, it is never uncomplicated to lay a doormat to welcome intimacy that easily again. Especially after mishaps after mishaps; the mass of catastrophes had led one’s heart to be numb.

But perhaps, it is love that was felt as to why their walls were torn down beyond the windows of one’s soul. No doubt if they hadn't let themselves be vulnerable, if they didn't try once more— this wouldn’t be their decided fate.

To love an unlovable person, that concept stayed an impossible decree for Yule not till it was proven wrong by Vyn. And for him, to fall in love at first sight when it is one of the most straying thoughts in his system, but then, Yule managed to breach through his walls at first glimpse.

As much as they see each other’s foundation as fallen debris, a dilapidated land.  

It gives them hope that people can always start anew, now that they have each other… Together, they can make a home for one another.

※ my masterlist | #enjeiwrites ※

[shortentheway]

I Can See the End

Levi Ackerman x OC (18+)

Post-Apocalypse AU

Master List | Read on AO3 Here

Welcome to the second chapter. If you haven’t yet read the first, the links are above. Please continue to mind the warnings as you read. Things get progressively darker with each chapter. Anyway, please enjoy.

Warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), age gap, power imbalance, profanity, unprotected sex, degradation, dubious consent, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, emotional abuse, codependency, obsession, drug use, implied prostitution, violence, mental illness.

Chapter Two ~ Purgatory

I awake disoriented, covered in a layer of sweat from head to toe. My lips are chapped, my throat is dry, and my vision blurs as I slowly open my eyes. I’m greeted with the sight of Ymir’s bunk above me. I turn my head to my right, then the left, and realize that the lights are on and the room is empty.

What time is it?

I sit up reluctantly, my joints popping as I do so. My head feels heavy as if I’d been drinking the night before. I rub my face and sigh.

What the fuck have I done?

Before all this, when things were normal, a petty crime like stealing food would’ve been met with a metaphorical slap on the wrist. Nowadays, a single step out of line is viewed by our military overlords as a grave offense. I understand why it’s that way. If I were a power-hungry military leader who accumulated power by exploiting and oppressing civilians living in a concrete box, I too would be weary of an uprising. They claim the reason they operate things this way is because, according to them, this compound is the last vestige of civilization that they’re aware of. We all know better, though.

Regardless, I know the hounds will come for me. Come to drag me into the pits of hell as punishment for my sins. Whether it be today or tomorrow, they’ll come eventually.

I slowly stand, so as to not make myself lightheaded, and make my way to the clock above the door. My eyesight’s going to shit. I realized at about fifteen years old that I was unable to see as clearly, but what is there to do about it? Basically nothing. The chance that they’ll give me a pair of glasses if I were to apply is slim to none.

Once I get close enough to the clock to read the time, I see that it’s about half an hour past noon. Not as late in the day as I thought it was. I decide that I should shower before I do anything else. I smell fucking rancid.

I walk across the room to the very back where the communal bathrooms are. Slowly, I glance around the corner of the doorway to see that there’s only one person in there; it’s a woman, thank God.

Feeling comfortable enough, I walk inside and make my way over to the bins with clean towels and single-use bars of soap neatly folded and stacked inside. I grab one of each, swiftly enter a shower stall towards the back corner, draw the curtain, and begin to undress.

Once I’m fully naked, I unravel the twin braids I perpetually wear my hair in. My dark curls fall, spiraling down the length of my back. I stand there in the stall for a brief moment, unmoving, staring at the grout in between the off-white tiles. I then take a deep breath and turn the water on. It’s important to be as efficient as possible in the shower, as we’re only technically allowed ten minutes at a time. The hot water hits my sore body, and I let out a groan, not caring if the woman a few stalls down thinks me strange. The water is scorching, exactly how I like it. Showering is probably the only time I ever feel truly warm. Even when I’ve been working for hours on end to the point where sweat is soaking through my work uniform, I’ve never felt warm enough. Only in the short showers I take every day do I ever feel warm enough.

I quickly wash my body before I begin on my hair. Washing and detailing my long, curly hair is what takes me the most time. Over the years I’ve mastered the art of maintaining my somewhat difficult hair texture with the minimal resources I’m given. It’s a miracle that my hair has maintained some of its thickness in the first place, considering my lack of nutrients. It’s definitely lost some of its density, but it’s minimal in comparison to what it could be. I know it would be much easier and way more practical to simply cut it all off and wash my hands of it. However, at some point in my life, I began to develop an emotional attachment to my hair. It’s the only thing I have that connects me to the life I had before.

Before the end, when my mother would style my hair in intricate designs with colorful clips and bows. When my sister would brush through the tangles as I sat and played in the bath. The sweet smell of the styling products they would heedlessly apply throughout my head. Sometimes if I think about it hard enough, I can still smell it.

By the time I’m finished washing and detangling my mane, the water shuts off. I huff and roll my eyes like a child. I attempt to turn the handle again to turn the shower back on, but this is an idle endeavor. I’d have to wait about half an hour before the shower is usable again. I could just hop into another shower stall, but I remember a couple of years ago when a guy used to do that frequently. Somebody snitched him out one day, for whatever reason. I haven’t seen him since.

Why can’t they give us fifteen minutes instead of ten?

I exit the stall quickly and wrap myself with the towel. I was so lost in my nostalgic reminiscence that I didn’t realize the woman had left, and I was now alone. Truly and utterly alone.

I pace over to the long row of sinks and look at myself in the mirror. I make a point to examine myself once a day. It keeps me sane, even if I don’t particularly like what I see most of the time. My caramel-colored skin is washed out and has a grey undertone to it, most likely due to my lack of sunlight and nutrition. My face is slim, much like the rest of me, which makes my dark brown eyes appear much larger than they actually are. My collarbones unevenly jut outward as more evidence of my malnutrition. I run my long fingers over my face and hold my breath for a few moments. I look extraterrestrial, like an alien that’s snuck its way on earth and disguised itself as a human. I don’t think I look particularly ugly per se; however, I definitely look unsettling.

After I’ve concluded my daily self-judgment ritual, I dry myself off, style my hair back into twin braids, make my way out of the showers, and walk to the corner of the room where the clean uniforms are kept in a large cabinet. The uniform they provide us with is purely for functionality. It’s all the same shade of black, including the wife beater that’s worn underneath the work shirt. There are no clean sets in my size today, so I’m forced to choose a size larger than usual. I sigh in frustration and yank the clothes out of the cabinet, pulling them on my body roughly.

As if my day couldn’t get any worse.

Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem, but I’ve already started my day off in a foul mood. The small inconvenience almost sends me over the edge.

Once I’m finished dressing in my too-large clothes, I walk over to my shared bunk bed and lie back down. I begin to weigh my options. Do I risk going down to the mess hall to get my ration for the day? It would probably be wiser to remain unseen considering my predicament.

I am really hungry, though.

I typically still eat in the mess hall on off days, so it would only look more suspicious if I had a sudden change in routine.

It does make more sense to stick to the same routine so I don’t draw any unnecessary attention to myself. Plus, the longer I stay in one place, the easier it will be to find me.

I’m so fucking hungry.

I sit up in bed and grab my shoes from underneath. I get out of bed once more and make my way to the wall by the door where the lockers are. I find my locker and enter the combination. There isn’t much in there, just an old blanket that my father gave me, my work ID, and my ration cards. I grab one and shove it in my pocket. I then walk over to the clock on the wall for the second time today. The time reads about half an hour after one o’clock. I curse under my breath. It’s usually busy in the mess hall up until three. I could potentially use the commotion to my advantage and hide myself amongst the crowd. The higher ranks of the military usually don’t eat in the mess hall anyway. In fact, I don’t think I can recall a time when I’ve seen Levi or anybody of importance eat in there. The lower ranks of the Garrison and Survey Corps do, however.

Do I take the risk?

The longer I continue to stand here, the more exposed I become. Somebody could walk through that door any second and drag me to my dissolution. Fuck. The paranoia is clawing at the back of my brain, making me want to scream into the empty air.

I need to hold myself together.

“Fuck it,” I grunt out and slap myself hard in the face before wrenching the door open and stomping out into the desolate hallway. My footsteps echo loudly over the hum of the fluorescent lights as I make my way to the mess hall. It’s not unusual for the hallways to be empty around this time of day. Presumably, everyone’s already there, or drowning their sorrows elsewhere in moonshine, drugs, or sex.

It takes me about fifteen minutes to reach the mess hall. I peek my head through the doorway to examine what I’m about to walk into. There are quite a few people, all loudly shouting as they stuff their faces with beans and wash it down with shitty alcohol. The only military men I spot are Garrison guards. If there are other branches here, then they’re not wearing uniforms. Most importantly, however, Captain Levi Ackerman is nowhere to be found. I didn’t expect him to be eating in the mess hall regardless, but it does give me some peace of mind.

I enter the lion’s den with haste, successfully maneuvering throughout the clusters of people. I make my way to the line in order to get what I actually came here for, some food. I keep my head down and pull some strands of hair loose by my face, hoping it will disguise me slightly. Waiting in line feels like it’s taking way longer than normal. The anticipation of potentially being recognized is all-consuming. I try to slow my heart rate and relax my shoulders.

If they were to find me here, they would definitely make a scene of it.

They’d make an example out of me.

The thought of being roughly dragged out of the mess hall by a bunch of large men sends a chill through my body. Rough hands manhandling me through the compound. Deep voices spewing vitriolic insults as I kick and scream, pleading for them to let me go.

The unwelcome thoughts cause bile to rise in the back of my throat. I really shouldn’t be thinking these things. Unfortunately, I can’t help but mentally prepare for the worst-case scenario. I grow increasingly frustrated with myself, and my eyes begin to water.

God, how could I be so fucking stupid?

In the midst of my groveling, I notice that, at last, I’ve reached the front of the line. I walk forward and pull my ration card out of my pocket, handing it to the tall, blond man behind the line. He glances at it, reading the small list of food that is to be served on my plate. As far as I’m aware, all the workers in the Green receive the same ration cards, except for the fact that men are given double the amount, so it’s not hard to guess what occupation I hold just by looking at it.

“You work in the Green, huh?” He observes.

“Yeah, I do.”

“My girlfriend’s brother works in the Green too. His name is Connie. You know him?” He asks. So this is Niccolo. I’ve never seen him work the line before, so I had no idea what he looked like. He’s actually quite handsome.

“Yeah, I know him,” I reply dryly.

“You don’t sound like you like him that much,” he chuckles.

“I don’t really; he’s funny, though. I’ll give him that.”

“Yeah, I can’t say that I blame you. He’s a shit-starting smartass who doesn’t know when to shut his mouth,” he says with a smirk on his face. “He really cares about my girlfriend, though. I know that I can always trust him to have her back if I’m not around, so there’s that.” I don’t even realize that he’s finished plating my food as he hands me my tray.

“That’s good then,” I say, promptly turning around and finishing the conversation.

I scour the mess hall looking for an optimal place to sit. Preferably a spot where I can see the entrance so I can make a quick getaway if need be. There are a lot of people in here, and I don’t know the majority of them. I make a point to not befriend the other citizens of this shitbox for a couple of reasons. The main one being that nine times out of ten, if a person is attempting to befriend you, it’s purely for personal gain. Sex, drugs, extra rations, and a possible chance to climb the social ladder are all most people seem to be after these days. Once again, I understand why this is. I simply want no part in it. I’ll remain silent and unseen to the general public, preferably till the day I die.

Continuing my search for the perfect place to sit, I recognize a familiar face. Actually, scratch that; two familiar faces, Ymir and Krista. I stand there in slight disbelief. I haven’t seen Krista since the day she left for the Quarter. Usually women from the Quarter eat there and not in the mess hall, but I guess Krista really wanted to talk with Ymir.

I walk over to their table and plop my tray down, making my presence known. They both turn to look at me in slight disbelief.

“Holy shit, Sweetheart, you scared me,” Ymir reprimands me.

“Sorry,” I mutter. “How are things with you, Krista?” I ask, immediately turning my attention to her.

She’s still looking at me with a look of surprise on her face. “Oh! Things are going super well, actually,” she says quietly. “I know it’s only been about a week, but I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Hmm… yeah, it does feel like that, huh? You really like it down at the Quarter, though?

“Yeah, actually, it’s nice not having to do physical labor all day, so… yeah. The food is also a plus; I finally don’t feel like my body’s giving up on me, y’know?” She laughs slightly.

“Yeah, that must be nice.”

“Honestly, I think you’d like it down there too.”

I give her a questioning look. “What makes you say that?” Ymir looks like she wants to sink into the floor.

“Well, y’know, I just think you deserve nice things. You can have nice things down at the Quarter.” She says. “I’m sure you’d get accepted if you applied! There aren’t really any girls in there who look like you, so I’m sure—“

“What do I look like exactly?”

“Well, y’know you—“

“Krista, maybe we should have this conversation elsewhere, at a different time, hm?” Ymir jumps in, cutting her off. She gives me a subtle, apologetic look.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry; I just thought it’d be something you’d want to consider. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m really sorry. I swear,” she rushes out.

“It’s fine, Krista, but I’m really not interested,” I say with a serious look.

“So… are you gonna tell me what’s got you so on edge? Don’t try to deny it either. You still have that look on your face,” Ymir asks, changing the topic of discussion.

“Ymir, like I said yesterday, I made a stupid mistake. That’s all,” I spit.

