#maybe partially in the sense of 'you just kissed me and almost DIED and i am both furious and sad about almost losing you'

[dee-in-the-box]

so, because i'm considering making a comic about The Prologue of Dsaf (basically, everything that happened pre-Dsaf 1, as well as maybe a little bit into the beginning of Dsaf 1), at least my headcanons for it, i thought i'd just list a few in text form, 'cause some of them might not be too clear whenever i get this comic made:

Dee's hair is darker than Jack's, and Peter's is darker than Dee. all of their hair colors are a different shade of red/ginger.

Peter moved out of Jack and Dee's house when he got engaged to Caroline.

Dee is quite literally just as chaotic as Jack is. makes sense, given he was the one she was around the most.

Jack told Dee that if anyone was being a dick to her (or was, in any way, trying to seriously hurt her), she could just bite them. maybe also scratch them like a cat. yes, Jack did (and still does, kinda) bite people. why do you think he taught her how to do that?

so, i've mentioned a couple of times how Jack is a trans man. he had a nickname, "Jackie," which was uh. a shortened version of his deadname. technically, he was only fully comfortable with Dee, Peter, and Caroline calling him that, but he didn't really protest when his employers/coworkers would call him that, and would even encourage them to do so, because, in his eyes, it's better than being referred to by his deadname.

Jack got a job at Fredbear's as a technician and nightguard when Peter moved out, a few months before Dee's murder.

Henry was actually the first employer of Jack's who both actually called him "Jack" and referred to him as a guy. Jack, at the time, viewed this as a good sign that this job would work out perfectly fine.

Jack and Dave actually talked a few times and would ""jokingly"" flirt with each other. this may or may not have also been the thing that got both of them to realize that they aren't straight.

Jack actually bought Dee a small stuffed kitten as a birthday present, a little red bow wrapped around its neck. nowadays, he uses it as a reminder of who he's doing all of this for.

Dee understood that Jack and Peter had to work so much to support her, but it still made her sad :(

neither Jack nor Peter were going to be able to be with Dee for her birthday due to work, so they both decided to schedule a birthday party for her at Fredbear's, so that she could still have a good day :]

Jack dropped her off, promised he'd be back at around six, and that they could even have a little birthday celebration at home that night before Jack had to leave for work. he'd even bring chocolate cupcakes, her favorite! he kisses her head, tells her goodbye, and then leaves. i believe we all know the rest from there.

Jack, on the night he died, wanted to check the cameras to see if there was any footage of Dee or the other children before they went missing. sure enough, there was.

also that night, before Jack went to do his job, he noticed a visible bite mark, as well as scratches, on Henry's arm. upon pointing it out, Henry tried lying and claiming that he just simply got attacked by a dog. Jack, a dog owner himself, told Henry he didn't believe him; he knows what a dog bite looks like, after all.

(looks like Dee took his advice, doesn't it?)

look, when i say that The Real Fredbear assigned Jack to be a partial dogboy, i'm not joking. he's got dog teeth now, he can literally make dog sounds (may or may not be based off of the Confusing Ending for Dsaf 2), he's got paw pads (kinda), he has claws. like, he might not have ears or a tail, but trust me: he's kinda sorta part dog now.

Henry: "So you see, William, I have the guy right here-" (suit is incredibly fucking empty, almost like nothing was ever in there to begin with) Henry: "..." William: "So...where's he at? Did you move 'im-?" Henry: "Fuck."

Peter blames Jack in the sense of "Why weren't you there to protect her?" the only reason Peter didn't let Jack stay with him was because he knew the police would be looking for him.

Jack scratched the word "LIAR" into Henry's car, and smashed the glass.

Peter may or may not have sued to clear his brother's name. and he did it by using the undeniable evidence of: JACK'S LITERAL BOSS SAYING THAT HE WAS WORKING THAT DAY AND COULDN'T HAVE COMMITTED THE MURDER. SERIOUSLY, HE SAW THE GUY WORKING NONSTOP ALL DAY HOW THE ACTUAL FUCK WOULD HE HAVE SOMEHOW SLIPPED AWAY TO COMMIT AN ACTUAL MURDER-

Peter began to suspect that Henry was hiding something. he got a job at a Freddy's location to get close enough to Henry to get the man to spill the beans. unfortunately, he died before that could happen.

however, what he witnessed on the day of his death...it did make him realize that Henry wasn't just hiding something: he was the motherfucker that killed Dee and tried to frame his brother.

Peter died having finally learned the truth...and then immediately had his memory wiped-

Jack and Henry nearly crossed paths several times. it's lucky for Henry that they never did, though; because Jack wanted to rip that fucker apart himself, consequences be damned.

i already have. another post talking about Blackjack specifically. go see that for details.

pretty much all of the Kennedy siblings after they died: FUCK Henry, all of my homies HATE Henry!!

that's about it for now. this is all stuff PRE-Dsaf 1. who knows when i'll get the beginning of the comic finished, but i'll try and work on it later. enjoy the headcanons in the meantime. :]

[faithandfairies]

Supernatural Musings; 12x11 and 12x12

So, I watched 12x11 and 12x12.

And I pretty much only have two things to say.

1. Dean considers Cas his family and his best friend. And when he was losing his memories the last 4 memories he had were of 1. His name, 2. who his parents were, 3. who his brother was and 3. who his best friend was. 

Bobby didn’t even rank, sadly. But hey, Cas did and so yay!

2. Dean’s mother considers Castiel one of her boys. As evidenced by her telling letters douche “I almost lost one of my boys.” and we know the only one who almost died was Cas.

(I like Mary but I don’t really love how she’s written but that’s beside the point.)

All of this brings me to wondering though

Does Dean realize he’s into Cas? Because I always assumed they were sleeping together on the down-low up to this point and that Dean had just convinced himself it was meaningless sex or something. I mean, Dean stared at Cas’ lips all flustered in what, season 4? And Cas was staring at Anna and Dean kiss, longingly, like he wished he was Anna in what, season 5?

But here in 12x12 we have Dean trying to get Cas laid by recruiting waitresses (no disrespect to the beautiful girl Dean recruited) and I’m just over here like

1. “Dean, you haven’t slept with Cas yet?!”  (or maybe he has and he feels like he broke Cas by doing so and now he’s trying to unbreak him. And by “broke” I mean Cas developing feelings for him that he himself doesn’t understand) 

and 

2. “Dean you could just tell Cas you’ll teach him the sexual ropes yourself. A completely selfless act, of course. Not at all for personal gain.  I’m sure angels dig that shit.”

But yeah, seriously, what mental gymnastics is Dean doing? Inquiring minds wanna know.

If Dean realizes he’s into Cas he might be recruiting women to sleep with Cas because he feels like sleeping with Cas himself would be taking advantage of him if he really doesn’t understand sex yet. Maybe he wants a woman to explain it to Cas. Wants Cas to be more familiar with the mainstream experience first so that he can make informed decisions. Dean might even be doing this unintentionally.

I think Dean is feeling his feelings for Cas but he might mostly be brushing them under the rug. For several reasons. They’re certainly busy enough that even if Dean is feeling his feelings, he can easily distract himself with a case or 2.

Like, I know what’s up with Cas. He’s not human and everything confuses him when it relates to humanity and how they operate. And while I’m sure he’s feeling his feelings for Dean, he probably hasn’t figured out yet what they mean. In the sense of understanding that they’re non-platonic. Because he understands love, but I don’t think he understands romantic love just yet. His love confession in season 15 confirms that he only just figured it all out. Put the pieces together to form a picture that makes complete, not just partial, sense to him.

Which to me also explains why the empty takes him in season 15. Because he realizes what true happiness would look like for him, through figuring out his feelings for Dean. That those feelings aren’t familial as he previously believed, they’re romantic, and just the thought of what a future with Dean could look like if he got everything he ever wanted, based on that realization, makes him happy. And telling Dean, making Dean understand what he’s just realized himself, that’s the first step in the direction of that happiness, the only step he himself controls.

[ihatecoconut]

wip exercpt

uuh so this is like a weird part in the middle of a much longer thing that I’m writing, but i really like it and want validation now so here. hob talking to immortal child. 

-

“How do you do it?” she asks quietly, “how do you keep wanting to live when everything is so awful?”

Hob gestures for her to shift over on the bed and slides in next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She goes willingly, resting her head on his chest and leaving it at the perfect height for him to run his fingers through her hair.

She relaxes slightly at the motion, further into his chest and Hob hums as he contemplates where to start.

“I was born in the 14th century. You’d think I should know which year, but nobody really paid attention to that back then, you only really mattered if you survived to be able to crawl and move alone. Everyone back then was told not to get attached to their babies because they might not survive too long—”

“This is not very happy.” Grace mumbles into his chest.

Hob laughs, “I’m getting there. Shh.”

“mm.”

“But, telling humans not to get attached to things? You might as well tell the Earth itself not to spin, we can’t help it, we’ve never been able to help it and we would love those children, no matter how fleetingly they remained with us, we would mourn their short lives and we would name them regardless.” He sighs, runs a hand through her hair. “Part of the human condition, I suppose, to love, to bond,”

“’S that why you kept me?”

“Partially, I guess, because we bonded. Someone told me once that I was the pinnacle of the human condition – although I don’t think those are the exact words that were used – and I guess I kind of am.” He glances down at her. “I’ve always remembered the things the midwives would say, that you shouldn’t get attached until you know they’re going to survive and I think I’ve always ignored them. You and me? Everyone is going to die, so based on their advice we shouldn’t get attached to anyone.”

“Except each other.”

“Maybe. But it would be so easy to fall into that trap of not caring, of seeing other people like ants, you know? Fleeting and so small in comparison. But what’s the point in living if you don’t love? Right? That’s not living, that’s just surviving, yeah?”

She wriggles slightly, shifting so she can tilt her head back and look up at him as he speaks.

“And, you know, some people say that you die twice, once when you stop breathing and again when someone speaks your name for the last time. Maybe everyone we love can’t stay alive in the first sense, but we can keep them alive in the second.”

He pauses to let Grace take that in.

“My wife was called Eleanor. My son was called Robyn. I had a second child who didn’t make it, we never named them, but I remember none the less.”

“I had a brother called Charlie.” Grace whispers. “He died when he was just a baby. No one talks about him, no one ever talked about him.”

“But you haven’t forgotten him, and through that you can keep him alive.”

“Yeah.”

He presses a kiss to her forehead. “Does that help?”

“A little.”

“Do you want to hear about chimneys?”

She frowns up at him, confused, and he laughs.

“When I was a boy, we just lit fires inside. Sometimes people would have a hole in the ceiling to let the smoke out, but mostly that would just let the rain and cold in, so we tended not to, and then in… oh, I don’t know, the 1400s some time, people started adding chimneys to houses, a place to let the smoke out that was designed to not let the rain back in.”

Grace is watching him, a slight line between her eyebrows, but otherwise unfathomable. If he’d met her only once, he isn’t sure he would have walked away thinking that she was fully human, there was something almost other about her.

“And then we could light fires indoors, and we didn’t have to worry about choking on the smoke. It was revolutionary.” He grins. “I mean, they’re pretty commonplace now, but back then? Woo. It was something else.”

“What else?” She asks, and the way she watches him, interested in his experiences, in what he has to say, reminds him of those once-a-century meetings with his stranger.

“Hmm, handkerchiefs, those were a big one – fabric specifically for wiping your nose, didn’t have to use a sleeve anymore.”

She screws her nose up in disgust and he bites back a laugh.

“Different foods, different clothes, oh, I loved 19th century clothes, shame we don’t wear those anymore.”

“You could.”

“I think that would be playing a little too much into the eccentric history professor stereotype.”

Grace doesn’t laugh, but she does grace him with a tiny smile, the first he’s gotten out of her since he came home.

“Ok, your turn.”

She stops smiling abruptly. “What?”

“If you had died, what things would you have missed out on that you love?”

They’re silent for a moment as she thinks. “You.”

Hob is painfully touched. “Me?”

“I would never have met you, or Jay, or Joanna, or any of the staff at the New Inn.”

“That’s true.”

She frowns again, thinking. “Sugar waffles.”

“Ooh, good one. I think ice cream as well, that got real big during the Edwardian period.”

“Painting my room.” She pauses again. “I think… painting, generally. And playing the violin.”

Hob double takes. “You play the violin?”

She shrugs. “My social worker made me take up a hobby and that was the one I liked the most. The violin belonged to the school, so I… I could not take it with me.”

“Ok, well when we’re released from here, the first thing we’re gonna do is go to that music shop at the back of the high street and you can pick a violin, how’s that?”

She smiles again, a little bigger. “I would like that.”

[claratompson]

Chapter 4.

The major, with a slight movement, brought Emmanuelle towards him and away from him, spinning her around in a dance. The girl almost forgot that besides them there was someone else in the hall.

His strong and warm hands pressed her to him, and his gray-blue eyes captivated her, not allowing her to look away.

When the music died down, they smoothly finished the dance, but did not let go of each other. Dieter hugged Emmanuelle tightly to him, fascinated by looking into her brown eyes. The girl tried to even out her breathing to hide her embarrassment from the man’s inquisitive gaze, but she still blushed and was the first to break eye contact, slightly moving away from him.As if waking up from a dream, the Sturmbannführer leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek: “Thank you, Emmanuel, for the dance. You are simply incomparable.”

Hiding her embarrassment, she replied: “You are very kind, Dieter.��

Then they walked to their table. Dieter handed her a glass of champagne: “Here, mademoiselle, drink a little.”

Emmanuel: "Thank you." Taking a small sip of champagne made it a little easier for her to fight the excitement inside her.

All the officers gathered around your table were laughing and joking, and Dieter was with them. Emmanuelle only partially knew German, catching the essence of their conversation out of the corner of her ear. Major Helstrom's sense of humor was strange and absolutely incomprehensible for Emmanuelle. It was difficult to understand whether he was joking or being serious. And the way he spoke about Emmanuel in front of the officers, declaring with all confidence that she is his beloved and allows herself vulgar jokes in her direction made the girl blush and feel disgusted with him. Nevertheless, the girl did not show it, because Dieter does not know that she speaks a little German. She felt stuffy being here, suddenly everything around her became disgusting.

She decided to leave this event. Apologizing to Dieter, she told him quietly: “I’ll be right back, I’ll just be gone for a while.”

He kissed her hand and said: “Of course. Don’t stay long, Mademoiselle Mimieux. Otherwise I’ll get bored.” Making a smile, she got up from the table and headed to the ladies' room. Entering the corridor, she saw a black exit to the right of the ladies' room.

"Great. A great way to get away without being noticed." Taking off her heels, she quickly ran out of the building, heading to her home. Was dark, cold and scary, but she didn’t care. Entering the apartment, she sighed with relief.

"I have no idea what I'll tell the major when he's captured and looking for me. It doesn't matter at the moment. But the way the Major spoke about me, it's terrible." - at that moment an unpleasant pang in my heart from resentment “I don’t want to have anything to do with him. I hope he will leave me alone.”

At this moment, the major looked around excitedly in search of the girl. Restlessly looking at his watch, he realized that the girl had been gone for half an hour.

“Where did she go for so long?” Getting up from his steel, Dieter went to look for the girl.

After searching the entire building and asking everyone possible, he realized that most likely she had left and perhaps even gone home.

Irritated and offended by the girl’s outburst, he immediately went to the car and ordered the driver to take him to her home.

>>>

All this time, Emmanuelle allowed herself to slack and cry a little. In the depths of her soul, she hoped that Helstrom was at least a little, but a noble man.

But it turned out that he was just having fun. She was distracted from her thoughts and feelings of drowsiness by a loud and persistent knock on her door: “Emmanuel, open the door for me immediately!” It was the voice of Major Helstrom.

“Damn it! What should I do? Maybe he’ll pretend to be sick?! I have to at least somehow explain to him why I left the event, leaving him alone. It’s unlikely that he’ll believe me, but it’s worth a try.”

Slowly getting out of bed, she walked to the door and, looking tired and sick, opened the door. The major looked irritated and, to put it mildly, unfriendly, which frightened the girl. "Major.."

Decisively entering the girl’s apartment and slamming the door behind him, the man asked: “You know, Emmanuel, your prank is something! How dare you leave so shamelessly without saying a word to me? You thought I wouldn’t notice your absence?! I..." The girl suddenly felt tinnitus and nausea, which played into her hands, so at least she didn’t have to pretend: “Major.. I...”

Realizing that the girl was feeling bad, he grabbed her around the waist, changing the tone of the conversation: “Emmanuel, what’s wrong with you?”

“I’m a little dizzy. It’s just... You have to understand, I felt bad and decided not to disturb you. So I returned home. I didn’t want you to miss out“

Hellstrom: "Emmanuel, without your presence I would definitely I'm losing the opportunity to have a good evening. You should have told me then I would personally take you home, but you’re alone walked along dark streets where anyone could harm a beautiful lonely girl. You got me worried!"

"At least he believed, that's good. So I'm not losing my grip.")

"Excuse me, Major.. I just.." At this moment, the body decided to fully integrate into the role, with which Emmanuelle decided to convince the Sturmbannführer of the reason for her departure. My vision darkened, my legs became weak, and the air seemed to disappear.

“Mademoiselle..” was the only thing she heard before fainting. The major managed to catch the girl, holding her tightly to himself. Picking her up in his arms, he slowly laid her on the bed.

He sat down next to her, looking at her facial features: “How charming she is when she faints. And why did I think that it would be easy for me to carry out Hans Landa’s order this time?! If it turns out that I’m in love with her, then I won’t be able to kill her. It will be beyond my strength!” After 10 minutes, the girl began to slowly open her eyes: “Major? What happened?” - she tried to sit up, but the man did not let her do it.

“Lie down! Don’t even think about sitting down! You fainted, but, fortunately, I was there, again, to catch you.”

("Even now he's trying to flirt with me.")

Looking into her eyes, the major struggled with the desire to kiss the girl and hug her so tightly that she wouldn’t let go. (“It looks like I really got it. I’m uncontrollably in love with Emmanuelle.”) he thought.

The girl looked warily at the major: “Dieter, is something wrong?”

The major wanted to laugh it off, but could not say a word. Never in his life had he experienced such strange feelings for any woman. He wanted to hug her and never let go, kiss her until the air runs out, protect and protect her until... he himself dies. Realizing that Emmanuel was not feeling well, he decided to postpone the confession until next time.

“No, Mademoiselle Mimieux. Everything is fine, I’m just lost in thought. In that case, I won’t disturb you. It’s better for you to rest and recuperate. I think I’ll go. If you allow, I’ll come to you tomorrow, I’d like to check on you.”

Emmanuel;"Yes, of course, Major. You don't need to ask me."

Hellstrom: “And yet my respect for you demands it.”

(“Is this really “respect”?) - she thought. Kissing her hand, he said:

“Get well, mademoiselle. See you later." After that, he quickly left, closing the door behind him.

[crguang]

hi! could you do one where eternal!reader gets seriously hurt and ajak freaks out. when they’re in private, feels are confessed? maybe smutty fluff?

i loved loved loved writing this. it’s kinda long, take it as an apology for my absence 🫂

warnings: smut, fem!reader, ajak eats pussy like it’s a five course meal lol

She had a way of consuming all of you like one shot too many of alcohol, fire burning all the way down your throat to the pits of your stomach, inebriating all of your senses at once until nothing else mattered but her. Even as she laid beside you on the mattress, her steady breathing indicating that she had fallen asleep with the sheets barely covering her bare chest, you could still feel the teasing touch of her fingers on the skin of your stomach, trailing lower to sink into the flesh of your inner thigh. The closed window allowed bits and pieces of light to enter the room, partially illuminating Ajak’s peaceful face on the pillow next to you. The smell of her invaded your nose in the most delicious ways just as it had hours earlier when her lips stuck to your throat in a heated kiss, her shampoo paired with the feeling of her mouth on your neck forcing you to shut your eyes as to not get completely overwhelmed.

The thought of her ending up in your bed didn’t cross your mind once even only 24 hours ago. There was a lot of things you hadn’t predicted that day. You hadn’t planned for those deviants to tag team you, they were getting more intelligent by the day. You hadn’t planned for one of them to land a severe hit on you, either. You didn’t think you would forget how it felt to bleed out so rapidly, the warmth of your own blood contrasting with the way you were shivering inside. Makkari got you to the Domo in time, but you caught a glance of her terrified expression before she did, the sight of you momentarily freezing her in her tracks. It wasn’t the first time one of the Eternals got hurt, though it was the first one had came so close to death before.

Your body was weak when Makkari gently put you down on the marble table and took a few steps back to allow Ajak some space to work. The healer’s heart stopped when she saw you. You were in the worst shape she had ever seen you in and still, you slowly blinked up at her with a lazy smile as if you expected her to return it. Fear was a lump in her throat and she could only focus on her cosmic energy flowing into your body when she raised her hands. You were healed in a minute, though still paler and slower than usual. Her fingers traced the healed up skin, a habit she had whenever she worked her magic on you. You appreciated the contact.

“Phew, we were close with this one,” you had attempted to joke, shooting her a grateful smile. You were scared too, but the slight tremor in her lips when she looked at where your wound used to be made you swallow your own feelings for the sake of hers.

Ajak could only blink. You almost died and you were making jokes? What if you had gotten to her too late? She almost lost you.

“Hey,” you gently made her focus on your eyes instead, worry creasing your brows at her expression. “I’m okay. You saved me.”

Words failed her for a moment, the terror of losing you rendering her quiet. You hand found hers, lacing your fingers with her own in an attempt to comfort her, and Ajak was suddenly brought back to the present. Her arms wrapped around your neck in an instant, taking you by surprise, and she let out a shaky breath close to your cheek. You let her hold you as long as she wanted, securely keeping her against you and breathing in her comforting perfume.

“I thought…” She murmured when she found her voice again, her breath on your skin. “You’re not leaving that ship for a month, Prime Eternal’s orders. ”

You giggled at that, the sound bringing a small smile to Ajak’s lips. You were okay. “What will I do inside for an entire month?”

“Keep me company. Pick up a book for once.”

You pretended to think about it, humming as she finally pulled away with a hand on your cheek. The crease between her brows returned when she looked at you, thumb tracing your cheek as if to remind herself that the scare from earlier had passed. Your skin was regaining it’s normal color, and yet the fear remained inside her heart. The thought of never being able to tell you just how important you were to her was suffocating. She would never make that mistake again.

All the reasons Ajak had to keep you at arm’s length slipped from her mind. Your eyes only glanced to her lips for a second. She was so close. The next, her mouth was on yours in a sudden kiss, moving against your own with a certain passion behind it. Her lips were intoxicating, they fit yours as if they always belonged there, soft and warm. Your hands found her waist and stayed there even as she pulled away slightly to breathe. You couldn’t help but go in for one more after a few seconds, needing to feel her lips on yours a second time. You committed each second to memory, her proximity making you dizzy with want.

