#he has some nastier stuff (and i read it and i love it

[awxcoffeexno]

the patient - part 2

toxic!loganhowlett x reader

someone new

<< part 1 | series masterlist | fic masterlist | part 3 >>

summary: logan is an awful jerk and so you seek out happiness elsewhere.

content: you'll learn a little more about reader's powers + bobby and storm show up!

warnings: all mentions of jean are actually referring to the phoenix who is extremely mentally unstable, logan mandhandles the reader quite this time as well but never hurts her, the relationship portrayed is horribly toxic.

word count: 1.3k

a/n: logan's a giant dick in this one but i promise it gets better next part on.

you are finishing up bedazzling sophie's dress for the annual xavier's school for gifted youngsters college prom when bobby approaches you with a small sheepish smile, pulling his sleeves over his hands nervously.

"hi," he smiles, crouching down next to you and giving your handiwork a once over. his cool air is pleasant after hours of labouring over this dress that you volunteered to fix.

"hi, bobby," you smile back, a small blush creeping onto your cheeks as you read his mind.

you'd already been expecting him to come, of course – it's been a few days since bobby has been meaning to ask you but now that he's here, he's the first of all the boys who have asked you to prom that you're actually potentially attracted to. only he hasn't quite asked yet.

"so... i was thinking..." he starts and you bite your lip, seeing the images of the two of you dancing together spinning in his mind. he's in a simple tux and you're in a glittering blue dress – it reminds you of cinderella.

he opens his mouth to continue but you cut him off.

"i don't have blue fabric!"

"what?" he asks, puzzled.

"you want to ask me to the prom!" you rush out, sitting up to explain. "but i don't have blue fabric. and the store bought cheap stuff makes me itchy. and so–"

bobby's a smart guy and he catches on quickly. a warm smile spreads across his face and he sits down properly, criss crossing his legs.

"i thought the professor told you not to read our minds without permission."

you redden, picking on your nails. his closeness is nice, comfortable.

"yes but... i can't help it sometimes."

"it's okay, i don't mind." he says, brushing a lock of your hair behind your ear. "and i don't mind if your dress isn't blue either."

you look up at him and really, you should be immensely flattered. you should be jumping up and down with joy, having gained the affections of one the most popular students at the college, the whole mansion, really.

you should be so grateful that someone wants you the way bobby does, true and pure. bobby, johnny, travis and mikey, all the boys who have already asked you to prom. but of course, your stupid stupid heart is elsewhere with a very much unavailable man.

so you say simply, "i can't go to the prom with you, bobby."

he tries to protest but you quickly place your hand on his cheek and his eyes flutter shut, succumbing to your powers.

he takes your hands and kisses your knuckles softly. "you deserve better," he says, knocking the wind out of your lungs before standing up and walking away.

is your desperation for logan so fucking obvious? none of the other boys said anything– god, you must look absolutely pathetic to anyone who cares to notice.

and then a vision envelopes you, logan and you in yet another fight. what about, you cannot tell. logan is impossible to read sometimes.

you quickly stand up and decide to go find him before it turns nastier than it need be. you've learned that the best course of action is always to nip these things in the bud.

you find him in the kitchen, hunched over a plate of chicken. storm has some bacon on the stove, the sizzling filling the air around you. your stomach growls at the smell. slipping into the stool beside logan, you knock your shoulder against his with a smile.

"hey, sweetheart." he smiles the lopsided smile you love so much, making your heart skip a beat.

"hi. can i have some of that?" you ask, gesturing at his plate.

"'course y'can." he says, quickly dragging your stool closer and bringing a forkful to your mouth. you take the bite, tummy filling with butterflies. for a moment, you all but forget about your vision.

"oh, hey," storm greets you as she walks back in to check on her bacon. "did you say yes to bobby? honestly, he's such a good kid, he'd be great for you!"

"hmm?" logan inquires, wanting context.

"bobby said he'd ask her to the prom." storm explains, waving her fork about. "it's her... what, fourth promposal?"

"four, huh?" logan mutters, sitting up straighter and you're flattered at the irritation in his tone before you realise why you'd gotten that vision in the common room.

shit.

"four and you didn't once say yes?" he growls, low enough only for your ears.

"well, you don't know i said no to bobby." you mumble defensively.

"give me a fucking break. look at your face. you said no."

storm looks between you both and to satiate her curiosity, you quickly explain about the blue dress fabric and why you had to say no and logan slams his fork down on the table. the sharp sound makes you both jump.

"what–," you start, really not having expected him to create a scene in a common area but you're proven wrong because he's grabbing your arm and hauling you out to the corridor and up the stairs, two at a time, ignoring your protests.

he shoves you into his room and shuts the door behind himself, rubbing his hand down his face in anger.

"why do you care if i said no?!" you hiss at him, hurt that he isn't happy.

he should be happy! you're saving yourself for his promposal. teachers and students go together all the time considering how many of the teachers are so young and how many students much older. he isn't even a teacher anyway.

"why do i care?" he repeats, disbelief lacing his voice. "why do i care?!"

his tone makes you step back.

"why do i care?!" he thunders again, stepping closer.

his voice drops dangerously low. "i need you to get one thing clear in your head." his fingers wrap around your jaw and he can see your eyes glaze over in an attempt to push your emotions back. "i ain't asking you to the prom. i was never gonna ask you to the prom. if jean is feeling up to it, i'm takin' her. else i ain't goin' at all. do you understand?"

you exhale evenly, pissing him off further. he hates it when you don't fight back and you wonder if he enjoys this back and forth between you two. you wonder if enjoys belittling you.

when you don't respond, he hisses, "nod if you understand."

you nod finally and he lets go of your jaw, shaking his head and sitting down on his bed. he puts his head in his hands and groans in exhaustion.

"fuck me, rejecting four kids your age hoping an old fuck like me's gonna ask you out." he mutters, twisting the knife in your heart further.

"don't pretend you don't want to ask me only because of my age." you finally speak, voice laced with venom. "don't condescend to me like that."

"nah, you're right," he snarls, "ain't askin' you 'cause you're fucking obsessed with me. fuckin' pathetic."

you let out an involuntary gasp as his words further sting your heart. your reaction makes his eyes snap up to you and he almost looks like he wants to take it all back. but you step back, knowing when to admit defeat and refusing to take any more hurt from him. he starts to stand up but you raise your hand, stopping him.

"don't worry, logan." you whisper, voice threatening to break. "got the message."

you walk out of his room and don't let yourself cry a single tear until you've found bobby, told him that, actually yes, you'd love to go to prom with him, found lara and offered her a new dress in exchange for the blue fabric from bobby's thoughts, and gotten back to your room.

only then do you allow yourself the first tear. and then you cry and cry and cry yourself to sleep.

--

okay, i promise the next part is lighter and wayyyy cuter!! poor lil reader.

love, d <3

--

<< part 1 part 3 >>

taglist: @beeingaflower, @uhnanix, @kokomixxk, @nighwingsdiscordkitten

[ballad-of-birdy-lamb]

I LOVE THE TED HEADCANONS SO MUCH, THEY'RE SO SWEET!!! You write him perfectly, omg, I'm gonna be reading that over and over for a bit.

Maybe to complete the gang, some romantic Gorrister x GN reader headcanons ;0 the same simple soft, sweet stuff (as soft and sweet as it can be for the story). I never find anything about him ever!

You'll never know how easy you are to need.

Gorrister (IHNMAIMS) x Gender neutral! Reader romantic headcanons Summary: Basic romantic headcanons with Gorrister and gender neutral! Reader Warnings: mention of violences, basic torture for the story, not an amazingly healthy relationship, Word count: 1.1k A/N: One of the ends headcanons is inspired by the fact I heard one of his voice lines in the game and heard he was southern, so it's slightly inspired by that. I don't know what region, but it's said peaches are grown in Georgia, so I like to think he grew up where peaches were grown. And thank you to all 200 of my followers, you're all too kind! ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

Congratulations, you have one of the most difficult people to have in love with you! If you met before AM gained sentience, he’ll know more about being in a relationship with you since he would have some form of emotional integrity to an extent. After though? You’re in for a ride.

Gorrister didn’t know about his feelings for a long while, mostly since he had better things to do with his time and didn’t care to think about it. It would be a gradual realization though. He’d have random moments when he’d admire you silently, simply watching as you went about your day.

He’s one of the most violent in the group, so he’d either blame you (and occasionally take his anger out on you [not physically of course]) or AM. Gorrister isn’t blind to AM’s changes to others, he’s seen how it’s affected Benny and Ted. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was an effort to make him feel worse, watching as he got too violent for your emotions to handle just to watch you run from him. It’d make him feel terrible and it isn’t surprising.

On the other hand, Gorrister blaming you would gradually go away when his mind goes to AM. It would start off as him giving you dirty looks and being nastier about his comments. It would tone down to his basic nonchalant reactions. When he fully blames AM for his feelings, he’ll start noticing how kind you are to him.

It’s like a moth to a flame, Gorrister to your kindness. You’re so nice to Ellen when she speaks to you and Benny when he wants another story, and he’d watch silently. He knows he can’t just ask you to hold him randomly, it would be awkward, and he hasn’t done it with Ellen.

He’ll crave touch, touch that actually means something, especially from you. Gorrister has seen how you’d hold Benny in your arms when he’d get scared by something and he’d desperately want your arms around him. And Gorrister wants that comfort too.

Gorrister would start getting more defensive for you. Ted yells at you and calls you something cruel? Gorrister is more likely there and going to spit something back. It did shock you a bit when you first had it happen and he was just as awkward about it. He’d brush it off as him being annoyed by Ted’s angst again but in his heart, he knew it was for you.

The night he confesses to you, he’d fumble with his words a bunch. Gorrister hasn’t thought about romantic things in so long to the extent he’s insanely rusty with it. So, he’d skip over his words several times, hoping he’d come off as a little romantic and possibly “seduce” (really just get a kiss) you into loving him too.

If you accepted with the affectionate words he’s stumbled over, he’d think it worked well and consistently do it. Gorrister would butter you up at random so you can give him more kisses, again, stumbling over his words. It gets easier over time since he figures it out.

Gorrister adores kisses but in a possessive fashion, he’s desperate for your kisses and knows you’ll only give them to him. He’s very similar to Ted in how possessive they both are for affection. Oddly enough, it would just be kisses.

Affection is very subtle and not flashy, simple things truly. He’d link pinkies with you when you’re about and you’d mostly cuddle when you sleep. It would be on rare occasions that he would go out of his way to get the others to see his love for you.

Gorrister’s favorite form of affection will always be physical touch. He likes knowing your warm touch is there with him, being able to hold him in your soft arms and comfort him with your soft voice. He adores you beyond compare.

It’s usually forgotten how much AM truly affects Gorrister. The sight of his dead body was enough to emotionally scar him. If you were to comfort him in those instances, he'd be a lot nicer to you. He’s already kind but he’d really understand the distances which you would go for him. He knew you could leave him be and let him sulk on his own, but you came back to comfort him.

Gorrister is greedier than the others in terms of love. He’d expect affection of all kinds then barely reciprocate. He’s a lover, yes, not always a good one. The changes done to him by AM have genuinely hurt him and will hurt the relationship. He’ll expect kind words from you but has a habit of not giving you something similar in return.

If you do point out how lonely you feel when he doesn’t help you emotionally, he’ll brush it off with small comments about how he’s had it hard and needs your support. Of course, he’ll listen to an extent. He’ll try his best, it’s not the greatest, but he’ll try.

Honestly, if you got with any group member, you would be tortured by AM for his amusement to watch your lover suffer. The same can be said for Gorrister. He’d get you back in the arms of another man and find another reason to hate AM.

Gorrister is very similar in terms of jealousy to Ted. He’d take any opportunity if anything to get a little jealous. His anger issues don’t go away with the relationship, and he’d be taunted for it, especially by AM. After you were off being tortured beyond comparison by the AI, he’d get you back in the hands of another man. At first, he wouldn’t care about it, his attention on you and your condition. As time went on, he’d ask you questions about how you felt about the guy that gave you back, asking if you found the guy attractive and if you still loved him.

While on the journey for the canned peaches, he’d promise to start swinging to get more cans for you both.

Gorrister would keep you close the entire time and talk about how he grew up in an area where they’d grow peaches. He’d talk about going onto farms to help harvest them too. He missed the taste of peaches and finally getting that opportunity to have them again would be amazing, and with you by his side, it would not compare.

The affection you’d get would be more aggressive compared to the stuff he likes getting from you. He’d defend you against cruel remarks by the others, if it gets bad enough, try swinging at at least one of them.

At the end of the day, Gorrister is a tortured man so don’t expect the most amazing things from him but know that there are points where he will love you just as much as you love him.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

IHNMAIMS masterlist

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[emmitaaa4]

Addressing some fandom BS inconsistencies

Gwyn was shadow mommy, Az was shadow daddy, they were gonna have shadow babies with her extra super pliable bones.

I audibly chocked when I read this @nikethestatue (btw everything said in this post was on point). No but seriously this is how they sound, too many of them insisting that there is nothing wrong with basing the likelihood of a ship on who has the more suitable uterus to be with a man... cause supposedly they're just picking up on the hints SJM wrote for them? She likes babies for HEAs so ofc children are the end all be all of a relationship, plus there's absolutely no way that she could ever write an adoption plot SJM is literally adopted and has done it in other series. Selective reading strikes again.

A minimum amount of critical thinking would tell you that 1) the infamous *magical uterus change* scene was about nessian (& feysand), not about any ship; 2) if SJM had written Nesta changing Elain's uterus, it would have given too much away, not to mention 3) how disturbing/violating it would have been for Nesta to change her sister's reproductive anatomy WITHOUT HER CONSENT?! None of it makes sense narratively; my girl Nes would never, especially given the trauma they both suffered from having their bodily autonomy--and so much more--ripped away by the Cauldron.

This argument is so trivialized that I see it every other day on reddit/tiktok/*insert media app*, and yet elriels are the toxic side of the fandom? The ones whom people are allowed to insult, to ridicule for theories all made in good fun, the women that are villainized over a difference of opinion? Don't get me wrong, there's assholes on both sides and people keep calling one another variations of delulu (and the nastier personal attacks). But by painting this fandom-wide villain there is such a lack of accountability for the plethora of harmful talking points spread by other portions of the fandom. (I've been silently reading the anti-elain & anti-elriel tags for like a year, and I'm on tiktok. Yes, I have self-destructive tendencies).

Anyways.

I never understood either how people ever actually thought (or well still think) that gwynriel would happen BEFORE elucien?? It makes no sense logically, narratively, or in terms of characterization & the arc she's set up for Elain, Azriel, and Lucien. Yet it took one controversial bonus chapter for people to decenter Elain in her own story, that is make her choice of romantic partner--which SJM spent 3+ books setting up--Azriel's. It took one bonus chapter that soo many readers are still unaware of, to brush Elain off as a "sexual object" Az is using to distract himself until his therapist-extraordinaire Gwyn comes in and heals him all up. Because ofc she will: she's badass and not the "passive and weak and boring" Eplain (aka "Plant" or "brain dead gardener"), she fits the YA archetype of the spunky warrior-girl so she can handle his darkness, and SJM supposedly spent time fleshing her out because she wrote her as a LI for Azriel; she's made for him, she is what he needs to grow (I actually enjoyed Gwyn's character btw, just pointing out how silly it all sounds). “Next book is a love triangle between Elain/Az/Gwyn” “Elain will turn evil or is secretly evil”. So you're telling me that SJM would pit Elain & Gwyn against each other in a love triangle over a man... all because of a necklace that was not even mentioned once in the actual books? Please, let's be logical for a second.

All this because instead of reading the bonus chapter in the context of the books, some people are reading the books in the context of the bonus chapter. Which now that I think of it is probably why so many people mischaracterize Az the way they do--because yes we know enough of his character to know half of the stuff the fandom diagnoses him with is questionable. Azriel? Entitled incel x fuckboy hybrid (gotta be the first of his kind, minute slay ig)? Interesting tell me more. No joke I saw a semi-popular post on here where a gwynriel said they read the bonus WITHOUT HAVING READ ANY OF THE BOOKS. I'm sorry, ship wars are silly and believe it or not idc who ppl ship, but it makes it hard to take some of the things they say seriously.