“There’s no way you’re gonna lie to me, Sweetheart. I’ve never seen you so tense before, plus you keep looking at the doorway like the devil himself could walk in here at any moment. So, you need to tell me what the fuck is going on.”

I stare blankly at the table, not saying a word.

Do I cave and tell her everything? Would she or Krista tell anyone else? If they do, that would come back to bite me in the ass quick. Fuck. No, I have to maintain my lie.

“I got into it with a guard yesterday, okay? I said some things I probably shouldn’t have, and they cut my rations for next week, so yeah.” I ramble on and roll my eyes slightly.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that yesterday?”

“Yeah, y’know, I could give you some of my ration cards. I really don’t mind.” Krista interjects.

“Krista, you don’t have to do that. I just didn’t wanna make a big deal out of it.”

“Mm… right, okay then. You really need to be more careful, Sweetheart. I don’t know you that well, but I wouldn’t particularly enjoy it if something bad happened to you.” Ymir says with a hint of suspicion in her voice.

“Yeah, I know,” I whisper as I pick up my fork to begin eating my food. I almost forgot about it. It’s probably cold by now.

Krista and Ymir continue making conversation as I eat. I don’t pay much attention as I’m lost in my own thoughts. The food tastes bland on my tongue, even more so than usual. The texture is that of clay in my mouth, but I continue to eat it, knowing I’ll regret it later if I don’t.

I scan the room every once in a while. Continuing to check if any scouts or MPs have decided to make an appearance. I spot no military men; however, I do see one face I recognize, Eren Jeager. The youngest son of the compound’s chief of medical staff, Grisha Jeager. Zeke Jeager, the man who runs the Quarter, is Eren’s older half brother. Their family has a lot of influence, so they tend to not mingle with the masses. However, I see that Eren is conversing with Floch fucking Forster of all people.

When did he show up? What the fuck is he even doing in the mess hall to begin with? And talking to Floch no less. Maybe something is happening in the Quarter? Would Krista know if there was? I wasn’t aware that anyone of Eren’s social standing would even look in the direction of a laborer.

I turn to look back at Krista and notice that she’s, very obviously, looking directly at Eren with an unreadable expression. Also very interesting.

I decide I need to finish eating as quickly as possible. Eren’s presence is putting me on edge. Not because I’m afraid he knows of my crime, but because his girlfriend definitely does. Mikasa Ackerman, Eren’s girlfriend, is a high-ranking soldier in the Survey Corps. She also happens to be Captain Levi Ackerman’s niece. If he’s here, dicking around with Floch in the mess hall, she won’t be far behind.

God fucking damn it.

“Hey, I’m gonna head back to the Green.” I tell Ymir and grab my tray.

“Oh, okay, are you good?”

“Yeah, I’m good, just tired like always, so I’m gonna take a nap.” I say, rushing to leave as quickly as possible.

“Hmm, okay, I’ll see you later then.” She replies dryly, eyeing me with a suspicious look.

“Yeah, sleep well! I’ll see you later, okay?” Krista says.

“Yeah, I’ll see you later.”

Fuck me.

I rush to place my tray with the other dirty dishes in the corner of the mess hall. I know trying to lie to Ymir is useless, but I can’t bring myself to tell her the truth. I’m scared. Like, really scared. A kind of fear I’ve never felt before. Haunting and never relenting.

I quicken my pace to the doorway and look over my shoulder one last time to make sure nobody is watching me. But just as I walk through the doorway, I’m nearly bowled over by a muscular figure. I take a step backward and begin to apologize, but the words die in my mouth as soon as I realize who I’ve just run into. Mikasa Ackerman, of course, because why would it be anyone else?

I’ve never seen her up close, only from a distance in large crowds. She’s truly mesmerizing as she is terrifying. We’re similar in height, so I’m looking directly into her dark eyes as I lift my gaze. She has an annoyed expression on her face for a moment before her eyes widen slightly.

“I’m really sorry!” I blurt and quickly skirt around her into the hallway before she can reply, running as fast as my legs will allow me. I don’t look back. Doing that would only give her the opportunity to examine me closer.

Maybe she didn’t realize it was me. There’s also the possibility that the captain never reported anything. Maybe I’m worrying for nothing. Yeah, okay.

My body feels cold, as if I’d been standing outside naked for ten minutes. I can’t stop shaking. My eyes begin to burn, and my lips tremble slightly. I look up at the ceiling, bright lights shining directly in my eyes, in an attempt to keep the tears from falling.

Once I finally reach the sleeping quarters, I run to my bed, pull my shoes off, and bury myself beneath the blanket. I shove my face into the pillow and scream as loud as I can. Cursing myself and deeply regretting my decision to eat in the mess hall.

I’m such a fucking idiot.

I didn’t even check to see if anyone else was in here, not that I care about that right now regardless. Nonetheless, after I’m finished with my temper tantrum, I raise my head and look around the room. There are, in fact, people in here with me. Two people, both of them men, and I make eye contact with them. The men in question: Jean and Marco, naked, underneath their blanket. Of fucking course.

“What the fuck are you two nasty freaks looking at?” I snarl. They just look at me, jaws slack, speechless. “Well?” I press further.

“Well, we—“ Marco begins before I cut him off.

“Just so you’re both aware, which I’m sure you already are, everyone in here can hear you fucking, like literally everyone. So, if you’re going to continue doing that shit, you need to turn down the volume. I don’t get enough sleep as it is,” I rant.

“Y—yeah, sure thing,” Jean stammers.

I lay my head back on my pillow and let out a huff of annoyance. Will I ever know a moment of peace? I hear their sheets rustling, and I begin to ponder, shamelessly letting my perverse thoughts run wild. Who tops and who bottoms? Why do I even care? My intrusive thoughts get the better of me this time.

“So,” I begin. “Who’s the top and who’s the bottom?” I ask out loud.

“What the— what the hell kinda question is that?!” Jean hollers.

“I don’t know, call me curious, I guess. Don’t take offense. You don’t have to answer.”

“Well—“

“We switch,” Marco interrupts.

“Hmm, yeah, that makes sense,” I deadpan.

Jean sighs as he pulls his pants back on, then looks at me.

“What was with the meltdown just now?” He inquires. Normally, I’d ignore him or tell him to mind his business. This time, though, I humor him.

“Ran into someone I’m not very fond of, let’s just say that.”

“Well, you’re not very fond of anyone, so there has to be something more to it than that.”

“Maybe she doesn’t wanna talk about it, Jean,” Marco tries to reason.

“It doesn’t matter. I fucked up. Like, royally fucked up,” I groan. I definitely won’t be going into any details about what I did with these morons. However, it’s nice to talk about it with someone, even vaguely. I highly doubt that they’ll even remember this conversation by tomorrow anyway. They’re both high as shit. I can see it in the way their pupils constrict.

“What the hell did you do? Like, seriously. Because if you did something bad enough to catch the attention of the MPs, you need to stay the hell away from me,” Jean rants.

“Jean! That was so fucking rude!” Marco yells.

“It doesn’t matter, Marco! I don’t need any of this shit falling back on us. You know—“

Jean’s outburst is cut off by the sound of heavy footsteps. They’re almost too heavy. Like the sound of death, marching down the hall. Echoing off of the concrete foundation of the building. I know what awaits outside of the doorway without needing to see it with my eyes. A cold feeling sweeps through me, as if somebody had thrown me into the pits of hell.

The notion that hell is a hot, fiery pit of eternal chaos is false. Hell is cold; I’m sure of it. I’ve lived enough years on this earth, in this never-ending winter, to know true suffering. Hell is complete separation from God, and I know now that he has abandoned us all. My prayers will forever go unanswered, and everything else living on this earth has been condemned to suffering.

We all stay still, ceasing all movements and sounds. Waiting for what feels like an eternity. Waiting to behold whatever judgment awaits us beyond the other side of the door.

[cuteniarose]

also this anon came here from ur art blog!

can you tell us more abt ur ocs?? infodump plz

Hey, it’s fine, don’t sweat it! That was all on me, tbh, I have a habit of not putting too much info about my OCs into posts because they have a target audience of two, me and my partner in crime, and obviously we both already know pretty much everything there is to know about these guys. It’s very rare that anyone stumbles upon my art blog, let alone likes it enough to come here and send multiple asks about my characters, so thank you for that!! Maybe I should start putting small bios in the descriptions of my art posts, at least ages and sexualities and who they are in relation to whom 😅

Anyway, I did make a long infodump post about my main OCs, Suiren and Midori, here, and 99% of that information is still accurate, so I’m not going to repeat myself. And the rest depends on who you wanna know more about, Kat and I have over 20 between us, if I were to talk about everyone we’d be here until next year. But for now.. how about a rundown of the ones I currently speak of most often?

(Under the cut because this got LONG)

Haya – Born in 120 AG, she/her, cis, thinks she’s straight but definitely some flavour of queer, will most likely never figure it out :/. She’s Ghazan’s older sister who raised him after their parents fell victim to a plague when she and Ghazan were 14 and 5 respectively. Obviously, life wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows for the two of the after that. Haya had to quit school so she could work to provide for her brother, and she worked herself to the bone at any job that would take her because what else could she do? Let her brother starve? Not pay the bills so they’ll eventually end up homeless? And with how tired she was, of course she had little capacity remaining for kindness. She became hardened, mean and immensely overprotective, always yelling at Ghazan whenever he didn’t do as she told him, particularly he ran off to play in the Swamp despite it being where the sickness that took away their parents had come from, even more so when he made friends with Ming-Hua, and eventually she started hounding him endlessly about how much money he’s costing her. And it all boiled down to Ghazan running away as a teenager and joining the Red Lotus, later reuniting and falling in love with Ming-Hua, and having Suiren and Midori. When the time came for the plan to kidnap Korra, the girls were left with Haya, and that’s where things take a sharp turn for the worse. Haya saw her brother in Midori and the swamp rat who stole him away from her in Suiren, they were living proof that her brother abandoned her and she couldn’t stand it. And so she became physically, verbally and emotionally abusive, and the effect that childhood had on the girls will stay with them long after they’re out from under her roof. Haya is easily the most emotionally conflicting character that I have. You want to hate her, you SHOULD hate her, she’s an absolutely awful person with 0 redeeming qualities, but then you remember that once upon a time she was very much like Suiren, a young girl who loved her mother very much and just wanted the best for her little sibling, and now she’s older and alone and miserable. It’s.. a sad fate, and a part of me can’t help but sympathise with her. Not that it excuses her actions, but it adds a layer to her for sure.

Summiya – Born in 124 AG, she/her, cis, aromantic allosexual, no exact sexuality label beyond that since for her, sleeping with people isn’t about the partner, but rather what they can give her. Zaheer’s older sister, the stereotypically perfect eldest child who sets impossible standards for her siblings. What sets her apart from the rest is that her face is perfectly symmetrical, as if someone put a mirror to one half of it, and while she’s undeniably beautiful, the symmetry tends to freak people out a little. She doesn’t look human, more like a perfect porcelain doll, and that’s exactly what she was raised to be. She was born into a noble family and given the patriarchal structure in place her only role in life is to uphold her father’s reputation and political status by being married off to the highest bidder and becoming the perfect wife and mother. When she was 16, Zaheer ran away from home and she denounced him as a brother with no hesitation. When her sister Aiza did the same thing three years later, Summiya struggled a lot more to do the same, but she was already married and pregnant at that point so pushed the event deep, deep down and focused on her own family. Following her siblings’ betrayal, she was placed under a lot more pressure to not end up like them and not let her kids do the same, which resulted in her becoming an overbearing control freak who hates that both her children (a girl and a boy, just like her own siblings were) were born with birthmarks on their faces, making them imperfect, and her carefully concealed but still obvious hatred of those marks drove her daughter to attempting to bleach her skin. And all her efforts were for nothing, because they still end up rebelling against her as teenagers, not too long before she discovers her husband is cheating on her and only a few months before Zaheer is imprisoned. Tough year, what can I say? And she just.. cracks, completely loses it, and Kat said she’d write a proper fic about it so I’ll leave the details to her, especially considering tumblr won’t like me talking about them, but she begins cheating on her husband too and is a complete masochist, to the point she deeply scares her partners and they end up breaking it off. Essentially, Haya on steroids 😅

Aiza/Emran – Born in 126 AG, she/he/they, genderfluid, pansexual, polyamorous. Zaheer’s other sister, the middle child in the family. The three siblings were never close with each other, they were never allowed to be, but Aiza and Zaheer still managed to share a few moments where he told her about Air Nomad culture and philosophy, thus causing her to gain an interest in it too. After he ran away she started reading a lot more and aching for the freedom described in the texts. At age 17, a few days before her arranged marriage, she gets into an argument with Summiya about duty, sacrifice and wanting more from life, much more than being married to a guy she never even had a proper conversation with and birthing his children, and upon finding no support in her sister she decides to run away too. She cuts her hair, disguises herself as a boy under the name Emran and becomes an air acolyte at one of the temples. She struggles at first since she never had to work for anything before, but eventually begins to love this way of life and gains a lot more confidence in herself. She makes friends and grows so close with them she sees them as family, and at some point reveals her deceit, but no one is too mad at her because ultimately, she’s still her. But after that revelation, she realises that she didn’t dislike being a boy, and she doesn’t hate being a girl as long as she’s not under the intense pressure her parents placed on her, and becomes genderfluid, using different pronouns and both Aiza and Emran as names depending on what they feel more like that day. They also start experimenting with their sexuality and fall in love with a bunch of people of all genders, forming a polycule though never settling down officially. After Harmonic Convergence they will gain airbending, and eventually, several years later, they’ll reunite with Zaheer and the two will get to need out about Air Nomads together like they were always meant to 🥹🥹

Ehuang – No exact birthdate yet, but most likely >180 AG. She’s still a bit too young for us to really decide on gender and sexuality and whatever else, but for now, cis, she/her. She’s the daughter of Midori and Opal Beifong, conceived with the help of Bataar Jr (Midori was the one pregnant). Midori and Opal adopt several kids together, but at some point Midori decides that she wants to know what it’d feel like to carry a child herself, to be there when they’re born, to see traits of her family reflected in them. So she and Opal talk, ask Bataar for help, one thing leads to another and nine months later, precious baby Ehuang is born. She’s the love of my life and light of my world, genuinely the most good and pure thing to ever exist, the representation of everything finally being okay with the world, and I adore her beyond what words can convey. She’s named after a character from the same legend her great grandmother’s (Ming-Hua’s mom, Nuying) name comes from, and will eventually reveal herself an earthbender, though not a metalbender like Opal’s family, but a lavabender like her grandfather. Truly the perfect mix of her entire family <3 This section is a bit shorter than the rest, but that’s simply because she doesn’t have too much going on with her yet. Hopefully one day we’ll find the time to add to it (and finally design her siblings, maybe???)