Ajak knew she would have trouble separating herself from you from now on. The thought of kissing you had appeared in her mind before, but this made her feel something she couldn’t place yet. The taste of your mouth immediately became her favourite, and she was hungry for anything you would give her. Her chest seemed to rise and fall with yours. The sound of approaching footsteps reminded her of her duties. Her lips left yours reluctantly, pulling away just in time for Phastos to enter the room.

“Ajak, we need…” he trailed off, eyes quickly moving from your figure to his leader’s with a raised index finger. “I’m sorry, what’s going on?”

Ajak completely pulled away from you then, her hand falling from her cheek as she took a few steps towards the door.

“Later.” She assured you softly, before turning towards Phastos and gesturing for him to lead the way.

The pair was gone in a moment. You let out a long breath, eyes to the ceiling. You and Ajak had kissed. She had kissed you first. You felt like a child barely able to contain your smile. Her cosmic energy was still running through your veins, lacing with your own and slowly restoring your strength. It was feeding your life force, nursing it back to its original state while leaving behind a warmth that you had learned to associate with her. It felt intimate.

Later came slower than you hoped, the hours seemingly stretching into days while you waited in the Domo for Ajak to come back. You would have been worried about her absence when the moon took the sun’s place in the sky if it wasn’t for Sprite assuring you that the woman was merely helping natives rebuild what was broken with a few of the others’ help. Your body thanked you when you laid down in your bed and rested properly. Ajak could cure a lot of things, but mental exhaustion was not on the list. Almost dying took a lot out of someone, believe it or not.

You almost fell asleep when you heard the knock on your door. The sight of Ajak opening it woke you up almost immediately.

“Hi,” she said simply, hand still on the doorknob as she stood in the doorway.

“Hi.”

“Were you asleep?”

“No,” you replied, sitting up on the bed. You silently wished for her to come closer.

Her features turned worried. “Are you tired still? My powers should have dealt with your energy levels that were affected by the blood loss by now. I could try again if you need it?”

You gently shook your head, though a fond smile made its way on your lips. “I’m fine, Ajak. But I’m not opposed to the idea of your hands on me again.”

Her eyes narrowed playfully before entering the room completely and softly closing the door behind her.

“Oh, really?” She made her way to you on the bed as you nodded, her smile matching yours. She climbed inside with you, knees on each side of your thighs as she settled on your lap.

Her boldness surprised you a little but you didn’t complain, your fingers instinctively holding her by the waist. Her hands cupped your cheeks as they had earlier, eyes staring into yours. The warmth that was suddenly felt in your face was not your doing, even if her closeness flustered you. You recognized the familiar feeling of her energy entering your body, a pleasant sensation that left you relaxed and wanting more.

“How’s that?” Ajak asked in a low voice, breath mangling with yours from her proximity. “Better?”

“Better,” you answered in a whisper, eyes briefly closing to relish in the feeling.

The healer let out a satisfied hum, pulling away enough to not let your perfume distract her from what she meant to tell you. She simply waited for you to look at her again, observing your features like she didn’t already know the shape of them by heart. The look in your eyes when you did almost made her breath hitch.

“Hi,” you murmured, appreciating her closeness.

“Hi.” The smile on her face probably made her look ridiculously smitten.

“So, about earlier…” you trailed off, glancing to her lips.

“What about earlier?”

“You kissed me.”

“And you kissed me.”

“And… What did it mean?”

You felt her pause as she stared at you, smile still in place. You allowed her to think about her next words, savouring the way her left hand left your cheek for the back of your neck. Her fingers played with the hair there.

“It means…” Ajak started, leaning to brush your cheek with her lips, “that I cannot bear the thought of losing you.” She pressed a real kiss there, gentle and slow, before moving up to the corner of your eye. “It means that I was a fool to keep what I felt to myself for reasons I can’t even remember.” She kissed the skin there as well, then your forehead. “It means that nothing will ever be as important as making you feel safe…” a kiss on your nose, “and loved…” on the corner of your mouth, “because I love you.”

Ajak was never one to lie about her feelings. You knew she meant her words wholly and your heart squeezed inside your chest with the need to tell her that you loved her too.

Her finger stopped you when your lips parted to speak, resting on your mouth. “I have fallen in love with you against my better judgment. When I saw you on that table… I couldn’t think. That doesn’t happen to me, but I imagine it’s fitting that it was because of you. You make me lose all my senses. I haven’t… felt this way in a long time.”

“Ajak…” It was a whisper against her skin, your hands unknowingly gripping her waist tighter to pull her impossibly closer to you. “I love you too.”

The crinkles near her eyes were apparent when she smiled, “Do you?”

“Like a flower loves the sun.”

Her index left your lips and her forehead touched yours when she leaned in, eyes closing shut to cherish your body warmth. Ajak could barely restrain herself after that confession, gently pressing her lips on yours. The kisses you shared earlier hadn’t left her thoughts even hours after and all she wanted was to feel your mouth against hers again. You didn’t seem to mind the slow pace, enjoying this as much as she did. She kissed you with a tenderness that you reciprocated and Ajak felt herself fall for you a second time.

Her lips left yours to trail unhurried open kisses down your jaw. Part of her wanted to savour this, to taste your skin as one would taste expensive wine, with patience and expertise. The other needed to feel all of you at once, to hear more of those almost inaudible exhales that escaped your mouth when her lips made contact with your neck. Your hand buried itself in her hair, tilting your head to allow her better access, and Ajak decided to indulge the impatience growing inside her stomach.

The tip of her tongue traced your skin, gauging your reaction, and when your breath hitched she sucked, lips attaching themselves to your neck like a starving vampire. Her right hand brushed against your shoulder down your arm. The kisses Ajak was leaving behind would probably bruise in the morning and something told you she wouldn’t heal those. Her mouth trailed up to yours once more, capturing your lips in an urgent kiss. She took control of it easily, tongue overpowering yours with no intent to fight it on your side. You matched her pace, hands roaming up to her hips.

Ajak could barely think, your presence bypassing the rationality she prided herself of until all that was left was the feeling to make you hers. She pulled away, silently asking you to look at her and you did with heavy eyelids.

“Are you su…?”

“Yes,” you interrupted her, biting your bottom lip in embarrassment when she raised an amused eyebrow.

“So eager.”

Her lips crashed into yours before you could reply. You hummed in surprise into the kiss, the fingers in her hair flexing around her locks. You could get addicted to her taste, to the feeling that grew in the pit of your stomach as her tongue brushed against yours. Her hands got curious, stroking your shoulders, hips, stomach under your shirt. Her palms were warm as they always were, yet you still felt a shiver run through you when the tips of her fingers skimmed the space between your breasts. You had to pull away to breathe, forcing yourself to control your breathing by inhaling and exhaling through your nose. It was a difficult task when Ajak trailed kisses up to your earlobe, briefly taking it between her lips.

“Can I?” She whispered into your ear as the nail of her index finger grazed your nipple already hardening under her featherlight touch.

“Yes,” you breathed out, and the way you squeezed her hips made her smile.

Her thumb made contact with the bud next, gently rubbing it and earning another soft exhale from you. You needed to her to pick up the pace, her slow ministrations paired with the wet kisses she was leaving on your skin made you incredibly impatient. Your own hands slipped beneath her shirt, appreciating the smooth skin of her stomach and back, feeling her muscles contract ever so slightly under your touch. You needed more and you needed it now.

“Ajak…” your breath caught in your throat when she tweaked your nipple with her fingers while her free hand groped your other breast.

“Mmh?”

“More.”

Her lips left your jaw to look you in the eyes properly, thumbs playing with the pebbles on your chest as she observed your features and the way you could only stare at her with half lidded eyes. She didn’t want to go too fast, afraid of overwhelming you and needing to take her time to make the moment last longer.

“More?”

You only nodded slightly, glancing at her mouth. Her chapstick was probably smudged onto your lips as well by now.

“More of what?”

“…Of your mouth on me.”

The small, pleased smile that stretched her lips drove you insane. Her hands gripped the edges of your shirt and lifted it up in a swift motion. You helped take it off, discarding it somewhere on the floor. Ajak pushed you down onto the bed with a hand on your chest, the pressure firm and allowing no protest, even if you had none. Her eyes followed the curves of your breasts, chestnut brown darkening ever so slightly at the sight of your erect nipples. Her parted lips and the exhale that escaped them made you clench your thighs closer together. Her gaze met yours when you did so, the corner of her lips lifting in a cocky smile.

You couldn’t help the reserved moan when her mouth locked on your breast, rolling your sensitive nipple with her tongue. The small noise caused her fingers to tease your other breast at the same time, needing to hear more of them. It worked, and your right hand tangled itself in her hair, almost unconsciously pushing her head closer to your chest while your eyes screwed shut in pleasure. Ajak’s teasing was becoming unbearable, the careful, calculated licks of her tongue against your nipples left you craving for more. Her knee lodged itself between the thighs that you opened so easily for her and if the circumstances were different maybe you would feel ashamed of that. But the pressure that she applied to your core made you forget all about shame as pleasure rushed through you. Ajak was still glued to your chest, so your hips did all the work in searching for a bit more friction, anything that would make you feel good. Her lips finally detached from your breast, trailing hot kisses down your stomach. Her tongue teased your navel and you gasped at the sensation. God, could she be any slower?

The pressure from her knee disappeared as Ajak rearranged herself between your legs, fingers playing with the buttons of your pants, and you whined in frustration. The woman glanced at you, at the way your left hand gripped the sheet beneath you while the other groped your breast, and couldn’t help the fleeting thought that you needed this as much as she did.

“Patience,” her tone was a tad mocking and she enjoyed the way your eyebrows pinched together in displeasure.

The pants were easily discarded, but Ajak gently slapped your hand away when you reached for your underwear and you internally groaned. Her lips played with the band of your panties, occasionally traveling further down so she could hear your breathing quicken before coming back up to keep teasing you a little. Her fingers sank into the flesh of your inner thighs, holding them open.

“Oh…” You let out a breathy moan when her tongue slowly licked you over the fabric, dampening it by the second.

The self restraint Ajak was practicing in this moment was admirable. Her entire being screamed at her to taste you properly, to have you quivering under her mouth, but she wanted to take her time. She explored you with her tongue, sometimes pressing firm kisses where your wetness was ruining the garment. She was addicted to the noises you made, not caring how loud they were as long as she could hear them. Her fingers pushed the underwear aside and Ajak finally allowed herself to taste you, tongue exploring your folds curiously. She moaned softly when you gripped her hair and arched your back, silently begging for more.

Your wish was fulfilled immediately. The tip of her tongue brushed against your clit and your lips parted in a silent cry. Your thighs clenched under her hands. And when she took the sensitive bud between her lips and sucked, you didn’t even know what you started begging for. Cluttered “please”’s left your mouth as Ajak swallowed your arousal, not pressured into picking up the pace she set earlier. You called her name helplessly when you felt the tip of her finger brush your entrance.

“Ajak, please.”

You felt her hum on your clit as she took it into her mouth once more and your breathing got shaky.

“Please,” you repeated, hips lifting closer to her face.

Ajak pulled away and you whined again like a deprived pet.

“What do you need, preciosa?” Her murmur carried to your ears and the nickname would’ve made you weak if you weren’t already needy.

Her index and middle fingers massaged your entrance, making you bit your lip to contain another noise.

“This?” Ajak asked, slowly pushing her fingers inside, easily collecting your arousal. You could only nod a couple times, slapping a hand on your mouth to keep you from being too loud in case the others had come home. “Look at me.”

It took strength to open your eyes and gaze down at her when she brushed against your inner walls that way, but you managed. Her head lowered, eyes locked on yours as she ate you out, fingers picking up several paces inside you. Your muffled moans were barely hidden even with your hand and you wanted to whine into a pillow but you couldn’t take your eyes off Ajak’s. The pleasure rushing through your body was too much and not enough at the same time, you stopped begging for more and instead recited the healer’s name like a prayer as your hips moved in sync with her tongue and fingers.

A particularly loud moan escaped your lips when you came, biting down on the skin of your palm. Your toes curled while Ajak helped you ride it out, her pace slowing down. You couldn’t think for the next minute, focusing on your breathing. Ajak kissed the inside of your thigh before straightening her back to look down at you and the occasional spams of your body.

When you finally looked up at her and your arousal plastered on her lips and chin, you sat up. You crashed your mouths together in a needy kiss, tasting yourself on her tongue. Ajak succumbed to your will, allowing you to switch your positions and push her back onto the bed.

“My turn.”

[sunlightandsuffering]

Corruption au Eren cockwarms mikasa once they’re together, he says ‘it helps him remember things’ and then every so often he gives her an orgasm just to keep her pliant against him while she plays with her boobs, he doesn’t do it in a cruel kind of way, it just he wants to pleasure her while doing his work

however when they’re not together, he’s such a sadist about it, he refuses to let her come even after he’s done his hw and is just fucking her, he always leaves when he’s done. Until one day when he starts feeling bad, he lets her come and it absolutely ruins him, he becomes obsessed with pleasuring her and seeing her face flushed pink, and hearing the needy sounds she makes and the quiet sighs, and the way her hands frantically move around until he Holds them together

STOP U GUYS KNOW ABOUT MY COCKWARMING OBSESSION STOP IT 😂😂 omg bless corruption Eren tho, this is my favourite kink for him, its so hot and it fits their situation perfectly.

It starts slow for Eren, to be honest he has no fucking idea when it really started. One day he'd been failing calculus, accepting he wasn't going to pass the year and thinking about maybe dealing drugs as a career path over his previous dreams of doctor. The next he was being forced to study three days out of the week with high school princess, Mikasa Ackerman.

At first he'd hated it, hated her really. He'd never been able to stand her, not since they were little and she'd chosen the dark side of Historia Reiss, bully and mean girl if there ever was one. Historia had sweet innocent baby Mikasa under her thumb. Mikasa followed her around like a dumb fucking puppy and Eren hated followers, they were all the same, no personalities, no aspirations of their own. She had no backbone either. She let all the shit Historia did slide, all the bullying, the holier than thou attitude because her family was richer than god. So very typical of the rich kids from the upper class neighbourhood. Eren would know, he used to be that rich kid, used to live that life. That was until his parents died in a brutal car accident, Zeke had inherited half the estate on the condition he'd take care of Eren and the rest was tied up in Eren's trust fund until he was twenty one.

Big surprise, no one had taken care of Eren and he was fucking lucky Armin and his grandpa had been there to help him out.

Everyone else, all his other 'friends' had given him the cold shoulder upon finding out he was no longer rich for the moment, he'd been dropped like a hot potato. So Eren's hatred of the upper class of Shiganshina had begun.

And Mikasa Ackerman was the pinnacle of it all, the worst the rich had to offer. She was beautiful, smart, loaded, had every opportunity in life, completely innocent and sweet, and the cherry on top of it all she volunteered on the weekend at the pound.

She disgusted him, so prim and proper and all around good girl while she was letting her 'friends' bully him for being poor, watching the injustice happen like a fish in a bowl.

He couldn't fucking stand her.

Of course, she would be the person who ended up tutoring him though, Principal Erwin mandating it if he wanted to graduate. So here he was sitting in the computer lab at five on a Wednesday watching her plump lips move as she explained integrals to him for the third time in an hour.

It's been a few months since they've started this little arrangement and he's gotten used to her presence. He wouldn't say he likes her, thats a stretch but he's not quite as cruel as he once was. He'd be lying if he said he didn't get a kick of watching that beautiful mouth part every time he does something mean though, those little gasps when he pinches her thigh or touches her where he shouldn't.

It's probably the highlight of these sessions.

Today he's feeling bold, maybe he'll push his luck. After all, he's done it before and she's never protested. For some reason or another Mikasa Ackerman has a soft spot for him, and no matter how mean, she lets him get away with murder. "Miki, come here I can't hear you properly." "And then you take the-what?" She looks up, pretty dove-grey eyes wide, sparkling as she explains her favourite subject, fucking math.

"You heard me, get over here." As usual, she takes orders so fucking well, it brings out the absolute worst in him. She's standing up and next to him in seconds and he's eye level with her perfect chest, those tits he dreams about every night, ripping her bra off with his teeth and sucking at those pretty pink nipples of hers. He's only seen them a few times, when he convinces her it's okay, when he's sure there's absolutely no one around, but they keep him awake at night. He pats his lap, grinning as she goes easily, settling into her favourite spot, he knows she loves it just as much as he does. Her thighs always shake and she shudders as his hands find their place cupping those beautiful creamy thighs, head tucked into her shoulder.

Mikasa starts talking again, beautiful lilt soothing him as she launches into a renewed explanation of integrals while his hands move up, up, up and to his absolute favourite spot, her panties. Today she's wearing cotton, he can feel it, must be laundry day and he kisses her shoulder as he feels how wet she is. Fucking perfect.

Lately she's been more partial to fancier underwear and he can't help but wonder if it's for him. He has a feeling it is, because the first month of their little arrangement he'd snuck as many peaks as they could and it was always pink or white cotton with polka dots and pretty bows. They were his favourite, so fucking innocent, so untouched by anyone but him.

He watches as she moves her pencil drawing lines and numbers, a little bit of the alphabet too and he ignores it all in favour of watching her chest, her breath hitch as he slides a finger inside her panties, feeling those velvet lips, it's been a while.

He's been on his best behaviour lately since Levi almost caught them at her house that one time, but he's horny and she's wet and he misses being inside her, misses watching her try to talk through him fucking her, how her voice would waver, change pitch. How many times she'd stumble through her sentences, have to start all over again, because she can't handle how big he is, doesn't know how to deal with the all-consuming sensation of him fucking deep within her walls, just sitting there filling her right up to her cervix.

Fuck.

He can't really be blamed for what he does next, and besides it doesn't matter, Eren's not a stupid kid, he allowed himself to get this far behind in calculus. He'd spent an hour last night going over integrals with the sole purpose of knowing what was going on today so he could fuck with his favourite toy.

He moves her a bit so she's resting more heavily on one thigh and slides his joggers and boxers down just enough expose his heavy cock to the air, already rock hard and waiting. Mikasa gasps a little bit, a breathy sound quick and sharp as she sees him, her eyes transfixed on his dick and he grins, sliding her panties to the side and slamming her down on him before she even knows what hit her. The slide is so fucking easy too, it takes almost nothing and he gets a sick sense of satisfaction that even with little to no prep she can take him, probably better than anyone else he's ever fucked. She takes it all no complaints, as deep as she can and he bottoms out.

She lets out a long moan, that pretty sound he wants to record and listen to on his phone over and over again, her head lolling back uselessly against his shoulder as she takes in the sensation.

"Miki baby you know this helps me remember better right, sorry it just wasn't getting through my head I was too distracted, but now I'm all ears, why don't you continue. What's that rule you were talking about, how are derivatives and integrals related again baby, they're opposites?"

She's breathing quick and Eren doesn't blame her, he's struggling to keep his tone level as her walls squeeze him, warm and soft and he wants to stay buried there forever, she's so fucking tight.

"I-Eren-I-yeah, opposites," she finally manages to get the last word out ending a little broken as she struggles to sit up and make herself comfortable on his cock, she should be used to it by now with how often he does this, but it never fails she always reacts like she's taking him for the first time all over again. He fucking loves it.

"Why don't you explain again baby, I don't think I really understand? And make sure you're clear Mikasa." She nods, still squirming around, every movement shooting electricity up through both of them as she accidentally grinds down, she lets out an involuntary moan and Eren smirks.

Eren takes it upon himself to move her up and off his cock a few inches before impaling her back down, biting down on her neck a little bit as punishment and she whines, teeth coming out to bite down on her lip brutally as she tries to keep quiet.

"Stop moving baby, you're distracting me, just take my cock like a good girl and explain for me yeah?" She replies brokenly her voice soft and struggling with her breaths, "Yeah."

[kashimos-hajime]

gold dripping down your wrist (2/8) | r.b.

summary: His breath flutters against your skin, and you wonder if he feels your heart tripping over in your chest. Or, despite every instinct telling him to run, Reiner gives in.

WARNINGS: ptsd nightmares, swearing, slight angst, otherwise,,, hmmm relatively unscathing besides a whole lot of yearning. dont worry next chapters will be sad as hell! pairing: reiner braun x fem!reader word count: 5.4k

a/n: hehehe biting my lip like a chad for isabel ( @luciilferss​ )

masterlist

crossposted on ao3 x

Shooting up in a silent scream, your hand flies to your neck as the last remnants of your nightmare dissipate. Breath coming in sharp, rapid inhales, you glance around the barracks and find no one else awake. Soft snores fill the room, and you shake your head to yourself, rubbing at your eyes.

No good to fall back asleep, now. 

Your entire body covered in cold sweat, you pluck at the front of your shirt, fanning yourself out as you swing your legs off the bed. A chill travels up your pants and through the holes of your shirt as you glance out the windows. Lunar light is streaming through but the moon itself is already fading. You get up, meandering over to the windows to look out. Some of the Scouts are on guard duty, as always, but other than that—tranquility.

So weird to think they have that when outside the walls, it’s a lawless land. 

Leaning forward, you move until your nose nearly touches the glass, and someone else in the room shifts with a grunt. You look over your shoulder, trying to decipher the shadows when a rough voice calls out right next to you. 

“Creampie?”

Slapping a hand over your mouth so you don’t scream, you look down. Reiner.

“What are you doing up?”

“Did I wake you?” you question warily, and he leans into the moonlight, squinting at you as he rubs at his face. Shaking his head briefly, he studies you with a narrowed glare and you almost want to shift back into the shadows at the perpetually annoyed expression on his face but you’ve learned that he just looks like that. “You can go back to sleep.”

“Are you cold? You look like you’re shivering.”

“No, I’m okay.” Liar. You think even your bones are chattering. 

He sits up, tossing his blanket off. “I can get you another blanket from the supply closet,” he mutters wearily. Standing, he pushes himself up and nearly into your personal space but he stops right in front of you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “C’mon. Back to bed.” He flashes a quick smile before brushing past you and words bubble inside your throat as you turn to watch him sink back into the darkness.

You whisper after him: “I had a nightmare about Marco.”

It is all it takes to make Reiner freeze. He turns around immediately, and you see his eyes before anything else. Wide with guilt, with grief. You lower your own head in shame.

“I’m sorry. I know I should try to move on, but he died all alone. It’s all I can think about. He must’ve been so scared” Keeping your tone as quiet as you can, you turn your face back to the night as he returns to your side. You stare at the stars and point absently at the one twinkling down at them both. “This older kid at the farm used to tell me all that every new star is another soul joining the heavens. Do you think…” Your arm falters and a weak sigh pushes past your lips as Reiner catches your falling hand in his own. You feel the calluses on his palms against your fingers as you swallow tightly. “Maybe that one is Marco?”