All this to say that the fandom isn't even debating the right thing. If you consider everything SJM has said in her interviews:

(she's been planting seeds for Nesta & Elain's book since acomaf; she knows who she is writing the first 2 books about + is keeping things open for the 3rd one--with 5 different ship options--which automatically rules out "Elain will close the series"; she said she's doing research for Elain's book in the ACOFAS bonus & there's seeds for future bookS in acofas; all she said recently about her beloved *heroines* and the themes of fate/true love/choice she finds *very* interesting & wants to discuss)

and if you also consider all she's written in the actual books (elain's characterization + the overarching plot in general & how she fits into it), then it's pretty evident that Elain's book is next.

The question then would be who is the MMC / 2nd PoV in her book, aka would acotar 5 be an elucien or an elriel story? Because logically, gwynriel was always a consequence of elucien. I honestly do not understand how people don't see that.

Oh and they always think they're gagging elriels with the "obviously Azriel is the next MC" as if elriels aren't saying the same thing? And we're the ones twisting info and not making sense. It's just funny at this point.

---sidenote: I realize that this post generalizes some things, and I just wanted to say that I have interacted with lovely eluciens / people on either side of this headache of a ship war. My hard limit is Elain haters though... back off I say 🤺 BACK OFF 🤺

---sidenote 2: I would have written this as a reblog except im not entirely sure how tumblr works and I get no visibility from them rip.

[demonbarbers]

so high rn so sorry if this doesn’t make any sense i’m just so emotional about josh and annaleigh and this production so i’m gonna ramble a bit about what i love about it and them. ok. enjoy.

the thing about sweeney todd is that it’s mean. it’s a mean show. it ends on the cruel irony of 2 officers bursting in on toby slitting sweeney’s throat, surrounded by 2 other bodies and one in the oven; on johanna watching her father die holding her mother and not even knowing it. everyone is an abuser or abused, and there is no hope or redemption to be found. and it fucking rules! it just rules. it’s so fun to indulge in our basest pleasures for nearly 3 hours, delicately served to us by one of the greatest composers who’s ever lived.

and every major production takes the bile and cruelty inherent to the material and runs away with it. like- just look at this swedish production from 2006, directed by vernon mound. or the last time it was on broadway, directed by john doyle:

productions tend go smaller and nastier, more intimate, in keeping with the spirit of how sondheim originally conceived the piece. (side note: i LOVE when they do that. my ideal sweeney has buckets of blood and visera right in your face)

the original production of sweeney was MASSIVE, but that came from hal prince. hal couldn’t really get an emotional foothold on the material until he found within sweeney an extended metaphor for capitalism and the industrial revolution; people literally eating people and the machine of capitalism grinding everyone up. revivals also tend to seize on the brechtian class elements, like this absolutely gorgeous korean production from 2019 directed by eric schaeffer:

sondheim, meanwhile, always objected to readings of sweeney as brechtian- it was all a farce to him, just a good, nasty time at the theatre. he approached it as a horror fan who wanted to write some fucked up stuff, which is maybe now some of the best art is created. but hal made it into epic theatre.

(if u don’t know what epic theatre is or what brechtian means google will explain it better to u than my ridiculously stoned ass can rn but im just focusing on one aspect of it rn: the distancing effect. basically, emotionally distancing the audience from the characters and the material so that everyone is engaging with the work on an intellectual level as opposed to an emotional one)

obc sweeney is an alienating show. it’s so fun and brutal and deeply felt, but these characters are grotesque. they’re cartoonish in their cruelty. just look at their makeup! john doyle also embraces the distancing effect; his revival is actor-muso, so we’re pretty aware at all times we’re watching a show. it’s all so cold, and the only warmth to be found is in the humor. and it rules. it’s nasty. i love it. this is the show i fell in love with.

all these things have become inherent to sweeney over time, all teased out of the greatest broadway show to ever exist; visceral horror, cruelty, coldness, and class commentary.

but this revival is just.. it’s warm! it’s lush! it’s romantic! and i don’t mean that in the sense of lovett and sweeney (tho this is the warmest they’ve ever been towards each other in any major production i’ve seen). i mean that it gestures at and plays with romanticism.

my biggest critique of this production is, in doing away with the brechtian elements (sondheim just cheered), it also does away with overt class commentary. it’s all still there in the text- turpin is a corrupt judge, beadle is effectively a sheriff, sweeney and lovett are working class, the beggar woman is homeless- but as a director tommy kail seems… uninterested in any biting political commentary, to put it generously lmfao. and i hate so much how little of it there is to be found in this revival, bc you can still Do It without invoking brecht. but i’ve long made my peace with that. i wanna talk about what i love.

and what i really love and what kept me returning to it (beyond the fact that it’s sondheim, and it’s sweeney, and josh groban is so stupid fucking hot) is how human everyone is. the entire production, from the ground up, is built around taking these characters and their pain seriously.

the ensemble all have incredibly period accurate costumes, unique to each character they’ve crafted (fun fact even the swings have their own unique costume that’s only seen when they perform). gone is toby as a mentally disabled man child with an oedipal fixation on lovett. in gaten’s hands he’s a young teenager, aging out of being a cute urchin and just looking for a mother. in daniel’s hands he’s beaten down young man with a limp and a genuine love for lovett.

ruthie’s beggar woman has developed DID after a brutal rape and the trauma of institutionalization and homelessness. she’s not played for laughs, even if sometimes the audience chuckles, and she makes u feel guilty if you ever did laugh at her situation. daniel yearwood leans so far into anthony as a sweet guy completely unaware of the story he’s actually in to the point of comedy. maria is just a revelation as johanna, all nerve and tension and bloody nails from years of self-harm. it’s easy to lean into johanna as a princess track, but ~crazy~. and maria plays jo as mentally ill and traumatized from years of incesteous abuse, but it’s not a pastiche or a praody of it. jo feels human in a way i’ve never seen her depicted before. i love it. maria bilbao u have my heart forever for this.

and then josh and annaleigh…. ugh!!! annaleigh really captures the avarice at the heart of lovett, but still brings in enough genuine moments of humanity and compassion that you find yourself (like sweeney and toby) endeared to her. lovett is always cruel and can only love through manipulation, but annaleigh’s lovett is a woman who makes small concessions. bit by bit, piece by piece, she erodes whatever goodness she had inside her until nothing but her desire for sweeney is left. she’s a woman who’s used seduction to get her way, and it’s easy to envision that when lucy returned from turpin’s, she shamed her for “giving it away” without getting benjamin back. she’s a monster! and yet, when she dreams of a better life, you feel it. when she holds toby in her arms and cried at her perfect little life unraveling, you feel it. annaleigh makes you laugh so hard she gets under your skin and stays there, exactly how lovett seduces sweeney in ALP. and there it is- identification! the complete opposite of alienation. we’re in it with them.

and then there’s josh and his sweeney… i really feel like his sweeney is undervalued. annaleigh steals the show. she won the drama desk for a reason. it’s a legendary performance. but josh…. man. i just. i keep returning to josh’s open wound of a sweeney over and over again. i think he’s probably had this take bouncing around in his head for years. they smartly leaned away from sweeney as this embodiment of rage and physical menace, which surprised a lot of people. but instead leaned into sweeney’s grief in a way i haven’t seen any major production do. josh’s sweeney feels like a man who was put on this earth to be a father and a husband. there’s a buried sweetness to him and you can still see benjamin barker in him until the very end. i keep calling him “kendall roy sweeney” bc it’s the closest way i can covey to other ppl what josh is doing here. he’s all big sad eyes and suicidal ideation, tragedy and twitchy hands. he’s so deeply pathetic he just endears himself to you. i want sweeney to succeed more than ever before. even though he spends all of act 2 killing people and being a shit father and thus killing benjamin barker, i still find myself wanting him and lovett to get away with it. and when the reveal comes, and even worse the betrayal hits- that this woman who he let into his life and body and who, in some odd way, became a friend, lied to him this entire time- it hits like never before for me.

i just love it all so much. i’m so happy it exists, so happy this revival does something so new! sondheim has said sweeney todd is a show about obsession, and it is. this revival supposes: what is the difference between love and obsession? what if the two look the same?

i think often of this quote from luca guadagnino’s suspiria (a masterpiece btw): “Love and manipulation, they share houses very often. They are frequent bedfellows.”

to me, that’s this revival in a nutshell- the thin line between love and obsession, and all the blood spilled in between.

[starguardianniom]

The Paris Special

Ok so here's what I thought of it:

Loved it.

Shadybug and Claw Noir owns my heart entirely now.

Seems Shadybug's backstory is a bit more than just Chloé bullying her, given that in her universe, the world is controlled by the Supreme who rules with fear. Her outright saying that she will be spared if she gets the Butterfly back also seems to imply that she will probably get killed if she doesn't, so she's threatened with violence too I guess, and same goes for Claw Noir, yikes. Oh and them using their powers for evil while so young apparently is destroying them from the inside? Double yikes. 14 years old being threatened to not be spared if they didn't complete their missions, kind of see why they're so intense they don't really have the luxury of failing or they'll probably be killed, ouch. Angry, sad kids being offered power in exchange for living, because even if they hate their lives now they also want to live, I'll probably get more in details with that in another post.

Ok so alternate Gabriel was not a good man at first either, then after losing his wife he decided to redeem himself by trying to do the right thing, unfortunatly seems he neglects his son in the process. So here he's the not main big bad, the Supreme seems to hold that position and being nastier than he is/was so there is a huge difference between that universe and the one we've been in for the show, and maybe losing his wife made him realise the errors of his ways. He's not perfect either since his son seems to resent how he moved on so fast probably, and well, I have feelings about that too, but well, he was able to move on, because he has bigger problems than grieving his wife and wanting her back.

Claw Noir is freaking insane, he Cataclysmed himself and kept walking and going without any trouble, wow, meanwhile Chat Noir and Gabriel kept groaning and flinching and being in pain the entire time they were cataclysmed. Also he got a crush on Marinette from watching her in the bakery the first time around, she didn't know about it but reverse love there, too bad Shadybug didn't have feelings for him, but well, I dunno, found their bickering also entertaining for some reason. He doesn't take Shadybug's crap, he fights right back and isn't passive at all.

Shadybug and Claw Noir struggling to work together was believable, they try to take each other's miraculous, and insults and hurt each other too, and neither takes any crap from the other and gives back as good as they get. But they also still manage to work well together despite it all, and manage to calm themselves and let go of their anger to focus on their objective. In the end they get better and they also know each other's identity so they might become a couple too, given Adrien already loves her it seems, so they won't be alone anymore, would be funny if they revealed themselves to Betterfly and Betterfly to them and Adrien realise it's his dad and then says Marinette is gonna be his girlfriend and Gabriel ships them so hard and welcomes her into the family and Marinette just takes it all in shy stride and stuff and I need to see them again one more time to see how it goes in their universe RIGHT NOW!!!!

So Tikki knows about the multiple universe stuff and thought Marinette's life was too short to get into that so she stuck to the basics, given the trainwreck that Marinette is sometimes I find it understandable that Tikki wouldn't want to burden her with other universes either so.

Slow motion akumatized Chat Noir, that was weird, but ok.

Alternate Alya, love her hair and looks. Ubiquity looks amazing.

Shadybug realising Ladybug is also her in that universe and reading Marinette's diary and keeps commenting and then tearing up over it, my heart. Then she finds the stuff about the wish, tries to do it, but apparently the Supreme fucking put a lock on that somehow? Wow! Ok. Meanwhile Adrien being restrained on the floor blushing at Shadybug's civilian self looks a bit kinky to me, and I'll leave it at that.

Ladyfly looks ok I guess, still weird to see her with the miraculous that she's been fighting against for the entire show but ok.

Shadybug and Claw Noir being talked out and become better, Shadybug using her Miraculous Cure which cures Claw Noir, and them getting new costumes, not gonna lie here, I prefered their villain looks, but well they still have more style as heroes too. Shadyclaw for the win, love how Claw Noir likes her new looks too.

It was hilarious to see Monarch working with Shadybug and Claw Noir, teaming up with villains versions of the heroes he's been fighting against the entire time is pretty ironic but it was ok too, but most likely they would probably have all turned on each other the moment they succeeded too if they would have won.

The parallel universes fights between akumatized Ladybug (omg it finally happened but with a good kamiko instead of an evil akuma what a time to be alive and she reminded me of a purple Sailor Moon) was nice, Scarabella and Kitty Noire (glad there's a universe where they are the heroes), Mister Bug and Lady Noire universe also is nice because it means Adrien can lead probably, and of course animated 2D cartoon universe, let's go.

So yeah I loved the special more than the others, now it dethrones the Shangai special in my heart.

Shadybug and Claw Noir are my kids now.

[nik-jr-lit]

Some other M. Paul x Lucy moments that literally had me laughing out loud (or smiling)

the time Rosine begged Lucy to go into M. Paul's class to deliver a message because he was in such a pissy mood and likes Lucy better so she goes in and gives the message that he's needed at the local college and he's all "that's nice but i'm not going" and she just pushes his hat towards his hand but oh no his glasses fall off the desk and literally both of the lenses bust and now she's actually scared but before she can even get an apology out of her mouth he hops up, says "well, what a little mischief maker! what a nefarious little englishwoman!! guess i'll have to go if you're going to threaten me like that! :-)", puts his hat on, and leaves.

later on that night when he comes to the school to read aloud to the pupils and teachers and he forgoes his normal spot to go sit next to Lucy (aw) and she moves to give him room but he says "no don't" but she scooches a little anyway and he immediately gets pissed and is all "oh so you want to treat me like an outcast?! you want distance?!! fine!" and he literally makes everyone else at the table get up and move to the other one and grabs Lucy's stuff and puts all of it on the other side of the table so it's just them at opposite ends and he says "happy?" and she's all "you were the one who wanted it like this..?" and he said "no! you were the one who did this!!" and then he reads a French translation of Shakespeare and Lucy is not at all hiding her disdain and he looks up and sees every single eyeroll and smirk and omfg he's getting so pissed but it's dinner time now and she's engrossed in making her watchguard and tbh she's feeling giddy and smug because making M. Paul so flustered and annoyed was fucking fun and she was enjoying it. he gets up without saying a word, strides towards the door, but turns back for his pencil case and...he puts his pencil in...takes it out...breaks the lead against the table...resharpens it...puts it in his pocket...and finally walks up to Lucy. he asks her what she's working on and she says she's making a watchguard for one of her gentleman friends and omg he's really mad now, i mean he's seriously fuming; he's saying she's impossible to be friends with and that he has never done anything wrong but she continues to regard him with passionate injustice and rebellion and she's all "what? :(" and he's, again, immediately apologizing and correcting himself and saying that she does have good qualities but if she'd quit flirting and caring so much for people whose only good quality was being tall and if she dressed more modestly then things would be better. a few moments pass and he's all, "did what i just said make you hate me? :(" but no, all is well and as he's going out the door he says "it's not that you don't look good in your clothes...it's just....nevermind, continue dressing as you do! goodnight!"

M. Paul's party day when Lucy didn't give him a gift and he asked "in really tragic tones" whether all the presents had been given because he wanted hers, only cared about a gift from her and she was starting to get that giddy feeling again from pissing him off, and she literally tells us as the reader that because he cared so much about whether she got him a gift, he fucking deserved to be fooled and get pissed and if that doesn't make you laugh i don't know what will. then he decides to make his party speech about how much England sucks and the things he says just get nastier and nastier until Lucy can't take it anymore, slams her hand on her desk, and says "long live England, fuck France!" and everyone in the room is gasping but M. Paul is hiding his grin behind his handkerchief because, yes, they both love riling the other up. he ends his speech by saying that he's going to take the whole class out to breakfast on the first day of spring and makes sure to say "only my friends are invited" and Lucy says "i won't be there!" and he says "fine!!"

omfg the fact that he was leaving goodies in her desk, correcting papers for her, and, when he's caught, he asks her earnestly whether she likes the things he leaves her.

how he accused Lucy of playing dumb, knowing Latin and Greek, and plagiarizing because she's a fast learner, but then he brags to his academic friends how smart she is <3

[caesarclowningaround]

holy shit dude i’m so sorry for just now saying this. today was EXHAUSTING. but anyway: HAPPIEST OF BIRTHDAYS TO MICKEYYYYY!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ i’m currently reading your fic, that’s what reminded me to send this lmao.

on this lovely birthday of mickey’s, could you perhaps tell me about his hobbies/interests?? like what does he do in his free time.