Ila and Alasie – Grouping these two together because they tend to go hand in hand with each other. Going off how old I imagine them to be compared to Suiren, Alasie was born in 152/153 AG and Ila in 150 AG. Cis and she/her for both, but Ila is a lesbian and Alasie is aroace (and a waterbender, though she’s rather bad at it). They’re not related to each other or, surprisingly, anyone else either on my OC list or out of canon characters. They both work as handmaidens in the Northern Water Tribe palace under Malina, Unalaq’s wife. Now, there’s quite a bit of lore surrounding Malina, but the basics are that her and Unalaq’s marriage was arranged, he has no interest in her because he’s a spiritfucker and only into Vaatu, she hates him, dislikes her kids, and was generally unsatisfied with life right up until one of her handmaidens showed interest in her, and in the nearly two decades since then she’s formed a proper harem out of both maids and guards who are all utterly enamoured with her. It’s not a permanent arrangement, a lot of them end up leaving their positions to get married or whatever else, and Malina chooses not to mourn and simply move on. Ila is a girl very much like the rest, in love with Malina and becoming absolutely obsessed after the one night she had with her. The difference is that her affection is completely unidirectional, she looks at no one else but her lady, completely and utterly devoted to her alone. Alasie, however, is aroace, and after being propositioned by Malina one evening tearfully confesses that she never wants to be touched by anyone, and Malina smiles and calms her and allows her to sleep in her bed, no obligations or anything, just so she can feel the warmth because she comes from a poor family and her clothes aren’t nearly as good at keeping her warm. What she ends up having with Malina is most similar to a queerplatonic relationship, and through that she becomes friends with Ila too, as they’re the two that Malina is most fond of at the moment. I will admit that Alasie is basically just a projection of myself that was created when I first figured out I was aroace and having a whole crisis over it, and Ila shares quite a few traits with Kat, so… yay for self inserts? They’re just fun characters to play around with when we need a break from the general doom and gloom of our main universes, that’s all :)

Oof, this took a looong time to write, and again, these are only about a sixth of all the OCs we have, so if you have any more questions about them, or wanna know about anyone else specifically, feel free to ask!!

[angel-eyes05]

bite the hand (chapter 7)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

pairing: spider-woman!oc x miguel o’hara 

summary: lorena's whole world was taken away from her in the blink of an eye, after she accidentally broke a canon event. lucky for her though, she was able to find a portal watch in her dimension and used it to get out before she glitched out of existence. unfortunately though, running from dimension to dimension, she's been named as an anomaly by the spider society. now, she's constantly on the run from them, their leader in particular. when she eventually gets caught though, she's recruited onto a mission to catch another anomaly who might be from her past. to her dismay though, her partner on this mission is her very captor. will she be able to stop arguing with him for long enough to get the job done?

info: enemies to lovers, maybe a slow burn depending on chapter count, oc is 24 and miguel is 27, both oc and miguel are super sad lmao, they're also both super violent so, they also hate each other what a slay, in regards to my oc you can read her character sheet right here

warnings: there might be spoilers for atsv in this so watch the movie before reading this, blood description, angst but with comfort this time yippie

word count: 1.5k

notes: i lied that i didnt post this chapter soon after 6 LMAO sorry im a procrastinator

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

The antique shower head spurted out water in clumps as Lorena turned the dial on after calming herself down. She went to feel the temperature after letting it run to get warmer for a second.

Freezing cold. 

She groaned to herself. Whatever, she thought to herself. 

The bloody, sweaty, purple fabric stuck to her skin as she tried to peel her suit off of her body, almost if it was merging with her. It was all she new how to be now. Without a home, without a family, this was all her identity was at this point. A Spider-Man with no city to protect. Pathetic.

Once her suit was off, she was able to get a better measure of her injuries. The dried up blood connecting her skin together made it even more painful to move her leg and arm. She used the cold shower water to scrub off the concoction of sweat and blood on the bullet holes. Even though she normally hated cold showers, Lorena was just happy to wash herself off. This was probably the first time she had a shower in weeks, constantly being on the run. The past couple of weeks rolled off of her skin with the droplets of water. The dirt that had knotted itself into her scalp made its way down the drain.

After she shut off the water, she realized that the only clothes she had with her right now was her dirty suit. She just settled for the stained robe that laid sloppily folded in the compartment under the sink. She then filled the bathtub up with water, cleaning her suit with the limited amount of soap in the shower, and hanging it on the shower pole to dry. 

Just as she was about to open the door to leave though, she paused. Right. It had been so quite she forgot he was even there. She didn’t want to look at him. Not after what he said to her. Not after admitting to what he did. Part of her felt bad for bursting out on him like that after he opened up to her, but she was too blinded by anger to care. 

With the bathtub still wet, and her suit dripping into it, she gave up and just decided to sleep on the rug. She wasn’t sure of the time, but she was too worn out to stay awake, as she drifted to sleep on the uncomfortable tile.

A nightmare similar to the one a few nights ago disturbed her from her sleep, as the cold floor sent shivers through her body. Her reach for a towel underneath the sink for extra warmth proved to be in vain when she realized there weren’t any left. 

Remembering how Miguel had found extra towels from the hallway connecting the main room to the bathroom, she quietly creaked open the door to make her way there. She assumed Miguel was asleep, so she was fine walking out there. Just as long as he didn’t wake up. She turned off the bathroom light before opening the door to ensure he stayed asleep.

Pitch black consumed the outside room. The tossing sound of the bedsheets was made by Miguel, sleeping silently. Lorena quietly made her way to the closet, using her hands to feel around the walls for the handle. As she worked in the dark, she kept her ears open for any sounds Miguel would make, signaling that he might be waking up. Once she found the handle, she carefully slid the wooden door open. To her dismay though, creeks and squeaks rattled through the room as she moved the door. She stopped for a second, her eyes darting over to the bed. All she heard was more tossing. She let out a breath of relief.

Instead of trying to continue to open the door, she instead stuck her hand inside the crevice she created. She whispered little curses under her breath as she wiggled her hand inside the closet.

“Would you just sleep in the bed instead?”

She froze, then sighed, ignoring him. She fully opened up the door this time, no longer caring about the noise it would make. “It’s big enough for the both of us,” he insisted again. “No, O’Hara,” she said, heading back for the door. Once she opened it though, the bright light of one of his laser webs shot past her pulled it shut. She whipped her head around to see his face, slightly illuminated by the glow. “Please?” he wished softly. She rubbed her face with her hands. The floor was uncomfortable.

She drowsily made her way over to the bed and climbed into it with her back turned to him. Even with Miguel scooting over to the very edge, his body took up most of the space. As much as she wanted to wiggle away and keep the space between them, she couldn’t get very far without almost falling off the bed. She had to admit though, the heaviness of the quilts warmed her up almost instantly. And it also helped that Miguel was basically a heater. 

The both of them sat in silence for a while, despite them both being awake. Then, Miguel decided to break it.

“I’m sorry.”

It was weak, mixed with the drowsiness of his voice and the loss of previous charm and confidence. 

“Me too,” Lorena repeated back after a while.

Silence again. 

“You’re not a coward,” he said as if he’s been thinking about it since their argument. 

“And you’re not a hypocrite,” she said back, even though she still believed it slightly.

…

“You were awake when I first opened the door, weren’t you?” she asked after some time. 

“Yes. You were too?”

“Wasn’t tired.” Liar

A soft, low hm came from his mouth.

Lorena turned around to face him. “How about this. To get ourselves sleepy, I’ll ask you a question about yourself, and you ask a question about me. Ok?”

He took a moment to think. “Okay.”

“Ok, I’ll go first. What’s the deal with your suit? Is it a hologram or something?” she said quickly, as if she had been waiting to ask him that for a while. He chuckled at her enthusiasm. “Not exactly. It’s more of a molecular-nanotech sort of situation. It’s made so my claws don’t rip through the fabric. But no, it’s not made from fabric like most variants do.”

“Woah. That’s super cool,” she said in awe. “Okay your turn.” Miguel made a thinking sound as he sat. “Where’s your family from?”

“My parents were born and raised in Mexico, had me in Cuba, and then moved to New York after my aunt and uncle went there first.” 

“That’s…confusing. But my mom’s from Mexico too.” 

“But your last name…?” 

“My dad’s Irish.” 

“Ohhhhh. That makes sense.”

Their back and forth questions continued on for what seemed like hours. “Okay okay, give me a serious question now,” Miguel asked her, in the middle of a laugh. She took a moment to think to herself. “Do you remember those little kids on Earth-1732?” He gave a small nod. “The little girl…you seemed upset after I made a joke about you and kids. It was because of your daughter, right?” she asked hesitantly. He took a deep breath. “Yes.” They were both silent for a little bit. “How do you do it?” “Do what?” he asked, confused. “Keep going after losing someone like that. After seeing reminders of them everywhere you go,” she said, her face partially hiding in the pillow. “I assume you’re talking about Eddie?” She nodded.

…

“You don’t forget.” She looked up into his eyes. “You keep going by not forgetting them. By doing the things you know they would want you to do. And they would want you to keep going. By moving on, while still keeping them in the back of your head. It’s what I know Gabi would want for me…and I’m sure it’s what Eddie would’ve wanted for you.” Embarrassment flooded her body as she tried to hide the tears coming out from her eyes. “I just…I don’t know how I’m going to be able to face him again after what I did,” she said shakily through her tears.

What Miguel did next surprised her enough to get her to stop crying for a second. What were once muscular, dangerous weapons shifted into soft pillows as she was wrapped into his body in an embrace. She quickly hugged him back, tightly, and sobbed into his chest. He rested his head on top of hers as he felt her body shake beneath him. 

Up until now, he had kept his distance whenever he saw her visibly upset. Previously, it was due to his detest for her. Then, it was due to her feelings. He feared. Feared that getting too close to her would end up in disaster, due to his suspicions that she still carried feelings for her past lover. But now, he didn’t care. Miguel just wanted to be there for her. 

Her second round of crying today took up the rest of the energy she had, putting her fast asleep while still in his arms. Her soft, light breaths tickled his arm hairs, as he pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. He even gathered the courage to give her a small peck on her forehead. “Que duermas bien mi querida,” he whispered softly to her, before quickly following her into slumber underneath the heavy quilts.

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

NEXT CHAPTER

a/n: its short but its cute...take appreciation for it now cause it will be painful in a few chapters lmao

taglist: @the-ikran-man @jenniferdixon05207 @yuuuumii @elwyn7 @waniesss @lust-for-pan @natthernandez @pix-stuff @ang3lf4c3 @artfulthoughtswp

[lynni3x]

Cloud Strife x Oc(Reader)

Warnings: A bit of angst(I think not proof read), fluff, reader is oc. Reader if Tifa and Clouds' best friend.

Team Strife's first mission-oneshot

“Tifaaaaaa,how much longer do we have to climb these stairs!!!”

In all honesty, I was most certainly not prepared for this. And not the nagging coming barret, it was the worst. “Stop whining.” cloud said as you can see the sweat forming on his forehead. “Speak for yourself strife, your face is shiny.” she joked as she turned around to face him, almost tripping. She caught herself by the wall next to her. This made cloud smirk which was rare. He opened his mouth before he got caught off by Aerith, “Ryo, you should know by now, stop sleeping so much and work out. That's why you get tired easily.” she scolded, making Ryo roll her eyes. As they reached the top of the stairs. “Since you’ve made it this far, it’s only fair that I congratulate you for it.” a monotone voice said, as they reached the end of the stairs. Ryo’s eyes widened as she noticed the figure. So did clouds’. “What are you doing here?!” he practically yelled at him as he stood in front of Ryo, shielding her from him. She stood there frozen wide eyes staring at him, not knowing what to do. “If you don't remove yourself cloud, I’ll do it myself. We have unfinished business.” his voice was stearn. “You’ll have to get through me if you want her-” “seph, what are you doing?” “you’re scaring Ryo, look at her '' and indeed he was, Ryo stood there shocked at what was happening. In front of her stood: sephiroth, zack, and genesis. Her old teammates and her mentor who was supposed to be her soon-to-be-husband, but she didn't want to marry him as much as her father wanted her too. She didn't love Sephiroth as he did, and he still loved her even after she left him. Maybe she did a tiny bit, but not as much as him. Cloud nodded his head at Tifa and Aerith, they stood next to her making Ryo yell, “Enough!” they all looked at each other,then at her. “You all need to stop acting like children!” Ryo was upset, she didn’t like being upset at others for stupid reasons. She walked past Sephiroth and the others. Making sure he heard her. But not the others. “If you continue like this, you’re never gonna get anywhere. You’ll eventually be left all alone. I won’t have any pity left for any of you.” her green eyes glowing as he knew what that meant. The room went quiet after that, ryo was the first to make the move. Her katana clashing with Zack's buster sword. As he barely dogged it. He noticed her green eyes glowing. “You shouldn’t let him get to you. Come back.” she gritted her teeth as she pushed harder. Making him lose his balance and stumble back. Genesis caught him in time. “You all should know this by now. You’re no match for her. No one is.” they knew that voice, it wasn't her. She was being controlled like a puppet. “It’s impossible to defeat her!” she said as started laughing like a maniac. “The ShinRA PROJECT has now been completed!” They all knew what was going to happen, whether they liked it or not. They had to fight ryo. And they had to use teamwork. Otherwise it wouldn't work.