Your fingers interlace with Reiner’s as he wraps an arm around your waist, and you let him pull you towards him as he presses a rough kiss against your brow. The motion makes your entire being freeze in motion as he sighs, lowering his head. His breath flutters against your skin, and you wonder if he feels your heart tripping over in your chest. The tip of his nose brushes along your forehead, before he lets go of your hand, and you feel like ice digs into the fingers when his heat leaves. His arm around your waist falls and your head ducks.

The moment’s passed.

“That’s a good way to see it.” Stepping away, you watch his figure slouch, the way his shoulders cave in, and you can’t help the next words that come out. 

“I miss him. All the time. Him. And Thomas. Mina. Like they’re watching me on my shoulders, weighing me down. I can’t see them,” you continue, “but I feel them. All the time. I’m doing everything wrong and I’m letting them down.”

“Hey, don’t think like that,” he commands sternly, eyes flashing up to meet yours. It’s chilling, how much you’re inclined to believe him, but you don’t even nod as he grasps your shoulder. “You did what you could, alright? You just keep going, one foot in front of the other. You were one of the best in our class.” 

“I wasn’t even top ten,” you snort.

“Grades doesn’t make a soldier. Annie should’ve told you that it was all bullshit,” he says and you wince to yourself, lips pressing together You know he’s partially right, but you don’t have the strength to argue the rest. Guiding you back to bed, Reiner gently pushes you back down onto the cot and you fall back, lacing your fingers over your stomach. 

Craning your head up at Reiner, you look at him looming over you, silhouette outlined in silver. He stares down at you, his expression shrouded, and you wonder what he’s thinking in that mind of his.

Your hand lifts from your stomach, and taps on the open space beside you. A soft thump-thump, like your pulse, like an invitation. 

He turns away to glance back at the bed, and the moonlight hits his pale face blindingly. Squinting, you try to discern what emotion plays at his face as a sinking sensation begins to drag at your insides.

He’s going to walk away, a voice inside crows. Who do you think you are? Seducing the guy you have a crush on? As if.

You want to take it back. Excuse it as a moment of weakness. A brief, Can we forget I just did that? They could just move on with their lives knowing some lines are better left uncrossed.

But then, there is a weak: “This one time, alright?” 

Every word turns to dust in your mouth.

He turns back to you before you can respond and crawls into the space next to your own. Your heart lurches in your chest as he settles beside you with a silent groan.

He lifts an arm and you scoot closer, your head resting on his shoulder. Ear pressing into his chest, the soft thunder of his heart fills your entire body as he pulls you tight. Glancing up at him, you watch as his eyes slide shut tightly.

Your own face crumples and you bury it in his chest. “She’d say,” you continue on quietly, “that the the brightest stars were the fiercest warriors.” He stiffens as you twist the fabric of his shirt in a tight fist and your stomach twists as you try to find the words. The shadows are closing in on you, and you can only anchor yourself to the arm swathed around you as you whisper his name. “I was pretty much all alone after she left to find work a few years back. It’s part of why I joined the corps, but I heard she’s back there, now, and—”

“Don’t. Don’t tell me.”

What? 

Head jerking up to look at him, you meet a strong jaw clenching in a sharp scowl. His hand on your arm traces smooth circles and a drowsiness begins to flood your senses as he lets out a soft groan, rolling onto his side and pulling you flush against his chest. A leg slipping between his, you tilt into his chest as his arm wraps around your waist and it’s so tight you can barely breathe. Your arms crushed between their chests, your fingers twist the collar of his shirt and your nose brushes his chin when you shift against him.

“It just makes all this harder,” he explains hoarsely. 

A heat blooms in the small distance between their bodies as you nod. You understand. 

The wooden bedframe creaks beneath their weight as the hand on your back migrates to your shoulder blade and he buries his face in the plane of your shoulder. The searing skin of his temple against your jaw and your stomach in knots, you nuzzle yourself closer.

“I really am sorry for waking you,” you whisper, freeing your arms so you can loop them around his neck, thread your fingers in his hair but he doesn’t acknowledge your words. Their every breath is shared, and you swear their hearts are touching through the thin walls of their skin and sinew.

A gentle wave crashes over you when he hooks his fingers onto your shoulder, so unbearably close that you wish he’d either come closer or push himself away. You want to sink into his chest, hold onto him for the rest of the night as your eyes begin to flutter shut. His arms tightening around you, you think for a moment, you can finally relax. He’s just so warm.

“I know since Annie joined the MPs, there’s a sort of emptiness in you. You miss her. I get that.” Reiner lifts his head, arms withdrawing a bit. “I’m okay with you using me to fill whatever space she used to, but I can’t—” You hear a soft inhale above and you look up. You wonder if he can feel your racing heart under his palm. He’s already looking at you, and when your eyebrows rise in silent question, he shakes his head and looks away, lips curling into a scowl you barely see in the darkness. “I can’t.”

You can’t what, Reiner? Why won’t you look at me?

Then, he shivers, eyes shutting tight as he ducks his head again, and his cheek presses against your temple. Your eyes widen when his arms seem to pull you infinitely closer. “Shit.” More softly to himself: “Never mind. I’ve gotta go back to my bunk.” His breath is warm against your skin. A shudder shoots through you. “I can’t sleep in your bed.” A squeeze of your waist. Your leg slides against his thighs and he only hugs you tighter. “This isn’t right. I shouldn’t—”

“I’ll let go in a minute,” you tell him softly. 

Hs hand flattens along the top of your spine, spreading as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t catch you. Cradling your head, his hand burns your skin.

When you wake up, it is alone to a mattress underneath your back, but Reiner waits until everyone leaves the room before he kisses your cheek good morning. It’s a one-time occurence, you know, but still, it’s nice.

.

Walking towards the edge of the internment zone, Reiner spots the newspaper cart milling with people, no doubt buying the new papers relaying the Marleyan victory in Fort Slava. The crowd is cheering to one another and his hands roll into fists as the line shifts forward. Meandering nearer, he can’t help but think of Paradis.

It was nothing like the hell they’d described. There were just tall walls, and people. Sure, they were behind a couple of years, technology wise, but they were relatively the same.

One thing that’s different though, was that there had never been the need for papers within the Walls. And if there was news to relay, you would come with the fresh news from Section Commander Miche, or Captain Levi. He’d always read your face as you gave the news—if your eyes still had a spark in them, that meant it had to have a hint of good news.

And you had been so relieved once you reached Utgard Castle you had hugged him so tight that he couldn’t breathe when he caught those eyes glimmering in the dawn. He remembers holding you tight against him with his ‘uninjured’ arm and the way you had just…

You had gone to him first. Not Bertholdt, not Connie.

Him.

And he had gone to you first, when he had seen you swaying in your seat atop a horse who hung his head low. He couldn’t even remember anything else, except seeing you and breaking away from his group, galloping towards you and Bertholdt. You were bloody, a corpse sitting up—his entire body had felt his heart drop into the depths of his stomach, the seizing in his gut. Even after he had thrown your confession into the dirt, stepped on it, told you it couldn’t be—he had betrayed that all in an instant seeing you with Death’s hand on your shoulder.

Shit.

He used to be so much stronger. How else could he still let you go for a mission that’s brought him nothing but ghosts?

“Excuse me.” The words pull out of his mouth as soon as he feels someone collide with his arm. Something falls and his hand shoots out to catch it before it can crash to the ground, his other hand grasping onto their bicep. Paper crunches and he straightens up, immediately finding who he bumped into. Purple hat shrouding a ducked head, she doesn’t look at him, frozen in space. You, he thinks dazedly. You again. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” he continues quietly. “Are you alright?”

A short nod, and then she breaks off, clamping a hand over a plum sleeve where a white armband rests, taking off past him, back deeper into the interment zone. Reiner glances down at his fist, at the paper still clutched tight in his own fist, and his head shoots back up to search for the figure.

Gone. Shit. How did they even disappear so quickly? The road behind him stretches for a distance that would take more than two damn seconds to cross.

Fitting a palm to his brow, Reiner’s expression tightens as he looks down at the paper and he sighs, whipping it open to the sight of their so-called victory.

He’s seeing things. He’s… he’s just tired, and tormented. That’s all. Even the letters of the paper look a bit strange to his straining eyes, and he sighs, lifting his head again to look at the empty road behind him.

.

“This is really crunchy,” you mumble. Krista smiles, pleased. Swinging the axe you’d been using to chop wood into the stump, you swallow and set a hand on her blonde head, rubbing it fondly before taking another bite. “Where’d you get this? We haven’t gone to town this week.”

“Bertholdt, Connie, Sasha and Armin went to go pick some fruits surrounding headquarters while Eren trains. I thought I’d bring some back for you gys.”

“That’s nice.” You grin, taking another bite and letting out a noise of surprise when juice dribbles down your wrist. Good thing your sleeves are rolled up. “You should take one to Captain Levi. I think apples are his favourite.”

“How do you know that?”

“Who doesn’t like apples?” 

Krista shrugs as another shape lumbers over to you.

“What’s going on over here?”

“Reiner, catch.” You grab an apple from Krista’s basket and fling it at the guy who catches it easily with a grin. Taking a bite, his eyebrows rise and you laugh as a delighted expression spreads over his face. “Good, right?”

He nods. His whole body is coated in a fine layer of sweat, the evidence of his labour staining the front of his shirt as he stops next to you. Your heart stutters at the heat radiating off his skin as he looks at Krista. His shoulders rise and fall with his breath, and you swallow to yourself, taking another bite of your apple so you have an excuse to keep your mouth shut.

“You should bring some to Eren and the others,” he suggests. “They’ve been working hard.”

“I will.” Smiling charmingly, the blonde girl adds that there’ll be some left in the mess hall later and waves, departing. You watch her go with another crunch of your apple and you let out a small sound when golden juice dribbles down your wrist. Without thinking, you lift your arm to your mouth, sucking the trail off before it can continue down to your elbow. Something burns into your cheek, and you turn your head.

Catching Reiner staring at you, a mortified feeling strikes through you and you let out a choked sound, dropping your hand. Averting your eyes, you stammer, “Sorry. Habit. Not used to people watching me eat. Mostly ate during work hours back home, so…”

His lips pull into a flustered smile. “N-No. That’s fine. You worked on a farm, right?”

“Yeah. With other orphan kids.” It was so lonely. You look up at him bashfully and he rubs the back of his neck with a hand as he bites into his apple. Unable to help the pleased tone seeping into your voice, you say, “You remembered.”

“Of course I did. You mentioned it,” he replies, waving it away, looking away. His face is red, and you squint against the sun. “You said there was an older kid there. Talked about the stars.”

“Yeah. Yeah, she was like family. Until I joined the corps and met you, Bertholdt, and Annie, that is. You guys just… I dunno.” You rub your elbow, smiling at him. “Times like these make me miss Annie. She’s a better friend than everyone gives her credit for, y’know? We always said when the time came we would work together in the MPs.”

“Uh-huh.” Reiner looks away, eyebrows furrowed together. “It’s getting hot.”

“Yeah.” Your brow crinkles but you let his diversion slide. “We should take a break.” You gesture to the shade nearby and he takes the lead, heading over to collapse against a tree. You rotate the apple between your fingers, you take another bite, nose wrinkling as a wind sweeps against your face.

They continue to eat in silence, not much to be sad. Your heart begins to slow, even as Reiner shifts closer, one of his knees bent, the other crooked flat on the cool grass. Smiling to yourself, you just watch the sun touch everything you can see, and in times like this, of absolute nothingness, you can finally remember how beautiful the world is. 

The sky is blue enough to drown in, the clouds are infinitely fluffy, and the grass gleams white underneath the heat. Even if you’re sweating your skin off, the wind is cold like a kiss, and you feel a delighted shiver course through you.

“It’s so beautiful,” you sigh. “The world. I wish we could see more of it, but what we have here… I think I take it for granted. How truly perfect it all is.”

“Yeah.” His voice rasps against your ear and you inhale the summer wind deeply once again, feeling it fill up your entire chest. “I think I do, too.”

Looking at Reiner, your lips part in a response before rough fingers cradle your chin and tug you forward. Apple core falling to the ground, your arms crumple against a strong body and you barely resist holding him with your sticky hands as a mouth presses against yours. Body melting against his own, your stomach flutters and you let out a soft moan as his hand travelled along your chin to cup your face, thumb stroking your cheek. His other hand rests on your knee and your eyes slide close as a tongue traces the seam of your lips, dips in tentatively. Arm wrapping around his neck, you pull him in deeper by the crook of your elbow and sigh into his mouth.

The soft warmth floods your entire body, cools you down somehow, and you swear you can’t feel the ground beneath your legs. Hours seem to pass—the gust caresses your sweaty skin, the leaves seem to chime. 

It’s idyllic. 

It’s perfect.

It’s only a few beats more before he draws back sweetly, hand falling away from your face and he searches your expression.

“You, uh, missed a spot,” he whispers hoarsely, clearing his throat and drawing back. Smiling dopily to yourself, you wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand but not even that can erase the tingling sensation spreading through your face. Looking into your lap, you chew on your bottom lip, trying to prevent the ginormous smile from spreading while he leans back against the tree, looking out into the distance.

“Hey!” Heads jerking up, the two Scouts spot Ymir glaring at them by the entrance to the headquarters. “Didn’t know some of us were having a day off!”

Mikasa carries a near-passed out Eren into the building while Section Commander Hange and Section Commander Miche wave them, gesturing for them to come back in. You sit up straighter and Reiner lets out a displeased grunt as you tear up some grass by your leg.

“Get that wood and get back in here,” Miche calls. “That’s more than enough for the week.” You find yourself nodding as Reiner pushes himself to his feet and you look up as he walks back into the sun. Their superiors head in, but Ymir lingers, watching them, and you stare back until she seems to let go of her crossed arms, shake her head, and turn back inside.

You blink. Scrambling after Reiner, you catch up with him and wait to see if he’ll see anything. When he only steps towards your pile of firewood and slings the frame to hold bundles of firewood in onto his back, your hand shoots out before you can stop yourself.

He stiffens at your touch.

“Shouldn’t we talk about what just happened?” you ask quietly, a swirling sensation swimming in your chest. Confusion tinted everything as Reiner pauses, glancing at you out of the corner of your eye. “We… kissed just now.”

He ducks his head, lips curling back in a grimace. “Yeah. We did.”

Pangs hitting your chest, you take a step away from him as he bends down to collect the firewood. The sun’s already beating down on the back of your neck as you glance at the pile of wood. “Do you not like me?” 

“What?” He freezes mid-way through grabbing another bundle and you busy yourself with slinging your own carrier onto your back. Your body is burning, and it’s not because of the sun.

“I like you, Reiner, but… if you don’t like me, then I’m okay with pretending that never happened.”

“Of course I like you. You’re a great friend and soldier and—”

You shoot him a furtive look before putting it bluntly: “I like you in the way that I want you to kiss me like that all the time.”

The silence that follows will haunt you for the rest of your life. Your heart pounds in your skull, echoing like the sound of death drums before his shoulders slouch forward and he sighs heavily. You stand upright, head tilting and he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you towards him.

This time, it’s almost devouring the way he kisses you—messy, and warm, and his thumb brushes the underside of his jaw as you bend into his chest, your hands fisted, twisting his shirt at his waist tightly and you barely hear the words he murmurs into your mouth over the pounding of your heart.

“You’re so pretty—“

Panting, he kisses you again and again as you crumple in his arms and you can’t help the stupid smile on your face as you kiss him back, quick punches that last an eternity until they rip themselves off each other. More, Reiner stumbles back, and you tear yourself off of him, just so they remember how to breathe.

Your lungs scrambling for air, your fingers press against your mouth as your gaze falls to the firewood, and Reiner’s heavy breathing can be heard just a few feet away as he falls to his hands and knees. Watching him, your heart cracks into pieces, and there’s a sinking sensation in your stomach. 

Reality slams into you like a fucking horse.

“We shouldn’t,” he whispers hoarsely, fingers digging into the dirt. Your eyes wrench to him and he looks up at you harrowingly. “We’re soldiers. We shouldn’t. We could die tomorrow, next week on that expedition even, and this would be for nothing.”

Falling to your knees, you glance down at the dirt. “I like you.”

“You shouldn’t.” 

You clench your jaw. Your gut cramps as you stare blankly at the grass. “So… what now?” you ask, chest lurching. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“I know. I just…” A harsh swallow. Your breath burns in your chest. A strange pain stitches into your ribs. “We should stay friends.” Everything inside you drains, and you nod, eyes not rising. Your lips still tingle with the sensation of his mouth against your own, and you swallow the hard knot in your throat, but it only lands like a boulder in your stomach. “It’ll hurt less.”

I don’t think it will, you want to argue. I’ll still want you just as much as I do now.

But you don’t say any of that aloud. 

Instead, you try to make it sound joking as you murmur, “You’re the worst.” You flash him a quick smile that you hope dulls the edge of your words, but he merely looks at you numbly.

For a moment, Reiner’s hard frown slips into something more fragile, and he turns away with a hard swallow, whispering out a soft, “I know,” as he gets to his feet and gathers the rest of the firewood. Once his load is on his back, he half-turns to you and he looks at your hands rather than your face. “I’ll see you at the meeting.”

You wait until you can’t hear his soft footsteps cushioned by the grass until you pull yourself together. Lifting your face to the sun, wind chases away the heat clouding your cheeks, and soothes the swollen skin around your eyes.

Grabbing the wood, you rub at your face with the back of your hand and when you get back inside, Connie doesn’t seem to notice anything wrong.

.

Reiner pays the vendor and looks at his cousin, smiling uneasily as she bites into the sandwich. He wouldn’t have much more for the day if they kept going at the pace they’re going, and although he doesn’t mind (not that he could say no) a part of him just wishes he could go home. But Mom had insisted so Gabi could have some supervision and that he needed to get out, she wasn’t getting any younger and he’s so glum! 

“You need to find a nice girl, Reiner.”

He doesn’t know what about his appearance when his mom walked into his bedroom screamed romance, but apparently it was what she read between a soaked shirt and wide eyes and pale skin. 

He’d woken up in a cold sweat, as he does most days, but this time it’d been haunting.

Because it wasn’t flashes of blood, screams, the glint of metal underneath the grey sun. There was no yellow lightning, no deafening crashes.

It was almost like it wasn’t a dream. Trost had been so real, alive around them as you paid for the honeycomb and as you snuck a bite while you thought he wasn’t looking, he remembered…

The way his heart fluttered, the way he couldn’t stop looking you. There was not a moment he remembers your hand was far from his, when their elbows did not brush, when they left each other for a moment. When did he ever stop thinking about your hands, your laugh, the way you could send him into a flurry thinking what every other word you said meant?

“Reiner? You coming?”

Blinking, he looks over his shoulder to see the others already moving on. Pieck lingers near the back of the group, tilting her head at him and he clears his throat, pocketing his wallet and walking towards her.

He never meant for this. You were never meant to be more important than him than breathing. How does he carve away the prints you’ve left on his lips and eyes? Does he even want to? It’s hard to decide. 

Sometimes, he wants to scratch you out of his brain just so you can stop laughing at him. Other times, he wishes he could dig inside his skull and put the memories together in a collage the shape of you just so he has someone to talk to.

“This is so good!” Gabi cries out as Porco sets a hand on her head and Reiner suppresses the smallest smile teasing at his mouth, but it feels tired, and he lets the urge melt away easily. Walking after them slowly, he watches the festival around them, so loud with clowns and buskers and people just talking to one another that it makes his head pound.

His legs feel like they’re about to give up, and his head is heavy as he trails after them. 

“Eat slower,” Pieck censures as they migrate through a thicker crowd, “or you’ll get a stomach ache.”

“They might get a stomach ache either way,” Galliard teases. “Do you see how the slobs are eating?” Walking against the tide, Reiner makes sure he doesn’t knock anyone over going too fast in the opposite direction. The energy would be electric if he didn’t feel so bone-tired. Sun warming his face, Reiner lifts his chin to the sky just as the sound of someone’s voice teases his ear range and his head snaps to the sound, eyes widening.

Stopping in his tracks, he searches for the source and his eyes fixate on the same woman in the purple coat. His mouth opens on its own accord and his eyebrows furrow together as she pays the vendor. He tracks her figure with a quick sweep before turning away to make sure he isn’t trailing too far behind the others.

When he glances back, she’s gone.

Fucking ghost.

He shivers, catching up with the group.

“You’ve got something on your mind,” Pieck observes as he empties out his wallet for the last food stall of the afternoon. They’d just finished their slices of something the man had called pizza, and Gabi had insisted on dessert to finish the day. Explains why he’s standing in front of a portly woman who insists on the kids picking which tart they want.

“It’s fine, Pieck,” he assures, closing his wallet and slipping it back into his pocket, significantly lighter than this morning as Falco grabs a pastry glazed with honey and Reiner’s heart seizes in his chest at the golden sugar glistening in the warm sunlight. “They’re growing kids.”

“I don’t think it’s your wallet that’s the problem,” she says. Galliard grabs a tart with flecks of rose petals within the filling and glances over at the two and Reiner arches an eyebrow at the strangled expression on the guy’s face.

Weird, he muses to himself when Porco grabs another tart and begins to walk over to them.

“You seem a bit lost. Did something happen earlier?” Pieck probes. Reiner sighs, crossing his arms, watching the Candidates switch tarts so they can try all the flavours. It’s so effortlessly… innocent, in a sense, in that gesture. Shit, when’s the last time he ever felt like that?

Gold dripping down your wrist… “I can see you eating the honeycomb, you know?”

God, did he want to kiss you then.

“Nothing happened.”

Pieck frowns, but doesn’t argue it further as Porco finally reaches them.

“Which one do you want, Pieck?” he asks, not waiting for an answer before shoving the rose tart into Pieck’s hands. She smiles fondly, reaching forward to flick Porco’s forehead. Reiner rolls his eyes. “The lady said it’s a popular flavour with… the ladies.”

“Thank you, Pock.” She takes a big bite, the sugar glistening her lips and Reiner’s watching Porco’s face which only opens at the pure delight on their pretty little colleague. Mouth snapping shut, Galliard looks away as if that’ll help the faint redness of his ears, and Reiner shakes his head. He chews on his cheek to prevent the soft smirk edging onto his face before he claps Pieck on the shoulder and heads towards the kids. 

Behind him, he hears a laugh that could only be Pieck’s followed by grumbling and harsh hushing that could only be Galliard’s.

When he glances over his shoulder, he swears he must’ve imagined Porco kissing the corner of Pieck’s mouth, sugary syrup on his lips, too.

[dumdumsun]

Forever and Never

A/N: Thank you so much for taking the time to read this series ❤️ I’ve had so much fun writing this and am very proud of and excited for it, I can’t wait to see how people react to this. Um I know there are plenty of warnings for a first chapter, but I promise it’s not as depressing as it sounds. It’s just that this story can deal with heavy stuff sometimes, so I just wanna let you know that. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Warnings: mentions of marijuana, death, sexual assault and mental illness

Word Count: 3194

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One: Hi, My Name Is

“So, what was your time in Pennsylvania like?”