ALSOOOOOO please tell me any cool gifts he’s received over the years, from his mother, edward, others, whoever! his most cherished gifts 🎁

NO WORRIES!!! YESSS THE HAPPIEST OF BIRTHDAYS TO MY FAVORITE SHITHEAD MICKEY MIRANDA!!!! AAAAHHH I'M ANSWERING THIS WITH ONLY 2 MINUTES LEFT OF HIS BIRTHDAY (and it'll probably be after midnight by the time i get all my thoughts out LOL) YAAAY I hope you like it!!! 💕💕

Mickey's hobbies/interests include (in no particular order):

Gambling (from card-playing to the nastier stuff like betting on boxing matches and illegal animal fights)

Theater (he attends the opera often because he likes how being in a box with other wealthy/"important" people makes him feel, but he enjoys plays and smaller-time libretto works more. He is SUCH a theater snob and has Opinions™ on everything he sees)

Whoring (either himself or paying for company (lol that's cute. no, Edward always pays))

He has a low-key interest in fashion and always tries to stay on top of the latest trends

Cartography was a necessary hobby for him to pick up, and it helped he was always good with geography

History! He loves learning about history in general, but also the history of weaponry and warfare. The Ancient Roman Empire is his favorite

Related to above, but he's also fascinated with ancient pantheons

But even more than those, Mickey loves languages! both ancient and modern. He's fluent in Spanish (his first language), English, Latin, French, and some scattered Italian and ancient Greek. Ever since he was a schoolboy, he tried to learn as much as he could. Even though he rarely has time for learning any new ones, he owns a lot of books on languages!

Gifts he's received are a complicated matter for him. While he still has the recipe box and scarf his mother gave him, they weren't birthday gifts and he doesn't have anything she ever gave him for his birthdays. Most of his belongings he carried on into adulthood were practical objects and birthday gifts were pieces of his childhood that he mostly left behind in South America.

Though, he loves getting birthday gifts. Here's a few that stand out for him:

A gold pocket watch Edward got him for his 27th birthday. It was very expensive and it looks it, all shiny with an engraving inside that reads, "To my dearest friend Mickey, Happy Birthday". Mickey always wears this watch, though not because Edward gave it to him, but because of how admired it is among their peers. Mickey himself could not purchase a nicer watch and thus treasures it

Several of his neckties were gifts, two of which were from Augusta

An enormous painting from the embassy that Mickey keeps over the fireplace in his office

KNICKKNACKS!! Mickey loves knickknacks, from statues to decorative antlers. Just STUFF he can put on surfaces to show off he isn't the miserable little boy who has little to nothing left from his childhood. Friends of his know he always appreciates a new object to add to his collection

Books are also always a well-received gift Mickey is happy to get on his birthday

Tickets to some show or event. Edward's taken Mickey to the opera for his birthday more than once

Chocolates (because of course he loves chocolate~)

[septembersghost]

I really appreciate your writings about Elvis, because they cheer me up when things are bad. You’re such a great writer and make so many great points that most people don’t want to hear. I haven’t been productive this year unfortunately so I’ve been online a lot and I fear being into Elvis has been very damaging for my mental health. It’s been more than a year of reading comments about what an abusive groomer racist appropriator he was and I don’t think I can take it anymore. I’ll never deny the joy his work has brought me but sometimes I wonder if its better to take a step back from all things Elvis :/

*hugs hugs hugs* thank you so much, this means a lot to me and i'm happy if anything i've shared has helped through everything.

here's what i can advise, as someone who VERY much understands being less productive and online a lot and maybe then relying a little too much on fandom - you never have to justify the things you love that are enriching your life and bringing you joy, but you are also always entitled to step back from them if that begins to hurt you. fandom is supposed to be fun! it's NOT supposed to take a toll on your mental health. the fandom i initially came back to tumblr to participate in was doing that to me, just wrecking my mental state and stressing me out on a loop, constantly putting horrible posts in my face (and this is a fictional case, but seeing someone you love, character or artist, wrongfully called an abuser and a monster and vilified to an insane degree when it isn't at all a true depiction is intensely difficult to read and to navigate). and my solution was to loosen my attachment to it and get some distance, it was the only way to alleviate it. you have to take care of and prioritize yourself. i promise you that if he could give you guidance here, E would say the same thing. he wouldn't want you being hurt on his behalf, that's not what he was here to do!

i don't know where you're seeing this stuff (idk where any of y'all read this garbage 😭 i'd say stay away from forums or threads or comment sections where you know it's likely to happen). also be confident in the truth and the reality and facts we have, because they DO outweigh those hateful comments and hearsay. it's like the accusations of racism make my blood boil because it's horribly untrue, but it's also so easy to research and learn about and refute that i know the people who say that are uninformed and don't care. i've shared a lot debunking that specifically because of that wealth of information and testimony about his character. the nastier comments about priscilla and his romantic relationships, it's just...it's salacious and invasive, *not* to discuss it in general because it affected him and was a part of his life, but the way in which it's handled tends to cross lines. and while i may disagree with aspects of decisions he made myself, it is not my business and not my right to demonize their private life. i don't understand the obsession with this, if i'm being honest. how is THIS a focal point of how someone is defined? i see iconic male musicians with a ton of stans online who really WERE documented racists, abusers, misogynists, pursued groupies (elvis did not), and they NEVER get this kind of villification. i'm not saying it's wrong to enjoy their music either, but it's crazy how this discussion dominates him in such an unfair way. ask yourself why this takes such a hold of people with elvis where it doesn't with others, because there are societal factors at work, along with decades of misperception and intentional detraction. then take whatever matters most and touches and resonates with you, from him, from his music, and let yourself carry that with you. nobody else is owed that. it's sacred to you alone.

if you can, redirect your attention to something new, whatever that may be, and rest and refresh your mind. you don't deserve to be stressed or suffering over this. sometimes, getting distance can help you hold onto that joy in a more centered and healthier way. sending you love, and please remember my askbox is always open if you want to talk or if you need a little light 💖

[dreamingsushi]

Till the End of the Moon - Episode 19

Last episode, we finished the painful dream arc, which produced a big change in the dynamic our main couple. I don’t like thinking of them as a couple, there’s just too much toxicity in their relationship for them to actually fall for one another. Not in a healthy way. But before worrying about their love story in this life, I think we should focus on the last bit of information that we received: Tantai Minglang is still alive and has every intention to make his brother pay for what he did to him. I think he might get us side tracked for a while, his masks resembles the one that the demon god was wearing, so you know. So far, they did good with all the objects they introduced. I have expectations.

They finally arrive to Jing. Ye Qingyu takes Ye Xiwu to see her father and grandmother. He was however kicked out of the family for betraying their country. Pianran takes him shopping in the capital to comfort him and convince him that he didn’t make the wrong choice by deciding to follow Tantai Jin. Chuntao tells Ye Xiwu that it’s weird how before no one really cared about Ye Bingchang, but then a few years back, all the men started to care about her. Talking with her older brother, she also hears that Tantai Jin was the one to welcome them to Jing and that he even sent doctors to take care of them, even though her father turned them all down. When she goes to the palace, she thanks Tantai Jin for taking care of her family and she kissed him on the cheek. At first he seems happy about it, and it even creates a nail out of the pearl Susu collected from his tear, but then it’s night again and he kicks her out.

Tantai Jin doesn’t really understand why he got angry at her, since making her happy by seeing her family was the objective. He decides to let Nian Baiyu go back home to visit his family. Instead of learning the etiquette of the palace as a maid, Susu is reading love stories to learn how to seduce Tantai Jin. But no matter what she tries, she always ends up in trouble. I think Tantai Jin is playing a little hard to get. And he’s having a little too much fun teasing Ye Xiwu.

Pianran is exhausted from all the work and gets to have half a day off if she goes to get rid of monsters. On her way out, Susu begs her to teach her how to seduce men, now that she tried everything in her books and nothing worked. Pianran demonstrates on Ye Qingyu, but Susu doesn’t feel comfortable doing so. So Pianran asks her what she’s really bad at and Susu says she’s a really bad cook. Pianran tells her that the best way to win a man’s heart is by feeding him. The nastier the better. It’s a little revenge she’s getting.

When Susu is coming over to give him the food she made, he’s reading some stuff alongside with Nian Baiyu. Seeing her, he makes him leave first and she tries to come closer to have a look on the characters. It’s ancient text from the Yue clan, so it’s normal that she doesn’t understand. She asks about characters and then she offers him some food, saying it’s the first she ever cooked for someone. The food is disgusting, but Tantai Jin eats it with bravery. Seems even though it isn’t tasty, it made him somewhat happy, since the pearl is heating.

Some disgusting plotting from Xiao Lin’s dad and Tantai Minglang. These are really bad people.

Pianran suggests that Ye Xiwu stop going to see Tantai Jin everyday since she’s not making any progress. And of course it works, he wonders if she doesn’t come anymore because she doesn’t like him any longer. He also asks Pianran for guidance. She’s going to be this ship leader. Because they both seem to at least somewhat like each other sincerely. She tells him that if a girl doesn’t come to see him anymore, maybe he should be the one chasing her if he likes her.

And that’s it for episode 19. It was a nice break from the very heartbreaking past few episodes. I love the dynamic between Tantai Jin and Susu, the way it has evolved. Also, I think we should spend more time on Pianran, she’s hilarious, I love the way she speaks her mind and then goes back to a smoother her. I want a little break from all the people trying to kill each other out of jealousy and have little peace. But without angst this time around.

[gleefullypolin]

I agree, I need them all. Good and bad, I don't care I am much better off for them. I don't want the beats of their romantic stuff so much as I want the overall beats for preparing myself if you get my meaning. Seeing what happens in text gives me a peace of mind while watching something with context. My husband hates spoilers but he knows I love them so he only asks me for them if he thinks he's going to get pissed off, ha.

My chaotic brain will both love and hate a huge cliffhanger. Love it because I've written fic for so long that it's just damned fun and hate it because I won't know what's coming and that's rude. I will be right along with you looking for spoilers. I will be ridiculous.

Oh I had dictionaries. Even a thesaurus, paperback style. I explained how a pager used to work to a teenager a few months ago and wanted to die inside the whole time.

Episode 4 is the second scene? You know, that makes a lot of sense actually even though I know most people aren't going to like it. If he has to watch Obi Wan with Penelope for episode 3 and he's already caught feelings by the end of 2, by 4 he's going to be a mess and a half. I heard that he just mopes and sits in a corner during the scene so if he's been pining and thinks all is lost and he can't even escape in a way that's worked for him in the past, he's going to have to do something about it.

With the LOWK of it all and she did not look thrilled during that dance with him in the trailer, adding in chaotic and unhinged Colin because of Kenebling (which is fair, I just see him not as an obstacle but more the physical manifestation of Colin's fear that he might have lost her to someone else in the book), I'm sure a lot is going to happen within that episode that gets us ready for the back half of the season and onto their happily ever after. That episode is going to be insane I'm sure.

Oh oh yes, I have been burned too many times. Let me be insane for one season then settle into just happily watching from then on. A perfect scenario for me really. Yeah, I've seen some nasty things and for people who have consistently accused others of such and such, I have yet to see the such and such, even in the replies on their nastier posts. If even the kindest posts asking for manners are met with vitriol from a ship's fans then maybe not everyone else is wrong about behaviors from certain fans.

My kingdom to hear a My Wife!

Just look at it as being paid to read fic. You've taken on the Man and gotten paid for leisure. And for years? Truly queen behavior right there.

I agree, I just need to know that A happens, then B, which leads them to X by the end of that episode. I don’t know to know how each scene plays out or how they say it, that is the beauty then of watching it play out. But at least I know that I will cringe at B, but I will cry with C and by the time I get to X all is right. Or perhaps I will hate X but by the time episode 3 comes it will be ok by F. Oh my word the way my brain works is terrifying. But my husband is the same as yours. He doesn’t want to know what is coming, he only wants to know if I’m going to be angry beforehand. And then he just laughs and says, oh dear.

I will hate needing to wait another month again, but another part of my brain hates me and will truly love all of it. Because I will sit and create angsty things and dream of scenarios in my head of lovely ways to fix it and isn’t that what fandom is all about anyway? Besides it gives me something to do other than sitting on twitter with my fingers cramping while I get angry over politics and the world. I prefer this to that any day! So, I’ll take the angst of romance, will they or won’t they, carriage rides, and waltz’s, longing looks, and trying to figure out how the story goes.

I think my brain works different as a watcher vs a writer. I think it goes to show writers CAN’T be trusted in some form. As a fic writer I am all about pain. I LOVE cliffhangers and putting my characters through the ringer. I mean I am also a happy ending writer so I trust that I will get my readers there eventually and not all television writers can do that for you. But I guess writers like a bit of a mess! Where is the fun in boy and girl meet, the end, right?

OH MY WORD you explained a pager! To someone from this day and age! That must have been terrifying. I work for a company that acquired a startup, and I have to say, we do not speak the same tech language. LMAO!

It does make sense! Because I’m sure a lot changes from 2 to 4. His brain has mushed from then in how he feels and his confusion has misted over from this BS “my friend Pen is not a woman” to “my whatever Pen is to me sure has plump lips and pert breasts” who is now dancing and giggling with Lord Kenobi all day long and now looking very troubled while speaking with him at that ball. I’m sure seeing her run out of the ball during whatever is happening (I’m assuming either a proposal or a price on LW head is happening)

And I’m sure before this ball is the brothel scene where Colin is all in his feels and not interested in anything else but what is playing in his head about Pen. So, he has gone to this ball with only her in his mind and maybe even realizes he loves her at this point so he’s realizing he’s lost her here. Then whatever happens she runs out and he goes after her, so I figure it has to be LW here because there has to be something that snaps for them both. And then the drama begins, because we pretty much end friends to lovers for part 1 and that is when enemies to lovers starts for part 2.

I literally don’t have the attention span for more than this season. I was gung ho for a couple years on Captain Swan and I burned out very hard, writing fics daily and spending hours until I had a literal melt down mentally. So my attention to the pretty will be here for this season and then I will need a head space break again I’m sure. It will be nice to then see them and be happy and not be stressed about the who, what, and where will be happening and just know they are happy. And hopefully the negative fans can crawl back into whatever negative hole they came from as they wish hell on the show they apparently only loved because of 2 people and will burn to the ground now without.

It is sad, when I was on phones, I would sneak a peek at a fic. When I got into leadership, I snuck off to write a few chapters. Once I hit management…I’ve been paid to write full fics. They love me. I have put in more hours than 40 in a week. So I’ve paid my dues, it’s mental health benefits to write on the side! Haha!

[docheros]

OOH and how about DapperAnti with 🩹 (tending to each other's wounds), 💀 (saying goodbye to dying lover), and 😭 (unrequited love)?

i went full Álvares de Azevedo on this one

WARNING: mentions of dubcon, suicide and necrophilia. yeah. but nothing is in detail here i prommy 😘

[======]

Jameson sat back on the couch. That was one hell of a day.

But a good hell.

He looked back at the body. So relaxed, so calm, so angelic. As if he was only sleeping. An eternal sleep.

He licked his smiling lips, remembering everything that happened. Him finding Anti in a dark alley, tending to his wounds after bringing him home, having sex with him and then hearing the screams of a mad, traumatized man. It was like a perfect imitation of Heaven.

And, when he found the boy with his wrists slit, in the middle of a blood puddle. Jameson just sighed.

"Why are you doing this? You know I love you."

— How... can you... love me? You met me... yesterday...

"But I still love you," he crouched down, next to his head, "we were made for each other."

— You're... you're a sick man. I hate you.

And nothing more came. JJ just kissed his cold lips and tended to his wounds again.

He could do a statue of Anti, to eternalize his beauty. And while the statue were being made, he'd put him on a glass coffin, under his bed. It'd be perfect.

Jameson sighed again, undoing his belt.

[======]

i woke up today and chose violence

also idk how long you can still be conscious when you slit your wrists but anyways

[wiypt-writes]

Brothers In Arms

Part 3: Tears On My Pillow

Summary: You head to a hotel to meet Steve, but the question is, can you go through with it?