A/N: This is very old, it's been in my drafts for a while now lol. Sorry for any grammer mistakes, and my very first post:), hope you enjoyed I might make a part two. Not sure yet,

[silkendandelion]

All This For A Coin (One-Shot), A One Piece fanfiction

Trafalgar Law x OC (male) Words: 2.7k Genre: Fluff, humor, tiny bit of sauce

Summary: Set almost 3 years after the events of Mirage In The Desert. River and Law seek out the Cross Guild to buy an important artifact, and Crocodile comes to meet them. The former lovers remember what they once had, while River reflects on the love of the present.

Rated Teen and Up Audiences for sexually suggestive content and language.

Cross-posted to ao3, here. Check out my ao3 of the same url for more fics. Likes and reblogs are always welcome. And as always, thanks for reading. Cheers to another fic done, cheers to self-indulgent fluff.

~*~

“Captain, 2 kilometers to land!” called Bepo from the control room, met by Law in the doorway in his navy blue, feathered coat.

The helmsman’s gaze scanned repeatedly over the sea. “...I guess the rumors are bogus, I don’t see Bananawani anywhere—AH!” They screeched from behind their mask when their observation screen darkened, blocked completely by a reptilian eyeball.

“Hold your fire! Be calm,” Law gritted out, standing firm despite the sweat on his forehead. He turned to the man that trailed behind him, draped in a cloak of peacock blue and green, his long hair pinned away to show off the jewels that hung from his ears. Even in the dim lighting of the control panel bulbs, his easy smile was brilliant, a sign for the Heart Pirates to be soothed.

Nearly 3 years ago, they had groaned and rolled their eyes at every appearance of the showy revolutionary, uncaring for how he spoke so casually to their captain, especially after saving his life in the aftermath of the battle for Marineford. Now, he knew all their names, knew which ones preferred hugs and which preferred handshakes. Were he anything less than a friend, they would have protested more to their Captain informing them they were traveling to meet the so-called Cross Guild.

The stacked heels of River’s boots clicked on the submarines metal floor as he went to place his palm on the warm glass. “We are expected. Crocodile said the wani would be fed prior to our arrival, and it appears he has kept his promise.”

“Preparing idle procedures, Captain. We can wait here as long as your business takes,” the helmsman informed him.

“Not as long as it takes those things to get hungry again, right?” Shachi said from the door.

“I don’t plan to be here any longer than absolutely necessary,” Law said, already on his way to disembark.

“Yes, leave the engine rubbing,” River said as he followed.

“Leave the engine what—” They raised their eyebrow behind their mask. “Hm. He almost got that one right. He’ll get the hang of the common language eventually.”

“At least he’s not saying, ‘Room, shingles’ anymore.” Bepo said, leaning in his chair and idly popping a snack into his mouth with a big paw.

“I miss that one, actually. Made the Captain smile.”

~*~

The Cross Guild’s temporary headquarters of operations was far removed from the luxury preferred by it’s founders, though the clown seemed to be determined to thrive under less-than-ideal circumstances. Damaged stone walls and drafty corridors, tattered tapestries and dark halls, all the qualities of a defunct and usurped former fortress, for all it’s wilting splendor, was still a fortress when packed with the new organization’s loyal mercenaries.

In the main hall and draped across a chipped stone throne, his segmented legs fidgeting with the singed carpet, sat a yawning Buggy, suddenly all too eager to address the pirate and revolutionary in his home.

“YOU two?! The insufferable Trafalgar Law, and—” He made an embarrassing grunt, no doubt remembering River from his Impel Down escape, and the indecent comments he made about his figure when he first mistook him for a woman. At least, until River yelled his refusal at the clown with what was decidedly not a woman’s voice. No, Buggy really wasn’t living that one down.

“How DARE you bring those legs—I mean your face in here before me! How did you get passed the wani? Didn’t that bastard Crocodile say those beasts would—” He clapped his mouth shut on a squeal when said bastard Crocodile appeared at his side.

“Are you treating our guests well, Buggy?”

The clown watched his own reflection swallow in the golden curve of Crocodile’s hook, watched it nod his acknowledgment.

“I called them.” Crocodile explained calmly. “Seems I’ve found an eager buyer for our cargo in one Trafalgar Law.”

“No shit?” Buggy looked to them both, all curious eyes as his limbs floated back to him.

“Be a good clown and show him to the store room.”

“Me?! I mean, why should I—”

Crocodile’s withering stare suffocated him appropriately into submission, and Buggy obediently slinked off down the hall with a wave for Law to follow.

“I’ll wait for you here, Law. It’s okay.” River smiled at him, though he could see it gave little comfort as his gaze darted suspiciously between him and the former warlord, once, then twice before he followed slowly down the path Buggy left.

Honestly, at least one of the two smart men should have assumed their reunion would be a little awkward, if not a little feisty, bloody maybe. Anything besides the cloistering silence.

“… I’ve been catching up on your publications since last we saw each other,” Crocodile broke the quiet first, ashing his cigar on the patched floor.

“Do you like them?” River leaned into his opinion, let his gloved hands fidget.

“Your prose was always a touch flowery for my tastes, but anyone who reads your work can tell how intelligent you are.”

“A high compliment, coming from Sir Crocodile.”

“There’s also talk about your unpublished adventures.”

He squared his shoulders, unsure whether he was about to be scolded or complimented again. With Crocodile, he never could tell.

“The pirate Trafalgar Law has lost his title as Warlord.”

“That’s common knowledge.”

“And has taken a lover, a showy mercenary with hair like a black flag and twin silver swords.”

River frowned that such a personal rumor had appeared about them. Not that River wasn’t used to his private life being flayed apart for the circus of the newspapers and Marine correspondence alike, but to inflict such poor taste upon Law’s reputation was unforgivable. “Is that what people are saying?”

“I paraphrase. You know how the masses chatter.”

“They’re right this time, even if it’s none of their business. I am in love with him, and he loves me.”

Crocodile sigh condensed between them in smoke, a familiar shroud. “Can you even trust him? He’s made an entire career out of playing both sides. Even for you, River, that is reckless. Did you learn nothing the first time?”

Did I teach you nothing?

“I trust him with my life.” River insisted.

You trusted me.

“Young men are fickle,” Crocodile argued, uncaring how flimsy the grievance sounded to both of them. He would not see River hurt, not by the same mistakes again.

“He had his reasons for everything he’s done,” replied River. “Good reasons. Both in and out of the veil of the world’s watch.”

“Does he satisfy you?”

River scoffed at the abrupt shift in subject, though incapable to not turn a little pink. “To be a true gentleman is to never tell, and to respect your competition.”

“Don’t quote your father to me, not when I’m asking if that brat has taken the time from his ambitions to care for you, the way you deserve.”

“The way you did?” His cheeks darken.

“… How I wanted to.”

Crocodile’s pause is unexpectedly genuine, sentimental, and River feels his face cool, if only to be replaced by a tingling up the back of his neck. “You’re different, Crocodile. And yet I would recognize you anywhere.”

“Do you miss it?”

“I…” He searches for words that would neither damn him nor give hope where there is none. “Look back on us fondly.”

“I’ll give you another moment to answer me truthfully.”

His skin prickles in goosebumps beneath the layers of his clothes, the looming darkness of Crocodile into his personal space is familiar—and warm. He’s close enough to kiss him if only he leaned into the vector of them, hurled himself towards a bliss not forgotten over years and other lovers.

“And does he trust you?” Crocodile rumbled between them, his voice reverberating inside River’s lungs and caressing along the curves of his ribs.

They were a storm once.

Lightning trapped in a bottle, pin-prickles of electricity racing over flushed skin and along sore tongues in hot mouths. Crocodile can recall with a cursedly perfect memory the sight of him, chest heaving and flushed with a new orgasm. He could still taste the humid tang of saltwater in the folds of his body.

As did River. With only his eyes closed, he could feel a wide palm on the length of him as if it was real, hear Crocodile rumble the sweetest promises into the space between his shoulder and ear while he pulls him apart by the ends of his threads. Look at you, my love. Perfect, and all for me.

They were almost married.

But in the present, and with all the warmth and fondness he still had for him, River finally answered his question.

“Completely.”

The smile that forms around Crocodile’s cigar is contented, pleased to see River is exactly as he remembers, perhaps better. “Good. I will accept nothing less.”

River huffs. “As if you would ever be asked to approve,” he says cheekily, with a swish of both his colorful coat and the hair that drapes over his shoulder.

“If I ever believed you were being mistreated: I would not ask your permission.”

Now that gives him pause. Beside him, Crocodile is as serious as he had ever been, falsely bristled and deadly calm, a threat to the distressing thought of his River abused.

His always, even when his no longer.

River smiles back with a gentle calm that disarms him, reassures him he is safe. “Thank you, Crocodile. I shall return the favor.”

“Tsk.” His teeth click around his cigar.

“What? You don’t think I can handle one clown and the world’s greatest swordsman? Well, I can certainly take the clown.”

“It was good to see you, River.” He tapped him ever so gently on the nose, just to see him grin. “Fair seas. I suppose clear skies mean nothing to a submarine.”

He’s still smiling when Law returns, just in time to see Crocodile vanish around a bend in the hall. To say the doctor is unimpressed would be irresponsible, nearly incorrect. River might describe him as all the usual emotions he acquired when Crocodile simply appeared in conversation, let alone in the flesh: miffed, vexed, agitated—pissed off.

“What did he say to you?” He began without a hello, his stance wide and stare fixed to the end of the empty hall.

“He said hello,” replied River, an answer Law hadn’t expected if the appearance of the wrinkle between his eyes was to be believed. It was, no matter how permanent the wrinkle was becoming.

“… Fine. He’s allowed that much, I guess.” He broke his gaze away to finally acknowledge River. Instantly, his eyes and heart softened. “I wont ever let him hurt you again. I promised.”

That’s what he said about you.

River’s answer, his gratitude, came as the gentle kiss he placed on his warm, suddenly pink cheek. Blushing, after all they’ve been through? The doctor continued to be the most endearing man he had ever met, capable of turning River’s heart to honey syrup despite all his jagged edges, his tongue sharp with sugar crystals. Melt him, and see how he shines.

“You have your prize then, mi lao?”

Law fumbled with the parcel in his coat pocket, hands clumsy at the Oasin phrase of affection he still wasn’t accustomed to hearing, especially not from the flashy revolutionary that had always, always flirted with him, flirted with countless people. Even when his insides were on the outside, his wounds leading him to Seth’s door in a breadbasket, when it was completely not appropriate to flirt, well, then there was River.

But he didn’t flirt anymore, no more than could be considered a jest, and Law struggled to accept he stood on the other side of that line alone. The only one who received River’s simpering affection now, the only one he gave those eyes to, the only one he allowed to touch him.

It made his fucking chest hurt.

“I got it.” He said, most articulately. “Look.”

He unwrapped the wrinkled newspaper to show off a rare-mint coin, void of dings and scratches despite the thick layer of tarnish that stained Law’s fingertips as he held it up to the light.

“That’s beautiful, Law,” River gasped, though he had exactly zero idea why the coin was rare or which historically significant event was stamped onto it’s opposite face. “How much did the clown ask?”

“Shh.” The doctor held up a stained finger, breaking into a mischievous smile as he grabbed River’s hand.

‘Crocodile! Hawkeye! Find him and kill him!’ They heard a furious Buggy screech from down the hall, vaguely muffled and thumping from the inside of what sounded like a locked treasure chest.

“Room.”

“Shingles? Yes, let’s go!” River cheered over Law’s “shambles”, and the pair blinked out of existence, reappearing inside the submarine control room with a flicker of muted blue light.

“Captain! What happened?” Bepo greeted them, at first gleefully, then shocked.

The crew hadn’t been expecting their Captain and River to return by Room, nor did they expect the sight of him smiling, still holding River’s hand and nearly doubled over with what could only be described as an honest, full-bellied laugh.

“Oh—shit.” He wiped the corners of his eyes with his sleeve. “Full speed, crew. Let’s get out of here.”

“Y-yes, Captain!” The navigator fumbled to punch buttons and pull levers in the appropriate sequence after such a lifetime event.

Law flicked the coin off his thumb, caught by his palm, and held up to the ceiling light. “How mad do you think Aurelio is going to be that we made him wait?”