“Uh… I’d have to say it was the best… and worst time of my life.”

“Best and worst, huh? Would you like to elaborate?”

“Well, I, uh… I mean, I don’t really know how to, like… explain it. It’s a lot. I don’t even know where to begin… Or how I would even word it or anything.”

“Well, you told me you like television and movies, right? You know those shows and movies where the main character tells the plot as, like, their life story? Maybe you could try that.”

“You aren’t… You aren’t serious, are you?”

“You’ll know when I’m joking, trust me.”

“Oh… Okay, then. Well, um…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi? My name is… (Y/N)? This is my life story, I guess.

So, if we’re going to talk about my life in Pennsylvania, we’re going to have to start with my life in Kansas, first. I had two loving parents that soon turned into one at the too-young age of nine years, when my mom died. I remember her as one of the sweetest people I’ve ever known. She had this way about her that was so carefree, yet she gave a shit about everything. You could never pin a thought to her because she never let you in on what was bouncing around in her head. She was stubborn and patient and lively. I miss her so much. I don’t usually think about her unless it’s a particularly hectic day, which I then resort to talking to the ring I wear on my left pinky finger at all times. Wasn’t anything special, just some cheap ring with a little emerald inside she found at a thrift store. It used to be hers and she’d wear it on the exact same finger. My dad said she’d want me to have it.

My dad is my favorite person. He isn’t the most… present, though. His mind is never set in one place, always racing with hundreds of unrelated thoughts. It’s why when you finally drag him back into reality, he can’t repeat a single sentence spoken to him. Regardless, he’s all I had for a long time. I never really learned what he does for a living, but I just know that it forces him to leave town sometimes. Well, more like all the time. Before my mom died, it was easy for him to leave for weeks on end, but when he became my only guardian, he didn’t really know what to do with me. It was like he completely forgot how to take care of a child, his child. When I turned twelve, that was when he started travelling again. I would then be home by myself for a month to eight weeks. In these times, I had no choice but to learn to cook for myself, go grocery shopping and housekeep. I became pretty independent at a young age. It wasn’t like Dad left me totally alone, though. He would call every two or three days and he sent me two hundred dollars every two weeks. Like I said, I don’t know what my dad did, but he was definitely getting paid. At the end of eighth grade, Dad had a particularly long trip to go on, so he sent me to Pennsylvania, where his sister lived.

Pennsylvania was partially the best part of my life because of my family. My Aunt Pam was like a second mother to me. She was never able to have another child after my cousin Jacob and she’s always wanted a daughter of her own, so that’s what I was to her. The daughter she could never have. I’d often find her staring at me with a bittersweet smile on her face, watching my every move with a sense of pride, but when I’d ask her what was wrong she’d only brush it off as her admiring me. My Uncle David didn’t necessarily view me as a daughter, but he certainly treated me like one. When he wanted to spend time with Jacob, he included me as well. We’d usually go on drives around the town, but I always fell asleep to the soft and serene music that filled the car from the radio. On the weekends, we would head down by the lake and spend hours learning to fish.

I hated it, but I couldn’t complain. It gave me a sense of certainty to live with a father figure who didn’t leave me alone every two or three months.

Jacob was like a brother to me. He’s a year older than me, which, to him, meant that he had to protect me at all costs. I always assumed it was because he always wanted a younger sibling, and I was the closest he was ever going to get to that. I always felt as though I’d never be able to equal Jacob on an intellectual level because he practically had the IQ of Albert Einstein himself. I felt inferior to him until I found out how much of a joy he really was. On the weekends, he would beg me to accompany him in a movie marathon. I learned that Jacob was a huge fan of Tim Burton (his favorite was Beetlejuice). He’s the only cousin I’ve ever known. Mom and Dad didn’t like each other’s families, so I never met anyone besides this little family. Moving in with them meant that they’d have this huge burden on them.

Yes, I almost forgot to mention that I struggle with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, or OCD. It just means that my mind is flooded with these crazy and unnecessary thoughts and so my behavior is affected by them. For example, if I were to blink and felt I put more pressure on my left eye than my right, I would have to repeatedly wink with my right eye until they felt balanced. Sometimes I can’t enter a room until I have inhaled eight times. If I scratch an itch on my left knee, I have to scratch the right one in the exact same place. At the sink, even if I don’t use both knobs, I have to hold both in my hands. And when I turn them off, I often have to check about four times before I am certain they’re turned off all the way. I know, it sounds tiring. Just imagine being on my end, having it be a part of who you are. I can’t do anything to stop it, I wish I could. I was always afraid to make friends because of this. If I couldn’t be balanced, I’d freeze, and I mean actually stop whatever I’m doing and stand still, until my body felt as if I were balanced once again. Who wouldn’t make fun of me for this?

Apparently, no one gave a shit about it. After moving to Pennsylvania, I made quite a name for myself at school. Literally. My name was Zip. I have no fucking clue how that ridiculous name came to be, but that’s what I went by day after day. One could say I was considered popular, but it wasn’t like I actually spoke to anyone. When it came to extracurriculars, I only participated in theatre. I never was part of the cast, just the stage manager. Secretly, I wanted so badly to audition and be a part of the magic they created on that stage. Not to boast or anything, but I had the talent and potential to be a starring role. But I could never bring myself to break out of my shell. Nonetheless, being stage manager still got me quite the attention. Everyone was always so nice to me, so I felt a little bad for not considering any of them as friends. That was until I met Dina.

Dina was new to our school sophomore year. She had this sort of light to her that attracted the pesky moths that were our dull and boring school body. We had the same social status in school. People liked our personalities, so we were well-liked and accepted without doing much to prove ourselves worthy. She was sweet and compassionate and so fun. I didn’t mean to become her friend, but she was so welcoming, despite being the newcomer. We became close friends, but not best friends. We already had people filling those roles.

Dina’s best friend was Sydney Novak. Sydney moved to Brownsville around the same time as Dina, so the two became best friends quickly, but Sydney wasn’t very popular at all. She was shy and introverted, but I thought she was nice enough. I liked her and thought she was a pretty cool person. We weren’t necessarily friends, we were just well acquainted simply because we were both close with Dina. The transitive property, if you would. I just wish we could’ve talked more, our relationship was pretty much nonexistent.

Speaking of nonexistent relationships, let’s talk about Richard Berry. I honestly don’t want to even think about him, but he played a role in my life that was too vital to just offhandedly mention. For some odd reason, Ricky Berry was absolutely in love with me. It was so obvious to everyone except for me. Sophomore year, he expressed his love through the most arrogant and cheesiest of pick-up lines and compliments. I wasn’t so easily won over, if you could guess. I tried being good friends with him, but he’d always fuck it up when he tried to initiate intimacy. I didn’t want to hold hands with him in the halls or receive “friendly” cheek kisses. I’m not what you would call affectionate, especially towards people I’m not close to. It’s just never been comfortable for me. Junior year, everyone around me was buzzing with excitement when they heard Ricky was going to ask me to be his girlfriend. The cheerleaders, who got to know him through his high school football career, constantly pestered me with reasons as to why I would be so lucky to date The Richard Berry. Granted, he became less of a dick junior year, so I thought, Why not?, and accepted. Being in a relationship with Ricky was the most one-sided… anything I had ever been a part of. He was undeniably enamored with me, but I couldn’t find it in myself to reciprocate those feelings. He would show me off to his family and friends like a trophy, but if someone asked me if I had a boyfriend I’d go, “I mean, yeah. I guess”, so not a very healthy relationship. It also didn’t help that Ricky knew nothing about boundaries.

One night, we were in his bedroom, studying for a science test. Ricky wasn’t focused at all and kept trying to kiss and cuddle with me. I let him for awhile, but then he took my book from me and set it on the ground beside his bed. He suggested we have sex right then and there. Now, I was never a prude and definitely didn’t wait to have sex for the first time, but I never wanted Ricky to be my first. He hadn’t earned enough of my trust to even touch me suggestively. So, of course I refused. Ricky only took that as me teasing him, so he advanced, nearly forcing himself on me. Using all my might, I shoved him off of the bed. He stood to his feet, utterly confused, but I only gathered my things and left his house. He tried following after me, but I ignored him until he turned and went back into his home. The next day at school, he was holding me and kissing me and showing me off to everyone like he always did. As if nothing happened between us the night before. It was difficult to do, since he was so inconsiderate, but I managed to break up with him. He tried to deny that we were Splitsville for about a week, but everyone caught wind of our break-up. Once everyone knew about it, it became true for him. I never really felt comfortable with being intimate or open with guys after that.

Besides with Stanley Barber, of course. Stan was my best friend in the entire world. I told only my deepest, darkest secrets to him. And he told me his. The only things we really had in common were our lack of mothers and our hideous bacne. Stan lived a few houses down and was eager to get to know me a week after I moved in. I’d never met anyone in my life like Stan. He was so awkward, but loveable. I don’t know, I guess he reminded me of my mom. The way he didn’t care, but he so clearly did. Whenever I wanted to talk about something that was difficult to voice, we’d smoke to ease the tension. Of course, this wasn’t how we always communicated. Despite his nervous stuttering, he was easy to open up to. Stan provided a sort of security in my life. He was never going to leave me and that put me at ease when hanging out with him, which we did regularly. I don’t know when exactly I developed a crush on him, but I never wanted it to surface in our bond. He was to never know. It was just a stupid crush, right? He was a guy who wasn’t family and was so unbelievably caring towards me. It was bound to happen, but that didn’t mean he had to be aware of it. Though, it was a little hard to keep such a secret when we’d both made out twice already. The first time was while I was dating Ricky, the kiss was very awkward and ended after about a minute and a half. The second kiss was just half a week after my breakup. That time, we’d both known what we were doing. And I may be a little biased, but you couldn’t have even thought to fake the passion in that makeout session. We never talked about either of those kisses and remained friends both times. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me that we didn’t become anything more afterwards. It was for the best, though, because two weeks before spring break, my dad returned from his job in Georgia and moved me to Kansas again. The move was so abrupt that I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to anyone besides my family.

My life in Kansas for the second time was something I’d never want to experience ever again. Since it was a little late in the year, I finished junior year online. For some unexplained reason, my dad had us get new phones and new numbers, so I lost all contact with my friends. I had no one to talk to and it wasn’t like my dad paid much attention to me. I remember spending every waking moment with him when I was younger, talking or playing games or watching television. It used to be so fun being his daughter, but when we moved back to Kansas, I just felt like this huge burden in his life. Our relationship was strained and he clearly had other priorities in his life. Like whatever he left back in Georgia. I’d see his phone ring and the same number from that state would pop up before he’d leave the room and privately talk with whoever. It wasn’t the secrecy that was off-putting to me, it was the fact that it was so much more important to him. Once again, I was ignored by the one person in my life I wanted to spend the most time with. So, you can imagine the joy I felt when Dad had to go back to Georgia for work. I had been attending public school for my senior year and left not even a full month in. It didn’t bother me, I had no friends and nothing to leave behind. Mid-September was when I moved back to Brownsville with Aunt Pam. Everyone accepted me right back in. Especially my classmates. As I walked the halls I heard whispers like,

“Oh, my god, is that Zip?”

“Zip’s back! Where’d she even go?”

“I thought she died.”

The only person I really wanted to notice me was Stan. I missed him so much, I even got into his favorite band to have something to remember him by. I remember the day I got back to my aunt’s house. Jacob had picked me up from the airport and was driving me to the house. He was attending community college, but was still living with his parents. As we drove, he tapped his index fingers rhythmically to the shitty pop music that played on the radio. “So, what are you excited about for senior year?”

“Not much, I just missed Dina and Stan. Theatre, too. I wonder how they’ve been doing without me.” I chuckled. Jacob huffed in amusement.

“But you didn’t miss Ricky?”

“Fuck, Jake, you know I didn’t miss him for a second.” I frowned, waving my hand in dismissal. My cousin tauntingly laughed at me. Had he actually known about what happened between Ricky and I, he wouldn’t have teased me. In fact, Ricky wouldn’t even be alive that day if Jacob found out. No one knew about the incident, not even Stan.

Pulling up in front of the house, we got out of the car and headed to the trunk to pull out my bags. I tried carrying them in, but Jacob insisted that he do all the heavy lifting and simply asked me to carry my backpack and close the trunk. I did what little I was asked of and headed to the front door to greet my aunt and uncle inside, but stopped. In the corner of my eye, I saw movement from the Barber residence. Turning, my eyes locked on Stanley, who was frozen beside his car. He was wearing his work uniform and staring at me with the most bewildered expression on his face. It was like he thought himself to be hallucinating my existence. Smiling, I simply waved at him before walking back inside. When he got home from work that night, he headed over to my house and knocked on the door. I answered with a grin on my face. “Stan!”

“If it isn’t the famous Zip, showing back up in my life.”

“Ugh, do not call me that.” I rolled my eyes playfully before bringing him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his chin at the top of my head. I would’ve stayed there all night if I could’ve. When Stanley pulled away, my heart hollowed and a pit formed within my stomach. I felt unfinished, unbalanced. And I hate imbalance. He asked if I wanted to hang out and I accepted his offer. All we did was lay on his floor, listen to music and get high, but in that moment, that’s all I needed.

Bloodwitch, a joint, and Stan laying by my side.

—————————————

Taglist: @melinda-hargreeves @sapphicsyn @stqnley @lonely-kermit

[redrobin-detective]

Starlit Vigil

Dannymay Day 4: Stars _____________________________

Everything has a story to it, a tale interwoven into it’s very being from it’s birth to it’s death. Sometimes the mystery of the story is as much a story in and of itself. 

Scientists and researchers can’t say when the constellation first appeared in the night sky. It could be seen above Antarctica, near where the edge of the continent meets the Indian Ocean. It confounded a great many people as stars simply didn’t appear out of nowhere. But these did, slowly over the course of several decades sometimes years apart but two appeared within hours of each other. Each new star, eight in total, had a glistening, almost unnatural twinkle to them. The constellation was named Mnemosyne after the Grecian goddess of memory and the stars eight of her nine daughters, better known as the Muses. 

You’ve always had your eyes turned towards the stars and Mnemosyne in particular had always captured your attention. You can’t really explain what it is about those stars that speak to you. Maybe it’s sheer impossibility of their existence. Perhaps it’s the particular beauty of these stars, sometimes appearing to shift in shape and change colors. Or it could be the story behind the stars, the mystery that couldn’t be solved and so imagination filled in the holes left behind.

They say there was a great king, hundreds of years ago. A king who was powerful and kind and helped create the world as we know it. The land of the dead exists and certain people can interact with those beyond it. Technology and understanding have advanced dramatically and, while no life would ever be perfect, there was a general sense of peace that could felt in this world and the next. This king loved our world so much it’s said he plucked the greatest jewels he could find and placed them in the stars where he could watch over and cherish them forever. It’s a sentiment you can understand. 

You study astronomy in school and when you’re given a chance to travel to the Antarctic Circle to study Mnemosyne, you can’t say yes fast enough. The bitter cold and isolation is a small price to pay to see your favorite constellation up close. Maybe when you see it with your own eyes, you can unravel some of the questions people have been asking over the years. Why the goddess of Memory? Why are the stars named after the Muses but missing the muse of astronomy, Urania? What is the true story behind the supernaturally bright stars that appeared out of nowhere?

It’s hard to sleep during the day, partially because it goes against your normal circadian rhythm but you’re also too excited for night to come. For the stars to come out. You bundle up in the warmest clothes, pack your cameras and notebooks and throw the highest quality telescope you can carry over your shoulder. Arriving at the best site for star gazing, you are so delighted by the clear skies and sparkling stars that it takes you an extra moment to realize that you’re not alone.

At first, you think it’s one of the many researchers conducting studies at the pole but it’s soon apparent that this is someone new. Their hair is stark white, almost appearing one with the blustering wind as it’s blown around. You can’t see what they’re wearing because a thick white cape covers them entirely; it has the consistency of freshly fallen snow. Atop their head floats a crown made of pure, crystalline ice. Your eyes widen behind your protective goggles. The existence of ghosts was common knowledge by now but it’s another thing to see one up close. You turn to leave, before the spirit notices you.

“Don’t leave,” he says quietly but despite the roaring of the wind, you can hear him perfectly clear. “You came to watch the stars too, I don’t mind. Mnemosyne is my favorite.”

“Mine too,” you say back without even thinking. “I would love to know their stories.” The ghost turns to smile at you and his eyes are a bright, glowing green without any pupils or sclera. 

“Come, I’ll tell you about them.” You know you shouldn’t. While most spirits aren’t malicious, this one exudes a power you can’t even imagine. But you find yourself stepping closer anyway. You want to hear the stories of the stars and his smile is the warmest thing you’ll find for miles. Somehow you know this ghost won’t harm you. He points up at Mnemosyne and your twin gazes stare up in wonder. 

“They say souls and stars are made of the same ingredients. When I was a boy, I loved this thought. There was something comforting in knowing that, no matter where I went, that I could carry the stars within me,” the ghost explains, looking at you joyfully. 

“But unlike stars, souls are mortal, impermanent,” he says, his smile turning sad. “So I thought, why not put a soul into a star? Then it could last for eons.” He turns back to the stars with a melancholic expression. “Danielle was the first, my little sister. She was always fragile and after only a decade of life, one day she just broke. Her core was too damaged to become a full ghost so I offered her another way to live on. I took the brightness of her smile and made it into a star, into Euterpe. She was the muse of lyrics and poetry, they say she was the ‘bringer of delight’. It suited Danielle.”

“My enemy died next,” the ghost continues. “He hurt me and, moreover, hurt the ones I loved. But he was the only one who truly understood me. His existence comforted me no matter how much bad blood existed between us. His life was full of misfortune, most of it self-inflicted but his fear of death pulled on my heart. My last move in our battle was to make him a star as well, Melpomene, the muse of tragedy. I put him far away from Danielle, I think he’d hurt her.”

“My parents passed a few decades later,” the ghost whispers. “Mom went first, in her sleep. Dad always followed her example so it wasn’t a surprise when Dad followed her in death before the day was done. They were scientists, I think but they loved me very much. Things were tense, I remember being afraid for some reason but their deaths pained me. They were too fulfilled to become ghosts. I grabbed bits of their essence before it dissipated and made the stars Polyhymnia and Terpsichore, the muses of hymns and dance respectively. They were a perfect couple, partners in everything. A song and a dance, always in time with each other.”

The wind rustles the ghost’s cape, he clutches it as if he is cold. You cannot tear your eyes from the the soft grief on his face. 

“Valerie went next, some sort of illness; I can’t remember the details,” the ghost frowned. “She had no desire to become a ghost, no matter how much I asked her to stay. I am King of All Ghosts and yet I got on my knees and begged for some part of her to keep with me. In the end, I stole a bit of her fading spirit and crafted Calliope, the assertive muse, the author of epic poetry. She shines so brightly up there like she had in life.”

“Jasmine died peacefully in her sleep like our mother. She was always protecting me, even in death. Her devotion to knowledge and my wellbeing kept her by my side for many years but it wasn’t enough to last forever. When her spirit was nothing more than wisps, I took her core and placed Clio with the rest of our family. The muse of history, the proclaimer of great deeds fit my older sister well.”

“Tucker and Sam stayed with me the longest. Tucker went first, a quick death from an aged body followed by years as the playful spirit I always knew him as. Sam, my life and my love, passed the same and was my queen in death as she’d been in life. But love can delay death but not deny it and their spirits needed to move on. I kissed them both, my soulmates and made them into stars. Thalia, the muse of comedy and idyllic poems for the light Tucker brought to me. Erato for Sam, muse of love and its poetry for all that she inspired and gave me.”

You see glowing tears running down his face, he holds his hands out to the night sky. His fingers are curved as if wanting to reach and tenderly brush the faces of people long gone. Only they’re not gone completely. You look at the stars with a newfound appreciation. They are no longer pinpricks of long dead light but people who lived and died and yet still lived on in such beauty. If you look closely, you can almost see them. Brushes of red hair, dark rugged skin, the glint of glasses, a flash of amethyst eyes. 

“There’s no Urania,” you say quietly, the wind tossing them. 

“Not yet,” he says longingly, “but soon. The Zone and the Earth are at peace, they won’t need my protection for much longer. When that happens, my spirit will leave this world and join my loved ones in the stars as Urania.” This ghost has been dead for longer than you’ve been alive, longer than many of your most recent ancestors. But his love can still be felt, still burns high above in the sky for everyone to see. What better eternity is there?

“May I tell their story?” You ask and he only nods in response, not taking his eyes off Mnemosyne. You get the feeling he has forgotten about you, caught up in the light of his loved ones shining down on him, waiting. All at once, you realize how late it is, how cold. You leave to return to the research shelter, to write the history of the miracle constellation. 

The stars made out of souls, crafted by love.

Twelve years later, you are not surprised when you look up and see a ninth star in the constellation of Mnemosyne. It glows brightly, twinkling with the other muses as if in conversation. You can only smile through your tears, so profoundly happy that Urania’s lonely vigil is finally over and they have assumed their rightful place among the stars. 

[milkacchan]

Request for anon: Hi! Could you write hcs for poly bakusquad with a quirkless reader who has a serious independent streak but has recently been a target for villain attacks and got injured, but refuses to rely on anyone and tries to ignore their pain and take care of everyone else, please?

This is gonna be a little angsty

• First- it annoyed bakugou that you, someone /quirkless/ made it into the hero class

• On pure fucking spite and anger alone

• You didn't even particularly want to get in to UA

• It was just something you chose to prove someone wrong about

• and it fucking aggravated him- more than aggravated him

• Inspired Deku though, he hated that even more

• and he isn't surebhow- but he ended up talking to you and suddenly you're part of his friend group and he's /okay/ with that

• that irks him too.

• and a lot of things are uncovered when y'all are friendly w eachother

• and they learn pretty fucking fast about your independent streak

• and when you all started dating (crazy how they managed that) they thought it might go away- only it didn't.

• You never asked for help, regardless of what it was- you'd handle it on your own.

• You got hurt during training? Don't worry about it, I'm fine.

• Failed a test? You'd disappear for a few days to study and retake it.

• Didn't know what you were doing in a particular subject? You'd teach it to yourself.

• Aizawa had heard the words 'help' ONCE and he was limited to the help you'd allow him to give you .

• You trained your ass off everyday, you worked hard in school, you took no shit- it was obvious you felt like you had something to prove.

• Bakugou felt like he was a partial reason for that and it made him feel like shit.

• He wasn't exactly the kindest to you when classes started in first year.

• But he was concerned.

• They were all concerned.

• recently, you'd been stressed out. They could tell, even if you weren't giving them signs.

• On top of that, you'd become a big target for villains and no one knew why.

• it seemed like both you and midoryia were a magnet for assholes in masks

• And they tried talking to you about it, they do.