Warnings: Bad language words. Smut. Non-Con…(NSFW 18+) Contains Dark themes which may or may not be triggers.

Pairing: MOB DARK Ransom Drysdale x Reader/ MOB DARK Steve Rogers x Reader

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: Its going dark folks, you have been warmed...

W/C: 4.7k

Brothers In Arms Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 2: Can’t Get You Outta My Head

“I’ll be back tomorrow lunchtime,” Ransom smoothed down his tan coloured camel coat. “Where did you say you’re going tonight?”

"I have a dinner meeting."

“Aah, yes. College friends.” Ransom wrinkled his nose, “are you staying at the hotel or coming home?”

"Uh, probably there. We'll see how the night goes." You were doing your best to lie.

“Okay, well keep me posted, please. And ensure Natasha knows where you’re going.”

“I don’t need babysitting,” you rolled your eyes.

"It's not babysitting, it's protection, and it's not up for discussion."

“Fine,” you groaned.

Ransom leaned in for a soft kiss, his thumb to your chin, "I love you, Princess. I promise I'll make it up to you when I get back."

And that was all he said, he turned on his heel and headed down the steps towards his car.

You headed back up the steps into your mansion and turned to see him driving off, Carter in the passenger seat. Clearly, he was in the mood to drive today, but that was Ransom all over; what he wanted, when he wanted.

With a long sigh, you set about your day, finishing some things for work, looking over a contract or two that had been left for you and by three you were through. You down the hall to the large den, the dark wood panelling mirroring your mood as you poured yourself a large scotch.

You had to be very careful how you played the night. If Nat was your shadow, you had to either shake her or let her in on what was going on. Both proved problematic. She was loyal. Very loyal. No doubt she'd report back to Ransom what had transpired and that outcome you feared. You just needed to okay this ridiculous and dangerous game enough to spin Steve deeper until he got caught. He was bound to fuck it up, but when was the question on the table. He was as good as his brother. Nastier if anything, more vile and ruthless.

You took a deep breath, and headed through the house, finding Natasha in the study as she was reading through some paperwork.

“Natasha? You have a moment?”

"Of course," she looked up and smiled. Her red hair was pulled back off her face, eyes bright as she awaited your conversation.

“So, erm, has Ransom told you that I’m heading for dinner tonight?”

"Yeah, I'm to follow and give you the space you need with your friends but to remain vigilant." Natasha set the papers down on the table in front of her.

“Okay, well, the thing is, Ellie has had an emotional crisis so I’m thinking of changing it up and booking a suite,” you lied as the idea formed in your head, “and some in room pampering, room service…so I think I’m going to stay after all, what do you need me to do?”

"Uh, okay, well, that changes things entirely. I can stand outside or wait in the car. I have to be on premises, Y/N, you know the rules."

“I know, that’s why I’m asking. I’ll phone Ransom in a moment but if you wanna sweep the room and stuff before we check in you can, just can I ask you to do it before my fiends arrive? They don’t really know the extent of what Ran does, and I don’t want them to.”

"I think I can manage that." Nat nodded.

“I’ll get you a room as well, at least you’ll have somewhere to stay and be comfortable. You could even join us if you like?”

The last question was a gamble, and you were praying Natasha was going to remain as professional as she always did.

"If you don't want your friends to know what the boss does then it's probably not the best idea this time. We're friends, Y/N but I have a job to do and I have to draw the line."

“No, of course. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

"No offense taken," she held up a hand with a wink. "Rain check on the pampering?"

“That’s fine. I’ll go make the arrangements and then I’ll let you know what time we should leave. It’s a good hour into Manhattan so I suspect it will be about four? I’m packed anyway so…”

"Alright." She nodded with a look of dismissal.

Problem one dealt with, you now had two left.

You nodded and headed out, calling Ransom as you did. When he didn't answer, you left him a message, detailing your new plans and assuring him that Nat would still be around. There would be no doubt he was fine with the plan and so there was your second "problem" dealt with.

Now for the third.

You scrolled through your phone, looking for the number you had saved under Ellie’s name as her works number and dialled.

Unlike Ransom, this bastard answered.

"Well, hello Doll," he annoyingly cooed

“I’m not your Doll.” You spat, and Steve chuckled.

With a tisk of his tongue he spoke, "now is that any way to speak to your date?"

“Shut up and listen to me.” You snarled, “we have a problem.”

"Let me guess, that bulldog dyke of my brother's is your watch hound for the night?"

“Don’t speak about her like that.”

"He's so fucking predictable. Knows I'm out and sends a babysitter in. Fucking idiot." He chuckled darkly. "I trust you took care of it?"

“Yes. I’m booking a suite under my name, and he thinks I’m with my friends. So you and whoever is no doubt with you need to stay away until I tell you it’s clear.”

"Isn't this exciting?" He sarcastically and sadistically purred. "Secret meetings and room sweeps, using back doors and no doubt fire escapes all for a night with me?"

“It’s blackmail, pure and simple.” You replied, your voice shaking.

"We'll see."

“Fuck you.”

You hung up on his as he manically chuckled with the last words you heard being 'count on it'.

You gave yourself five minutes to calm down, with another large scotch before you headed to your room to check your case. You called the hotel, booked the rooms and then dialled Ellie, the last person you needed to speak to, and put the phone on speaker as you tossed the reaming things you needed into your bag.

"What's going on?" She could hear the distance in your voice and not because you were on speaker.

“I need a huge, huge favour, El.”

"Okay," she waited for you to explain.

“Listen, erm, I need to just get away for a night. Things with Ransom’s family are bat shit and it’s fucking my head. He’s out of town on business and I’ve booked into The Plaza for a night so I can use and abuse the spa but I’ve told him I’m with you…”

"But you're not with me, are you? Oh Jesus, Y/N, are you okay?"

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine and it’s not what you think,” you lied, “I’m not with anyone else I just want a night away from the madness.”

"Okay, I'll cover for you," she sighed. "But, you're okay? Like he's not, he hasn't hurt you has he?"

Ellie didn't know Ransom's profession, rather just that he was in business, but there were rumors and rumblings of a heavy hand in his dealings, one you'd never been on the receiving end of.

“God, no.” You assured her, “he’s never laid a hand on me, never would.”

"Alright, good."

“I’m sorry to ask you, and it’s unlikely anyone will even check.”

She gave a sigh mixed with a chuckle, "it's okay. I've got you. Just... enjoy the break, okay?"

"Thanks, I owe you big time.”

"It's all good," Ellie protested. "Talk soon, let's do brunch next week."

“Yeah, absolutely.” You assured her, abs with a quick goodbye you cut the call.

No sooner had it finished, Ransom’s number flashed up.

"Hi."

“I got your message,” he drawled, “what’s happened now? That dickhead boyfriend dumped her again?”

“I have no idea.” You sighed, “but I have no doubt I’ll find out. I take it you’re okay with the revised plan? Nat was fine, I’ve got her a room sorted and she’ll sweep the place before hand.”

"Of course, Princess," he spoke quietly, "I'll send up a couple of bottles of fizz for you all."

“It’s just the two of us,” you replied, “everyone else kinda cried off when they found out she’s having one of her moments.”

“Okay, I’ll still have the fizz sent up. Charge it all to your Amex, whatever you want.”

His gesture ate at your heart, the bile in your stomach turning your insides ill. "Okay, thank you."

“I’m sorry, baby, I need to go. I’ll call later.”

“It’s okay, erm, I’ll probably be having my ear bent by Ellie. I’ll message you though?”

“Okay, have a good evening. I love you.”

"I love you too," you said with a whisper and such promise. You hoped he knew just how much. And just how much you were trying to spare him with tonight.

**********

“Okay, it’s clear.” Natasha walked over to where you had been sat at the bar and handed you the key to your suite. “If you need anything, call me.”

"Will do, thanks Nat."

“Have a good evening,” she nodded as you left her.

You took the elevator up and headed to the relevant floor. Your bag was already waiting for you, as was a bottle of champagne. You wasted no time in snatching up one of the bottles of premium and obscenely priced bottles of vodka that lay on the room bar.

You flopped onto the bed, the sick feeling in your stomach overwhelming you. What the hell were you doing? How had you gotten here?

You took a drink of the spirit directly from the bottle and winced as it burned on the way down. The issue was, now you started to think about it, you didn’t know if you could go through with this. The first time Steve had violated you, you’d had no choice. You hadn’t known. He’d tricked you, completely. But now…now you did. Whilst not entirely willing, you had arranged all of this. The web of lies you had weaved just to get into the hotel so the bastard could have his way with you… it was gross, disgusting, and it broke you.

But that was nothing compared to what it would do to Ransom.

With a choked sob you dropped the bottle of vodka on the bedside table and shook your head. You'd made up your mind, you weren't staying. But you had to act fast as your guest was due to show up fairly quickly and you needed to get out before that.

You hadn't even opened your bag, so you quickly grabbed it by the handle, grabbed your personal bag and threw open the door only to find Nat ready to knock.

"We have to go. I was scanning the floor and Barton was down the hall. That only means one thing, Steve is here and you're his first target."

“Oh, erm, I was gonna leave anyway, I was just about to call. Ellie isn’t coming.”

"Yeah, explain on the way, we gotta go." Natasha grabbed your case and hurried you to the side elevator for staff. It was The Plaza after all.

You followed behind, not saying anything and soon you found yourself in the underground loading bay. Natasha led you through another door which opened into the parking lot and ushered you towards the black SUV, all the time her hand on the gun at her hip.

Once within the safety of the SUV, your driver was on his way out and Nat was on her phone.

“Okay, boss.” She nodded after a little while and handed you the phone. “He wants to talk to you.”

With a shaky hand, you reached for Nat's phone, "R... Ransom?"

"Sweetheart, I’m coming home.”

"No, you don't... I'm fine, it's fine. There was nothing.... I didn't even know until I was leaving."

“Not up for discussion. If he was there, it means he knew you were, which means he’s following you.”

Your stomach lurched and you swallowed, "okay."

“Have you noticed anyone, anything at all?”

"No. Nothing," you whispered. "Swear it."

“Stick with Natasha, do what she says and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

"Okay." You handed the phone back to Natasha and watched as you were leaving The Plaza and Manhattan behind.

You leaned back in your seat, and reached for your phone. You had eight missed calls and a text. With a shaky hand, you opened the message.

'Oh, Doll, big mistake.'

You sniffed, tossed the phone back in your purse and closed your eyes trying to stem the headache brewing behind them.

*****

“Any idea on how he knew where she was?” Carter asked as he and Ransom headed towards the car which was waiting to take them back to the private air field outside Washington.

“No. But I want you on it. He’s either watching her or…or we have a rat.”

“I think it might be the former.” Stark spoke loudly, making Ransom pause.

“What?”

“I think he’s watching her.”

In a flash, Ransom had grabbed Tony by the lapels of his suit and slammed him up against the car. “What the fuck do you know, Stark?”

"I have a theory and I think I know enough to give you a little looksie." Stark pressed down on his attacker's arms. "I need my phone to share and for that you're going to have to let me go."

With a final glare, Ransom let go and stepped back, his lips curled up in a snarl. Tony pulled his phone from his pocket.

“Halloween ball. You were out of town, right?” He spoke as he tapped the screen, before swiping is fingers across as he scrolled through his phone.

“You know I was.”

Tony nodded, tapped on the screen and handed it over.

Ransom frowned as he watched the footage, and felt a cold feeling of dread, laced with a white-hot lance of anger as he saw his brother on the screen. He was wearing a mask, but he’d know that face anywhere.

He saw it in the mirror every day.

“He was there?”

"Well, if it wasn't you...."

“Fuck…” he felt the nerve in his jaw tick. “So, he could have been following her…”

As he spoke, he tailed off as he remembered you coming home that night. You’d been furious, accusing him of leaving you there, even slapping him for it…

Fuck, you’d seen him…

“Drysdale, what is it?” Tony frowned.

Ignoring Tony, he looked to Carter, "I want the car there and ready the minute we land. Have Natasha make sure Y/N goes nowhere."

With a sinful stride he took to the private plane's stairs and said nothing more.

He brooded all the flight home. Why hadn’t you mentioned you’d seen his brother? Had he put the frighteners on you, because you sure as hell hadn’t been yourself tor the past fortnight. A lot was adding up but there were pieces missing and for those he needed answers.

Even upon landing, he said nothing. A pure look of intensity and purpose stalked his chiselled features as he climbed into the awaiting car with his camel coat and now leather gloves. Carter made mention of speaking and all Ransom did was peer from the corner of his eyes as he turned his head to glare. He was not in any mood for conversation.

"Natasha just checked in, Y/N hasn't left the house since her return from the city. She's kept to herself and stayed in your room."

With not even a nod of acknowledgment, Ransom turned back to stare ahead as the miles back to the estate grew smaller.

It felt like an age till they were pulling through the large wrought iron gates. As the black Mercedes pulled to a stop, Ransom flung open the door and stalked inside.

Taking the spiral stairs two at a time, he found you in the master suite, dressed down and staring out the floor to ceiling windows across the property. You turned to look at him as he moved toward you. And he saw your face pale as you clocked the look on his face.

“R-Ransom?”

“Halloween, the Ball…you saw my asshole brother, didn’t you?”

He watched as your face fell and you gave a small nod. “Yes”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

"I couldn't."

“Did he threaten you? Hurt you?”

Your lip quivered as you swallowed hard. What the hell were you going to say? Do? Steve was no doubt going to somehow, someway expose himself and what happened because you left him behind tonight. That much you already knew.

"Answer me, Y/N."

"Yes."

“Fuck!” Ransoms hand slammed the wall just to the left of your head, and you jumped a little, the tears now pouring from your face. “Why the hell didn’t you say anything?”

As you struggled for words, Ransom let out a growl as his phone rang.

“Don’t answer…” you begged, grabbing his arm but he shook you off.

“I have people looking for him, I have to.” He snapped back, reaching for the phone. His eyes still trained on you, the muscle memory made his hand swipe to answer.

“What?”

“Tut tut, Ranny, that anyway to speak to your twin brother?”

Ransom's eyes grew cold in his stare and your blood ran through your veins like ice. You knew it was Steve.

"I'm gonna kill you," Ransom threatened.

“I’m sure you’ll try,” Steve lazily drawled back, “didn’t quite manage it last time though, did you?”

“I told you before,” Ransom snapped back, “Rumlow wasn’t hired by me, I have no idea who it was. Trust me, I wouldn’t have sent someone, I’d have done it myself. Just like I'm going to this time.”

Steve sighed in amusement, "oh brother, such threats. You see, I'm not the one you have to worry about." He tisked. "If I were you, I'd be more concerned about that little bird in your nest, right now."

“If you’ve laid a finger on her…”

"Fingers, tongue.... my cock," his chuckle was sinister, "it's all the same isn't it?"

Steve cut the call and Ransom choked. In his hand pinged a message from the same number that just rang.

“Ransom, please…” you sobbed as he opened the message and then you closed your eyes as you heard the sounds of your moaning, coupled with Steve’s lewd dirty talk and grunts.

You dropped to your knees as the realization hit that everything you'd tried to hide to spare him had now come to light. There was a loud yell, then the sound of something breaking as Ransom hurled his phone against the wall.

He turned to go but you were quickly chasing after him.

"Please, please, listen to me," you sobbed uncontrollably.

Quickly he spun and with a hand to your throat he backed you into the wall nearby, "you lied to me," he snarled through gritted teeth.

There was no anger in his eyes, not the type you'd seen many times before as he delt with problematic issues. No, what you saw as he squeezed a little was hurt, trauma, pain, emotional distrust. Welling blues that burned into your memory forever.

“I thought…” you swallowed, the lump in your throat hard against his fingers as he squeezed a little more, “I thought it was you, he said it was. He had a mask on, same suit you have… I didn’t…”

"You let him touch you," Ransom breathed harshly. "Fuck you."

"Please, baby...." you struggled.

A squeezed harder. "Don't you dare."

“I thought it was you!” You repeated yourself, “he set this up… he’s been blackmailing me. Telling me if I didn’t meet him again he’d tell you and-“

“You fucking whore! That’s why he was at the Plaza!” Ransoms eyes widened as a look of disgust and hurt etched itself across his face. “You were meeting him!”

You nodded as much as you could given his hold on you, as a tear left his eye and trickled down his cheek, dropping from his chiselled jawline into his forearm.