“Tell him it was very important,” said River.

“I’ll tell him it was your idea.” Law smiled again when River clicked his teeth at him. “It’s a reasonable strategy.”

“You’re incorrigible. And I love you.”

Law dropped the coin to the floor with a clang and a mumbled “fuck”, only to find himself staring at the faces of his crew when he stood back up. Bepo, the masked helmsman, Penguin, Shachi and more all crowded in the doorway while they waited for him to make the appropriate response.

“… What?” His face was already redder the emergency lights with what he could assume they wanted.

‘Say it back.’ They all demanded of him.

“I—” His face darkened further, the hand without the coin attempting to pull his hat down as far as it would go. They were ALL getting painting duty for this. “I love you too. River.”

“You jerk.” Shachi teased him. “Was that so hard? How long do you expect someone to wait until you say it back?”

“I say it back!” Law barked, his blush refusing to dim. “Just not in front of you all! It’s private!”

River just chuckled beside him, met with Law’s accusatory finger. “You, be quiet.”

“WHOA now, Captain, be nice to River!” Shachi yelled too loud to not be on purpose, as targeted as the way he leaned out the doorway to make sure the entire sub heard him.

‘He’s not being mean to River, is he?’

‘We love you, Captain, but you have to be nice to River too!’

‘Yeah, we won’t stand for that!’ They all heard various shouts on either side from the echoing metal hallways of the submarine from the enthusiastically protective crew. Protective of all their friends, it seemed.

“You are ALL going on painting duty for this,” he growled.

“But we just painted the sub last week,” Penguin said dryly.

“Yeah well, you paint it when you’re bad!”

“We’re out of paint, Captain, can’t be done.” Shachi reminded him.

“BUY more paint!”

River smiled, unbelievably soothed by the bickering and love that overflowed on the Polar Tang. For all the years he’s spent traveling the ocean, searching for somewhere he loves as much as his home, he thinks this little pocket of air beneath the sea must be the place he wants to stay.

[writersblockworks]

Could I request Stardew Valley Sam x OC Nsfw fic where it's her first time? If that's ok. I have my OC's bio right here.

Name: Nora 

Name Meaning:  Shining light

Gender:  Female

Height:  5’1”

Species: Human

Personality:  Patient, kind, selfless, optimistic, creative, trustworthy, steadfast, wise, righteous, intelligent, empathetic, hardworking, passionate, encouraging, respectful, caring, humble, sincere, imaginative, quiet, independent, strong-willed, observant, and honest.

Likes:  Chocolate pudding, long sleeved shirts, art, botany, note taking, environmental science, listening to music, vegetable gardening, collecting recipes, puzzles, nature, libraries and fried dough.

Dislikes:  Cruelty, arrogance, crowds, loud noises, seafood, killing, ignorance, dishonesty, arguing, negativity.

Alignment: Good

Hobbies:  Reading, crocheting, baking, cooking, crafting, drawing.

Flaws/Weaknesses:  Worrying, overworking, isolation.

Strengths:  Family and friends, positivity, uplifting words, helping others.

Age:  26

Skills:  Problem solving

Weapons:  Sword, sickle, sling 

Birthday:  December 28

Body type: Average

Appearance:  Shoulder-length curly, light blue/brown hair tied in a braid, ultramarine and turquoise eyes.

Hairstyles:  Different kinds of braids

Extra:  Is diagnosed with Arthritis in her hands and legs. Untidy hair, Insomniac, has a scar on her right and left leg and light skin tone. Naps in random places.

Hi! Yes I can do this!

DISCLAIMER: this character has arthritis in her hand, and I do not, I am not dealing with arthritis so I am not sure how to write it. After looking at a bunch of things from medical websites to tumblr posts about this. I have written this to the best of my ability.

Also most first times start out awkward as fuck. That’s just how it is. I wanted to stick to realism as much as I could

After a long day of farming in the field on what seemed like the hottest day of the summer. All I wanted to do was to see my boyfriend Sam. Today was our one year anniversary and I needed to grab a shower, although I basically got a shower of sweat when I was working. My hands and legs felt as if they were on fire today and running warm water over my joints only soothe it so much. I looked at my work on the field. I had gotten a good bit done today, the chickens were already taken care of so I didn’t have to do that.

I walked inside my house, my goal was to sit on my couch before I went to shower. Once I sat down I felt myself sink into the soft cushions. I watched the tv just procrastinating on getting to the shower, even though the hot water would ease me. I sighed and slowly stood up, my cat eyed me almost asking if I was okay. I smiled and walked to the bathroom and started the warm water. It felt good on my skin.

After my shower I felt a lot better though not completely, but definitely cleaner. I wrapped my hair in the towel and went to change into nice clothing. Since we were staying in i decided to dress comfortably too. I looked at the clock

6:30

Sam would be here in 30 minutes, we didn’t really have anything too fancy planned just a pizza and a movie. Then he would stay the night. Just cuddling and when I wake up he usually has coffee for me waiting. Though I didn’t sleep well. He would hold me and rub my hair till I fell asleep eventually. Most of the time he stayed up longer than he heeded to for me. And for that I loved him. I smiled and laid in my bed.

I heard a knock at the door then I looked at the clock, no it’s too early. Sam ran on ‘Sam’ time, which means he was never early, he comes about ten minutes late. Unless I’m with him, that’s the only time we are early. I get up and open my door to see him. The sun beaming a warm orange color on the side of his face.

“Hey babe! I know I’m early but I thought since today was special I would surprise you.” He said before kissing me. I felt my shoulders relax and all my worries, stresses, aches felt as they melted away.

We pulled away after a moment and he handed me a huge gift basket. I looked inside to find a few new crochet hooks with some yarn I pointed out to him when we were in the city. Then there were some books, a stuffed animal chicken that you could heat up, a few books I mentioned before, a blanket with a pillow attached so when I napped I could have something to lay on instead of telling him I was uncomfortable after my naps. I smiled and kissed his nose.

“I thought I had a little longer to clean up.” I mumbled. He looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

“Babe your place IS clean.”

“Not as clean as it could be. The laundry needs to be done, I need to sweep too. You weren’t-“ I started walking deeper in my house and same followed close behind.

“Babe, this place is spotless. I know I wasn’t supposed to come for another hour or so but I just missed you a lot.” He said, hugging me from behind.

“You got in trouble with the mayor again didn’t you.”

“Uh.. both of those can be true at the same time.”

“Oh god Sam wha-

“Let’s not focus too hard on it…. But I need a place to stay the night.”

“SAM!”

“I threw an egg at his house and he just opened the door at the wrong time.” He said taking his hands off of me and throwing his hands up in mock surrender. All I could do was turn around and just give the man a ‘are you for real right now? On our anniversary?’ And all the tall blond could do was just shy away from my look. Well he did try his best.

“Sam why can’t-?” I started but took a deep breath and sighed. I looked to my kitchen “I haven’t even made anything for dinner yet. And why can’t you go home?!” I asked. He turned me around and held me close to his chest.

“Easy hun. Look I’m sorry about getting into shit I know how you feel about it, but at least it was at the mayor.” He nervously chuckled.

“It’s not helping.”

“Right, but I’ll make dinner. Besides you’ve been working all day. You look tired. You know what? Go sit on the couch.” He said, pushing me to the couch.

“Sam-“ I start

“Nora baby. Don’t argue you’re over worked. You need to relax.” He said, it was soft, not demanding. We get to the couch and I sit. He kissed my forehead and walked to the back on the couch. He took my hair out of its braid and massaged my head lightly. “You do so much for this town, for me. Let me take care of you tonight.” He whispered in my ear and kissed my neck. I let out a soft sigh

“Alright Sam.” I relent. He kisses the top of my forehead. Then he just stands here a moment. Hands resting on my shoulders. I looked up to meet his gaze- well he was staring right at me. Our faces maybe inches apart.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are Nora?” He whispered. I smiled

“All the time Sam.”

“Let me tell you again then. I think you’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” He whispered, leaning his forehead on mine and closing his eyes “and right now. I’m so happy to have to here with me. Hell I’m lucky.” He added.

“And im lucky to have you Sam.” I sighed and relaxed myself. Letting him rest on me for a little bit. It took a few minutes before he spoke

“Nora?” He whispered. He moved his head to the crook of my neck.

“Sam?”

“I was wondering if- I don’t want to pressure you. I know you’re nervous but, i- I want tonight to be the night.” He whispered. His voice growing more sultry. My heart jumped and my face started to burn.

“Sam i- I want to I’m just nervous I mean I’m still a virgin.” I whispered.

“I know. I just- I’m ready to take that step with you. I know your first is big. And I want to make sure you are happy and comfortable, but baby please tell me no if you don’t want to.” He whispered, his hot breath on the crook of my neck sent shivers down my spine. Of course I wanted to do this, he never pushed about it and really this was only the second time he brought it up. I was nervous, thinking all the what ifs.

“I- I’ll have to think about it.” I whispered. I expected a sigh of defeat or at least a groan. The same groan of disappointment I’ve heard from past boyfriends. But he just nodded and looked up and my with a smile and planted a kiss on my cheek.

“Take all the time you need.” He said and wrapped his arms around me. From behind the couch that couldn’t be comfortable for him

“Sam aren’t you uncomfortable?”

“Yeah but it’s fine.” He murmured in my ear. Which didn’t help the heat rushing throughout my body. “But I’ll go make dinner.” He whispered as he got up and made his way to the kitchen. Leaving me by myself.

I turned on the tv, not watching, just to have it on in the background. I let whatever was on play as I felt myself getting sleepier by the second. I finally gave in to sleep and dozed off.

It might have been an hour later before Sam woke me up from my nap.

“Oh hey babe.” I said as I stretched on the couch.

“I made dinner love. I don’t want to brag but.. I didn’t burn down the kitchen.” I chuckled as he helped me up.

Dinner was honestly better than expected. I mean I love Sam, but he’s not a chef so I think he’s been practicing this for a bit. It wasn’t too much yet it wasn’t too little. Throughout the night we had talked about our future mainly. But also anything that came to mind. It was so easy to talk to him because he would always keep the conversation going and it never felt like it was too much. It just felt… natural.

After dinner we did the dishes together. Well I told him we were doing the dishes. If we left them they would pile up and stink up the house. Of course he helped me, washing the dishes while I dried them and put them away. While we did the dishds there was a bit of silence between us. Not awkward silence, but comfortable silence.

“Do you want to stay over tonight?” I asked after a long moment of silence between us. I was nervous to ask him. Even though I knew the answer. He’s never shared a bed with me before. He stopped washing a plate and smiled

“I’d love to. Do you want me in the couch or-.”

“N-no I mean in the bed- with me.” I said muttering the last part. My face heated up as I looked at the floor. He finished washing the plate and dried his hands before turning off the sink, and wrapping his arms around my waist. He pulled me to his chest.

“Nora. You know I love you baby. So much. Are you sure you’re comfortable?” He whispered in my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.i pulled back slightly and nodded. He was silent for a moment, but then he smirked and dug his fingers into my sides and tickled me. “Is that all?” He whispered. After laughing for a moment I turned red and shook my head.

“I want to try it tonight.” I said. Well more of whispered.

“Try or do you want to do it?” He asked, a bit more serious now. After a moment of my silence he cupped my cheek. “Yes your words baby.” He whispered.

“I- I want to.” I replied he smiled and kissed my head. “I’m just nervous. I mean it’s my first time.” I added. He nodded.

“Babe, I promise you I will be as gentle as you need, I’ll listen to you, if it’s too much we can always watch a movie instead. If you’re uncomfortable with something or it doesn’t feel good for you. You need to tell me. I want to make your first time good.” He said, the serous tone he used almost caught me off guard but I nodded.

“I’ll tell you if it gets uncomfortable.” I said.

“Just remember to communicate with me, if you tell me no I won’t be upset okay?” He whispered brushing the hair off my face and placing it behind my ear. I nodded and he smiled before letting go.

“Well, let’s finish cleaning first.” He said before turning back on the water.

The cleaning shouldn’t have taken an hour to do but it did. Between the two of us goofing off and making out at the end we came to the agreement we shouldn’t clean the same room when we live together.

Soon we went to bed and changed into more comfortable clothes. I got under the covers while I waited for him to finish brushing his teeth. I couldn’t help but start to feel nervous. Why did this feel so awkward? What if it hurts? What if it feels good but I start cramping up? Sam walked out of the bathroom and sat on the side of the bed directly in front of me. I placed his hand gently over mine and I looked up at him.

“Don’t think about it.” He smiled

“Huh?”

“I mean, don’t plan it all out in your head. There’s no set way it starts, just let it happen.” He adds. I look away from him and to my lap.

“I’m just… thinking.”

“Second thoughts?”

“No. Sam I want to do this. I want this. Just what ifs.” I responded.

“What’s the first what if?” He asks. This was something we figured out how to do. If I was over thinking he would ask me to tell him my thoughts. One by one then he would ask if I wanted comfort or if I wanted to know what he thought, usually I’d want comfort but right now I just wanted to know what would happen.

“Why does it feel awkward?” I chuckled. “And I want what you think” I added. He nodded

“Well. It’s your first time. There’s no script to follow on this it just kinda has to happen naturally.” He shrugged. “What’s the second?” He asked.

“What if it hurts?”

“Well. Since it’s your first time, and you don’t use any masturbation toys it might hurt for a moment going in, but after it will feel good.“

“And if it doesn’t-“

“Baby, if it doesn’t you need to tell me. If you don’t want that but still feel horny we can do something else love.” He said in a softer voice “anymore what ifs?”