• Denki brings it up, he's holding your hand, Kirishima is threading his fingers through your hair and Seros behind you, holding your waist. Mina is in between your legs, resting her head on your chest and bakugou is at the end of the bed.

• And Denki asks if you need help- whether its coping with it- or dealing with it while its happening- or trying to figure out /why/ they're attacking you

• and you blow him off "it doesn't matter, i'll deal with it if it happens again."

"It's not a matter of if, it's a matter of when." Bakugou glares.

"Okay, then when it happens again, I'll deal with it."

"That's fucking stupid," he growls.

Kami squeezes your hand gently. "Maybe we should have a plan-" he glares at Bakugou.

"I was fine last time. Don't do this."

"Do what? Offer fucking help?" Bakugou snaps and Mina cringes. She grips your shirt. She knows what's going to happen, she knows you're going to stomp off to think- it could be a few hours or it could be days. Sometimes, if she held something on you, you'd stay. She hoped this was the case.

"Your fucking pity." You seeth. "I don't need it. I can take care of myself."

"Baby we didn't-" kiri starts but you're already sliding off the bed.

"Babe," Sero looks at you. "please come talk about it,"

You say nothing, and let the door close behind you.

"Fuck." Mina sighs

• Its 2 days.

• 2 days before you resurface, calm and collected, like nothing happened.

• but you're busy- you're training harder. Much harder, you're pushing yourself past your limits and its obvious

• they were already impressed. Theg already knew you could take care of yourself. Why couldn't you see that?

• you push and push and push

• and they don't see as much of you

• when they do see you at the end of the night, you always look exhausted

• and you put on the same fucking front each time

• you smile and laugh and kiss them goodnight but they can see you're in pain

• they don't even get a chance to talk about it with you

• because the next thing they know

• theyre in another attack and youre in the center of it

• You're fighting and you're holding him off but you aren't going to last much longer

• You were tired from the day before- you hadn't gotten proper sleep- and he was strong

• It's all kind of a blur, really, you're thrown a lot, youre bleeding

• he had you by the neck at the end, you were clawing at his hands and he was laughing

• your mates weren't exactly in the best shape either- after all, the attack had happened in the middle of the night

• A strong kick to the center of his nose seemed to do the trick. There was a sickening crack and his hand loosened and he fell back.

• When you regained youre senses you froze- he wasn't breathing.

• you /killed/ him.

• Your stomach churned and suddenly all the pain you felt increased ten fold.

• You scrambled to stand up, Mina was the first one you saw and you fell to your knees in front of her, cupping her cheeks. "Baby? Baby you okay?"

"M fine, but you're not, that's a lot of blood." She looked up at you her eyes wide. "Baby that's a lot-"

"I'm okay, I promise."

• She wanted to yell and scream and you, she wanted to hit you and telling to just accept help but you'd already stood up, moving to look around for the others.

• Denki was next, you met him with a hug and a short but desperate kiss. "You okay?" You whisper, brushing your thumb over his bruised cheek. Mina was behind you now, gently brushing her fingers through the blondes hair, but she stepped away when she saw Kiri and Bakugou.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," he smiked softly.

"Eiji? Katsu?" You mumbled.

"They're okay, they're fine. You don't look so good though."

"M- M okay.." you mutter. Youre tired now. Standing here is nice. You're dizzy- Ashido was right. That was a lot of blood.

Your eyes close and your weight falls.

"Hey- Hey- Jesus! Guys! Katsuki! I don't- I can't tell if she's breathing-"

• You wake up in the hospital 2 days later.

• Mina's in the bed with you, hand thrown gently over your thighs. Sero and Denki are on the left side, heads down, eye's closed and arms over your shin.

• Kiris got your left hand in his, another hand in Minas hip.

• Bakugous on the right side, arms crossed and head down.

• and youre confused because why the fuck are you here?

• what happened?

• you miss Katsukis voice next to you when it all comes back

• and you can't help but scramble to sit up and suddenly you can't breathe

• youre not sure how long you zoned out, but when you finally get back, there's two nurses

• ones replacing and IV bag

• and the other is checking your tempature, you think.

• theres another needle stick in your arm but you can't pay mind to it right now.

• the warmth around you was gone and you desperately wanted it back.

• they weren't in the room anymore

• and when the nurses cleared the room, the tears spilled over.

• your brought your hands to cover your face and your head fell back.

• five minutes? 10 minures? Later there was a gentle tap on your shoulder

• it was ashido

• your arms were around in her seconds

• "You okay?" She whispered as the others took their spots around the bed.

"No," you shook your head. "I killed him- and and I could've gotten you guys hurt because I didn't listen," your breathing had started to get faster again.

"Hey, it's okay. Just breathe," she soothes, thumbs stroking your cheeks.

"I can't- I- fuck /help me/-" you gasp out

• It takes awhile, but they managed to calm you down.

• Ashido just holds you, she lets you cry, and Kiri reminds you that you're okay

• they do most of the comforting usually

• when you're breath has finally started to even out, and you can feel the pain again, you know you'll be asleep soon from the pain meds.

"How bad was it?" You whisper, hands still gripling Minas shirt.

"Bad." Katsuki spoke. "You stopped breathing when we got you here."

Sero rubbed his face. "You needed a blood transfusion. They weren't entirely sure how it was going to end."

"You were...you were just standing in my arms and then you weren't moving. And then you weren't answering-" denki breathed. "There was blood everywhere."

"What about you guys?"

"Can you just stop?" Katsuki groaned. "Can you just let us worry about /you/? Let us help. Don't ask about us. You almost /died/ and your only fucking thought is us. Why?" He was crying, head down, hands gripping his pants.

"He's got a point. It's okay to ask for help," kirishima whispers. "So why don't you?"

• you're quiet for a few moments.

• do you go into detail.

• or do you dodge the question.

• ultimately, the fear of losing them outweighed any shame you would have felt

• "its hard not having a quirk." You mumble, eyes down. "Quirks are practically currency. And power is highly valued. I don't have that. I don't have any of that. I'm in a constant risk of being replaced and if I ask for help, they know I'm weak. I can't ask for help."

• And they all feel their hearts shatter a little bit.

• Bakugou had poked fun at you for quite some time in first year for not having a quirk.

• and Denki wasn't much better- neither was Sero. They'd make jokes about how fast you'd drop out.

• Bakugou would break a little bit, reminding you that you weren't weak. You still being alive was proof of that.

• and slowly

• slowly you get accustomed to ask for help.

• its not necessarily with words- sometimes they ask and you just nod

• or you ask in your own way.

• youre independent streak remains- but its not as bad.

[youarejesting]

Wash Out.22

[Master List]

Banners: @purpleskies1999 Pairings: Dolphintrainer!Taehyung x SharkDiver!Jin,  Mer!Jimin x Reader, Scientist!Namjoon x MerKing!Jungkook, Mer!Yoongi x Mer!Hoseok. Rating: 16+ Genre: Mystery, Romance, Comedy, Drama, Fantasy, little bit of Action, Slice of life, Enemies2Lovers, Friends2lovers, Social media au, Fake Texts, Fake Subs.

Summary: Taehyung and his best friend Y/N are Dolphin trainers at Wash Out; Marine Wildlife and Theme Park. When the nerdy marine biologist and resident veterinarian Doctor Kim Namjoon goes missing; the two friends form a ragtag team with Taehyung’s rival Seokjin and a…. Fish?

[Prev] 

There was no limit to which Taehyung could grieve. But there was a limit to his bank account. The new CEO Tom was a kind man, offering them a chance to mourn their losses and collect themselves before returning to work. There was a small funeral and memorial for Mr Schmidt within the theme park. 

Although the employee’s were respectful they remained impartial to the change of leadership. With new management came more appropriate wages. 

Waking beside Y/n reassured him things would be okay. You were the only reason he got out of bed and Taehyung suspected you felt the same. Uncanny how the two of you were sporting matching puffy eyes and pink tipped noses. Taehyung gave a soft smile, you had been supporting him while he broke down assuring him that Seokjin would return. 

It was time to show Y/n that she had someone to lean on. Knowing you had lost the first person you had developed such a strong bond with. There had been a few before Jimin and there may be more to come, but like magic the two of you had a special kind of love. The rare kind that happens only to few.

Taehyung wondered what you were thinking, if you were really okay, or just saying you were because that's what people wanted to hear. Dressing quietly he noticed you stir out the corner of his eyes. Begrudgingly pulling yourself out of bed and getting ready in the bathroom.

The playful banter on the way to work became silent pondering of thoughts. Hands reaching for one another if those thoughts turned dark. Taehyung was grateful for the company, grateful for the silence. He had no pressure to act like things were okay when they weren’t.

In saying that pulling into the employee parking lot Taehyung cut the engine. Pulling the visor down to look in the mirror, he tested a small smile. Almost foreign and unfamiliar to him, the muscles seemed to have weakened.

How many days had it been? Two and a half weeks later, as the days passed any hope of Seokjin or Namjoon’s return dwindled extensively. 

“Tae, we should go in,” Y/n smiled hand ready on the door handle braced for work like it was war. 

“Yeah, sorry.”

The security seemed awkward greeting them, rightfully so they had been accused of stealing money from the theme park. It wouldn’t surprise them if everyone kept their distance. Dolphins on the other hand seemed to understand their feelings better than humans. Bubbles, Captain, Dolly and her new pup Hopster came up to greet them, sensing their mood and trying to cheer them up with little jumps, squeals and splashes.

It pulled soft genuine smiles from you both, it was mid practice when a voice called from the bleachers behind the show tank. “You know Joonie, I have never seen a dolphin show, but it looks pretty lackluster, the dolphins are doing all the hard work. The instructors don’t really feel committed to the show.”

“I think they have been having a rough week, maybe they might have lost someone close to them.” Namjoon said softly. “You can never know what someone else is going through without asking.”

“Should I go ask them?” Seokjin said, standing and strolling over, the two looked clean and fresh like they had just come back from a vacation and not the bottom of the ocean.

Taehyung had broken down in the water, crying as the dolphins playfully bumped him with their noses trying to stop his tears. You pulled yourself out of the water and ran over, hugging Seokjin. His whines echoing around the small amphitheater.

After practically suffocating Seokjin in a firm hug you pulled Namjoon in as well, he was surprised by the action. Probably because the two of you were never really close but unlike Seokjin he didn’t complain about the wet patches left on his clothes.

Taehyung had practically crawled out of the dolphinarium show tank, the dolphins wiggling on their bellies beside him on the small raised surface. Seokjin walked towards him sorrowful and compassionate, opening his hands for the young dolphin trainer and groaning when he was pulled into the knee deep water. Letting Taehyung clutch him tightly, his complaints ceased when he felt the younger man shaking in his arms.

“It seems you must have been suffering with me gone.” He tried to coax Taehyung’s head from where it had buried into his neck, but it only encouraged him to grasp tighter and bury his face deeper into Seokjin’s chest. “Hey, you can’t be crying like this, you are going to make me sad.”

“I thought you had died,” Taehyung whimpered voice broken and small, his hands clutching the soft sweater fabric pulled tight over Seokjin’s shoulders. Taehyung looked up, eyes wet, puffy and red for yet another time this week. “I thought I lost you, before I had a chance to tell you properly.”

“Tae, I can barely understand what you are saying,” Seokjin wiped his sleeve under Taehyung's nose, “You have to speak clearly, don’t ruin my good pants for nothing.”

Taehyung pulled him forward kissing him passionately. Taehyung was thrilled to have Seokjin back in his arms. He was unable to stop himself from slowly walking backwards more and more until he reached the edge of the water. Seokjin was too distracted by the kiss to realise until it was too late.

Pulling the older man into the dolphinarium and giggling when they resurfaced. “Ya!” Seokjin shouted, “We were going to dinner after this, I was dressed up and everything.”

Taehyung was apologizing, his grin never faltering as he chased a soggy Seokjin back to the locker rooms. The three of you emerged from the change rooms spotting Namjoon standing awkwardly by the entrance.

“Are you ready to go?” Y/n asked, slapping his back playfully, “I hear Seokjin is paying for dinner tonight.” 

“What, you wanted me to come to dinner?” Namjoon said his words, stumbling unsure and confused.

“You don’t want to come to dinner, Namjoonie-Hyung?” Taehyung grinned up at him, before the two of you took Taehyung’s car following Jin’s from the parking lot to the restaurant. It was a small barbeque place, it was a secret treasure known to only a few.

The drinks started flowing. Namjoon seemed awkward at first but he was soon laughing with the rest. “I have never really done this before.” He admitted sheepishly.

“Drank?”

“No, I haven’t had dinner with friends before,” His ears were pink and your smile fell, Taehyung felt like the worst person to ever exist. “I know Jin and I tried but there were always things getting in the way.”

“Hey, we are your friends now, we were just rude idiots. We didn’t know about how cool you were until Seokjin told us how special you meant to him.” Y/n explained pouring him another drink.

“You weren’t rude, I just am really awkward and I know I talk about crabs a lot. It isn’t the most appealing conversation people want to have.” Namjoon waved his hands trying to calm the sad looks around the table, “I am just happy you think of me as your friend.”

Seokjin gasped, pulling a small cloth from his pocket, “Jimin asked me to give this to you.” He placed the cloth in your palm and you opened it slowly. “He got back safely and was definitely worried if you were okay,”

Opening the cloth to reveal a necklace, a cream shell spiraling in a cone shape and in the opening fitting perfectly secure was a gold Pearl. Taehyung leaned over, taking the necklace and helping you secure it around your neck.

~

You were called into work early one morning by Namjoon, he said something was wrong with Dolly and her pup and he needed help. Taehyung was outside and you sleepily let them drive you across town. You were being pushed into the old marine clinic, Taehyung threw you some swimmers and pushed you into the change room.

Moving quickly you followed Namjoon who was talking about the pups condition seriously, “This is our last chance, just go in first and check on how he looks and appearance and then we will begin the treatment, make sure you keep him calm and make him feel safe.”

You nodded, slipping slowly until you were treading water by the catwalk, about to ask a few questions when you were pulled under by the ankle. Confused and scared, you spotted Jimin in the water, his face showing how happy he was to see you. He swam at you grabbing your waist and resurfacing. You started crying and you wiped your eyes laughing and coughing from the water you had partially inhaled in shock.

“I am leaking,” Jimin touched his cheeks and you kissed him happily. 

“How did you get here?” You sniffed, “We have to get you back to the water.”

“Hey, it's all good I have something special with me this time, it allows me to walk on the ground just like you. Our king Jungkook gave it to me. He says I can visit whenever I want, because you are my promised.”

[Prev] THIS IS THE END! YAY! I hope you enjoyed it.

Tags: @backinblack1967 @miriamxsworld @moccahobi​ @simplymemyself @a-gayish-unicorn @ella-mella @vjinfan23

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[katnissmellarkkk]

General #7

Hiiii! Okay, well I bet you thought I forgot about this! Or, more than likely, you forgot you even requested this back in Decemeber. But never fear, my child. I remembered and have been thinking of this fic and what to write for months. 

And so I’m so sorry, I’m a total perfectionist and I started and discared like 3 ideas for this before deciding on this oneshot sooo if this sucks, I’m at least comforted by the fact that I accomplished something in writing this itself? That sentence made zero sense but... I’m tired 🤷🏼‍♀️😅.

Prompt : General # 7 :

“Is that blood?” 

“Yes but that doesn’t matter right now, what does matter is-” 

“You are literally bleeding.”

Anyways, thank you for the prompt and here we go! 

Whispers Of Light

I don't know exactly how I got roped into this. How exactly Delly Cartwright, Peeta's best friend—and alright, my friend now too—managed to convince me to help her and Leevy and about three dozen other members of the community with sorting boxes.

Sorting boxes. Organizing contents. Decorating with "found treasures".

The type of activities Prim loved doing with our mother. The type of activities I refused to do after my father died, to punish my mother for her depression.

The type of activities I now kick myself for walking out on, that I'll never be able to take back. I'll never be able to get those moments back with my sister. I'll never know what those hours between her and our mother entailed, because I chose to exclude myself, just so I could hold onto my petty anger for something that was out of all our control.

Maybe that's why I agreed to help Delly and the others with sorting through boxes upon boxes of debrief, of the items that scarcely survived Twelve's bombing almost two years ago. Maybe I only agreed out of guilt, both for never doing this type of endeavor with my sister and for being the direct cause of the bombing itself.

But whatever my reasons were, I agreed to help nonetheless, and I always follow through my promises. If there was one part of me forged in the war, if only one minor aspect of me was amplified in the smoke and haze and blood of revolution, it was the importance of keeping your promises, against all odds.

The dire consequences of a broken promise has long lasting aftereffects, beyond anything either Haymitch or I wish to dwell on.

"Katniss!" Delly calls, holding up an old, half-ripped paper book that is completely void of a front cover. "Look! I think this book is from the old Apothecary Shop!"

I squint at the dusty, decimated item, not entirely convinced. "I don't think so?" I murmur, unable to even decipher the words on the now melted, conjoined pages. "I'm pretty sure my mother kept the only apothecary book in her family?"

Kanon Bagley turns to inspect the battered item in his girlfriend's hands as well. "I don't think this is a medicinal plant book, Dells," he says sheepishly, a small smirk playing on his lips.

She gives him an incredulous look. "What do you mean medicinal?"

I peer up at him too, not comprehending his meaning any more than Delly. "What kind of plants do you think are in here?" I ask, taking the nearly destroyed object myself and flipping through the worn pages again, seeing odd herbs that neither of my parents ever mentioned or had on hand. "These don't look like the poisonous ones my father told me about?"

Kanon bites back a laugh now and I can't help feeling a little perturbed. As kind and soft-spoken as he usually is, I'm foreign to the feeling of him laughing at me. "What?" Delly snaps at him before I even can.

He still chuckles though, in spite of both our nasty glares. "You guys, it's a book of plants that'll get you high."

It takes a full minute for the meaning to dawn on me. Long enough that Leevy and a couple guys I used to go to school with come over to inspect the book as well. Long enough that they confirm Kanon's assessment just as I realize we're talking about plants that'll make you feel akin to how the morphling made me feel while confined for I killing Coin.

While everyone else snickers—and Delly full on chortles—I pass the book back to Kanon, sliding out of the crowd and moving towards a brand new box of savaged items.

It's not that the mention of plant-based drugs is a trigger for me. It's not something I ever truly gave any thought to before, to be honest. My father likely knew of them but it's not like he was about to bestow that kind of knowledge on his eleven-year-old and my mother perhaps felt it was inappropriate to mention.

No, it wasn't the subject in itself that hit a sore spot for me. But like so many times before, it's where the subject led my mind. It's where the topic took me back to.

Snow's Execution Day. The day I chose to kill President Coin instead. Being thrown back into my old tribute room. Getting high on the morphling.

Trying to forget all that I'd lost. Trying to forget my little sister becoming a human torch before my very eyes. My district engulfed in flames. The ambiguous loss of my best friend.

The connection between me and Peeta that I believed then would be permanently severed. That I believed then to be irreparable.

I suppose I believed then I was irreparable too.

And I miss Peeta suddenly, even more than I already did. Because he always knows what to say when my thoughts turn dark, when I'm suddenly triggered out of the happy, every day events and suctioned backwards to a war torn bird with her wings clipped.

But he's not here to talk me down or scare away the ghosts haunting my mind. He's not here to comfort me or even shoot me a supportive glance. No, he's at his very busy business today.

Peeta's bakery—the Mellark Bakery—has only proven to withstand the test of time these past few months. Since someone accidentally burned down the place, with nothing more than a croissant and a fancy Capitol toaster, the rebuilt bakery has been nothing but a success.

And also extremely time-consuming, I grumble internally, as I begin to pull out stuffed toys that once belonged to dead children.

"If any of those are still intact, we can donate them to the community home," Leaf John says as he opens the box across from me.

"And what exactly are we supposed to be use as decorations from these boxes?" I murmur, peering into another cardboard container, full of half-charred papers and cloths.

The general idea of today, as Delly had pitched it to me last week, was to help the community of Twelve finally sort through these boxes, donate what we could to those in need and decorate the new Justice Building with the leftover contents inside.

Somehow though I can't imagine pinning up terrible drawings of plants that'll inebriate you or headless teddy bears is going to bode well with the district.

Delly rolls her eyes in my direction—a whole new kind of response that I never thought I'd be receiving from the girl who skipped through the town square until she was fourteen years old—before nodding towards boxes on top of the ladder. "We're decorating the Justice Building with the surviving photos from those boxes, Katniss."

"Oh." Then why am I sorting these grimy, dirt-covered playthings? Why didn't anyone give me more clear instructions on today?

And why has it taken almost two years for Twelve to get a group of people together to organize the surviving items from the bombing?

I have no idea how Peeta's managed to get two bakeries built in the time it's taken for thirty-eight of us to come to the Justice Building and look through fifty cardboard boxes. And if I'm being honest, I have no idea why I'm even still here helping. I'm clearly not contributing much to the event. There's definitely more than enough volunteers without me.

And, of course, I could be at the bakery right now. Without a doubt, I'd be of more service there than I am here, digging through dusty knickknacks. I could be helping Peeta and Thom and the other part-time employees, exerting more knowledge and authority than I have here.

After all, Peeta did say the bakery was partially mine. In his mind, at least.

The ulterior motive of getting small, fleeting moments with my boyfriend, of basking in the feeling of safety with him beside me, of the occasional stolen kiss or hand squeeze when no one is looking, runs through the back of my mind.

And sways my decision immensely.

I open my mouth to tell Delly and the others that I'm about to head out, that they clearly have it covered here and I'm just in the way, when at the worst possible second, Leevy kindly murmurs, "Katniss, do you mind starting on the box on the ladder? Seeing if any of the pictures are in decent enough shape?"

I hesitate for a long moment, realizing immediately my predicament. It'd be rude to leave right after someone just essentially assigned me a task. I did agree to be here today, to help out with this tedious project. Leaving right now would only come off as rude and inconsiderate.

This is the reason I never did enjoy group assignments in school. The longer I'm here, the more I'm rediscovering this fact about myself. The division of the workload, the bore of the standing around, not knowing if you're doing the right or wrong thing, the lack of total control.

But I still nod after waiting a beat too long and agree with the nicest flare in my tone I can manage.

I'll go through the one box at the top of the ladder and then subtly make my exit afterwards. The image I unintentionally conjured up of Peeta and the bakery is still pulling at me, making me anxious to get back to him, to see him again even though we were together only three hours ago.

Since we officially became a couple a few months back—though Haymitch scoffs at that notion, claiming we've been together since Peeta first started sleeping over in my bed—I've found myself growing far more clingy to him than I ever could have anticipated. I hate when he leaves for the bakery in the mornings now, even as I still revel in the solace I find inside the woods. I look forward to his return home every night. More than even look forward to it, I'm usually at the bakery around the closing hours, helping him clean and inventory, asking him when he's coming home. Maybe looking somewhat unconsciously flirtatious as I say it.