"I'm sorry," you choked.

“Yeah, well, so am I.” He sniffed, “sorry I ever met you. You know, my parents warned me about you. Said you’d be nothing but a gold-digging slut. Turns out Richard can be right once in a blue moon.”

"No."

“And the best you can come up with is your thought he was me? Jesus, I know you can be dumb at times but that…”

"I...he... I would never," you cried.

"After all this time, you don't know the difference between me and my fucking brother?" He yelled in your face with such anger and pain.

“I was drunk, I…” you stuttered, “I’m so sorry, I love you.”

"Shut up," he growled. "Just shut up."

"Please forgive me. Please, baby, I...."

He squeezed hard this time and you felt the air constrict in your chest. "I said shut the fuck up, you little whore. You fucking dumb vicious little bitch. I'm gonna show you the difference between my cock and Steve's, yeah that's what I'm gonna do."

“No, Ransom, please…”

With relief he let go of your throat but in the same quick motion, he spun you around with force into the wall.

"You let him take you like this? Watched as he fucked you," Ransom pressed into from behind, his hand in your hair as he wrenched your neck. "You know I like watching you cum, watching your face as a I fuck you." He gripped your hair harder and pulled, "that was your first mistake."

You cried out as his hand tightened, pulling your hair so yard it yanked your head back onto his shoulder.

"You liked it when he did that huh, you like it when I do it?" He bit at your throat.

“No, I…” your chest heaved, “Ransom… don’t do this…”

"You're gonna know the difference, Princess." He uprighted you but didn't relent on your hair as he dragged you to your shared bed. With force he tossed you into the mattress and stripped of his coat. Your body was pinned between his legs as he locked you against the down duvet.

You tried to speak, to beg, plead your case again but the words stuck in your throat as he tore the black tights from your body, rucking up your sweater dress.

The buckle of his undone belt clanged as he messed with the zip and button of his slacks. Before his cock sprang from his boxers, Ransom flipped you aggressively to your belly and ripped your tights off, your thin panties going with them. There was a pause and you thought he'd given up, but his body still held you against escaping. His hands gripped your waist brusingly and pulled you over the edge of the bed, the balls of your feet hitting the luxurious carpet.

"You'll know the difference," and without warning he buried into you, a groan emitting from his chest. "You're soaked, I knew you liked it rough."

He was taunting you, as you were far from soaked. In fact, the sudden intrusion had burned and it made you scream out in pain.

“Ransom… you’re hurting me!”

"You fucking hurt me!" He growled as he pulled back and thrust with speed right back into you.

You cried out again, as his hand curled round your neck from behind, pressing your cheek into the soft duvet cover.

You sobbed as he railed you with an intensity unrivalled to anything he'd ever given you before. The slapping of skin on skin, punctuated by your noises of distress filled the room along with the odd grunt from Ransom. There was no dirty talk, no encouragement, no telling you what a good girl you were or how good you felt.

"Know the difference yet, you little whore?"

“Ransom…” you managed a whisper, as a tear trickled from your eye, and you repeated the two words you felt you’d said a million times over. “I’m sorry.”

"You're gonna be." He grunted as he pulled out and flipped you over, a mild relief coming to your body as he tore his shirt open, the buttons popping from their stitches. His tattooed skin spoke with each twitch of his built frame.

He grabbed your arms as he kneeled over you, pulling you up so he could rip your dress off over your head. His eyes were red and glassy, their color completely gone. Then your bra was snapped open at the front and you were naked beneath him, your tights mere threads. With one hand around your wrists above your head, the other stroked his shaft and rubbed that velvety head over your irritated folds. He bumped your clit and you shuddered, the sensation spreading through your body and be curled his lip up in a sneer.

“Like that, huh?” His face buried into your cleavage before he moved to a nipple, roughty grazing his teeth around it, causing you to shudder again.

"Ransom…please,” you sobbed. For a moment, something on his face softened, his nostrils flared as he took a shaky breath.

“Oh, Princess, I’d have burnt the world down for you.”

Your face scrunched up and you choked back, "I know. I love you.”

He scrunched his eyes shut, shaking his head. “Why did you have to ruin everything?”

"Steve did."

And just like that, the mere mention of his brother snapped him out of his moment of softness. His top lip curled, and he thrust back into you, both hands now pinning yours above your head. With devilish speed and pristine accuracy, Ransom pistoned into you, chasing a relentless end.

Despite everything, your body reacted to him, like it always did. You could feel the heat lurking in your belly as his cock stroked that spot inside you over and over.

"Fuck," you gasped as your insides began to tingle.

“Bet he didn’t fuck you like I can, huh?” Ransom looked at your face, “He doesn’t know you like I do, doesn’t know what you like-“ a harsh slam into you made you cry out, “what you want-“ another slam, “what leaves you begging for more.”

You came with need, a cry of his name on your lips as your body curled up to feel him against you more but he pulled away. His grip on your hands tightened as he forced himself away. His fingers released your wrists and crawled into your hands, threading those digits between your fingers and he gripped your hands painfully, as with a stutter and a choked groan he came.

His arms trembled as he kept himself above you, the distance between your bodies felt like miles despite the fact he was burried inside you.

More tears slid from your eyes and then with a sigh and a sniff, Ransom slowly lowered himself down, his face buried into your neck. You felt the wetness of his tears against your skin, and then the fingers of his right hand moved to let your left hand go.

And you gave a sob as you felt the metal of your engagement ring sliding up over your knuckle and off the end of your finger.

"Get out." He spoke with venom in your ear. He leaned back and pulled out of you, not even a slight glance back over his shoulder as he headed for your ensuite.

You lay there, in utter shock, tears pouring down your face as you heard the shower turn on.

It took everything you had, but you managed to push yourself off the bed. You dressed quickly in a pair of jeans and a sweater, stuffed a few additional things into your still packed bag and made your way downstairs.

Carter emerged from the study, and the look on his face told you he had heard at least part of what had gone down. “Miss?” He spoke to you not unkindly and you wiped your eyes and set the keys to your Mercedes SLK down on the side. “You can’t drive like that, I’ll take you.”

“I’m not going to.” You shook your head, “I’m not taking the car, he bought it. I….”

“Come on, l’ll give you a ride. Where…”

“My brother’s.” You sniffed, it was the only place you could think of.

With a nod, Carter picked up your bag and you followed him out to the black BMW SUV.

You settled in the back seat, reached into your purse and with a shaky hand you dialled your brother.

“Hey, Booger.” His soft drawl spoke your nickname and you silently cried at the sound of his voice, “you okay? It’s late.”

“Ari, I… I need you.”

**** Part 4: Put Yourself In My Place

[philliamwrites]

SWYAATL 12: Raised by Wolves and Voices

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x fem! Reader

Summary: “Wouldn’t that be something.” Jean sniffs, his breath coming out in white plums. “Erasing events from the past, making stuff never have happened. You’d have to be, like, God or something to do that.” “I don’t know. I get you’d want the unpleasant stuff gone, but it’s what makes you the person you are today, right? Even all the bad stuff, I don’t think I’d want that just taken away from me.” Especially without you knowing.

Notes: [01] || 11 | 13

Words: 8.1k

A/N: guys, thank you so so much for all the interest in the story and the love and the messages you send me. there are no words how much i love you guys, you all deserve an eren to kiss you ❤️❤️

Chapter 12: Raised by Wolves and Voices

“Psst, dude.” Connie’s pointy elbow does a pretty good job drilling a hole into your side. “Take a look.”

“I’m kinda busy here myself,” you say, knocking your elbow against his arm, the tips of your fingers stained ink blue. It quickly turns into a fight of who can keep their arm on the table that nobody seems to win. Turns out, Connie is a formidable opponent.

“Just a quick look,” he whispers. “I don’t get what’s wrong with my notes.” He slides a piece of paper over to you, and you need some time to decipher the words.

Supplie Requasition Bread: A bunch Potatos: Around 5 boxes? Milk: Not spoiled Blades: Enough to attack Titans Gas: A good amount

“Yeah,” you say. “I don’t get it either.”

At that moment, Shadis passes your table and takes a look at Connie’s requisition paper. “Now, would you all look at Cadet Springer,” he calls, turning to the room. He plucks the paper from the table by one corner with his thumb and index finger as if it was something particularly filthy he spotted under his kitchen sink. “That is what I call unique!”

Connie beams. “Thanks, sir!”

“Uniquely shit!!”

“Oh.”

“Do it again!”

Shadis marches on, sharp eyes searching for his next prey like a hawk. Connie sags against the backrest of his chair, groaning. “Why do I gotta do this stupid stuff? Put me out in the field, that’s where I belong.”

“Even out in the field, you should have a good feeling for the supplies you have on you.” You finish up your concluding statement on Bordieun Field Theory as an Instrument for Military Operations. You’d hoped to have Armin give it a read, but he’s already left for lunch. When you submit the paper to Shadis, he simply acknowledges it with a curt nod and shoos you away like an annoying fly.

“Oh, come on, don’t leave me here,” Connie whines when you pack up your stuff to head over to the canteen where the rest of your corps is already enjoying their break. “I’ll never finish at this rate.”

“You can do it.” You pat his shaved head. “Try to think about it in actual numbers and be specific as you put them down. It’s fine if you do it in your own words.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll try.”

You leave him slumped over his work and set out snuggled into your warm military coat, upturning your collar to help against the biting cold. The canteen is on the opposite side of the lesson building, but the frosty cobblestone plaza makes the jog take much longer. One false step will guarantee you bruises nastier than any handed to you during hand-to-hand combat practice.

It’s a busy day on the Main Compound. Many cadets and full-fledged soldiers linger, and you pass a group of third years near the main entrance, their hands all stuffed deep inside the warmth of their coat pockets. They jostle and bump against one another, laughing, stamping their feet against the cold snap, the first gasp of winter having arrived weeks earlier than anticipated. You recognise Sylvia, who salutes in your direction. You tap two fingers against your temple as a reply. It is her last winter as a cadet before she graduates in spring next year. The 104th has only one more year to go, and then you will be full-fledged soldiers as well.

Just one more year until the people you have grown close to all walk the paths to their distinctive futures like the last leaves clinging desperately to their familiar branches, but unable to hold on as the sharp, cold winter wind scatters them to new horizons. Time waits for no one, yet still you wish you could have a little more with the friends you have made.

You duck under the stone archway and join the constant stream of soldiers entering the canteen. It is a wide, high-ceilinged building running all the way to the far back of the compound and housing dozens upon dozens of long, narrow tables and benches. On one side, behind multiple counters spread with different meals, garnishes and a diverse assortment of drinks and juices, kitchen hands and scullions scurry from workplace to workplace, tending to the soldiers standing in line to pile as much food as they can carry on their rectangular tin plates. The vast assortment is exactly why you prefer eating here: hearty cabbage potato stew, freshly baked bread unlike the hardened leftovers you get at your mess hall. The smell of garlicky, grilled leek wafts from one end of the long counter. They might have made a pact with the devil for all the additional seasoning on their hands, seeing as one of the cooks drops a pinch of what looks like dried dill into a huge pot of boiled potatoes in a thick herb cream.

After a quick survey of the room you find your desired table and quickly get into line to fetch your meal. Tray filled to the brim with little plates carrying various dishes, you make your way through the crowd, accidentally bumping into people and dodging flying elbows with swift steps Shadis would be proud of.

They’ve settled at tables at the very far end of the room, the only set where only two benches stand by the tables so whenever cadets seize them, they usually push them together so more people can sit, facing each other. When you are within reach, you give everyone a single, respectful nod, except Eren and Jean. The first gets a small bowl full of pickled radishes, the latter a plate piled to the edges with thickly sliced carrots.

“Comrades,” you say, all haughty, your chin raised when you sit down next to Jean. The look on his face is one of unabashed, utter disgust. Eren’s face is full of contemplation as if he is debating if it’s worth it to reach over the table and slap you.

They both, without a word or another acknowledgement of your benevolence, pass the plates on to Sasha who gives a happy chirp and dives right in. You shake your head, stirring gravy into your mashed potatoes. “Where’s Armin?” you ask.

“The library,” comes from Mikasa. You have learnt she is a person of few words but a whole catalogue of looks. The one she sends Eren now is worth an hour of chiding in itself. “Said he was looking for something for the upcoming Snow Trekking Exam.”

“Aren’t they throwing way too many exams around lately?” says Samuel. He keeps throwing urgent gazes towards the main entrance as if waiting for someone. Everyone seems a little on edge, waiting for the news from the Post Master that letters and packages from friends and relatives have finally arrived. You are eager as well. Maybe this time, Ida and Felix have sent an answer.

“We are getting close to starting our third year,” Reiner says. He is stirring lazily in a big cup of steaming tea, his plate lying forgotten beside him even though he has only finished half of it. “It’s only normal that tasks get harder, that we get more exams. They want to make sure the next batch of soldiers is strong and capable.” His eyes linger on Mikasa for a moment, almost a little thoughtful. It is no secret that she remains the undisputed number one cadet and in whatever military branch she will end up, she will rise in rank quickly.

He then turns his keen eyes on you, and grins. “Have you given it a second thought? It’s the third time you’re in the top ten now. You could hold rank eight with a little more, consistent effort.”

You are spared answering when Armin, his face half-hidden behind thick layers of his wool scarf, emerges from the sea of soldiers and joins you, three thick books slipping from his arms onto the table. You pick one by its corners, pulling it close so you can read the title. Operations in Snow and Extreme Cold.

Eren leans in close to you, oblivious to the fabric of his black sweatshirt hanging dangerously close to his plate. The expression he is wearing is distinctly one of Not in front of my salad. “What’s this?” he asks, frowning.

“It’s a book,” you say, flipping open the first pages to skim through it. “You should pick up one and read it.”

“Or I could just smack you with it.”

“So eloquent.”

The corners of his mouth tug upward, as if he is trying to fight the grin that is trying to break free but he is also aware of how bad his performance is in this battle. For the first time, he looks as if he doesn’t mind losing this particular fight.

Armin takes the book from your reach before Eren can put his words into action and start mauling people with it. Eren leans back, sulking. “I was just looking for some easy reads on snow operations,” Armin says. “It’s the first time we’re really out there and I want to be prepared.”

“Shadis gave us a really long lecture this time,” says Samuel. “I dunno, kinda makes me want to skip it, pretend I got the flu or something.”

“It’ll be dangerous, for sure.” Reiner pushes his remaining meal over to Bertholdt who accepts it without a word and starts munching on a lettuce leaf. It makes him look like a baby goat. “He said we’ll spend every lesson until the exam date going over survival guides, gear check, map reading. Everything to prepare us to survive the worst.”

Jean rolls his eyes. “I don’t get the big deal, it’s like he’s thinking the moment we step out into the cold, we’ll all get lost.”

“Well, the books state that when operations fail it is mostly due to human error,” Armin pipes up, struggling to get out of his sleeve until Mikasa grabs onto one tail and tugs his arm free. “Soldiers underestimating the cold, not taking enough gear with them or unable to start a fire out in the open at fifty degrees below zero.” A sort of excitement settles over him as he recites the books’ contents. “They all state that in operations outside the Walls during winter, more soldiers die from hypothermia than attacks from wild animals or Titans.”

“But we are instructed to stay together, right?” Samuel sits up a little straighter now, more alert. “This isn’t like the previous exams where we have to split up and every group gets their own task?”

“That’s probably next year.” Jean grins. “You know, if you make it through this one.”

He cackles at Samuel’s horrid expression, earning a gentle nudge with his elbow from Marco who is stuffing his cheeks full with potatoes. He looks like a squirrel.

Samuel opens his mouth to answer, but then something from the entrance catches his sight and he half-stands from the bench, staring eagerly. Multiple heads turn around, watching Connie hurry down the aisle towards the table swinging around a handful of letters.

“The mail carriers have finally arrived!” he announces, throwing himself in the free seat and right into Sasha. She half-chokes on a mouthful of radishes.

Immediately, Samuel is on his feet, tray in his head. “Godspeed, comrades,” he dismisses you all, and vanishes towards the kitchen ladies near the kitchen sinks to drop off his empty plates.

Jean and you share a glance, and shoving the plates to the edge of the table, Jean elbows you out of the way. When he stands, he stretches like a cat and spreads his arms wide. “You think Mom sent us some chocolate? It should be that time the vendor from Yalkell visits Trost.”