“What if I cramp up?” I asked, he just smiled.

“I’ll do the work love. Your job is to just look pretty.” I said and kissed me softly.

“I have no more what ifs.” I whispered once he pulled back. He smiled and went to lay next to me. Once he was under the covers he pulled me closer to him by my waist. I laid on his chest and took in the moment while he played with my hair. I was still nervous but I trusted Sam. I looked up and him and he smiled, laying his hand to rest of the back of my head. He took a moment before he leaned in to kiss me.

It started slow. Short kisses, which lead to more passionate kisses, before I knew it he had me on my back and he was hovering over me. He broke the kiss and kissed down my neck, the soft moans I made when his lips pressed to a sensitive spot on my neck served as an indicator for him to keep going. He sucked a bit and god it felt oddly good. As he kept kissing his hands went down the the bottom on my shirt. He lifted it slightly and looked at me

“Can I?” He asked. I nodded quicker than I wanted to but then again I wanted this. He smiled and lifted my shirt over my head and flung it to the floor before looking over me and smirking. “God you’re so beautiful.” He said. He reached for my bra to unhook it but looked as if he was asking permission again. I smiled and nodded and as soon as I did he took it off and kissed me again. This time running his hands over me. Yet he did it slowly as if he was memorizing my body.

I gasped into the kiss when he slowly started grinding against me. I pulled back slightly, not too far, our noses were touching.

“Is this okay?” He whispered.

“God yes. It just.. surprised me.” I chuckled, he chuckled and leaned in to kiss me again, slowly he put more force into it. He groaned in the kiss before pulling back and looking at my sweat pants. He looked at me. I bit my cheek and nodded. He pulled my sweatpants off and looked at my tights before slowly lowering himself and kissing them.

“Fuck Sam-“ I gasped. I felt him smile while his lips were pressed on my thighs. He looked up at me and pulled down my underwear. I looked at my unshaven area

“Sorry I wasn’t expecting to-“

“Don’t apologize. I’m a man I can handle hair.” He teased and kissed my inner thigh. I gasped and held back a louder moan. “Let me hear it babe, I want to know how I make you feel.” He mumbled before kissing higher between my thighs.

When I felt his tongue I arched my back. And my eyes rolled back a bit. Sam held onto my hips with his hands as he went at a slow pace

“Oh fuck Sam!” I whispered and rubbed his hair. He chuckled and kept going, after a bit he pulled away and pulled my up to him. Now we were both on our knees and he leaned into my ear

“You taste so good.” He whispered and nibbled on my ear. We started kissing and he pulled off his shirt and his pants, leaving him in only boxers. I pulled back a bit to stare at the tent in his pants.

“See something you like? Because it’s all for you.” He whispered before kissing my cheek.

“Can I?” I asked in a whisper. As I asked I felt my face heating up. He pulled back more and smiled

“Can you what? Use your words.” He cooed

“I want to suck your dick.” I said. He smiled and opened his mouth to speak but I said something first. “I just don’t know how.” I said. He smiled and lifted himself to kiss me before standing beside the bed

“Come here.” He said, I got off the bed and he sat at the edge. He grabbed a pillow and set it on the floor between his legs after he speaks his legs a bit. I knelt down in front of him, my knees hitting the pillow. Once I knelt down he placed his hand under my chin and guided my gaze to his. “Just keep your mouth open.” He whispered. I placed my hand around his thick cock and tooth the tip into my mouth. He let out a soft groan.

I took that as a sign to keep going. It was intimidating at first but I just took more and more as I kept going. His soft grabs and moans filling the room. I liked he wasn’t quiet because I at least knew I was doing good.

“Good girl. God damnit an- and this is your first time?” He whispered between moans I raised my head away from him and nodded.

“Never done this before.” I said before taking all of him into my mouth. I gagged a bit. He grabbed a first full of my hair and raised me before pushing my head back down. I gagged some more before he stopped to let me lift my head up.

“Is that okay love?” He asked.

“Just unexpected.” I chuckled.

“Sorry I’ll ask next time.” He whispered. I smiled up at him

“Just a warning next time would be great.” I said before lowering my head back down. I kept going for a few more minutes, keeping a nice and slow pace.

“God Nora I just want to fuck you. You look so pretty right now.” He groaned. I got up to where I was standing between his legs and looking down at him

“What’s stopping you?” I asked, he smiled and atood up.

“Nothing.” He whispered and picked me up and tossed me on the bed. He grabbed a condom from his wallet and put it on. After he moved to hover over me and kissed me, slowly he made his way to my neck.

(Side note guys if you end up reading this or girls you can tell your man don’t store condoms in wallets they run the chance of ripping. Thats why im here)

“I love you.” I whispered through soft moans. I felt him smile against my neck before pushing himself in slowly.

“I love you too Nora, if it hurts we can-“

“No i-it’s good- great just keep going.” I said while digging my nails in his back. He slowly pushed himself in again. This time it felt a little better.

“God damn you’re so fucking tight.” He said before pushing himself in more. After he pushed in and some more whimpering and gasping from me. He lifted himself up slowly and started thrusting, still slow but after some time a bit faster. My moans encouraging him to go faster, after the first few thrusts it started to feel good.

“You’re doing so good baby.” He whispered. With every thrust he went faster, and I got louder.

“Fuck Sam-“ I started but I didn’t know how to finish my sentence, every thrust made me lose my train of thought.

“Where do you want me to cum pretty girl?” Sam asked through pants and groans. He had slowed down a bit, but when I tried to answer he thrusted his cock deep inside me causing me to moan.

“I want to swallow it.” I finally managed to say.

“You sure love?” He asked slowly pulling out. I nodded, and after he fully pulled out I slowly got up to kneel back down on the pillow. He took off the condom and tossed it to the side

As I got up i felt sore. I couldn’t describe what I felt but all that was running through my mind was the blond sweaty man in front of me. I knelt on the pillow and he stood in front of me. He took his hand to my cheek and guided me to look at him.

“I love you.” He whispered. I smiled and took his thick cock and kissed the tip.

“I love you too.” I whispered before taking him in my mouth fully. I started slow but I went slightly faster till he got louder. He gripped my hair.

“Can I?” I gasped. I looked up at him with only my eyes and hummed giving him permission. I thought he wanted time push my head down, instead he used my hair to control how fast I went. It wasn’t to fast, the same speed as before. It wasn’t long before I heard him moan

“Fuck baby I’m going to cum.” He groaned, he let go of my hair and let me go at my pace. Still I kept the pace he had me at. Then I heard him take a sharp gasp before moaning and I felt the warm salty cum it my throat. I wasn’t prepared for it but at the same time I wasn’t hating it. I let him finish before I pulled back and looked up at him.

Sam was breathing heavily and he smiled down at me. He offered his hand to help me up. I didn’t notice how tired I was until now. Once he helped me up he played my on the bed and covered me in the blanket, he followed laying beside me and pulling me to his chest.

“How was your first time?” He asked.

“I didn’t know what to expect but that felt good.” I mumbled into his chest, he chuckled and kissed the top of my head.

“Do you need anything? A shower? A warm towel? .” He asked.

“Just sleep.” I sighed closing my eyes.

————————

A/N: I’m back from the dead. I’ve been bed rotting since I got dumped. Taken time for myself and to hang out with friends. Actually found someone with similar life values and humor as me (I told him I’m not ready for a relationship and he told me that he doesn’t plan on leaving and to take my time) I was not planning on finding someone but life’s weird. Also to the requester. I once again apologize to you I can’t express how sorry I am.

IM SO SORRY FORGIVE ME FOR TAKING TOO LONG ON THIS I TRIED MY USUAL STRAT OF WAITING UNTILL THE WRITING FELT RIGHT BUT THAT DIDNT WORK. I’ll never take this long if you decide to request again.

[sweetcherrybmb]

SOLOVEY ~ arthur shelby ~ part three

A/N: Hellou everyone!! So this is a story I wrote back in like 2022 during Covid, but because of the writing style I used back then, I decided it needs an IMMEDIATE revision… it was originally posted in Wattpad, but with the rewrite, I feel it deserves a spot on my tumblr…. Hope you guys will enjoy it!!

pairing: Arthur Shelby x OC

description: In a world where war leaves no space for love, a sliver of it managed to crawl into the hearts of two most unexpected people. In the most unexpected time.

type: series

word count: 1047 words

< prev + next>

June 1917

The air was heavy with the damp scent of earth and sweat, the trench walls towering around us like the confines of a prison. Soldiers shuffled about, their faces smeared with dirt and fatigue. Despite their exhaustion, many cast sidelong glances my way—some curious, others clearly skeptical.

I walked beside Colonel Nikolai Miranda, keeping my expression neutral and my shoulders squared. Nikolai, as always, exuded calm authority. He was more than aware of the tension my presence created and made sure to project an aura that warned others to hold their tongues.

"Eyes forward, men," Nikolai barked at a pair of soldiers gawking too long. His tone was sharp enough to make them flinch and return to their tasks.

We'd spent weeks aboard the ship preparing for this deployment, and Nikolai and I had developed a mutual respect for each other. Despite my unusual circumstances, he treated me as an equal—a rarity, even in my time. I had grown to appreciate his professionalism, and while the soldiers aboard the ship had eventually adjusted to my presence, I knew the trenches would be a different story entirely.

As we wound our way through the labyrinth of mud and wooden planks, Nikolai and I approached a small group of soldiers gathered near a command post. Four men stood together, their conversation cutting off as we approached.

"Step aside, gentlemen. We're here to speak with your sergeants," Nikolai said, his tone firm but not aggressive.

The men turned to face us, their expressions guarded. One of them, a man with piercing blue eyes and a commanding posture, stepped forward. "You're the colonel, then?"

"That's correct," Nikolai replied. "Colonel Nikolai Miranda." He gestured toward me. "This is Lieutenant Monica Winchester. We're here to assist."

As Nikolai introduced me, I took the opportunity to study the men. The blue-eyed one had an air of authority, his stance rigid and his expression serious. Beside him was a man with tired gray eyes, a neatly trimmed mustache, and an older, weathered look that spoke of years of experience. Despite his age, he carried himself with a quiet intensity that was hard to ignore. The third man looked younger, his expression relaxed and his grin almost cocky, while the fourth man, who resembled the blue-eyed one in age, appeared more subdued but equally serious.

"I'm Sergeant Major Thomas Shelby," the blue-eyed man said, offering a handshake.

"John Shelby," the younger man said with a nod. "Cavalry, but I report to Thomas. He's my brother."

"Sergeant Major Freddie Thorne," added the fourth man, his voice level and professional.

Finally, the gray-eyed man stepped forward, his gaze sharp but not unfriendly. "Sergeant Major Arthur Shelby," he said. His handshake was firm, his voice deep and steady.

I returned each handshake, keeping my expression neutral and my tone measured.

"It's good to meet you all," Nikolai said, breaking the silence. "Lieutenant Winchester and I will be coordinating with you on the upcoming operation. She'll be staying with the troops to provide support."

Arthur's gray eyes lingered on me for a moment before he nodded. "We'll see to it that she's treated with the same respect as any officer."

The statement was professional, but his tone carried a hint of curiosity, as if he was still trying to make sense of my presence.

The sergeants led us deeper into the trench, pointing out key locations and briefing us on their plans. Their efficiency was evident, and I noted that the soldiers under their command seemed well-organized despite the chaos of war.

As we walked, I introduced myself properly, explaining my military background in broad terms. I avoided any mention of my true origin—no one but the American command knew the truth about my mission or the time machine that had brought me here. The operation was classified at the highest level, and Nikolai had been briefed to treat it as a standard deployment to maintain secrecy.

The conversation remained strictly professional until John, ever curious, finally broke the formality.

"If you don't mind me asking, Lieutenant, how does a woman end up as an officer? Nurses, sure, but I've never heard of a woman holding a rank like yours."

His tone wasn't mocking, just genuinely curious. I chose my words carefully, maintaining the narrative we'd crafted for situations like this.

"Well, it's a long story," I began. "I grew up on a farm, raised by a Ukrainian mother and an American father who was a Sergeant Major in the army. I worked hard, learned discipline early, and followed in my father's footsteps when I came of age. Over the years, I worked my way up the ranks."

John tilted his head, still intrigued. "You must've had to fight harder than most to get where you are."

I allowed a faint smile. "Hard work is the same for everyone, Sergeant. My training and determination got me here, just like anyone else."

Freddie, who had been listening quietly, spoke up. "Still, it's impressive. I've never seen anything like it."

Arthur's voice cut through the conversation, low and steady. "Impressive or not, she's here now. Let's focus on the mission."

I gave him a brief nod of acknowledgment. "Agreed. My role here is to assist, not to be a distraction."

We reached a quieter section of the trench, and I took the opportunity to pull out a small box of cigarettes. "Cigarette, anyone?" I offered, holding the box out.

Freddie, John, and Thomas each took one, while Arthur waved me off. "No, thank you. I prefer cigars."

I raised an eyebrow, allowing myself a moment of levity. "A refined gentleman, then."

Arthur's lips twitched in what might've been the hint of a smile. "Something like that. But I don't recognize the brand—'Marlboro,' was it?"

I lit my own cigarette, taking a slow drag before replying. "It's not surprising you don't. It's an American brand, not common here."

John grinned. "A whole box of smokes? You're already shaping up to be the most popular officer here."