I grab the box sitting on the ladder's top stair and pull it open, easily maintaining my balance one rung down, the same way I maintain my balance on a tree branch while hunting.

Inside pours out a plethora of photographs, mostly of Twelve's now past citizens. Near the top of the pile I see images of Greasy Sae's daughter, Dolly. The mother of her granddaughter. The daughter who died of croup a few years before the war.

Those photos must belong to Sae, I realize. Which means more of her items are probably scattered throughout the boxes here. And despite the fact that I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she'll tell me not of be impractical, that if she's made it two years without these things she doesn't need them now, I still make a mental note to return her lost items. If nothing else, I make a mental promise to give back to her the photos of her daughter.

I know better than anyone what kind of comfort photographs of the deceased can provide.

As if in line with my thoughts, as if I alone manifested it somehow, the next image that catches my eye is one I entirely do not anticipate.

It's a shiny photo, on the kind of glossy paper my family could never afford. In the image is a blonde man with broad shoulders and a tall build. Wrapped in his embrace stands a petite girl, with long blonde curls and mascara accentuating her already long lashes. The couple both have eyes that match the color of the sky and are dressed up in some of the nicest clothes in all of Twelve. A white dress with lace. A gray suit with a black vest. The pretty girl wears jewelry and lipstick and there's a familiar glint in the male's eyes and I find myself mesmerized.

And I can't pretend I don't see my boyfriend in both of their faces. I can't pretend Peeta isn't the spitting image of both his parents.

He has his mother's smile, I realize with startling assurance. I never saw the witch smile personally, at any point in my life so I suppose I wouldn't know where he got his charming, sweet grin from.

The mannerism looks so out of place on his mother. The kind smile Peeta has, the one that could light up a blackened sky, doesn't bode with the woman in the picture, even on her wedding day. The charming smile doesn't fit with what I know of the woman's character. With what little about her Peeta chooses to share.

But I'm even more surprised to find how much Peeta has come to resemble his father. How much Peeta has grown to favor the now deceased man.

The last time I saw the baker—the original baker, that is. Haidon Mellark—before the Quarter Quell, I resented the fact that Peeta wasn't as tall or as broad as his father. I privately believed if he'd inherited those traits, he'd be even more likely to win the games again and I could worry about him less.

Peeta was always taller than me and was always remarkably strong, after working in the bakery since childhood. But his father was a whole different level. Haidon Mellark, I'd forgotten until now, had a body that could only rival my own father's.

And as it turns out, Peeta did inherit Haidon's physicality. He just also happened to be a late bloomer. Like his mother, I imagine, staring at her tiny frame in the picture.

The change in Peeta's form occurred so gradually I barely even noticed until a couple months ago, when I woke up with my head against his heart and abruptly realized just how broad he had become. Until I couldn't even reach to kiss his jaw on my tip toe. Until he started laughing at me and had to lift me up in order to properly embrace the way I like.

"Katniss?" I hear Delly beckon, trying to bring me back to reality. Trying and failing, that is. I hear her but only in a vague, distant sense. My mind is still stuck on the image in my grasp. Still stuck on the novelty that I managed to find a remembrance for the boy who still at times questions if his memory is full of lies.

"I still cry about my family and somedays I can't even remember their faces."

I never even considered the possibility of finding a token of Peeta's departed family here. It never occurred to me, the potential finds in this box at my fingertips, that I could take home to my boyfriend. I never imagined finding him something to hold onto when the inevitable dark day came again like a storm cloud, full of thunder.

I'm so entranced what this could mean for Peeta, so lost in my own little world, that I'm barely even hanging onto the ladder. I'm definitely not as steady as I should be, standing near the top rung.

And I'm definitely not steady enough to hang on when Delly gives it a rough shake, trying to catch my attention.

/

The boxes break my fall. Sort of. Kanon and Leaf John had taken the liberty of placing the empty cardboard, already looked through and emptied, beneath the ladder.

Falling headfirst into a large, void box is better than falling plainly onto the filthy, concrete tile floor. But not ideal. Not as helpful as falling into a box of surviving clothes or toys would have been.

Delly apologized profusely for shaking the ladder. She'd even begun to cry when she noticed the blood seeping from my forehead.

Thankfully Kanon was there, as I didn't have the energy to console her much. I don't even know how I managed to cut my head at all, but it stung a fair amount and it provided me the excuse I wanted minutes prior, to escape the group project and head for the bakery.

Even after the fall, my mind still was cemented on the newfound treasure. My first instinct was still to show this memento to Peeta as soon as possible.

Kanon though, like a good friend, insisted on walking me home, despite my many protests that it was unnecessary, that I was just fine, that I could walk home blind if I had to. He insisted, foiling my intention to walk directly to the bakery and not wait for Peeta's return home, which still remained hours away.

Kanon was surprisingly stubborn when he felt strongly about something and I chose to relent, to give in and allow him to accompany me back to what used to be Victor's Village—where he now resided with Delly, inside Peeta's old home—without much fight.

Fighting for your independence and autonomy doesn't exactly present you as rational when there's a bloody gash in your forehead.

"Doesn't that hurt?" Kanon asks as we make out way up my porch.

I look up, maybe a little startled, from Mr. and Mrs. Mellark's wedding photo. "My head?"

"Yeah," he says carefully, looking at the blood like it's a mutt in an arena.

I shrug, doing my best not to indicate how dizzy I actually feel. Either from the fall or the blood still dripping out despite my attempt to plug the wound up with old cotton rags someone sorted into the trash box. "I've had worse."

He chuckles, a little sardonically. "Yeah, so have I."

I thank him for walking me home—for it was as inconvenient as it was sweet—and close the door slowly behind me, before leaning my ear against the wooden frame, waiting. Waiting for him to climb the steps down from my porch and make his way back to the Justice Building. Waiting for him to be far enough out of sight that I can sneak back out without him also trying to accompany me to the bakery.

It's not that I don't appreciate Kanon and Delly and all of my other friends' concerns. It's the fact that I wish to bestow a likely loaded item upon my boyfriend and I really don't need an audience to do it.

It's not the easiest feat, to slyly time it so Kanon won't hear me opening and shutting my front door again. And it's probably not my smartest plan, to walk alone along the rocky cobblestones and the uneven concrete, with a less than level head and body.

But I make it to the back door of the bakery still, just as I knew I would. It takes three times as long, but I make it there nonetheless.

Still clutching the photograph of his parents between my fingers too. Still with the same primary focus on my mind. To give him a token of remembrance, a token of the imperfect family he lost so tragically, that he still greatly missed, even when he can't say their names. Even when he can't conjure up their faces.

"You don't remember your family?"

"Sometimes I do... I'm not so sure other days. My memory isn't exactly top notch, if you know what I mean."

I push open the heavy-weighted back door, using all the energy my body can muster up. To my relief, Thom is already in the back room, sweeping flour off the floor.

"Hi, boss," he greets slyly as I walk in, barely glancing up at me. I shoot him an over-the-top eye roll, though I can't help smirking myself at the stupid nickname, when he beckons Peeta. "Hey, your girl is here!" He yells loudly. Too loudly to be packed with customers at the counter.

I take that to mean the daily rush has come and gone. Which would be very convenient, as it means I can present Peeta with my finding that much faster, without having to worry about his business—or our business, as he teasingly calls it—being held up.

I hear the sound of my boyfriend's quiet laughter from the front. The sound that I akin to my father's singing or my sister's squeal of delight. The last sound still alive that can make my heart do a flip.

But it dies out the second he peaks his blonde head into the back room. The moment his baby blues, the same color as both his parents', meet my silver ones and then trail upwards.

Almost as if remembering the gash in my head, I reach to my forehead, to ensure the makeshift cloth bandage is still in place.

"Katniss?" Peeta says, his eyes looking far more nervous than I anticipated. Which I can only take to mean the red liquid has seeped through the plain fabric. "Is that blood?"

I don't want him to focus too heavily on that fact though. Like I told Kanon, I've had much worse injuries in my life. Me and Peeta both have.

Just look at his prosthetic leg.

"Yes," I reply easily, before moving closer to him, pushing the glossy photograph towards him. "But that doesn't matter right now. What does matter is-"

"You are literally bleeding."

I sigh, feeling slightly perturbed now. "Peeta, look," I insist, thrusting the image of his parents towards him, waiting for it to take anchor.

And it does. It takes a beat longer than I expect, but it happens nonetheless. I watch silently as the image captives him, as the shiny photograph takes him back to a time when this exact location was the only home he'd ever known and this business was run by the two people inside the picture.

He touches the photo, as if to test it's realism, before looking up at me in disbelief. "Where did you find this?"

"The Justice Building today. Inside the boxes, with all the things lost in the bombing."

There's a long pause as Peeta process this. The silence makes me antsy, finding myself abruptly uncertain of what could be going through his mind.

Finally, he whispers softly, "I never thought I'd see this picture again."

And the awed, tender smile that spreads across his face swiftly encompasses me in its warmth.

And I suddenly don't even feel the gash in my head anymore.

/

Read The Rest On AO3

[ddarker-dreams]

Purgatorio. Yan Giorno x Reader [COMM]

Warnings: Stockholm syndrome, descriptions of anxiety, briefly implied suicidal thoughts.  Word count: 3.2k.

Cold droplets of water run down the curves of your face, falling into the sink with a hushed splash. 

The faucet runs in the background. For how long, you do not know. Time doesn’t move and neither do you. Everything is still -- too still -- lending to the impression the only person in this world is you. In a way, that conclusion is close to the truth. This would be paradise, meticulously crafted for your confinement, boasts a modest population of two.

Your hands grip tightly onto the edges of the countertop, knuckles going white from the vise-like grip. The pain you should feel from this tight hold goes unnoticed. Each forced breath is shakier than the last, betraying the intention of steadying your heaving chest. You lift your head. In the mirror, staring back is a figure that faintly resembles your liking. A version that would deceive anyone else into believing it to be you. On a surface level, they’d be correct. None of your features have changed drastically. The eyes that are staring back, though glassy now, are the same eyes you’ve always had in color and shape. 

Shaky hands take liberty in splashing water towards your face. With undeterred focus, you direct the water mostly towards your lips, frantically dousing them. Once is nowhere near enough. Twice, three times, four times; nothing can wash away the faint tingling that haunts. This doesn’t deter you. In a trance-like state, you try to wipe yourself clean of impurities, hoping to be pure as freshly fallen snow. The fabric of your shirt is as drenched as you are from the frantic efforts. Thin material clings to you, as does the hair on either side of your face. 

You turn the faucet off. 

Sinking to the ground, you wish your legs wouldn’t betray you as they do now. It’s a miracle that you even managed to make it here on your own strength. The remnants of your energy have bloomed and withered away, your body no longer capable of supporting its own weight. Tears join in a union with the tap water. It comes out at once. Sobs wrack throughout your body, your shoulders shaking and head hung low. There is but one question that haunts your mind. A question that can no longer go ignored, but when answered, will change the trajectory of everything you’ve come to known. Everything you’ve taught yourself to cope and survive.

When did you stop hating him? 

There’s no singular moment that carries the answer, preferable it may be. It was an unobtrusive, slow yet steady descent into apathy. Giorno cornered you, yes, but that was the extent of it. He backed you up against the cliff and stopped there. It was your decision, and yours alone, to make the blind leap. Searching your memories, you look to find the day your animosity faded, your sense of self dying alongside it. 

Was it the strained yet casual talks in the morning? The luxurious gifts of diamond-studded jewelry, luxurious outfits, and exotic flowers? When you no longer flinched when overheating his approaching footsteps? Maybe it’s all of that, and more, times you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge yet. All you know is that somewhere along the line, the flames of your disgust flickered, leaving no signs that it ever even existed but ashes. Without noticing what you were doing, your fingers travel to your bottom lip, eyes closing.  This would be what served as the final nail in the coffin. 

The evening had been a normal one. 

Normal. That you had described it that way should’ve served as an omen. It had been just after an uneventful dinner. Giorno promised to take you on a walk through the outdoor gardens, an invitation not so easily rejected. Most if not all of your days were spent in the confines of four walls. The moon, which had just taken the place of the sun, illuminated winding cobblestone paths. Shrubbery of every kind sparsely decorated either side, a visual delight, pale moonlight casting an ethereal glow on each branch. You trailed behind Giorno in a silence he allowed. Lost in thought, taken with the beauty of nature. 

It was you who broke the silence. A foolish mistake. “Giorno?”

He turned and looked at you, slightly taken aback that you called for him so easily. That had to have been one of the few instances where his name left your lips, a sweet sound he committed to memory. Mundane as it was for you, Giorno interpreted it as something greater, a welcome evolution. He nodded to signal that you hold his undivided attention. A thought that was on your mind surfaces. 

“I’ve been thinking about… things I can do,” you licked your lips, tentative. Giorno eyed your body language closely, and you felt the weight of his stare. “Gardening is what I always come back to. I’d like to grow something, as a way to pass the time.” 

Your sentence died out toward the end and turned into a whisper. What a difference there was in your posture compared to his, you noticed. He never doubted himself. Never showed signs of apprehension, always crystal clear on the decisions he needed to make. Where you trod lightly, he went forward with confidence. Silly as it may be, you envied that aspect of Giorno, an aspect that elevated him to a place just out of reach. You wondered if showing more conviction would get you the results you wanted from him. 

“I’ll have it arranged so that you can. Was there something, in particular, you’d like to grow?” Giorno asked without missing a beat. Your heart leaped in your chest, encouraged by how well he received your request, and in record time too. It should’ve served as a premonition. At the time, you were more than pleased, and subconsciously took a step towards him. A step closer to your undoing. 

“Well, it’d need to be in season… maybe carrots and cauliflower. I’d like to plant things that I could cook later.” 

“That’s a good place for a beginner to start. Though I must admit, I never took you for someone who’d be interested in gardening. What brought this on?” 

It’s no use. Giorno, tactful as he may be, could see through you as if you were glass. You shifted your weight from one leg to the other. Lying would serve no purpose, he’d notice it. The truth is a frightening concept. How he might interpret your words left room for anxiety. You knew that standing there with sealed lips would be incriminating, and rushed out an unfiltered answer. 

“I want to go outside more.” 

He peered down at you through thick, blonde eyelashes. Giorno took a step closer to your person, and he frowned at the way you flinched from the sudden movement. The interaction left a bitter taste in his mouth that he sought to be rid of. To understand and deal with a person are two sides of the same coin, both a talent he’s cultivated well. Giorno’s calculating eyes met yours and never left. 

“[First]...” your name rolled off his tongue like silk, smooth and deceptively soft. “I’ll see what I can do to make it work. You know I’m partial to anything you ask of me.”  

Giorno’s tenderness was palpable, and you ate it up. The illusion of freedom blinded you to reality. He raised his hand and hovered it right above your cheek. Giorno awaited your reaction and tested the waters. When you offered no signs of resistance, he cupped your face. You noticed how his fingers trembled. This unabashed affection was the first of its kind. New to you and him both. You stared up at him, as your heart hammered against your ribcage. A touch that should’ve made you recoil did nothing of the sort. You welcomed it and treasured how human it made you feel. 

The change had been so subtle, that you missed it in a blink of the eye. His face grew closer. You could catch the different notes of his signature cologne -- sandalwood, leather, spice -- and the coarse texture of his suit which rubbed against your skin. Giorno was so near, that you felt his warm breath against your face. He looked at you through lidded eyes and sought to close the gap between you. Your mind was a flurry of thoughts and emotions, muddled by the unexpected events. For all of Giorno’s shortcomings, he had never touched you so boldly until then. And you had never let him. There you stood, frozen like a statue, allowing him to do as he pleased. 

His lips met yours. 

It didn’t register at first. Everything had happened so fast, that your mind struggled to keep up. Giorno’s kiss was chaste, a method to test the waters. To test you. He tasted of the Tartufo di Pizzo he ate earlier, rich and saccharine. When was the last time you were this close to another? That you felt a human’s loving touch, basked in the warmth of their body? You can’t remember for sure. It must’ve been a long time ago, a time before Giorno Giovanna. The moment ended as soon as it arrived. At your lack of reciprocation, he went to pull back. God, it would’ve been so simple if that’s how it ended. If that served as the final chapter. All you had wanted was to feel human again, not like a glorified prisoner in gold bars. That’s the only plausible reason, right? The meager distance between you two was closed again, though it was your lips that met his. Giorno let out a noise of shock, an emotion you were never able to draw out of him until then. 

Where he had been soft, you were unrelenting. You kissed him with primal urgency and wove your hands into the strands of his golden hair to pull him close. Giorno was more than pleased to let you do so. The initial stupor wore off, and he matched your fervor with equal tenacity. You’re not sure what exactly was on your mind then. You didn’t know why you did what you did, other than to distract yourself for a moment. How gratifying it had felt then. Giorno held your face in one hand, while the other traveled down to your waist. That eager touch served to pull you back into reality. Almost as if the clock had struck midnight, the spell was broken, and you were left with the undignified truth.

You realized what you were doing. Who it was you had just been kissing, and you staggered back. Eyes wide as a doe, unsure of who the blame was to be placed upon. Giorno had to choose to loosen his grip on you, and you felt every ounce of his hesitance. Those all-knowing, omniscient eyes opened, clearly perplexed. His eyebrows furrowed and lips parted to speak. Before he had the chance to question you, you scampered back into the house. Giorno stood there and watched you depart. His soul stirred. It could’ve been your imagination, but you swore you saw a flash of gold behind you. 

Which leads to now. 

Seasons change, as do feelings. A fickle thing emotions are. They take the form of liquid, reshaping, and redistributing themselves according to their environment. Never did you envision your loathing transforming into… no, you won’t say it. You can’t. Plans for the rest of the day are up in the air. Maybe it’d do you some good to get rest. Holding this thought in mind, you will yourself to get up, legs unsteady. You make your way out of the master bathroom that connects to your private suite, a luxury that Giorno bestowed. Each step feels heavier than the last. A King-sized bed awaits, silk linens dipping underneath your weight. Sleeping forever sounds lovely right about now. How can you ever face him again? What does he think of you now? Worst of all, why do you care? Throwing yourself onto the bed, you shut your eyes, willing your mind to go elsewhere. Anywhere but that disaster earlier. The chance to do so never comes, much to your chagrin.

There’s a knock on the door. 

You freeze, assuming the worst. Heart pounding violently, you search for an explanation, that might explain the person at your door. Maybe it’s the mouse-like staff that tends to Giorno’s estate in the shadows. Rarely do they interact with you, likely at his behest, though it isn’t impossible he’d send them to check up on you. That hope melts when a deep, composed voice speaks up, a voice that you know too well. 

“[First]? Are you decent?” Giorno probes, his voice muffled by the closed door. You glance down at your outfit, knowing he’ll have a fair share of questions at your current state. It’d be easier to avoid the confrontation entirely. Easier, but not plausible, you bitterly think. Lord knows he has eyes everywhere. Lying to get around this might serve as a point of contention in the future. So you sigh, swallowing down the lump in your throat. Straightening your shoulders, you place your hands on your lap, hoping to appear somewhat collected.

“Yes, I am.” You confirm after a moment's deliberation. His response is immediate.

“Can I come in?” What an amusing question. Giorno could do whatever he pleases, having the locks to every room in this estate on his person. It’s you who is subject to his every will and whim, you who doesn’t have a true choice in the matter. A thin veil of courtesy hides the viper who waits to strike at your heel. Might as well get this over with, you decide. It’s either now or later.

 “You can.”

Giorno opens the door at your confirmation, and you hear the keys jingling like funeral tolls. He’s well put together to the point of frustration, hair set in place perfectly, suit without a wrinkle. You sometimes wonder if Giorno Giovanna is even human and not a deity. Unfortunately, you’ve yet to conclude and are leaning towards the latter. As you expected, his eyes temporarily wander to your soaked appearance, lips pulling into a tight frown. It takes a moment to realize how he might interpret this look. Not to say the thought has never crossed your mind, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“I… I, uh, wasn’t trying to drown myself,” you stutter out with an unconvincing smile. He looks to the ajar bathroom door, and back to you with a raised eyebrow. You clear your throat. “You can check yourself. I was freshening up in the sink.” 

“I’ll take your word for it.” Giorno exhales, adjusting the cuff of his suit. He looks around your sparsely decorated room. Any onlooker might wonder if someone lives here at all. The room is immaculate, no clothes were strewn about, not an item out of it’s assigned place. You realize it’s been a long time since Giorno’s been in your room. Months, even. When you were first brought here, he’d explained to a distraught you what was happening. Speaking about protection, your well-being, how he could take such excellent care of you. At the time the grave words didn’t sink in. You had no idea what turbulent future awaited you then. Is Giorno thinking the same thing? If he is, he doesn’t mention it, returning his focus to you. 

“About earlier,” he pauses when you wince. Giorno gives you a second to gather yourself before continuing. “I wanted to apologize. It was inappropriate of me to assume your feelings.” 

Assume your feelings? What does he mean by that? The confession stuck out like a sore thumb. You uncross and cross your legs on the other side, unable to sit still. Sure, you’ve grown to be passive in his presence. Even you can acknowledge this. That’s all it is, passivity, not… acceptance. Or worse, reciprocation. Months of combative behavior taught you how exhausting hatred is. Giorno proved that no speech, act, or plead of yours would sway him. You’d have better luck convincing a brick wall. This wording troubles you greatly, and Giorno picks up on it.

He continues. “I misinterpreted your body language and acted without thinking. I saw what I wanted to see.” 

Giorno doesn’t make mistakes like that. He’s many things: your kidnapper and sole provider, a merciless Don to those who stand in his way, and a man borderline capable of reading the thoughts of others. You can’t picture a world where Giorno slips up in reading other’s moods. What point would there be in lying to you about this? He saw what he wanted to see, this line repeats in your mind like a mantra. There was an undeniable reason for its inclusion. To make you feel better. An out, a silver lining to keep everything as it was. Giorno didn’t make an error in his judgment, you realize, face paling. I… I do love... 

“That’s all I came here to say,” Giorno informs, observing how your face twists from your thoughts. He knows it’s due to him. “I’m sorry for disturbing your evening.” 

It feels like arctic water is crashing down on you, frigid and fraying your nerves. Giorno pivots on his heel and turns to leave. You know you should let him. Taking this outstretched hand would be simpler, likely even better for your sake. It’s painful how your stomach churns, how every breath is more difficult than the last. This anguish is a deeply rooted one. Too personal and oppressive to withstand any longer. Let him leave, you think. Just let this be over with. 

When have you ever listened to reason?

“Giorno,” you call to him, as you did earlier, voice somehow more delicate than it was then. He turns around, face never betraying his thoughts. Giorno’s impossible to get a read on. Clenching the frame of your bed, your gaze drops to your lap. “You… you didn’t misinterpret anything.” 