You finish your meal quickly, wolfing it down like a starved woman. “I hope whatever it is isn’t as bad as your Dad’s try at those vegetable cookies.”

Jean shudders. “Yeah, I don’t think Mom should have left him unsupervised.”

“I don’t even remember the last time I had chocolate,” Marco thinks out loud. “After, you know—,” he begins, throwing a quick, unsure glance at Eren, Mikasa and Armin opposite him, then at you, “—after we lost Wall Maria, chocolate got really, really expensive.”

“I don’t get it,” Eren says. “What’s so special about it?”

You throw him a curious glance over the rim of your cup. “You don’t like it?”

He shrugs. “I’ve never had chocolate before.”

You gasp theatrically, and lean forward to place a hand on his shoulder. You feel him slightly tense under your touch, his muscles turning hard, his skin warm under the fabric. “That is the saddest thing I have ever heard.”

“Do you want me to hit you?”

A small, private smile catches you off-guard and you glance down, hoping he won’t see it.

Rapid foot tapping against the wooden floor, the tell-tale sign of Jean’s impatience, finally drives you out of your seat, surrendering it to Armin who, in his hunger for information, forgot to get food and rushes over to get some.

You follow Jean outside where another wave of cold air closes like a fist around your lungs. The Military Post Office is the last one in a neat row of small, copper brick buildings designated to everything related to civil relations and administration.

The Post Master behind the counter is a wiry and thin man with a thick moustache and a weathered kerchief tied around his neck. He’s missing two teeth at the bottom, and after you finally make it to the front, he greets you with a wet cough, before asking in a gritty voice, “Name, District.”

“Kirschstein and [Last Name],” Jean says. Hands tucked into his coat pockets, he is bobbing up and down on his heels as if he’s hoping he might lift off. “Trost District.”

The Post Master wobbles for a moment, and you share a worried look with Jean. But he manages to stay on his feet, runs a gnarly finger over a long list until he finds your names, then turns around and goes to the back room to fetch your mailings. He returns with two big packages he can barely carry by himself, and drops them unceremoniously onto the counter. A big, wet snuffle is the only goodbye you get as you reach for your respective packages before other cadets behind you push you to the side for their turn.

Your fingers itch to rip the package open, dig through the presents, even though Wîhe Naht is weeks away, and read Ida’s reply. Three more hours to go before you can trek back to your barracks and snuggle up in your bed, share the sweets and toys from Felix with Mina and then hide under your warm blanket for whatever their response holds in store for you as the other girls prepare for bed.

Jean, feeling your agitation, glances at you sideways. “It’s gonna be fine,” he remarks. “Whatever Mom and Dad are saying in their letter, it’s in the past now anyway.”

“I’m aware letting it go would be easier,” you say, balancing the box from carrying it on one side to the other as if you were holding dynamite. “But that doesn’t change the fact that it happened. I just want closure, that’s all.”

“Wouldn’t that be something.” Jean sniffs, his breath coming out in white plums. “Erasing events from the past, making stuff never have happened. You’d have to be, like, God or something to do that.”

“I don’t know. I get you’d want the unpleasant stuff gone, but it’s what makes you the person you are today, right? Even all the bad stuff, I don’t think I’d want that just taken away from me.” Especially without you knowing.

When there’s no answer, you look up at Jean. He’s trying to stifle a yawn—not very discreetly. At the glare you send him, Jean just shrugs. “What. It’s too cold and I’m too tired to engage in a philosophical debate with you. Go ask Armin.”

Back in the classroom, you are only half a step over the threshold when your corpsmates’ heads turn toward you like hungry wolves smelling their prey. You don’t know when it has become tradition to share sweets and candies—at least by those who regularly receive gift packages from their families. Did it start with Mina’s Klippfisch or Hannah’s glacéed walnuts?

You watch as Jean, who has quickly turned it into a lucrative business, bargains with Connie and Franz what duties they would take over for him next week, when an impulse strikes you, sparking you into action like flint igniting a fire.

With your target nowhere in sight, you know one person who can answer the question about his whereabouts. Mikasa is sitting by the window, watching snowflakes whirl past in an angry flurry. She has a thoughtful gaze about her, as if even though the landscape before her is blindingly white, only she can discern the pictures hidden within. Memories, maybe. Her slender fingers play with loose threads of her red scarf. Armin, sitting beside her, is curled over an open book and doesn’t notice you approaching.

“Have you guys seen Eren?” you ask, already knowing that one definitely knows where he is. Mikasa breaks her gaze away from the window, blinking up at you dazedly as if she is waking up from a long dream. Not for the first time, she is considering you with a blank expression. You just don’t know what test you’re currently under and what might happen should you not pass.

“He’s just left the room,” she says, grey eyes darting to the exit. “Do you need something?”

“Nothing important.” You’re already half turned towards your new destination, swiping your hand over their desk and leaving two pieces of chocolate. Mikasa eyes it with a little suspicion, as if she doesn’t understand what it is until she picks it up. A half smile tugs at her lips. You don’t know if you’ve ever really seen her smile at anyone else except Armin and Eren.

You leave her nibbling on the chocolate, quietly trying to rouse Armin from his reading spree to make him eat his piece. The hallway outside is slowly emptying out as the remaining cadets slip into their classrooms. When you find Eren rounding a corner, you break out into a run until there is so much momentum that it is easier to grab him by his arms and swing you both around like a merry-go-round until you finally halt. Disoriented and surprised by the sudden attack, Eren needs a moment to understand what is happening.

“Wha—”

“Close your eyes,” you say.

Eren takes a step back, doubt cutting deep creases into his forehead as if you are trying to sell him Titan body parts. “Why?”

“Just do as you’re told. Trust me.”

His expression says it all. He doesn’t. But he closes his eyes anyway, brows furrowed.

“Open your mouth.”

He opens his eyes.

“Close your eyes and open your mouth.”

Eren does so, but he adds, “If this is another one of your pranks, I’m going to make you eat snow.”

You ignore him and reach for your pocket from where you produce another small piece of chocolate. You place it on Eren’s lips. He flinches, his eyes snapping open and you use his confusion to shove the whole piece inside his mouth, the pads of your fingers brushing his warm lips. The tip of his tongue darts forward, prods against your fingertips, hot and wet, and you hesitate for the break of a second before pulling your hand back as the feeling sends electric shocks from your hand up your arm and down to your belly.

The transformation on his face is instant when he closes his mouth, his jaw working as the chocolate melts on his tongue. It’s an expression you did not expect, and because of it, you throw your head back and laugh out loud.

“Why do you look so confused?” you ask, giving him a light shove.

Red creeps up his face, paints the tips of his ears. He throws an arm over his mouth, trying to hide it. “It’s so … sweet?”

“Yeah, it’s supposed to be like that.” You almost reach out to tug his arm down by his sleeve, wishing to see more, but Eren has already dropped it, now looking at you as if you are a puzzle he has spent too much time trying to solve and now he is considering throwing it against the wall.

“Why?” he asks.

“Well, there is a lot of sugar in it.”

“No, why are you giving it to me?”

The question catches you off guard, changes the gravity centre a little and uproots your safe foundation. You haven’t really thought about a deeper meaning, just that you wanted to share something you enjoy with him, something you know most people enjoyed, that would bring them happiness. Just like Mikasa and Armin. You wanted, you realise, to share a little happiness with Eren as well.

Which is something you definitely can’t and won’t admit to him out loud.

“You know, gaining favours, having you owe me something.” You shrug, trying to make it look extra nonchalant.

“So, now I owe you something after you almost shoved your fingers inside my mouth.” He crosses his arms in front of his broad chest, and gives you one of those insufferable grins that remind you of every picaresque trickster you have read about in stories—dashing and adventurous, but also daring and dangerous. You realise the part inside you that didn’t want to understand what exactly it is Eren dares you to do grows quieter and quieter, instead replaced by a growing voice that’s a little too eager to accept the challenge head-on.

You mimic his posture, aware of how your crossed arms push out your chest. There isn’t anything subtle about Eren, or the way his eyes drop down like a magnet to its pole. “You say that as if you didn’t like it, Jaeger.”

Eren’s eyes grow dark. He looks at you, his gaze sliding over you in a way that you know is like fingertips stroking over your skin. “I—”

“Hey, if you two squirts have time to stand out here and fuck around, you better be able to recount the whole operation without any mistakes!” Shadis’ voice roars up from the end of the corridor, his sharp, pinprick dots of eyes traverse the whole floor to hit you with a marksman’s precision.

You and Eren duck your heads as if that could spare you from Shadis’ wrath, immediately setting off together, a hasty walk that quickly turns into a race down the hall to see who is faster. Eren only wins because he cheats, his hand reaching down to pull at the harness on your leg only to let it snap back against the back of your thigh.

His laughter disappears as he dives into the classroom first, which is great because that means he doesn’t see your face going up in flames at the quick brush of his fingers against the back of your thigh.

True to his word, Shadis does make you two recount the operation and everything important for its success, which somehow you manage to recite without any problems.

Sadly, that did not prevent the events from nearly taking your life.

The cold punishes arrogance.

That was Shadis’ first lesson, one none of you took too seriously simply because you all, stemming from the southern parts within the Walls where winters are uncomfortable but that is pretty much it, lack the imagination to fully understand what it means to be cold.

“Keep in mind, safety first!” Shadis’ voice howls inside your head, louder than the wind tearing at the naked branches reaching for you like cold, broken fingers as you keep your head down, fighting against the wind trying to sweep you off your feet, eyes glued to Ymir’s boots in front of you. Looking up would hurt too much. The whirling snowflakes striking your skin hurt like pellets. “I’d rather have you maggots fail the objective than be stupid enough to die to hypothermia! Get frostbite and your pathetic little lives are over! Cold winter climate like this is the most difficult climate to manoeuvre! Even when not in combat, you’re still in a fight against the cold. Now out in those woods, the cold won’t be your only enemy. There are wolves, bears. The animals might kill you. But the cold will.”

You’ve checked your gear multiple times, made sure everything is safe inside your trekking back and nothing is missing. The winter coats, long enough to fall past your knees, shield you from the cold, keep you warm as long as you keep moving. You cannot allow one sliver of skin to be exposed to these extreme temperatures or you’ll grow numb immediately, completely freeze in maybe a few minutes. Dead in maybe an hour.

It helps to keep your mind completely fixed on the task. One foot in front of the other, step by step, in the same rhythm that Ymir and the rest march. You’ve completely lost any feeling for the time, and surrounded by this never-ending grey landscape, it could either still be early morning or afternoon already. Which would mean night is approaching and you do not want to be outside when the sun completely vanishes and leaves you in the dark. You can’t imagine how much colder it will be then.

As suddenly as the snowstorm has hit your formation, it dissolves for now. Risking a glance up, you can finally make out the dark, barren stems of trees, still bending in the harsh wind and creaking like old men lamenting their aching backs. Mountains stand tall in the distance, growing taller and taller as you march towards them. Behind them warm huts, burning fireplaces, and warm stews await your arrival. Two more hours, maybe three, and you can finally take off the padded coat and winter boots, the heavy backpack sinking you deeper into the snow with every step.

The cliffs rise higher as you progress, pocked with spots of darkness, like slashes of black paint. As you look more closely, you realise they are caves in the rock. Some look very deep, twisting away into darkness. You imagine bats and creepy-crawling things hiding in the blackness, and shiver.

At last a narrow path cutting through the cliffs leads you to a wide road, nearly completely frozen over. Anytime now, you think, having memorised the map around these areas until you could draw it with your eyes closed. The group begins to slow down, shuffling even closer now that movement ceases and in need of a different source of warmth. You feel Mina pressing up against your side, her gloved hands clutching tightly onto the straps of her backpack. She peeks over at you from under her furred hood, barely managing an exhausted smile. You reach under her hood and give her Rudolph-red nose a squeeze.

At the front, quiet murmur rises, the order passed from the first to the last man. You’d imagine Shadis would have a field trip shouting in a place like this where his voice would echo and grow tenfold, the only downside is that the avalanche following would kill you all swiftly.

Everyone shuffles into one line. You can feel the unrest and anxiety running through the rest like a wave carrying on from person to person. The need to stomp their feet against the creeping needle-fingered cold, the white death slowly advancing and sucking heat from any warm thing. But the narrow mountain pass snaking alongside the cliff’s wall doesn’t allow for two people walking side by side. You imagine freezing to death might be a bit more pleasant than a drop all the way down to the bottom of the mountain and breaking bones. Then again, you’d prefer not to die at all.

With the progress slowed down, you have no choice but to wait for your turn to squeeze alongside the steep cliff to the other side. Were it any other time, you’d enjoy the fantastic outlook over the valley. There’s nothing but mountains and trees as far as the eye can see, a winter wonderland reminding you of all the Wîhe Naht stories your mother used to read to you at night when you were both snuggling into warm comforters and blankets. You try to recount those stories now, of brave Lucia venturing out on a cold, dark, lightless night to find the sun and bring it back to the world, or the stories of Vaeterchen Frost and his granddaughter Schneefloeckchen travelling the lands to deliver presents, to pass time as Mina carefully shimmies along the edge to the other side. Singing songs in your head helps as well—just about anything that occupies you from thinking too much about the cold. What better way to pass time with winter songs.

Schneefloeckchen, Weissroeckchen / wann kommst du geschneit? / Du wohnst in den Wolken / dein Weg ist so weit.

A muffled sneeze interrupts your solo performance. There’s only a handful of cadets left bringing up the rear, comrades you’re able to recognise by their built now rather than seeing their faces after spending almost two years together. Franz glued to Hannah’s side, taking care that she doesn’t slip and fall. Annie, her height giving her away, kicking some frozen ice clumps off the cliff, watching them tumble down, sometimes growing as snow sticks to it. The last one is Eren, all gloomy and sulking like a little child and whenever he raises his head, watchful eyes scanning his surroundings, you don’t miss the feverish look on his face, his cheeks and nose a scarlet red you know has nothing to do with the cold.

No one had missed the argument between him and Mikasa this morning, one Eren ended by storming outside the Mess Hall, ignoring her calls. He wouldn’t be stopped from gathering experience during this mission, not even by the cold turning his voice raw and raspy, his nose runny. You can’t explain how he’s still standing, other than that sheer will power is driving him onward and whoever doubts it gets on Eren’s shit list. Three streaks and you’re out, Eren is not shy handing out punches—physically or verbally. Mikasa was the first to get the brunt of it, banished to the front of the line and as far away from Eren as physically possible just because he couldn’t stand her watching over him like a mother hen.

You felt bad then, watching Mikasa letting Eren stomp off, looking at him with frustration but also fondness—unable to decide if she should respect his wish and let him be alone or follow him to keep him safe. In the end, it was Armin, as usual, who negotiated and kept the peace between them, pulling Mikasa with him and making her his trek buddy.

Now, as you watch Mina reach the pass’ first half and Eren getting ready behind you, you can’t help and plead in Mikasa’s favour.

“You should have listened to Mikasa and stayed back,” you mumble, voice low enough for only him to hear.

Eren’s bad condition is only further proven by the lack of immediate retaliation, the time he needs to take in your words, process them and come up with a strong argument. It is a little like pushing a toddler off his feet and watching him trying to understand what just happened.

Finally, the response you get is the most unconvincing performance you’ve seen, one were it a stage play, you’d demand your money back.

“’M fine,” he slurs, bracing himself against the cliff’s side. He’s taking deep, rattling breaths, his mouth a pale gash in his feverish face. “We’re almost at our destination ‘nyway.”

You take the first careful step, hugging the wall. They always say ‘Don’t look down’ when standing too close to an edge with nothing but space between you and the ground, but that doesn’t work when you have to use ODM gear. Still, something about being in free fall is different than standing close to an edge with nothing but half a foot separating you plunging into your death. There is nothing quite describing this feeling except call of the void.

“You ever think that this isn’t just about you?” you ask him, feeling safer with your back pressed against the wall even though the outlook gives a splendid, stomach churning overview of the valley that has your toes curling. You miss the weight of your ODM gear, the knowledge that no matter if you fall right here, safety is but a click of your hooks and wires away. “Don’t expect any of us to carry you the rest of the way.” Certainly not Annie, his trek buddy. Not because she’s lacking the strength, rather you don’t think she has it in her heart to care about what happens to Eren. Or any of you.