Freddie chuckled. "No complaints from me."

Even Thomas allowed a small smirk, though he quickly masked it with a professional demeanor.

Arthur, ever the serious one, crossed his arms and leaned against the trench wall. "Enjoy it while it lasts. We've got work to do."

The camaraderie lightened the tension for a brief moment, but I knew it wouldn't last. As much as I wanted to earn their trust, I was acutely aware of the weight of my mission—and the secrets I carried.

banners by @cafekitsune

@yllomhej @walldemons @shelbyteller @reidsworld @pear-1206 @cheyxfu @lightdragonrayne @noooway555

if anyone else wants to be added, DM me or enter your username in the google form pinned on my blog!

[rosettes-room]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ 4 Goals for 2024 ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The cookies have been eaten, the tree boxed up, and all presents unwrapped. The week between Christmas and New Years feels like a holiday all on its own.

A time to reflect on the past and look ahead to what we want in the future! Here are a few of my goals I wanted to share!

1. Build an art community

I miss a lot of things that used to make the internet so fun. I miss connecting with other artists. Doing art memes on Deviantart and sharing stories and OCs. I miss making friends and social media just isn’t filling that void for me. So I am making it myself. Ko‑fi is a start. I’ll be posting things there a few days before my other platforms, but eventually I think a discord server or even my own website would be nice.

2. Draw 10 mins a day

Like any skill, drawing takes practice to become better and I have not practiced in a long time. I'm rusty, I'm slow, and I struggle a lot more with just general things like posing, anatomy, etc. I also want to explore different mediums and develop my style a bit more. I figure if I can set aside just 10 mins to work on a little doodle and give those creative muscles a nice workout I can only get better!

3. Embrace the ugly phase

We have all felt the dread of finishing a piece you put blood, sweat, and tears into… only to look at your work and think “wow, I hate it”. It’s frustrating and a big part of being turned off from creating. What's the point of making something if the artist themselves hates it? Well that’s just part of the process. I’m being gentle with myself and embracing making ugly things on the path to finding out what I like and what makes a ‘good’ thing. Besides everyone loves a good training montage ~ w o this also leads into my last goal…

4. Finished is better than perfect

"Perfection is the enemy of progress" waiting until I become skilled enough/good enough to make the things I want only means I will never become skilled enough to make anything. I have a condition called "way too many ideas to keep only in my head" and the only treatment for it is to actually put pen to paper. I realize I would be way more disappointed in myself for never trying than if I made something and it wasn’t exactly how I envisioned it. You're allowed to make mistakes, you're allowed to be messy and you are allowed to try again. Just remember billion dollar companies reboot the same 3 stories over and over again. <_< I can work on a passion project I’ve dreamed of my whole life and work on it again and again until it’s just right ♡

So 4 goals for 2024! I hope you all have an amazing year full of love and light. I hope this year is warm and gentle to you, and I wish you all the best of luck in achieving your new year goals if you have any! ☆*:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:*☆

[yutasbimil]

Anomaly

vyn x fem!oc | tears of themis ff. (psychology major!lead) ✦ (3/8) [series fic] !!! also posted on my ao3 acc! { here } tags: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort cw: heavy on the (self) angst; mental anguish; mentions of anxiety and depression // smut is moved again, oops + supposedly this is a 'x reader' fic but got too heavy eventually, I apologize truly ;; word count: 3.5k

part 1 | part 2 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8

do not repost © yutasbimil (2023)

cont.

With all that she's going through right now, Yule knows this is beyond 'normal' or expected of a person. Also, with her views and treatment towards herself, she ought to know that her state turned brittle with little to no regard she feels towards greatness.

She deserves more. But she can't quite get there yet to love herself again. No wonder she feels disquieted, she's her own immense pressure crushing her.

She's not able to breathe freely since.

It has been the third night in a row she's struck awake so suddenly.

It's as if hairs are directly plucked out of her skin all at once, the exchange still lingers on her mind. But his “nice” treatment irked her the most. She’s not used to being attended to, nor brought any interest– his level of keen engulf-ness towards her was unsettling.

No one ever looked at me like that with such focus or care.

But she likes it.

To be frank, she’s scared. Like, is she able to handle this? 

For most of her life, her belief is that she’s too much of a mess to keep her relationships intact. That’s what her mother always says. That’s her warning. It’s too painful. All men are pricks. She wouldn’t even be able to maintain responsibilities as she’s helpless as fuck. And it’s always her who has a hell of a personality.

Although, as “awful” as she absolutely is, she’s expected to be a ‘good girl’.

She feels disoriented, she’s neglected most of her time. You shouldn’t do this. You shouldn’t be like that– She’s been warned and reprimanded when she’s showing behavior that dismays them, but they’re showing and doing said ‘bad actions’ as well? 

She’s confused.

Yule felt her throat dry, itching for some hydration. The sign of pools of sweat alarmed her to wash off her night terrors.

Her mess of hair reflects what she's going through internally.

Yule recently just moved to Stellis.

She’s not used to the silence of the space. The neat array of items also makes her more disoriented. She’s used to chaos.

Although now, she’s breathing more properly as she’s not much strangled by the shackles of her household. However, she wasn’t ready for the gravity of how it was heavier and bringing her down this much.

The burden of not living on the same roof anymore, makes her feel more lost and disarray.

Its effects remain consistent and persistent.

The sound of the door ringing signaled her senses awake back to reality. A package that she would take in a bit. Her mind shifts again. Add more as her eyes crossed the envelope mocking her line of sight at the kitchen table. Her results just came from her previous clinic, and she requested a physical copy of the psychological assessment. (In case she goes berserk, she can quickly burn them). It seems expected that the words bear weight, despite her previous assumption.

She’s diagnosed with BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder).

“Figures,” she whispered as if with contempt.

She almost tossed the contents back to her desk to make space for her preparing breakfast despite her lack of appetite.

Also with last time, she's pushing people away as much as she's growing attached. She’s quick to erase people off her life at one slip up, or more on directing the blame onto herself when she fucks up. Even almost turning down every opportunity that comes her way now that she's living independently.

What's wrong with me?

At least now the answer slowly unfolds itself to her up front.

Nevertheless, it's still quite difficult to swallow, it’s quicker to swallow her whole first than her comprehending any of this.

-

She’s late on their appointment, or to say their ‘date’. Yule still can’t seem to accept they’re dating, although starting it slow.

“I'm sorry, Dr. Ritcher.” she huffs, and then sits in her usual space in the tranquil garden of Vyn’s house. She drifts back to her thoughts of this morning, throat dry making it all harder to sink into her system the fact she has a disorder. No amount of water can quench the desert of her discovery. 

This should be an easy step after knowing.

Her case is mild so to say, she’s fine on the fact she’s still keeping her close relationships intact as other cases have it worse.

Like her case, it's a good thing, by the looks of it, and she's managing.

But it can't erase the fact that she's having a difficult time.

Yule just gawks, staring into space and Vyn had noticed her presence elsewhere for the last minute.

“You're okay?” Vyn’s low voice snaps her out of her dissociating state. “You haven't touched much of the sponge cake I made.”

Was it served too sweet? Vyn ponders as he retastes his portion.

“It's exquisite actually.” Yule is nimble to regain her ‘usual’ persona, it seems convincing as her avoidance was unnoticed. The cream on her face stole the spotlight. 

“You've got cream by your—”

“Oh, I'll get it,” she’s quick to beat Vyn ahead to wipe it off, blushing as Vyn chuckles at her timidness.

She took this chance to ask him, blurting out the thoughts that have been occupying her.

“What would you do if your loved one got diagnosed with a mental disorder?” 

“As if they have any other choice as well?” Vyn voiced, concern visible in his tone.

She flushed. 

Right, it's his job.

“It's just… what if they did you wrong and is a horrible person, would you leave them?” Yule conceded. It sounded all concluded and sorted out, with no means of being refuted. 

Vyn had to look at her directly to check on her expression. It was troubled.

“Not everything is black and white.” Vyn prompts, though, he pauses to articulate his thoughts more. His tone sounded a tad bit reprimanding. “That depends on the whole picture for me to properly assess and answer your question, dear.”

That’s another way to put it.

Yule is so used to thinking of people as ‘absolute’; good and bad. And that of course leads to a disastrous way of thinking.

Though, this was only as of recently. She ponders more.

On Vyn’s end, he tries to objectively view her behavior just now. By the looks of it, it is also safe to convey his view and what he ought to respond to in these instances.

It should be pointed out that people can make mistakes and not everything could be perfect. Not everything could be easily tossed away just because it has some shortcomings. Falling short does not equate to inadequacy. One can have lapses of discrepancies and surges of outbursts. But that does not make them a completely horrible person.

She could only explain it at a surface level for now though.

“I thought at first, it's "mere" Impostor Syndrome when the underlying problems stem from something greater, also this may be the price of being a ‘perfectionist’.” She manages to vent out, her body language helps her express her distress. 

Vyn unconsciously mirrors the state she is in momentarily.

“I'll say the same thing for myself as I oftentimes still have left judgment in that regard.” Vyn implored, intriguing the person he was conversing to to further elaborate.

He seems so well put together, with no neurosis, whatsoever. A sound-minded person, unlike me–

Yule still can’t comprehend such displays of tolerance. “Why so?”

“Of course, if I happen to care for them, I'll try to stay by them and understand their complexities to the best of my ability,” he responds, though the slump in his shoulders broads beyond what he’s trying to convey at the moment. “If it was a year ago, I'd say it differently…”

Yule finds it familiar, as if déjà vu. 

“Rosa said the same thing, are those her words?” She waits momentarily for him to nod before she speaks again. “Working in the legal field does open you a lot.”

“I don't think that's the case.” Vyn postulated, his fingers meeting his lips as he spoke. “It's how we're raised as well that gave us this factor…”

“Hmmm…?”

It was more thought out loud, but it’s also out of character for him to utter out unconsciously. A Freudian slip.

“Nothing.”

The hesitance was evident minutes ago. As if they’re tiptoeing on what’s supposed to be laid out for the moment, but they’re sure they’re not ready to open up the shadows and etches of the past just yet.

But the tone they deliver gave them a glimpse of both their past. They may be a bit similar in that aspect.

“Is anything wrong, Yule?” Vyn tries to stir back on their supposed route of conversation. Yule heaves in a breath, as in fact, there are many things wrong in her head at this very instance. She just picks honesty to guide her through this.

“Do you happen to know anyone?” She starts out slow with her speaking. “Or residing here at Stellis where… I could get treatment?”

Vyn’s eyes are dilated for a moment before turning distant to think.

“Why can't you choose me though?” Vyn blunts.

“We… we know each other, Vyn,” Yule responds, stating the obvious, but also the fright it gives on violating such ethics in the field.

“Right…” Vyn replies dryly, as if already expecting a response from his intended error. It was indeed bad humor. Though, it isn't like him to let a detail like that slip off his mind.

“And…”

“And?” Vyn’s eyebrow perked up at her.

“It's against the ethics and protocols if you know, or happen to be falling for your psychiatrist— Horney?”

“Pardon?” Vyn blinks, (he heard it differently), unsure as he turns to her again for confirmation. “Hmmm?”

“Uhm no, I don't want the same case with her and Fromm.” Yule clarifies, it then clicked a familiar content atop Vyn’s head.

Before he could add anything else, Yule cuts short his curiosity and advances to ever create a teasing atmosphere. 

“Do not give any mind to what I am saying, Dr. Richter.” she ends the topic there.

Vyn just chuckles, he just picks to put a different cake on her plate, smiling. “Okay, focus back on eating. Find another time to compose yourself. By then you can give me the needed documents sometime soon so I can easily refer you.”

Yule sighs, finally able to feel the sweetness of the cake he baked seep over her. “Thank you so much, Vyn.”

"There’s just some distinct smell in hotels I can easily tell." Yule pauses as her eyes darkened scanning through the area. The apparent smell of the casino is filled with smoke in the air. It still tingles her nose as they pass by.

The smell of mixed lemon and ginger filled her senses, it made her itch to the skin.

She and her family almost always check in her teenage years, more on their background and her privileged godmother who almost always seemed to have an extra room to spare for them to stay in distinguished hotels. 

And all that went down the drain, the same as the  crap-ton  of bile that used to be in her system. Depression almost always kills her mood at that time along with the mundane, shallow atmosphere. This is all at naught.

All is not worth it with the cold feet and sleepless nights as she's not comfortable sleeping that's not her own bed.

“You’re quite accustomed to it?” Marius asks, turning her back into reality.

“More on familiarized enough…” she heavily sighs, the exorbitant glamour of the displays almost blinds her, even grazing over it feels burning to the touch. All this, she’s willing to give up for peace of mind.

Or at least she already let go of the moment she moved here at Stellis.

Though, of course, the past can still creep in ways unexpected. Its traces cannot be easily removed, much like a trailblazer, and it can consume one’s senses, going through your memories uninvited. It rummages unwanted thoughts.

It reminded her of the time she spent being hung up on a person. It was truly a dark time for her back then.

The topic shifted as they changed selections on branded bags. Yule merely drifts off with her story. “And now he’s famous, too far for my reach…”

Of course, Marius being Marius, he’s getting cocky. 

"Maybe I can contact them?" he starts. Even going along patting his pants pocket for his phone as an easy access. 

She snickered at the taller male. "You're only saying that to ease me." She moves through another display of leather belts, her eyes shifted to an array of colored ties, the hues reminded her of her bleak past. "He doesn't even know me to begin with." Her tone was as muted as the peacock blue accents of the tie.