Blood rushes to your cheeks, and you bite your lower lip. “What I mean to say is… it’s fine.” 

You gather enough fragments of confidence to raise your head. Turquoise eyes, rich and expansive as the Tyrrhenian sea, pierce through with an intensity Giorno’s never used on you. Your mind goes blank, and you forget how to properly breathe. He breaks the stun-lock first. It’s rare that you ever see a genuine smile on Giorno’s face, but there’s no denying this one is. He’s quick to cover his mouth with the back of his hand. You feel an odd sense of loss at this.

“I’m glad to hear it.” With that, he retires for the evening, bidding you a final goodnight. Giorno closes the door silently to not disturb you. As per the routine, you hear locks going into place, one after the other. You lose count. Footsteps echo down the hallway, signaling his departure. You’re doubtful Giorno himself is going to sleep, he’s a willing victim to late nights, and can only assume he wanted to offer you time to think.

So you are left here on your lonesome. 

Not quite in heaven, and not quite in hell. 

[saphirered]

HIIII! It's me again (Eldritch knight reader) sorry I kinda dipped out but I hope you are having a great day! I was wondering if you could do one last request for that mini series of requests, where Essek finally asks reader on a real date and it's going great (Knight could notice some figures following them *cough* M9+verin *cough*??) there's some flirting/teasing but sadly the date comes to an end and reader walks essek home, they say their goodbyes for the night but not before reader finally kisses Essek and whispers a goodnight!

Hi! Welcome back. Now of course this wouldn't be me if halfway through writing I realised this was turning way too long so it'll be a two-parter again to keep it readable. Hope you don't mind. Any way, here's the first part so I hope you enjoy! 😘

-

A long day of disasters with the Nein returning just in time to be thrust into more relentless hours of study with Essek wasn’t exactly how you envisioned to spend your day and luckily for you Essek is a merciful soul, when it comes to you that is. Seeing how battered and bruised you were, and mentally exhausted he refused to let you touch his precious tomes or even scribble a single note on paper. He had even gone as far as making said smaller items disappear into the nothingness. Damn wrist pocket spell. Essek was determined. You needed rest. He’d make sure you got it.

So instead of hours upon hours spent at Essek’s home he opted for staying with you retreating to the upstairs of the Xhorhaus and finding the both of you a comfy spot to spend your time in a more relaxed environment. Essek sits, back against the tree while you lay sprawled across the floor next to his outstretched legs eyes closed as the wizard reads to you. He may not have allowed you to read for yourself as to not overwork yourself but the compromise you convinced him to was agreeable. More than agreeable if you’re honest.

It’s no secret you like spending time together as you do so a lot. You may be a little more affectionate with each other than say for example with Caleb or Jester. It doesn’t go unnoticed Essek likes you, if anything the man’s made it pretty clear and vice versa. Neither of you have just ever acted on it. With everything going on in your lives, how could you? You’re a ragtag adventurer with no allegiance to kingdom or country. He’s the bloody spymaster of the Dynasty. It’s not exactly a conventional prospect of a future, nor is it likely to succeed with the kind of lives you live. Could you really afford that kind of struggle? Maybe, if you were willing to take the risk but lately things have been hectic and this moment of relaxation beneath the tree at the top of this tower is the first moment of peace either of you have known in a long time.

You swear, you’re paying attention. You might still have to reread the whole book again as you’re just entranced by the sound of Essek’s voice. The man could make anything sound interesting. Give him those pages from that Iva lady back at the Chastity’s Nook in Zadash and Essek could make even that sound like a master piece. Though in hindsight, maybe best not as you think he might not be able to get past the first few sentences himself. The cringe.

“Are you still listening?” Essek’s reading voice breaks in favour of the question as he watches you drift off with a smile on your face. He’s almost afraid to ask the question but is unsure if that’s because you’ve grown tired or the subject bores you too much.

“Hm?” You perk up turning your head to the side and looking at the wizard. The exhaustion is written over your face but doesn’t diminish the content smile you present.

“Perhaps that is enough for the day?” Essek suggests closing the book and sits up a little straighter. He places the book by his side as you sit up and go to reach for it. Essek’s quicker and places his hand firmly on top of it and prevents you from taking it. He’s very sure you’d have no trouble retrieving the book if you really wanted to and maybe he’d like you to try, just a little, but you’re tired and need rest. Not fill your mind with pages of knowledge attempting to cram in the words. You’re a good study but even the best of studies cannot combat the banes of exhaustion.

“It is getting late anyway.” Essek says as you roll back and find yourself, head leaning against his thigh, looking up at the drow with a pout as he insinuates he’ll have to leave soon. You catch him off guard but he’s not opposed to the sense of affection and comfort you radiate. Physical affection is rare between the two of you especially since he’s very new to it in such contexts. He’s still getting used to it and he’d be lying if he said it’s unwelcome.

“If you say so.” You stay like this for a few more minutes before the ruckus downstairs pulls you out of your moment and you’re reminded Essek needs to head back to his own home. He still has business to attend to, business he’s been procrastinating in favour of spending more time with you. You sit back up, swing your legs beneath yourself and rise to your feet offering Essek a hand to help him to his feet.

“Essek, do you have a moment.” Caleb calls over as he enters the living space. The drow looks at you as if to ask if you know what this might be about or more like your permission to allow himself to be whisked away by the wizard interrupting your goodbye. You shrug.

“I should probably try and prevent this kitchen fire waiting to happen. I take it Cad’s still out getting groceries?” Caleb nods and you sigh shudder preparing for the oncoming disaster rushing into the kitchen like a valiant hero, albeit a little more domestic than your usual adventures, valiant no less.

A conversation between two wizards in one room and a homemade fluffernutter dismantled in another you reunite with Essek. There he is floating in all his glory, cloak back around his shoulders you see him off. Essek seems a little… nervous? Is that the right word? So you give Caleb a look but he acts all innocent. You know better than to trust that. Nevermind, you’ll have an easier time getting it out of Essek than Caleb if you need to. Caleb sends the others off to their own business persuading them to clean up before Caduceus returns and finds his precious kitchen in disarray or any other state he didn’t leave it in before he left. The firbolg is quite protective of his pride and joy. You lead Essek over to the hall but interpose yourself between him and the door crossing your arms and tapping your foot expectedly.

“So is this where you tell me what you and Caleb talked about or am I going to have to work for it?” The look you give Essek makes him want to spill all the beans right then right there but he wants to do this the right way and not be a blabbering incoherent mess. He has to do this the right way. You deserve that much; if not for the way he feels then simply for every effort you’d put in your actions to do with him.

“It’s to do with you.” Oh? Now you’re curious. “I asked Caleb for some advise.” What in the worlds would he need to go to Caleb for to get advise on to do with you? Essek’s not one to admit lacking either skill or knowledge when it’s about people and even less so to confide in another in such a way because by all means, his little side bar with with the redhead was anything but an interrogation to get information about character, motives and possible leverage like he would have navigated a political encounter.

“And what, pray tell could Caleb be lecturing you on?” You grin with he gentle stroke at Essek’s ego. If you know one thing, sweet-talking will get you everywhere with this man. Not that you’d minded. Not that you were lying. You’d never lie about such things. But you’re also not against using your opinions to gently persuade the drow in revealing what he’s hiding.

“Matters of heart. It seems I am at a disadvantage when expressing them to the subject of my affections.” Essek admits and you watch the skin of his cheeks to become a darker shade of purple. Damn, this is not going the way he envisioned it. Like a rock being tossed into the elemental plane of water, sinking into that eternal ocean.

“Oh really, now? It seems to me you’re doing perfectly fine.” Essek laughs awkwardly and looks to the floor to gather his bearings but when he feels your hand rise to his cheek and lift his gaze to look you in the eye, when you step in a little closer to him. He knows you’re teasing, or at least partially teasing. He also knows best to rip the bandaid off quickly and hope you’ll be merciful in your answer.

“I was wondering if you’d join me on an outing, tomorrow if it suits you?” Essek feels the words leave his lips. He doesn’t blurt them out like some lovesick fool and is thankful for that at least.

“Of course, will we be going to the library again? Or another shopping trip? Need me to carry more of those heavy papers again? Please can we do this time without any assassins sent to kill you? I think we could both do with a break for once.” You laugh and it becomes quite clear to Essek his phrasing might have been a little off so he’ll have to correct himself. Great. Just what he needs. Make this more awkward and difficult for himself than it already is. Maybe he would have been better off blurting out the words like a lovesick fool.

“What I had in mind would be more like a planned outing, a break from our usual lives and away from the responsibilities we both carry.” Essek clarifies and the copper drops for you.

“Essek, are you asking me to go on a date with you?” Yes. Yes. For the love of the gods, the Luxon and all that is sacred thank you for speaking the words correctly instead of leaving him to go in circles until he can’t anymore and dies from embarrassment. Why does he always turn into a mess when it comes to you? Because he likes you, a lot, maybe even more than just like. Definitely more than just that.

“That is exactly what I have been attempting and failing to convey, yes.” He admits ashamed. Your laugh makes for a good consolation though, no matter your answer. Up until now the possibility of your answer whichever outcome, had never been a bother to him as he never really gave asking you a thought, for his own sake or this may just have gone much worse with his tendency to overthink. In suspense he awaits. Not even the powers of dunamis at his fingertips could make the passage of time before your answer feel like less when in reality you barely missed a beat.

“Of course. I’d love nothing more.” You caress his cheek. Your smile grows from amusement to joy and Essek couldn’t be happier. He felt himself slipping into a smile of his own. Essek let himself go in that joy and relief you accepted rather than the stress of the actual date tomorrow. He’ll worry about that one later.

[numba99]

Tis The Damn Season

Summary: You return to home around the holidays, bringing up some unresolved feelings between you and your best friend Nolan. This was highly inspired by the song Tis the damn season but Taylor Swift. I highly recommend listening to it (its amazing) and it really sets the ~vibe~. Word count: 5.3k

a/n: this is my longest one shot ever I think omg. but I love it so much I think this is my favorite fic I have ever written. let me know what you think and please Enjoy!

Warnings: smut

You walked down the street of your hometown, accompanied only by your breath going up in smoke. You were surprised that you were barely even registering the cold. You had assumed when you left Winnipeg for LA, your body would completely lose all its defenses to these frigid temperatures. However, as you were beginning to learn, the Canadian cold was the kind that seeped into your body and made a home out of you. It never truly left.

You almost forgot how silent Canadian nights were, the blankets of snow soaking up nearly every sound. If it wasn’t for the crunch of snow under your boots, you imagined it would be silent enough to hear your heart thumping in your chest. Especially now, as your heart began to realize where your feet were taking you. Nolan’s house.

You’ve been back at your parents’ house for a few days now as you got ready for the holidays. You hadn’t so much as seen Nolan once since you returned. In normal circumstances that would be absolutely unheard of, but considering you haven’t heard from Nolan in months, circumstances were certainly not normal.

Ever since you returned home, you’d been going on these nightly walks, as if trying to retrace your steps to that night where it all went so wrong. It felt like years ago thinking back to it now. It had been an oddly mild March night - nothing like the weather now - and you were home for spring break. It was your last semester at school and you had made probably what was the biggest decision of your life up until that moment. Instead of moving back home from your school in California after graduation, you were going to stay there. It was bittersweet, you loved your hometown and all the family and friends that inhabited it, but you also felt like you were meant for something more. Something bigger.

You were sitting with Nolan on your porch, enjoying your last night before you would return to school when you told him.

“What do you mean you’re moving there? Like permanently?” Nolan had asked, brows stitched together in confusion. His response had taken you aback; you expected him to be surprised but he seemed genuinely upset.

“I mean I can’t predict where I’ll end up forever, but it would definitely be permanent for the foreseeable future,” you had explained.

“I’m never going to see you,” Nolan had replied, his voice barely above a whisper. There was genuine hurt in his voice that was creating an ache in you that you couldn’t quite place.

“Nols, we barely see each other now. Remember that team you play for? In Philly? That not exactly close to home,” you had tried to sound light, but the joke fizzled and died in the tension between the two of you.

“You shouldn’t do it y/n,” Nolan replied, shocking you with his lack of support. You were rarely ever angry at Nolan, but this sparked annoyance in you. He was your best friend, why wasn’t he happy for you?

“It’s not up to you,” you replied, more defensive than you intended. You couldn’t help it, everyone you told had been questioning you and you had built up frustration. You’d thought about this for a while, and it felt right, you didn’t understand why everyone was acting like you were making some crazy impulsive decision. No one questioned Nolan when he went after his dream of playing in the NHL, so why was this suddenly so crazy to all your friends and family?

“And what are you gonna do there? What friends do you have?” he had fired back.

The anger in his voice made the words sting more than they should have. “I have a job lined up after graduation. And I have plenty of friends, thank you very much.” Anger was bubbling up in you - you were notorious for letting yourself get to a boiling point and just explode at someone. Nolan was getting dangerously close to being the unlucky victim.

“Right, your LA friends how could I forget,” Nolan muttered, rolling his eyes. Nolan had visited you once while you were in college. Let’s just say he didn’t exactly get along with your friends there. He hasn’t visited since. Partially because of his busy schedule, and partially because you knew he thought they were… not his type of people (to put it nicely).

“Just because you don’t like them doesn’t mean they’re bad people,” you snapped. What did he know? “And why are so pissed about this? I didn’t throw a fit when you moved to Philly.”

“That’s completely different.”

“How?”

Nolan stared at his hands, and you knew him long enough to know that what he did when he was something weighing heavy on his mind. He opened his mouth a few times before finally speaking, “I don’t want you to be that far from me.”

You were taken aback again but in a completely different manner. “What do you-”

Before you could even process what was happening, his hand cupped your face and his lips found yours. That was the closest you had ever been to a heart attack. Nolan was your first and best friend. Your parents had met in college, their friendship being the predecessor to yours. You were born pretty close together, so you’ve literally known him your entire life. There was no one you were closer with, no one who knew you better. You’re not exactly sure when your feelings grew beyond friendship. You supposed the seeds had been planted early, blooming over time into something you couldn’t control even if you tried.

Having a crush on your best friend is about as fun as it sounds, especially when you don’t think they feel the same. That’s why it shocked you so much to feel him kiss you. It was something you’d wanted for years, though you had never thought it would ever be a reality. You were speechless.

Nolan must have sensed your shock when he pulled away. He mumbled something that sounded like a goodbye and left in a hurry. You should have said something. You should have gone after him. But you didn’t, you sat there, weighed down by surprise of a dream coming true in a nightmarish way.

And then silence.

Nolan didn’t come to see you off the next day. He’d never missed you leaving for college, even when it was just returning after a break like this. The two of you rarely went more than a day without speaking and now there was nothing. With every day that passed that you didn’t hear from him, the ache that started that night you told him you were moving grew. Now that it had been months since you last spoke to him, it practically consumed you.

You knew how ridiculous it looked. He was your best friend, you should have been able to reach out to him. But that kiss had left you in a vacuum. Nothing made sense after it. Besides, he kissed you, shouldn’t he be the one to break the ice? Maybe that was a silly way to think of it, but with the more time that passed without speaking, the harder it felt to reach out. Now that it had been months, it seemed like an impossible bridge to gap.

Every night since you returned, you had walked the block that your homes share. Deep down, you knew your feet were on a mission to get you to his place, but it wasn’t until today that you were able to get close. You had always pulled yourself away before you could really get a good look at it. Today, however, you were finally standing in front of it, basking in the familiar, warm glow.

Your heart began to pound, realizing at any moment someone from his family could look out and see you standing there. You were about to turn around and hightail it home when the front door opening caused you to freeze. Your breath caught in your throat. It was Nolan.

His head was down, a grey beanie pulled down low over his forehead. He almost didn’t notice you; his eye only catching you when he reached his car. He stopped in his tracks, looking at you as if trying to decide if you were real.

“Y/n? Is that you?” he asked, his voice somewhere between confusion and conservative joy.

“Yeah, uh- hey,” was the only thing you could get out. You suddenly became aware of just how cold it was.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice seeming to be just on the crest of a quiver, “Where you… what are you doing out here?” It was clear he didn’t know what to make of you standing outside his house, and you didn’t blame him. You probably would be equally as shocked if the tables were turned.

You searched your brain for something to say. Nolan was someone you could talk about anything with, so it was killing you now to feel like you couldn’t find the right words to say to him. “I was just going for a walk I guess,” you answered finally. It was partially true.

“Clearing your head?” he guessed.

You nodded, allowing the smallest of smiles. He still could read you after all this time. “Yeah, I guess that’s exactly what I was doing.”

“Me too,” Nolan replied, motioning to his car. There was a quick silence before he asked, “Do you wanna join me?”

You could feel your blood coursing through you, spreading sweet warmth spiked with nerves. You missed him so much, and even though you didn’t know if it was smart to spend time with him when you didn’t even know what you wanted to say to him, you could not resist getting into his truck. You desperately needed something familiar.

You nodded and Nolan gave you one of his infamous half-smiles, punctuated by the click of his truck doors unlocking. You silently slipped into the passenger seat, something you’ve done a million times before, breathing in the scent you knew would be there. Mint and clean leather. Somethings never change.

It was weird going through the motions as nothing had ever changed. You could almost pretend that things hadn’t. However, the thick silence that settled between the two of you prevented you from reveling in that dream. It was so foreign to sit next to Nolan and feel uncomfortable. You never felt awkward around him - well there was that one time when he walked in on you in your bra but that was short-lived. He went out and bought a bra just so you could walk in on him in one so the two of you were even. It was ridiculous but it made you laugh and forget about your embarrassment. That was one of your favorite things about Nolan, he always knew how to make you feel better now. You could use that Nolan.

“Where were you planning on going?” You asked when you couldn’t stand the silence anymore. You tried to sound casual, but you heard the nerves fraying in your own voice.

“Somewhere we both know well,” Nolan replied. Cryptic as always, but you didn’t push. You had a feeling you knew where he was going anyway. The dark road sprawled out before you, illuminated only by his headlights and street lamps that were losing a fighting battle against the darkness of a December night in Canada.

You didn’t expect Nolan to say much as he drove, and you were still at a loss so the silence continued, heavy and suffocating. It felt like the two of you were fighting to breathe in the last bit of oxygen the small space had to offer. That made it all the more of a relief when you recognized the turns Nolan was taking. He was going to a park the two of you spent a ridiculous amount of time in as children. Even as you grew, it continued to be a place the two of you enjoyed, whether it be hiking the trails in the summer or sledding down the giant hill in the winter. It also became the location of many of your heart to hearts when one of you was going through something. A fitting spot for whatever was about to happen.

Nerves fluttered through your stomach as he pulled in. You knew a talk was coming, but you had no idea where the two of you would stand when he drove you out and that terrified you.

Nolan parked by the playground, buried under a thick blanket of snow. It stood like a relic to a lost childhood, a sense of freedom and possibility that was lost under burdens it wasn’t meant to bear.

“I would say we should go to our bench, but I don’t think you’d survive the trek,” Nolan joked lightly. The bench he was referring to was the one you always had your talks at. It was tucked away beyond the playground under a large maple, which you could see peeking out above the climbing walls. Somewhere on that tree “NP + Y/I friends 4 evr” was carved into the trunk. You weren’t sure how many summers ago the two of you did it anymore, but you do know you wished you’d carved a heart instead of just friends. Regardless, it puts a smile on your face every time you see it.

“Me? I didn’t know you were suddenly immune to frostbite,” you replied as playfully as you could manage.

“I’m better off than you. I haven’t been spending the last few months in LA.” You knew it was supposed to be a joke, but it came out with an accusatory edge. Any response you could think of died on your lips. A fight was the last thing you wanted to start right now. Back to silence.

Both of you kept your eyes trained ahead; it was a lot easier than facing each other. That didn’t stop you from stealing glances from your peripheral, trying to get a read on him. Nolan had an infamous poker face, but his energy was palpable. He was buzzing like a fluorescent.

Suddenly you couldn’t take it anymore. “Why?” You broke through the wall of ice between the two of you. “Why did you disappear on me?”

“I’ve been here the whole time. Technically you disappeared on me,” Nolan replied.

“I told you I was going,” you shot back.

“Yeah, the day before. More of a warning would have been nice,” he mumbled.

“Oh, so you could have a few extra days to ignore me?” Your words came out more venomous than you intended. Months of sadness were being compressed into a deep, hurting frustration.

Nolan finally looked at you, hurt etched into the blue of his eyes. A street light shined behind him, giving him an ethereal glow. Even though he was upset with you, he still took your breath away. “Talking is a two-way street you know,” he fired back, “You never picked up the phone either. I thought… I don’t know.”

“What?” you pressed.

“I thought you forgot about me.” His voice was barely audible, his eyes falling away from yours.

You couldn’t help but let out a strained laugh since it was the absolute opposite of the truth. “Nolan I thought about you every single day since I left,” you admitted without thought. You quickly added, “As pathetic and weird as that sounds, it’s the truth.”

“I thought about you every day, too,” he replied, looking at you again. Some of the hurt has dissipated in response to your statement.

“So why didn’t I hear from you?” You were less accusatory and more curious in tone this time. The anger was leaving you, now you were just confused and sad over the time you lost with him.

Nolan, taking off his beanie for a second to run his hand through his hair. “I guess I thought I fucked up,” he replied, pulling the beanie back into place. He added sheepishly, “By kissing you, I mean.”

Your heart ached. “Did you regret it?” you asked, trying not to show how much of a blow it would be to you if he said yes.

“No,” he replied, “I mean I would only regret it if it pushed you away, which I sort of feel like I did. You just looked so shocked and upset after, I thought I crossed a line. Then when I didn’t hear from you, I thought you were mad.” He paused, looking down at his hands, turning words over in his head. “I guess I was kind of embarrassed, too,” he said finally, “I’ve wanted to do that for so long, and then it kinda blew up in my face.”

You couldn’t believe what you heard. He wanted to kiss you? For a long time? You covertly pinched yourself to make sure this wasn’t some cruel dream. “You have?”

Nolan let out an embarrassed laugh. “Yeah, I have. I was just scared if you didn’t feel the same it would completely fuck up our friendship. Which it looks like I succeeded in doing.” he sighed.

You shook your head. “Nolan, you could not be more wrong,” you replied. He cocked a brow at you and you continued, “I’ve had a crush on you since- well- forever. I’ve wanted to kiss you for the longest time. I was just so shocked that it happened I sorta shut down.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” you confirmed. “God I feel like such an idiot.”

“That makes two of us,” Nolan half laughed. You joined him in the short laughter, fueled mostly by shock. A short silence returned as the two of you digested the weight of the revelations you just had.

“So… where do we go from here?” Nolan asked finally.

You let out a long sigh as you tried to collect your thoughts. “I’m not sure,” you replied honestly. “I mean hearing that you feel the same way as I do as you is the best news I’ve gotten in like, well ever,” you paused laughing at yourself, “But these last few months… they’ve been so hard. It’s hard to digest all this.”