At this point, Eren can barely make any distinguishable words. It sounds something like “Don’ worry ‘bout it,” which is the only signal you get to look to your right and see him sway precariously.

You don’t think. Instinct kicks in, and as he falls forward, you lunge for him, grabbing his backpack. Only that is exactly half the step you shouldn’t have taken.

The last thing you can make out is someone is trying to scream after you, quickly shushed by a firm hand on their mouth—you can only imagine it is Annie’s quick wit and reflex that prevents Hannah’s voice from causing an avalanche going off above their heads.

The fall slams your stomach up to your throat as the world turns into a blurry merry-go-round of white and ice, and the only stable thing is the additional weight of Eren as you hold onto his backpack’s strap for dear life. The first hit is the worst. You land awkwardly on your side, the blanket of snow buffering most of the impact as you tumble and roll further down, kicking up snow and dirt.

Gloved hands clawing into the ice, searching for roots to stop your fall, you try to scramble back up the hill but the snow gives under your feet—and then suddenly there is no ground beneath your feet and you fall again, flailing to find purchase and it is the longest two seconds of your life until your backpack hits the ground and your teeth clack together hard enough you feel it in all your bones.

A moment later, a second thud lands inside a pile of snow beside you.

All you can do is lie on your back like a turtle upturned, kicking and swinging and swaying as you try to scramble to your knees, blinking away fine snow dust from your lashes. Your heart still beats too fast, too hard—too scared from dodging Death’s cold, greedy talons by nothing more than a hairsbreadth. You can still feel him yearning for you in the cold, biting wind that picks up, in the coppery taste filling your mouth after having bitten the inside of your mouth during the fall.

You turn your back to the cliff. A snow-tipped forest stretches before you, illuminated in a haze of dusty gold beneath the late-afternoon sun. And in the distance, more ice-capped mountains rise and fall as far as the eye can see.

But you feel only the cold in your bones and see only the shadows that stretch long and dark beneath the pine trees. This is the south of the Walls, where winter days are not as bad as in the North, yet if you don’t find shelter before the sun sets, you will die.

You scramble to your feet, snow stuck to your coat and backpack weighing you down so much your knees buckle with the additional weight. The heaps of snow surrounding you remain motionless, still. The panic seizing you, freezing you in place for a moment, is colder than the snow before you lunge into the pile, clawing through the icy chunks that immediately freeze and harden as you dig your way through to Eren.

You find his arm first. He’s lost one of his gloves during the fall and you don’t try to push your luck finding it. Unearthing him takes a good amount of strength and time, but at least he is free from his icy coffin. Snow dusts his face, clings to the fur of his hood and his closed lashes like fine diamonds. You tug your glove off with your teeth and put your hand to his cheeks, feeling for his pulse. Despite the cold, his cheeks are still warm, still full of life, and the relief that sparks within you warms you like a small candle’s light.

You free him completely, pull him out and drag him away until he is laid out on the snowy floor, his breaths coming out in soft white plumes. No matter how often you say his name, pat his cheek and beg him to wake up, nothing disturbs Eren’s sleeping beauty slumber.

“You can’t die, all right?” you say to him. To yourself. To no one. “Please don’t. You’re a prick sometimes, but you can’t die, okay?”

There’s no response. You have never known silence this terrifying.

But fear and panic are not the solution. For two years Shadis has beat discipline and order into you with words and you would not allow this to crumble under the face of adversity.

More importantly, you will not leave Eren to be taken by the Grim Reaper.

Shelter. You need shelter, you need a fire. You have to survive this.

Checking your gear, you make sure you didn’t lose anything during your descent. Pulling Eren out of that pile of snow was already hard work. You doubt you’ll make it far if you’d try carrying him and his backpack, so you spend the next five minutes going through everything he has on him.

The contents of his bag are identical to yours: a raincover, additional rope and another survival knife, another pair of waterproof gloves that you quickly switch out with the one Eren’s wearing. You take his water bottle with you and stuff yourself with a sweet oat bar. The rest of his rations—dry crackers, another oat bar, thinly sliced rye bread and hard biscuits—you stuff into your own back for later if he wakes up.

When he wakes up, you correct yourself, chewing on the bar without really tasting anything. You doubt something like a fever and a fall from this height that barely left you with a scratch could kill a public menace like Eren. The world wouldn’t miss out to see how far he’ll go.

Now looking up, it actually does surprise you how unscathed you’ve emerged from the fall. A canopy of barren trees obscures your sight of the top. Protocol says that any loss to the formation is to be diminished. Unfortunately, that means everyone is out for themselves, and those who manage to lose the group have to find their own way back. But not with the sun descending behind the horizon, and Eren still unconscious.

When you’ve steeled yourself for the arduous task, you slide the bag off Eren’s back and throw him over your shoulders, huffing at the additional weight. If you keep following the trail back along the cliff side, you should return to where you’ve earlier seen the caves and find shelter there for the night.

Soon you are in the heart of the woods, surrounded by tall, crowding pines and frost-larches that cast their shadows over you. A hush has settled in the air. It feels as though the forest is alive and watching, the cold creeping steadily past your clothes, under your skin, into your bones. Every step further turns into an excruciating fight to keep Eren upright, his weight pushing you down into the thick blanket of snow.

Darkness has steadily crept in around you, and you have to blink to make out which are the trees and which are the shadows. Time seems to go in circles, and you begin to wonder whether you are going in circles. The unbearable cold is addling your brain; you keep looking to the left and right, imagining the occasional crackle of a branch or crunch of snow. You remember your mother’s stories about never-ending winters where ice spirits dwell to spirit away the last remaining humans locked up inside their tiny huts in hopes for spring to come. Wolves that spring from thin air and hunt in packs. That is exactly why Shadis had told your class to never travel without a light source on you that burns steadily through the night to ward off the creatures lurking in the woods. Now the darkness seems to press against you.

Then, you hear it. The snap-snap-snap of twigs and the rustle of the underbrush, several dozen paces behind you.

Someone—or something—is following you.

Fear pricks at you. You duck behind the nearest tree, and after rebalancing Eren on your back, you still and strain to listen over the hammering of your heart.

There. Rustling and crackling approaches, as though something large is moving through the trees. Holding your breath, you dare a look from behind the tree and feel your legs turn to cotton.

Multiple swift, dark shapes slither by, so close that their musty wet-animal scent wafts past you. They circle you, sniffing the air and letting out deep-throated growls. As they turn their heads to rivet their black, evil eyes on you, your heart sinks. Wolves. A pack of hungry, desperate wolves.

Your mind kicks into action as you press Eren’s body closer to yours. One wrong movement and your life will be over; Eren’s life will be over. Now that they have picked up your scent, they will hunt you until their razor-sharp fangs tear the meat from your bones, squeeze their tongue in to suck out your marrow.

Slowly, painfully aware that you cannot do any rash moves, you lower Eren to the ground first, then your backpack. There is no way you can outrun them. Your hand inches to the survival knife strapped to the belt around your coat, fingers numb and shaking. The wolves crouch, low and snarling. One of them, their leader you assume, stands between you and the rest, a mountain of growling, brindled fur, shoulders hunched forward, lips curled back over snarling teeth.

It snarls again, crouching closer to the ground. Its growl is more than just Look, here is a human in our territory and we can do whatever we please. No, this growl means We have not eaten in days, and now it is time to feast.

The wolf’s lips draw back to show its teeth, and you see its lolling tongue. And then it launches itself forward, jaws gaping, ready to tear. You have barely time to draw your knife as it strikes you square in the chest, and you two go over in a writhing tangle.

Your screams go under the lethal snap of his jaw, its target the soft flesh of your throat where he can easily rip you to shreds. The smell of dirt and wet dog and something far more unpleasant threatens to choke you. The weight of this beast robs you of any chance to fight back. You’d just have to move your arm and bring upon it the sharp edge of your knife to show him your own talons are as sharp—everything inside you screams against this. You hate to see animals suffer, to inflict pain upon the most innocent creatures.

If only the wolf would think so of you as well.

But the wolf is starving, and its mates are starving. It sees you as nothing more than a walking slab of meat. And that is why it has no problem to throw its head back and pierce those razor-sharp fangs right through the fabric of your coat into your arm and tear at your flesh.

❀❀❀

My darling [Name],

I have always known the day would come when you would remember and yet nothing prepares the heart for adversity as great as finding yourself facing the struggle you’ve tried to brace yourself for.

What Jeanie told you is the truth. I still remember reading your mother’s letter, feeling her distraught with every word. I swear I feared my heart would stop beating reading your mother’s recount of the events.

You must have been ten—the age when everything is a mystery and a great adventure. I remember whenever you and Jeanie went outside to play, you wouldn’t come back for hours and when you finally returned you were both covered in dust and grime from head to toe. I assume that is why, on that day, your parents weren’t worried why you were staying out for so long.

But then, your mother wrote, your friend had come over, asking for your whereabouts. That made her wonder, at last. Were you not supposed to be with him? I know he was very dear to you, I remember you talking about him so much, and strangely, I cannot remember his name or face, even though I know I must have met him at some point when visiting you.

Your mother and father immediately set out to ask around the neighbourhood if someone saw you. The result shocked your little community quite. The old veteran living on the outskirts close to the wall, who everyone believed to be blind turned out to have impeccable eyesight. We believe he lured you away, asked you to help him and you have never been someone to turn away from those who need help.

It was your father who found you. The veteran attacked him, scared what would happen to him if everyone knew about his secret. I don’t know how much you saw of it, of what your father had to do to protect you both. We were all grateful he saved you, and yet there is a part of me wondering if taking that old man’s life really was necessary. If it wasn’t possible to resolve things differently. Then again, any parent would make a deal with the Devil, I am sure, to keep their child safe.

The fact that your early life is built upon violence and loss pains me to this day. It must have been such a great shock that you had completely repressed any memory of the events, and had no recollection of ever having been kidnapped and taken away by that monster.

I do wonder though, why you have remembered now of all times—and such strange details as well! Not all is clear to me, there was no need to make your parents go through the pain of remembering all that by asking them too much. But a green wallpaper with golden lilies on it? That doesn’t sound like something you would find in Shiganshina. I did hear that it is a popular interior design choice within the inner Walls though.

But how did you know?

I think that is enough talk of that. Your graduation approaches. It is strange to believe that only two years ago, we last saw each other, and the next time we hopefully will, you and Jeanie will be full-fledged soldiers. You know I have never fully approved of you two going and giving up your young lives to a cause with no end. But I have been young once as well, and I know that nobody wants to be saved from their own ambition.

I am just glad you two have decided to stay within the Walls, and that makes it a little easier to sleep at night.

Until we see each other next time, please enjoy our little presents.

In love, always Ida

A/N: After finishing this I realised there is no way they would have chocolate on the island because they wouldn’t be able to plant cacao. Might go back and edit this, but for now let’s just ignore this.

feel free to head over to my pinned post to find my ko-fi link if you enjoy the story wanna fuel me with some coffee! ♥

Sources of research for this chapter: • London, Jack: To Build a Fire (1902) • Geller, Jacob: Fear of Cold (2022) • Campbell, John W.: Who Goes There? (1938)

taglist: @arisu003, @brooki, @prttyangelbaby, @honeylmnade

[decepti-thots]

this is still not the rodimus meta i keep meaning to write but I've reread parts of early MTMTE recently and i just have SO many thoughts on the very careful presentation of rodimus as a Difficult Protagonist TM in the first arcs rn

I love this moment in Remain in Light bc it's both Rodimus being very self aware in a way that up til this point in MTMTE he hasn't really copped to when talking to other people, and also what he's being self aware about is basically that he knows full well all the ways up to this point he's been indulging his ego despite sometimes pretending otherwise. It kind of sums up why I love earlier Rodimus' arc in MTME so very much.

I really admire how "season one" Rodimus is presented SO unflatteringly for so long by JRo, and it never really flinches away from that in the way you might expect given Rodimus is the protagonist. You keep expecting it to go "ok, let's take a step back and soften it, give some new perspective that makes him less difficult" and it never really does? Rodimus develops into someone better over the course of the series, in a way I really love, but it never chickens out and says "ok no listen ACTUALLY all the nastier stuff that went on for ages was mitigated by (insert excuse here)". I find that way more compelling than retrospectively making him not as much of an asshole- not like, a fundamentally bad person, but just kind of an asshole- as he seemed for like... a good long while.

That's HARD to commit to as a writer and ESPECIALLY hard to commit to in serial fiction. 12 issues in a trade paperback is maybe an evening reading. 12 issues in an ongoing comic is at least a year. It's hard not to shortcut that by being like "ok here's some info which makes it less the character's fault to placate you while I set up the actual arc".

S1 of mtmte doesn't do that, it trusts you to stick with his arc for the long haul and it never makes the development a retrospective thing- it never tries to reframe the early stuff as "actually this wasn't as assholish as you remember".

Which feels especially good because Rodimus' arcs in the comic are so much about being proactive and pushing forward. Everything from the changing relationship he has with Megatron later to the climax of his arc in this specific story is about him caring way more about doing the next thing better than anything. Rodimus' arc doesn't need to make his assholery in early MTMTE more palatable in retrospect; it's not an arc predicated on caring that he was never in the wrong. It's much more about how having been in the wrong in no way prevents him from getting his shit together and changing, and importantly, his willingness to do so for no other reason than that he wants to.

Which brings me back to Remain in Light specifically:

That Rodimus does not want to sacrifice himself in a heroic blaze of glory is, IMO, the biggest and most important character note for him in this era of the comic. He doesn't want to retroactively be remembered as better, he wants to actually be better. I think RiL is where he makes that decision consciously, and it carries through for the whole comic after. I'm not sure until this he even necessarily realises it himself, and a lot of what he gets in the comic after can be viewed as him trying to work out what wanting that actually looks like.

It feels important to his arc throughout the run that Rodimus really is just. Unacceptably awful at various points in the early series, not because he's a fundamentally bad person (he's absolutely not) but still in ways that are often really jarring, and which as a reader you constantly feel like there has to be something coming up to make him look less like an asshole. Because it feels so unusual for an obvious protagonist figure to actually just have those really undeniable, uncomfortable, textual flaws without it walking it back at some point.

And I think one of the best things MTMTE does narratively is refuse that very understandable urge and instead commit to Rodimus as a character who moves forward instead. A lot of people talk about MTMTE/LL as a narrative which explores this idea, that you can't fix the bad things already done but you still have to do better going forward, in the context of Megatron specifically- but I think it actually sets that up really well with how it handles Rodimus right from issue 1, and it can only really manage that by committing to his massive shortcomings early in the comic, and refusing to ever walk them back.

Which I guess is why I don't really get why there's this urge in some parts of the fandom to try and, after reading the entire comic and his arc, go back and retroactively apply all the stuff he does in response to this realisation to prove that actually he was Not An Asshole the entire time. Like his later character development isn't the character actually developing over time and proving the comic's thesis that yes, not only can you become better, but that you must and should, but is instead proof everyone was Being Unfairly Mean To Him The Whole Time or something? I think that reading, that all the stuff he does which is better later on somehow proves that not treating him like he's always been that character is "misunderstanding" him? Is really... well, I have no interest in it. I don't think MTMTE revealed hidden excuses for Rodimus that were always there as much as I think it developed him as a character going forward, and I think that's really why it works for me.

Rodimus' character arc is an arc, it requires a starting point very different to the endpoint he winds up at, and that means he has to start out lower than he winds up. And I think one of the things MTMTE does really, really well is the way it manages to commit to that long enough that it hits properly.

anyway lmao the fact i wrote ALL that and i am still like "man i still haven't written the rodimus meta i want to someday" should probably tell u something. man i love this dude, fuck me!!!

[blazedgraysons]

Love Don’t Cost A Thing

Grayson buys you a car, Twitter stans are mean, and Grayson’s really good at making you feel better. 

A/N: this is part 1 of fics I wrote a month ago, forgot about and finally finished. this started out as a simple fluff and idk what happened. also let’s pretend that Grayson still has a wrapped porsche because I could totally see him wanting to match. 

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: horribly written smut and a lot ofme pretending I know about nice cars

God, some bitches will do anything for clout nowadays.

Honestly, when will Gray wake up and realize she’s just with him for his money?