I didn’t let myself known to him, thinking highly of him as out of my league. 

"Is this different from the previous one you mentioned to me in class?" Marius confirms, eyes elsewhere on the male accessories, he’s looking for a more… lighter, more appealing blush sheen to be given as a gift. 

Yule hums, following along in his stead. "Yes. Again, it's not worth it as they don't even know me." she clarifies, emphasizing for him to no longer bring too much effort into talking about this matter. 

"So? You don’t know the power of von Hagens…"

"Bro,  I do know  but I won’t abuse it… besides that was  years  ago…" Yule brushes off his offer once again, her voice fades the same as the faded colors they’re looking at, a wide variation of bags.

“And the one I mentioned back then… She now has someone,  she’s… " Yule looks at the baby shoes in the aisle across theirs. The immense pressure kicks in on the present day, of milestones or supposed achievements in her age. 

‘I’m unemployed, didn’t even bother taking boards, just starting my master's studies, now as alone as the big whale in the vast ocean.

I feel I could be eaten alive by the harsh reality anytime.’

Yule swallows as it stacked more and more on her seemingly empty list in her head.

She redirects her focus, now eyes locked gazing at a  Coach  bag, comparing it to the mint with hints of yellow accents… Yule feels a tinge of guilt, reminded of someone. 

But she feels blown away by the presence near her, she further sees the gap between them.

“Stop moping around and I’ll get that for you.” Marius notices her empty glances, he is quick to swift his hands to gesture to the sales clerk.

Before she could refuse, he already called the lady.

Yule glared, hissing sharply, almost in a whisper. Attempting to hide her flared cheeks behind her hand, she leans into the navy blue-haired man. “Marius von Hagen, don't you dare!”

This doesn’t even reach half of her paycheck tuition to grad school!— Yule torments over the flashy price tag.

“You and Rosa really are friends, come on, don’t be shy.” Marius doesn’t have a hint of  remorse  in his cheeky face, it’s as rosy as the thought of the  Rose  he had in mind.

“How easy for you to say that with a straight face to an ordinary person like me?” Yule rolls her eyes, mocking as if on the verge to faint (she will if she were to pay this here and now).

Marius brushes his fingernails, riding along her humor. “What can you do? You’re friends with a celebrity.”

“I’m constantly reminded, thanks.”

So smug, so full of himself but she can’t help but be bashful keeping her mouth shut. 

Yule holds back her timidness. She could only sigh in defeat. “Make sure to contact me if you need anything, not that your connections aren't as sparse and vast already…”

“I’ll just need help with Rosa,” he says, diverted with his focus as he found a bag he had in mind. As if on cue, he lifted a rose-embroidered bag.

“Oh wow, it’s as if you aren’t making progress already in sweeping her off her feet.”

Marius looked at Yule, shocked as if any reciprocal interest wasn’t shown to him. But her wide-eyed expression is more on slipping a  vital secret.  She’s still left mouth agape, to herself like: Gurl, oh shit!  She might’ve said something she shouldn’t.

“That is valuable information—  important  for you to keep it a secret,” she gestures a  zip your mouth  at him, distancing herself now. She could only cling to her life, as seen clearly by how she’s clinging too much to the bag.

“Also, she kept that picture you did of her in her room?”  No, not another slip-up—  she continues salvaging the conversation. “Maybe a painted customized bag instead. I think that is what she’ll appreciate a ton  loads  especially how  “every brush stroke is filled with your feelings”  or whatever you artists try to encapsulate…” Yule brushes it off casually,  ‘barely satisfactorily successful’  if she may add. But her mind is then weighted by something else seeing her reflection.

Man, the gap suddenly pressured her.  Rich ass money.

As much as she’s trying her best, knowing they’re at a similar age, she's older than him even (same age as Rosa), yet he has a lot achieved already, considering he’s talented af outside of his responsibilities.

Yule stops herself there from further spiraling, breathing in, she pulls herself together.

No,  it disregards his effort, and his background on how separate that is.

Now she has too much freedom thinking all of this now independent and alone, far from her hometown and family. From everything else holding her back.

It is peaceful in comparison.

The comfort of daily life, and considering she also cut her connections… to nothing.

But at what cost? Crap, her pride is even eating her up to ask for help in finding a job. Again, even the connections all got cut. All her damn resources.  Nothing.

Alas, one cannot eat pride.

She can at least bite her tongue not to spur sarcasm at this dude. Riches and all, he's still as normal of a guy, annoying even.

Yule could only swallow further with her much-held pride with the next words that came off his mouth.

"Vincent just informed me. Wait tomorrow morning or so, you'd have a call interview coming up." Marius stated, quickly putting back his phone in his pocket. She’s been trailing off for the last minute, they’re already walking out of the shop. 

As if at cue, Yule's phone buzzed, indicating an email of the job offer. She has been waiting for a vacancy at any of the von Hagen's businesses. And as much as it was a joke, she knew he's got too much on his plate to even accommodate her, let alone give her a favor in the likes of her. She can't believe he even remembered that minor mention of her job hunting.

So it was a genuine reaction, eyes popping out of surprise as she almost tackled him in gratitude.

"You’re a lifesaver, Sir von Hagen." Yule tries to suppress her mirth. She handshakes firmly instead. She almost hugged him out of glee but it isn't appropriate out in the public eye. She repeatedly bows as Marius shakes his head with a feeble smile.

This means a lot to her, especially as she's starting from scratch.

She’s fucking glad she made friends with his dude. But more on witnessing the push and pull with Rosa, they’re as amusing as watching a Korean drama. Yule keeps a giggle to herself.

"Oh, come on, don’t treat me like I’m a saint." Marius brows perk at the title, waving his hands side to side. "And Vincent took great care of background checking you, I think you've got lots to offer me instead."

"Of course, none of that would slip by you, huh?" She kept a small smile to herself. Her family is known in the business industry, and although not like any of the top-rated ones, it sells well.

Marius gave her a keen look before settling into a nod. Best not to question her further.

"If ever you don't pass, I'll have a list of openings that are hiring, I'm sure one of them would best fit you. Though, HR Assistant best suits you, hmmm?"

Saying as if he's sure she doesn't need to although, just in case. She appreciates his helpfulness, she won't take any of it for granted.

"I wouldn't even face you if I failed any of this, Marius."

"So you better not." He even shots her an encouraging grin.

Finally, none of his overconfidence.

Though, she takes it as a compliment and warmth in her chest as he's able to be this cheeky around her. They both know they've had enough of the CEO mask crap he's putting up 24/7. It might be a similar and close age, but at the end of the day, Yule sees where Rosa is coming from. Marius is Marius.

※ my masterlist | #enjeiwrites ※

[morning-sun-brah]

Below the break you will find my Masterlist, but first...

-I write a lot of smut! I am a whole adult! Anything I write with explicit content is between consenting adults and will be tagged as such. PLEASE DO NOT FOLLOW ME IF YOU ARE A MINOR. THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG! I will block you if you are under 18 of if you do not have an age in your profile.

-If you have an issue with what I write, feel free to move along, it costs you nothing to literally fuck off.

- Saying hello is always great! Asks are fine too! That said, I cannot promise I will always respond, nor that I will write anything for an ask. It’s gonna have to really speak to me. 

- Pro BLM, LGBTQIA+, Woman/Feminism. I will not tolerate any homophobia or terf talk. Period. Easiest way in the world to get a block is if I see even a hint of terf leanings from a person engaging over here. 

I'm over 30 years old, and I have been in the TMNT fandom since the 80s (and probably will be my whole life). While my blog will reflect mostly TMNT content, I will also reblog/write for other fandoms, post random issues/memes, and occasionally share NSFW content. I will not engage with minors, and that includes sharing any art or writing that is produced by someone under the age of 18. I do not want to interact with any minors for any reason whatsoever.

Feel free to drop me an ask! I enjoy jabbering about the blorbos. If you ever see me stray from TMNT content, know that I'll be back eventually. I can't shake them, they live in my walls. That said, you'll all see posts for Dead By Daylight, Call Of Duty, Baldur's Gate, Gravity Falls, among others.

I am a slow writer. I am slow at updating. I have a whole life outside of fanfic, and I suffer from bouts of writer's block. Please be patient with me!

(all artwork has been used with permission and the artists have been tagged)

Rise TMNT:

Leo;

(art by @unknownfanartist)

A Romantic Comedy, Starring Leo Splinterson SFW(ish)- (cursing, mild description of medical procedures, some angst), Leo x OC, any smut will be presented as one shots, multi-chaptered, -Ongoing

When I Say Forever NSFW, Leo x Reader, multi-chaptered (4), - Finished

Worth the Wait NSFW, Leo x Reader, fits into the Thick Thighs Storyline but can be read as a standalone, one shot, -Finished

Sweat NSFW, Leo x Reader, Leo volunteers to be reader's personal trainer. -Finished

Winedark Open Sea NSFW, Leo x Reader, ANGST (with a happy end), Please read the tags, one shot, -Finished

Come Inside Your Love NSFW, Rockstar Leo AU, Leo x Reader, one shot, -Finished

Donnie;

Thick Thighs Save Lives- Part 1 NSFW, Donatello x Reader -Finished

Thick Thighs Ruin Lives- Part 2 NSFW, Donatello x Reader -Finished

Thick Thighs Attract Eyes- Part 3 PREQUEL! SFW(ish), Donatello x Reader - Finished

Thick Thighs No Lies- Part 4 NSFW, Donatello x Reader -Finished

Send it NSFW, Tactical!Donnie x Spotter!Reader, inspired by all of @donathan's tactical art- go and follow them! -Finished

Once More, With Feeling (Tactical Donnie Part 2!) NSFW Tactical!Donnie x Spotter! Reader, -Finished

And They Were Thick Thighed Lab Partners NSFW, Donnie x Reader, A collab with the fantastic @buthowboutno! It... it might be an April Fool's fic. BUT, if you stick with the cringe, there's real smut towards the end lol. ALSO!! There is a podfic! You can listen to it here! -Finished

Marked NSFW, Donnie x Reader, A gift for @unknownfanartist. Eventually will have a second chapter. Hate sex with a little bit of feelings at the end. -Finished

Hunger Pains NSFW, Donnie x Reader, A gift for @unknownfanartist. Donnie enjoys his favorite meal. -Finished

Spare Change NSFW, Donnie x Kendra (Kendratello), Complete, 2 chapters. -Finished

Mikey;

(art by @sha-biest)

Silk NSFW, Mikey x Male OC, Long hair Mikey and his journey from enemies to lovers. This work is illustrated by my darling, my liebchen, @sha-biest 🧡, multi-chaptered, -Ongoing

RISE! COWBOY/WESTERN AU (Desert Flowers);

(art by @unknownfanartist)

This is a series that was SUPPOSED to be a two-chapter fic about Donnie robbing a train. It is... no longer that.

Flight of the Dove NSFW, Donnie x OC, COWBOY/OLD WEST AU. The series is currently ongoing. Companion art is done by the absolute gem that is @unknownfanartist

The Pigeon's Perch NSFW, Leo x OC, COWBOY/OLD WEST AU. The series is currently ongoing. Companion art is done by @gemini-forest

Of Starlings and Sparrows NSFW, Raph x OC (OC is owned by @beckerboopin), COWBOY/OLD WEST AU.

An anon has also written an AU of the Leo x May fic that you can find in my bookmarks over on AO3, and is titled Bird's Eye View (I am unable to link it, but if you enjoy the crossover you will also enjoy this- it's fantastic)

RISE! HARRY POTTER CROSSOVER AU (ongoing);

Until I Reach You Again, a ROTTMNT/Harry Potter Crossover, Collaborative Work with @alycornz, and @stormy-nyx SFW- (cursing, mild canon typical violence, general unkindness for JK Rowling because she is a terrible human) - On Temporary Hiatus.

If you share any of JK's opinions concerning the validity of Trans Women and Men, this blog isn't for you! Anything HP related I highly recommend you steal. Do not give that monster any of your money.

Other Miscellaneous TMNT Works;

Nothing To Say SFW, mild angst, Leo and Casey Jr. talk about the bad timeline, one shot, -Finished

Shorts and One Shots- A Collection NSFW, a compilation of works with different pairings in the TMNT universe, PLEASE READ THE TAGS, multi-chaptered but each chapter is a finished work.

Bay! TMNT;

Like You Mean It NSFW, Raphael x Reader, A gift for @turtle-babe83, one shot, -Finished

03 TMNT;

Aaaalllll the way back on 2007 I wrote a Reader x OC fic. It was finished, but since it's 17 years old the plan was to re-write it on AO3 and make it less terrible. It is a slow process and it may not even happen considering how fixated I am on the rise-verse atm, but if you wanted to cringe you could find it on ff net. Either way, the one I am updating is linked below!

A Light in the Dark NSFW (eventually), Raphael x OC, Re-Write, On Hiatus, multi-chaptered. -Ongoing.

OTHER FANDOMS!

Baldur's Gate 3;

Thunder and Rain NSFW, Astarion x Male OC, multi-chaptered, Finished but has the possibility to update with more chapters at a later time. Author fell in love with her Tav (Raen), and he will be thrown around into different fandoms because of it.

Dead By Daylight;

Fox in the Trap NSFW, Trapper x Reader (OC), multi-chaptered, Ongoing.

Nearly every fic has been beta-read by the lovely @zprites. Go and show them some love!

Banners can be found here!