What a fucking gold-digger.

Gold-digger.

That word rings around your head as you continue to scroll through the replies from Grayson’s latest tweet, each one nastier than the last. You sniffle, wiping your tears and locking your phone, before turning to look at your boyfriend through the bedroom window. He’s outside talking to Ethan excitedly over a car, not just any car but a 2021 Porsche 911. A car he bought just for you.

He had approached you earlier this afternoon with a broad grin. As easily excitable as he is, this didn’t feel out of the ordinary to you, so you simply raise an eyebrow while continuing to sip your coffee.

“Are you finished with your final yet, Y/N ?” He whispers out of caution that you might still be testing.

“Two more questions, then I’m all yours baby. What’s wrong?” A sense of worry washes over you since you know he wouldn’t interrupt you unless it’s crucial. He’d grown accustomed to your new routine since the pandemic began. After asking (begging) for you to quarantine with him, he soon realized that the time he thought you two would spend together was taken up by quizzes, essays, and exams as you finished up your senior year of college. While he was more than willing to take second-place to your studies, he was a little antsy for you to be finished.

“Nothing. I just wanted to show you something out in the shed.” Now, this you do roll your eyes at. While you were occupied with studies, he was out in that godforsaken tiny shed almost every day. Secretly, you were glad Ethan had foregone the bed idea because that was the only thing getting him to come to bed to you every night. You assure you’ll be out in a few minutes and shoo him away to finish the test that will ensure your bachelors.

Only twenty minutes later, you feel as if a crushing weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. You crack your neck before sighing and closing your laptop, elated that the four years of your undergrad were finally behind you. You pull out your phone before remembering your promise to Grayson. You walk out the back kitchen doors and turn the corner, not expecting what was behind it.

Your mouth drops. Sitting in front of you is a shiny, white Porsche complete with a giant red bow on the hood. Your boyfriend sits on top of the back seats, dressed in a blue button-down and black slacks. Grayson’s beaming as he holds a bouquet of roses out towards you. You try to think of something, willing anything to come to your brain, but shock leaves you speechless so you start tearing up instead.

Grayson, mistaking your tears for anger or sadness, is by your side in a minute.

“Angel, what’s wrong? Do you not like it? I wanted to wrap it to match mine, but Ethan said it was a bad idea. But- but we can always go to the dealer and switch it out if you don’t like it or I can -“ He stammers, immediately worried that he had disappointed you. You cut him off with a deep kiss, relieving any worry that was flying through his brain as he grabs your waist to hold you closer.

“No, it’s perfect. You’re perfect. Everything’s perfect. But why?” You question.

“Well, I wanted to do something special for you since you finished school today. And since we can’t travel anywhere, I figured this was the next best thing. You’ve worked so hard these past four years, Angel; I just wanted to show you how proud I am of you and how much I love you.” He explains, scratching the back of his neck nervously. Your heart melts at this. While you had expected maybe a five-star dinner and hopefully some marathon sex, you had no idea your boyfriend would do something so extravagant for you. Never in your wildest dreams did you believe someone would care for you like this, and adoration begins to fill your entire being.

“Grayson, I- I don’t know what to say.” You’re astounded, and every time you look at the car, you’re speechless again.

“Hopefully that you like it. It was kind of expensive.” He jokes, now reassured that your silence is a good thing and not out of anger. You swat his chest before wrapping your hands around his neck and pulling him in for another kiss. Just as his hands start to slip towards your ass, you pull away from him.

“Thank you, Grayson. For the car, for letting me stay here, for everything. I don’t deserve you-“

“Don’t start with that.” He cuts you off, leaning in so your foreheads are touching, “You do plenty for me, and if we’re honest, I don’t deserve you. You’re beautiful, intelligent, funny. There’s nothing in the world I wouldn’t do for you, and you can’t change that.” Before you can even respond, you notice Ethan making his way out through the back door.

“Yo, what are you two still doing out here? Don’t you have reservations at six?” He yells out, towel over his shoulder and obviously not expecting the two of you to be interrupting his future tanning session. You turn back to your boyfriend, confused as Grayson sighs exasperatedly and looks up to the sky.

“I haven’t told her about that yet, dickhead.” Grayson yells back to his brother.

“Well, can you hurry up? I want to lay out for a bit, and the weather app says it’s supposed to rain at four.” Ethan asks. You can’t help but giggle, knowing Ethan’s just oblivious to the very intimate moment you and Grayson were having. Grayson huffs, annoyed that his brother is ruining his plan before turning to you.

“I booked us reservations at Il Cielo.” Your eyes widen at the mention of your favorite restaurant.

“But how? It’s been booked for weeks. We couldn’t even get in for my birthday.” You question.

“The owner’s daughters are fans, so I promised a couple pictures tonight in order to get a table. Now go get dressed, we can take your car if you want.” He explains. Images of you two dressed up while Grayson drives the new Porsche fills your mind and you slightly shiver. Grayson, raising an eyebrow to your reaction, leans down for another kiss with you. Right when Grayson’s tongue enters your mouth is when you hear the fake-retching coming from the other twin.

“Bro, go away!” Grayson groans, holding you closer to him. You’re both leaned up against the car as you turn to watch the interaction between the two siblings.

“Fine. But first, let me get a picture of the happy couple. You’d kill me if you didn’t get to flex how good of a boyfriend you are.” He says, grabbing his phone. Grayson moves to argue, but you silence him, posing for the camera instead. You both smile, looking happier and more in love with each other then you’ve ever been. And you can’t help smiling wider when you see the tag and pictures on Twitter.

It only took a few minutes before the hate comments started flooding in. You had set your phone down for a quick shower but returned to notification after notification. It was non-stop dm’s, tweets, and even responses to IG photos from 2016 about how you weren’t good enough for Grayson, how you were just using him, and how he would eventually find someone better.

Usually, you could just ignore it, turn your phone off and turn a blind eye to the negativity spewed at you. But you were already emotionally overwhelmed, and you couldn’t help the small part of you that agreed. What had you done to deserve a man who could drop thousands of dollars on you at a whim? You weren’t impressive, weren’t an influencer or a model, just an average girl who managed to catch his eye.  

Your phone screen starts to blur as tears form in your eyes. You try to stop the burning feeling in your throat. Still, fat tears begin to roll down your cheeks onto the screen as you start sniffling, falling victim to your deepest insecurities. You were so caught up in yourself that you hadn’t even noticed Grayson making his way down the hall.

“Y/N, are you almost ready? We have to leave for the restaurant soon.” He yells towards his room, making his way to you before noticing your sobs. You look up at him before sniffling again, feeling sorry that he had to see you like this.

“What's wrong, Angel?” He asks gently, moving to sit next to you on the edge of the bed. He wraps an arm around your bare shoulder, careful not to move the towel you had wrapped around you from your shower.

“Nothing, it’s nothing. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll be ready.” You attempt to reassure, moving to wipe the tears from your eye. You wince, noticing how unbelievable you sound even to yourself, and you can already tell Grayson is unconvinced.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” He asks. You nod, not meeting his eyes, looking down at your lap instead. He softly grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his intense stare. “So, what’s wrong?”

“God, it’s really nothing. Some fans on Twitter had just tweeted me some stuff and -“ Before you could even finish, he’s grabbing his phone to look at the replies, nostrils flaring as he reads what fans had mentioned you in.

“It’s honestly nothing, G. I was just being overdramatic.” You promise, wanting to drop it at this point and continue with the perfect day you two were having.

He’s silent for a second, which worries you more than anything since he always has something to say. You rub his thigh, trying to comfort him before he grabs your hand.

“You know none of that is true. There is no one better, never will be. My future begins and ends with you.” He whispers, sounding even more hurt than you. You stare at him widely, dumbfounded at the bold confession Grayson just dropped on you. Taking your silence as disbelief, he moves your hand towards his mouth so he can start kissing your wrist.

“Believe me when I say, Y/N, there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you. “ He growls, dropping your wrist to move in front of you. “What can I do to get that through your head?”

With that, he grabs your head roughly, bringing you into a hot kiss. You immediately whimper, wrapping your hands around his neck to pull him closer to you. His tongue slides against yours desperately as he rips your towel off you, tossing it carelessly over his shoulder.

You pull away from each other, panting with desire and trying to catch your breath as Grayson goes down to suck warm, wet kisses onto your neck.

Moaning his name, you move to unbutton his shirt shakily while he continues to move down your neck to your chest. You shrug his shirt off before scratching your nails down his chest as he takes one nipple into his mouth.

Twirling the other nipple in his fingers, you arch into him before he’s switching to the other one and repeating this process. He continues like that for a while until you moan and whimper underneath him, trying to grind up into his lap.

“Grayson, please. Touch me.” You mewl, hips bucking when he drags a finger through your slit. Grayson sucks the mess off his finger before looking down at you darkly, hazel eyes turning a deep brown. He kneels down, spreading your legs and placing his large hands on your hips to hold you down. He places soft, open mouth kisses on the apex of your thighs and meets your gaze before speaking again -

“Mine. You’ll always be mine. Nothing can change that.” He promises. You clench around nothing, feeling like you could cum just from his words of reassurance. He notices how you react and sharply inhales.

“Fuck, so pretty.” He breaths out, and you’re not even sure you’re supposed to hear that, watching Grayson lose himself in the desire to express how deep his love runs for you.

He spreads your lips apart with two fingers before licking at your clit softly. He licks it again before pulling you towards him with a long, slow lick watching as you fall apart.

You already knew this was going to take no time on your end, but watching his intense gaze on you causes you to produce more and more wetness, to the point where you feel like you’re leaking onto the mattress.

He stops at your clit, circling it a few times with his tongue before taking it into his mouth. He suckles on it, watching as you fall back onto the mattress with a high pitch whine.

“Grayson.” You moan shakily, moving to get closer to his mouth.

You start rolling your hips onto his face, grabbing your tits to ground yourself somehow. Your moaning consistently now, not knowing how else to convey how good he’s making you feel other than with high-pitched sounds.

He places his arms under your thighs, pulling you closer to him, and starts making out with your pussy, savoring every sweet drop that comes out of you. He sucks harder before pulling back and rubbing at your clit with two fingers.

“So good, Angel. Perfect for me.” He gasps, lips swollen and red. His mouth is dripping, and he shakily runs a hand through his hair before diving back in.

He focuses on your clit this time, sucking hard while reaching to slide two fingers inside of you. He drags them back and forth, feeling you clenching down hard on him.

“Grayson, I’m so close.” You moan, getting louder and louder as he continues to flood your body with pleasure. He sucks on your clit even harder before dragging his fingers against a specific spot, and you’re suddenly overwhelmed with white-hot pleasure. You scream as your orgasm rolls through you in shockwaves, simultaneously pulling away and trying to get closer to him.

He doesn’t take his mouth off you and groans loudly at how your pussy pulsates in his mouth. He notices he’s grinding in the air and presses a palm down to relieve some of the pressure in his pants.

You lay there with an arm over your eyes, taking ragged breaths trying to calm yourself down. Grayson finally removes himself from you and goes up to lay next to you, stroking your hair and moving your arm so you can look at him.

“Never has a man ever made me cum that hard.” You mutter. He laughs at that before he turns to kiss you softly, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips and tongue. His kissing grows sloppier and sloppier until he’s slotting himself in between your thighs.

You reach down to unbutton his pants and pull them and his briefs down as far as you can until he leans back to remove them altogether.

He gets back in position, kissing you some more while his rock-hard cock brushes up against your thigh. He grinds into you as you pull away from him.

“Gray?”

“Yeah.” he murmurs hotly, continuing to grind into you.

“Fuck me, please.” You purr.

He breathes shakily and lines up with you, rolling his hips into you slowly. You both moan at the first thrust, his guttural and deep and yours high-pitched and whiny. He slowly grinds into you one, two, three times before picking up and thrusting into you properly.

He grabs one of your legs, placing it over his shoulder, allowing him to reach inside you deeper. He speeds up, overwhelming you with the relentless snap of his hips.

“Grayson.” you cry as he reaches down to rub your clit. He groans, unsure whether to look at your aroused eyes, your bouncing tits, or how effortlessly his dick enters and leaves your pussy. He tries to look at all three before groaning, “So fucking hot, Y/N.” He leans down to kiss and suck at your neck before growling in your ear, “Don’t give a fuck what anyone says. You’re so perfect for me. So wet and tight.”

At this point, he’s speaking incoherently. So overwhelmed by how well you’re taking him that he’s saying anything and everything that comes to his brain. That doesn’t stop his words from going directly to your clit, and you moan loudly at his words, begging for him to fuck you harder.

He does as asked, and it isn't until he leans down to kiss you again that you feel your second orgasm hit you like a freight train. You cry out while you dig sharp nails into his back, riding out your orgasm as he continues to pound into you. His thrusts stutter as you clamp down on him like a vice. He continues to roll his hips while cursing lowly into your ear.

“Cum for me, G. Please. I need it.” You whisper while scratching lightly up his back, hoping this will edge him on to finish. Sure enough, his hips stutter as his dick swells before hotly cumming inside you.  He groans out loudly, rocking his hips slowly into you before coming to a complete stop. He lays down on top of you, grabbing a blanket to cover the two of you.

You run your hands through his hair as he softly kisses your forehead.

“I love you, no matter what. Don’t listen to Twitter.” He confirms, sleepily. You hum in agreement, kissing his neck as a response.

“I love you more.”

You both are quiet, the silence lulling you to sleep before Grayson is rapidly jerking himself out of you. You look at his wild expression, concerned.

“Fuck, I forgot about our reservations.”

[hatake-no-sharingan]

Hey, just found your blog and I was hoping for some general (sfw or nsfw whatever you'd like) headcanons for Iruka. He's just the best boy tbh. ( And if you're feeling particularly motivated I wouldn't be against some separate ones for Shikamaru. If not I'd be totally happy just to have more Iruka content in the interwebs.)

Yesss of course Iruka is the best boy😭🥺💕 he deserves so much love. So here are your HCs honey. I hope you enjoy them🌸 and welcome to my blog! I hope you like it😊 Ofc i threw some bonus shikamaru in there too. Im a people pleaser.

Warning: there is some nsf w in here so read under your own discretion.

Iruka

SFW

-His hair is so soft and it smells like coconut.

-The coconut smell is totally your fault, because he showered using your shampoo once and he was hooked. He’s never using another shampoo that’s not that one.

-He’s not getting his own bottle though. He’ll keep using yours forever.

-Which is perfectly fine by you as long as you can run your fingers through his silky locks as much as you want.

-He didn’t like calling you nicknames at first. Only your name. Until sweet pea slipped out of his mouth and he couldn’t stop it.

-Honey, princess, gorgeous, and goddess, followed. Then he started picking up the habit of calling you nastier stuff only for you to hear.

-He likes leaving small post it notes on your things, so you’ll think about him all day.

-It’s just silly messages, simple jokes, or a thousand different compliments, but they have you grinning all day.

-Per agreement, he’s not allowed to cook (you don’t want your house burning down) but he loves watching you do it, so he’ll always keep you company while you fix dinner.

-He does the dishes afterwards though so you can go rest. And he’ll treat you to a foot massage (and maybe something else 😝)

NSF-W (ish, they’re not super explicit)

-the fastest way to get him hard? Lick him. Anywhere. His cheek, neck, wrist, literally anywhere. And he’ll be rock hard for you.

-That motion also gives him goosebumps all over his skin. He gets so adorably flustered.

-He can be a very gentle lover if you want him to. He’ll go slowly on you. Lick your soft places and thrust deep but slow.

-But sometimes he has too much stress to deal with, and the solution? A rough quickie before he gets back to work.

-He’s not into doing it in public places or bathrooms or little corners. He’d much rather run to your or his apartment, even if it’s not for long.

-Overall prefers to give than receive because he adores your taste and how you squirm under him. But who’s he to refuse a blowjob from your godly mouth?

Bonus:

Shikamaru

SFW

-He likes sleeping with your head on his chest. It makes him feel safe.

-He’s a jealous man but he doesn’t show it. Instead he’ll just ignore you and act cold until you figure it out.

-“Shika are you jealous because I was talking to Shino?” *shrug* “ugh you’re insufferable. Come back once you get over it.”

-He comes to you because he can’t sleep without your warmth and you make him admit he acted like a jerk.