“Was it all bad because of me?” Nolan asked, concernedly.

“No, not entirely,” you replied, not wanting him to feel guilty. In truth, he was only part of the equation. You had a ridiculous stubborn streak so it was hard for you to admit that maybe moving to LA wasn’t a great idea. You quickly learned that going to school and living/working somewhere were two totally different things. In school, you knew your friends were available every weekend; there was always something to do and people to be with. Now, everyone was weighed down by jobs and responsibilities that far outweighed term papers. Not to mention the job you thought was perfect was looking more like a dead end every day. Plus, Nolan may have been right about a few of your friends not being so great.

You continued, “It’s just, well it’s hard for me to admit, but LA isn’t exactly what I thought it was going to be. It was definitely hard without you, like so many times I wanted to reach out to you, but I didn’t because I was scared and confused. I feel pretty stupid about that now.”

You half expected Nolan to tell you he told you so, which you wouldn’t even blame him if he did, but he said, “I wish I was there for you. I’m sorry”

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault, we were both kinda stupid,” you replied as lightly as you could, “But if these last few months have taught me anything, it’s that I need you in my life. If we were together and something went wrong and I lost you, I don’t even know what I’d do.”

Nolan nodded in agreement, “You’re my best friend, I never want anything to come between that.” You both believed the words you spoke, and yet it felt like things were unfinished. You both weren’t satisfied with going back like nothing had ever happened.

“What if,” you began slowly, “I mean I’m here for a few more days, what if we just gave this - us - a shot during that time. We don’t tell anyone, it’s just for us to explore. If it doesn’t work out we can just go back to being best friends and forget this mess. But if it does… well I guess we will go from there.”

“I think that’s perfect,” Nolan agreed, joy creeping into his voice for the first time since you began talking. You couldn’t help but fling your arms around him in a big hug. It’s been so fucking long since you got to do that; it brought you an indescribable level of joy just to feel his arms around you again.

You both pulled back, smiling at each other, the hurt of the last few months melting away. Nolan brought his hand to your face and pulled you in for a soft kiss. Your head was spinning.

“As much as I wanted to do that the first time,” he said with a smile when he pulled away, “I wanted to do it a million times more now.” You giggled, pulling him back to your lips. You were never going to get tired of this.

“Take me home Nols,” you said breathlessly when you were finally able to peel yourself away. Nolan smiled, quickly shifting his truck into gear. You loved that you didn’t have to specify his home. He knew you, better than anyone.

Silence returned, but of a much different variety. It was now charged, alive with the promise of what was to come. You kept your hand firmly laced with Nolan’s, not wanting to give up touching me for a second. You’ve wanted this for so long, you had lost time to make up for. Years of it.

You’ve never been more glad that the basement of Nolan’s house had been turned into a little apartment for him. You absolutely adored his family, but you didn’t want to be seen by any of them sneaking into his room at this hour. That would be hard to explain.

Nolan helped you out of the truck, lifting you over some large piles of snow. After just a few steps over ice and banks of snow, Nolan decided it was easier to just carry you. You didn’t protest, letting out only a muffle shriek-giggle as he hoisted you on to his back. He navigated the tundra that was his yard with you clinging to him like it was nothing.

The warmth of his little place enveloped you the second he opened the door. Your lips found each other with a newfound excitement as the door closed behind you. You breathed in his familiar scent - mint and cedar - and realized why you had bought so many cedar candles when you moved. You’d been trying to replicate Nolan’s scent subconsciously, but nothing compared to the original. You began pulling off each other’s outerwear, trying to keep as much contact as possible. Within minutes coats and snowflakes were surrounding your feet.

You continued to kiss and peel off clothing as you half walked, half stampeded to his bedroom. You’d been in it plenty of times before when you guys hung out, but it felt so much more intimate this time around. You fell backwards onto his bed, his sheets greeting your back like a soft kiss. Nolan climbed on top of you, a heavy, lusty grin painted on his face. You took in each other, both only in your underwear. Rationally you knew it was no different than seeing each other in a bathing suit, something you’ve experienced countless times, but it still felt worlds apart. You couldn’t help but blush under his gaze.

Nolan’s hand came under your chin, tilting your face so he could look at you in the eyes. “No need to be shy, love,” his voice was smooth as honey, “It’s only me.” He punctuated his words with kisses down your neck. He to plant extra slow, sweet kisses around the edge where your bra met your skin, before removing the garment from your body. “So pretty,” he breathed against your skin. You tangled your fingers through his hair as his kissed and sucked lightly at your delicate skin.

“Nols,” you breathed as you felt his length brush against your clothed core. There were two too many layers of fabric between you. “Please.”

“I got you baby,” he cooed. He shed the final bits of clothing from the two of you and you sucked in a breath. He was bigger than you thought (because yes you had thought about it more than you care to admit), but moreso, you couldn’t believe this was happening. For so long, Nolan had felt like a dream to you, beautiful but always just out of reach. But now he was here in the flesh, touching you and kissing you and fuck you don’t know how you got this damn lucky.

“God you’re perfect,” he sighed, reverent.

“Look who’s talking,” you replied, running your hands down his body, truly feeling him. “You’re like a god or an angel or something.” You were tripping over your words, completely flustered by having him like this. So flustered, that you didn’t even notice his hand trailing up your thighs until two fingers slid into. Your head fell back, a moan melting from your lips.

“Now that’s angelic,” Nolan smiled, returning his lips to your neck. You weren’t sure if it was because you were so into him or if he was a master with his hands(probably both), but he had you worked up in minutes. Your body reacted to his every touch, arching into him to get as close as possible.

“Nolan I’m gonna-” the words died on your lips as a wave of bliss flooded your body. You let out breathless gasps, feeling a pleasure you have never previously experienced.

“Fuck that was hot,” Nolan said almost to himself. The way he looked at you made you feel like you could cum all over again.

“I need you Nols,” you said, greedy for more. He didn’t skip a beat, fishing out a condom from his bedside table before returning to you. Your heart was pounding with nervous excitement and you silently told it that you would never forgive it if it gave out before you got to finish this experience.

Nolan seemed to sense your nerves and pressed a soft kiss to your lips before saying, “We’ll go slow. Just enjoy it.” You nodded kissing him back before positioning him against you. You were so slick from your first orgasm that he slid in easy, though it didn’t make the feeling any less intense. Your back arched and Nolan gripped your hips into place, hissing at the feeling of you around him.

It wasn’t until he was all the way in that you both let out a breath. You felt so full and satisfied you’d be fine if he stopped there. Of course, he had other plans in mind. True to his word, he went slow, drawing out every thrust to let you feel each other. “You feel fucking amazing,” the words tumbled out of his mouth. If you weren’t so blissed out you may have been able to muster a reply.

Slowly, his pace quickened and you knew you weren’t going to last much longer. It was crazy what Nolan did to you, the way he was able to make you feel this good. And he knew it too. Sensing you were close again, his thumb found your clit, rubbing circles over the already sensitive spot. “Come on baby, cum for me,” he purred, licking his lips.

It was all  you needed to succumb to his euphoria. His name left your mouth in a moan as you came for the second time. You barely heard his curses through your fog of bliss, but you couldn’t mistake the feeling of him twitching inside you as he came along with you. This blew everything you ever imagine out of the water by a mile.

“That was…” Nolan’s voice trailed off as he collapsed beside you. He pulled you on to his chest, peppering you with kisses.

“Amazing? Mind blowing? Perfect?” you offered.

“Perfect,” he confirmed, kissing you once more.

*** The next few days passed in a blur of pure perfection. There is nothing more that you needed after your disastrous few months in LA than to be surrounded by the people you love at the holidays. And being with Nolan made it all the more better. Truly, it wasn’t much more different than when you were friends, except there was a lot more kissing and touching under dinner tables.

When you weren’t enjoying these magical moments, your mind was going a mile a minute. You were trying to figure out all your options and navigate all the paths you could possibly take in your mind. No matter how many different possibilities you came up with, they always lead you back to Nolan. After these few days you couldn’t imagine your life without Nolan, and not just as a friend, but as a lover. Not just a lover, the lover, the only one you’d ever need. Or want.

Making that revelation both excited and terrified you. If he didn’t feel the same it would crush you. Those feelings came to a head on your last night, sitting out on your porch with Nolan like those many months ago. You could hear Christmas music and laughter of your families floating out from your house.

“So,” Nolan began.

“So,” you echoed, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

“I’m just gonna cut to the chase,” he began, “I don’t think I’ve ever been  happier than I have been in these past few days. I love you, y/n. I always have and I probably always will even if you don’t feel the same. But I want this. I want us.”

You practically jumped on him, giving him a long kiss and not caring if anyone inside saw. “I love you too, Nolan,” trying to fight back tears. They were happy ones, but they’d probably freeze on your face. Nolan beamed brighter than you’d ever seen him.

“I have a sort of crazy thought though,” you admitted.

“What’s that?”

“I know I want to be in a city and all this time I thought LA was my perfect fit. But it’s certainly not,” you huffed, “But I think I know what would be. Philly.” Nolan looked at you like he was trying to decode if you were joking. You were most certainly not. What if he thought it was crazy? Or too much too soon.

Your insecurities disappeared as quickly as they came as he said, “There is nothing I would love more.” You hugged him tightly, wondering how it was possible for one person to feel so much joy.

“There’s just one more thing we gotta do,” Nolan smirked, “Tell our parents.” His head tilted to the front door.

“No offense, but I think your mom is gonna love this more than the necklace you gave her,” you teased, standing up and dusting some snow off of you.

Nolan chuckled, “You say that as if this hasn’t been on your mom’s list for years.” You giggled because he was absolutely right.

You took his hand as he led you back into your house. The warmth of both your home and all the people in it hit you the second the door opened, embracing you in an overwhelming sense of joy. There was absolutely no feeling in the world like loving Nolan, and you were so glad it was your feeling to keep. Forever.

[mehbzz]

Lost

I cant stop myself. Hopefully one day I will escape this Chocobros ABO Au obsession but today is not that day. On the plus side it’s good writing practice! Not to tag @weebsinstash everytime but it was their idea that kickstarted my mild obsession. Last time I promise! F!reader and Ignis. orgasm denial, fingering, controlling/manipulative/aggressive behaviour

“Are you lost my dear?” The voice surprises you and you let out a squeak, much to your embarrassment, as you turn towards the man who had appeared at your side. Partially hidden by the shadows, you catch a glimpse of reddish-violet hair and amber eyes staring intently back at you. “No I’m fine, thank you”. He continues to stare, his eyes narrowing as they sweep over you, head tilting to the side as he examines you. Just as you start to trip over awkward into uncomfortable he nods.  “Enjoy your evening my dear,” he tips his black fedora towards you, “Farewell for now” You watch him walk away and disappear in the direction of the hotel before you continue your journey further into the town.

A foolish stumble while packing up the tent after the boys’ last hunt had left you with a beautiful purple bruise across your knee and a myriad of minor aches and pains. Gladio and Ignis had become unbearable with their attention afterwards, refusing to let you carry or do anything other than sit and watch as they packed up. This meant that asking if you could go explore the town you were all currently staying in had been met with an immediate no. Gladio responding before you had even finished the question. Thankfully Noctis and Prompto had also wanted to go explore and with some gentle persuasion from Ignis, Gladio had relented under the provision that the three of you stayed together. You hadn’t meant to end up on your own, but it hadn’t been long before the two younger alphas got distracted by their phones, and to avoid getting drawn into their bickering over whether or not Prompto had managed to cheat in King’s Knight you had turned away to admire a shop window and when you turned back they had gone. Your panic had been brief, you knew the way back to the hotel, it was a safe town, and best of all; you were finally alone. You could relax, you could explore, you could try some new cuisine, maybe meet some new people, and head back to the hotel later. You knew you were going to get a telling off for this, but the excitement of doing something just for yourself overrode it. Besides you didn’t technically wander off. Noct and Prompto did.

The sun was just beginning to set by the time you decided to head back to the hotel, staying out perhaps a little later than you intended. As you round the corner to the hotel you bump into the man from earlier coming from the opposite direction. He grabs your waist to stop your stumble and although he says nothing he smiles at your apology. His scent is strong but strangely bland and you can’t help the shiver of unease as he lets you go but doesn’t move away. “Sorry“ you repeat, but he doesn’t reply, just watches you with those unnerving amber eyes as you quickly step away.

As you enter the hotel you are immediately hit with an angry bark of your name. Looking across the lobby to see Gladio stalking towards you and Prompto looking worried behind him. The look changing to obvious relief when he locks eyes with you. Gladio says nothing as he reaches you, other than a continuous low warning growl that has you momentarily freezing in alarm. He obviously doesn’t appreciate your reaction and the grip on your arm as he drags you towards the rooms is painful. His scent a confusing mix of anger, concern and something tangy you can’t identify.

He pushes you into your shared room and you stumble, rubbing your arm where he had been holding you. “You do not wander off alone.” His words are almost a snarl and your alarm evolves into a tinge of fear “You do not talk to other alphas” “I didn’t ta-“ He cuts you off with a low growl “you reek of other alphas”. You’re not sure what to say to that and are pretty sure anything you say will just incense him further so you keep silent. Avoiding his gaze you glance at Prompto who offers you a weak smile. “You look at me” Gladio steps into your line of sight and you force yourself not to shrink back at his glare. “You will stay in this room until I come back”.

You scoff, “I’m not a chi-“ “you will stay in this room” it’s a command. This wasn’t the first time Gladio had used the creepy alpha voice trick on you, though it was the first time it had ever been spoken in such anger. The command shot through your chest like lava, a whirling line of heat that spread up to the back of the skull and threatened to give you a major migraine if you tried to disobey. You felt angry tears start to well up in response and tried to blink them away. This was unfair. This was unfair bullshit. But you kept your mouth shut; arguing now would not end well for you. “Yes, alpha.” You hissed. You saw Prompto flinch slightly at your tone, but Gladio didn’t react, other than to turn and leave the room, tugging Prompto with him before closing the door with a slam. You stand there in the middle of the room for a few minutes, frustration and tears threatening to overwhelm you. Trying to keep yourself from breaking down you sit on the edge of the bed, spending a few minutes angrily tugging the sheets and pillows off so you can cocoon yourself underneath them.

The knock at the door startles you before Ignis steps inside. As he stands there you notice the tenseness in his shoulders and you mentally resign yourself to another lecture. The way he scans over your little pile of blankets seems to amuse him and causes the irritation in your chest to flare back to life. You snarl as Ignis steps towards your bed, and he stops, surprise flitting across his face before he gently smiles at you. “You look nice and cosy in there, you did a good job”. The praise instantly has a ball of warmth flooding your chest, even before you fully comprehend his words. Did a good job at what? “Can I join you?” You nod reluctantly and he sits on the edge of the bed next to you. He watches you silently for a couple of minutes and you feel a tinge of guilt. “I’m sorry” Ignis looks unimpressed at your words. “Noctis told you to stay with him did he not?” “But –“ “I know this is still a confusing time for you, but Noctis is our pack leader, you need to listen to him, he knows, we all know, what’s best for you” “I didn’t wander off” your rebuff comes out more petulant than you wanted and Ignis sighs. “You are our omega darling; we are only looking out for you” You forget that sometimes, that Noctis is the pack leader. A little too bratty, a little too immature for the reality of him being an Alpha, and the pack leader, to stick in your head. “How do you think Noctis felt when he looked back and you weren’t there?” You frown, how does he think you felt? When Gladio grabbed you by the arm hard enough to leave bruises? Commanded you to stay like a misbehaving dog? The anger starts to bubble inside you again but before you can reply Ignis continues, “You could have got hurt, or worse” a slow quiet purr coming from him as he strokes a hand over your head. “There are Alphas out there who wouldn’t be as kind as us if they realised you were an Omega” His words send a chill down your spine as you remembered the stranger outside the hotel. Ignis senses your shift in mood and his purr gets a little louder, trying to comfort you “We can’t protect you if you leave us darling” nails scratch lightly across your scalp and you relax further  “promise me you won’t go off on your own again”

“I di-“ Your protest dies on your lips at Ignis disappointed look and you look away. His purr having the desired effect as you feel the fight start to drain out of you “I promise” He hums, happy at your, albeit reluctant, submission and continues to stroke your hair. It’s soothing and the comfort starts to turn your irritation into guilt. “Will you tell Noct I’m sorry?” Ignis relaxes slightly at your words but doesn’t agree to your request. “You can tell him yourself in the morning”

“Is Gladio still angry at me?” You feel on the verge of tears again “No darling, He worries about you,” a soft kiss to your brow, “I worry about you,” another to the tip of your nose, “we all do” he murmurs softly, finally brushing his lips to yours but pulling away before you can reciprocate.

You stay like that for a while, relaxed and drowsy as Ignis continues to purr and stroke your hair. “Are you still sore from this morning?” his questions startles you out of your doze and you nod in reply.  "Get undressed."

There’s a pause, a moment of silence where you’re not sure you heard him right. “What?” “Get undressed” he repeats. “A massage and some relaxation will do you the world of good.” It didn’t take long for you to agree. Although a little off kilter with the abrupt change of topic and the lack of a real reprimand you still eagerly accept his offer.  Even as you continued to unknowingly step further in to the role of Ignis’ omega, you still came second to his duty to Noctis and getting his undivided attention and one of his massages was not something you could refuse.

As you stand and start to remove your clothes Ignis begins to rearrange your cocoon of blankets which causes you a small confusing flare of distress. He notices and turns back to look at you, “we can rebuild it later” The ‘we’ makes you happy for some reason and you can’t decipher the emotion that flickers across Ignis face at your happy chirp. You still hate the noises you make, the involuntary purrs, chirps and growls that escape you despite your best efforts. Ignoring your disobeying body you focus on removing your clothes.

Once in your underwear you stop, watching him as his eyes roam over you, gaze filled with approval and appreciation. You fight the urge to turn and hide yourself from his eyes. Ignis’ love of seeing you in lingerie always left you feeling more than a little self conscious. Finally he speaks, “you can remove your bra” again fighting the urge to hide you stand there as his gaze lingers across your bare breasts before glancing over the finger marks Gladio had left on your upper arm. He doesn’t comment, instead steps towards you and brings a gloved hand up to your mouth, letting his fingers rest lightly against your bottom lip. You know what he wants and you oblige him. Nipping the end of his glove between your teeth, you resist the temptation to take his fingers into your mouth and instead help him remove his glove, before doing the same with the other. Ignis takes half a step back and lets his eyes roam over you again, taking you in. A smile flickers across his face as he takes a breath in, scenting you, before it morphs into flash of distaste. Gone before you can question him he gestures towards the bed “Lie down, on your front”

Once you are settled Ignis starts a slow soft rhythm with his fingers, running up your spine, across the nape of your neck and back down. He leans forward to kiss a soft spot between your shoulder blades before his fingers start to firmly knead down your back and spine. The pain and pleasure mixing until you feel yourself start to relax beneath his hands, as the knots and aches loosen. He continues this for a while, until your moans and sighs of painful pleasure turn into quiet sleepy whimpers. He kisses your neck. "turn over for me darling," he whispers pressing further kisses against your skin as he draws back again, watching you as you turn to lie on your back.

His pupils fully blown, a deep dark void as he stares at you like he wants to devour you has your pressing your thighs tighter in an effort to relieve the sudden rush of arousal. “You’d look so good in a blindfold, black silk across your eyes,” his finger brushes gently over your cheekbone, “would you let me?” His voice, dark and velvety makes you moan a shiver run through you and hips rocking forward before you can stop them. He doesn’t seem to mind your lack of a verbal answer, content to watch his hand trail down over your breasts, carefully avoiding your nipples and coming to rest on your thigh. You automatically open your legs at his touch, and he acquiesces to your unspoken request with a quiet hum, grazing fingers over your panties and down between your legs in a slow barely there caress. His movement is painfully slow, and your attempt to move your hips to hurry him along has him tsking at you, his free hand pressing down on your stomach to stop you moving.

It’s just enough to tease you. The way his finger languidly rubs against your clit through your panties. No rush, no real pressure, Just enough to have a tease of pleasure start to build tortuously slow within you. You arch your back and grind your hips, trying to get him to move faster, to touch you harder and his movement immediately ceases. You whimper in frustration as he withdraws his fingers, his hand stroking up over your body, leaning in to press soft gentles kisses up your stomach to just under your breasts. He avoids your nipples, avoids the little sensitive patch on your collarbone and bites sharply on the lobe of your ear. “Stay Still” Once he deems you suitably still and calm he slips his hand back down between your legs and resumes stroking you through the fabric, drawing breathy moans and whimpers from you. He touches you nowhere but against your covered clit, and it’s maddening. Every time you try to reach for him or move closer he stops. Ignis works you up closer to the edge again and again, each time stopping before you can come. With each denied orgasm you became more desperate, and as he brings you to the edge for the fifth time, you begin to tearfully plead with him.

"Please, Ignis," you beg, you were close to tears, your orgasm was steadily building again, and this time you were pretty sure you were going to die if he didn’t let you come. He leans up, his fingers still circling your clit, and kisses your mouth softly.

"You're going to be a good girl?" He asks and you nod frantically, “going to listen to us? He presses harder against your clit, “going to do as we tell you?” " yes, yes, I promise," you cry out with a moan. You were right on the edge, just a few more gentle strokes of those clever fingers and you would come. "Please Ignis, I promise to be good." His fingers slow and you feel like you’re going to scream in frustration "Alpha please" You close your eyes and he growls loudly, leaning down to kiss your neck, but he stops again. Hand moving from between your legs to cradle your jaw, focusing your attention back on to him

“Do you want to cum?” he whispers, dragging a thumb across your jaw “Yes” “Yes what?” “Yes! Yes alpha, yes sir, just please Ignis!” You feel the shudder of approval that goes through him at your desperation, your words slurring together as you try to find the words he’s looking for. “Good girl” his hand slowly tracing a line down between the valley of your breasts to rest on your hip. With one more whined please from your throat his fingers idly trace along the edge of your panties, moving slowly inward to tease your clit once again with his thumb. Still ignoring your pleas and whimpers he goes at his own slow pace. Moving the lacy material to the side he runs a finger down through your folds, sliding through your slickness, teasing your entrance.  “so wet omega” a low approving rumble in his chest, he leans down to give you a searing kiss, nipping hard at your lip and just as you think he is about to finally slip inside you and let you have your hard earned release, he pulls away.  The cry that leaves you is nothing short of complete desperation, almost pain, and you can feel tears rolling down your cheeks. You’re dimly aware you are begging, desperately pleading with him as you try to pull him closer but he moves no nearer, instead he stands and leans down to whisper in your ear "I want to do wicked things to you, omega,” he nuzzles against your neck, “but you need to earn them”. You’re crying freely now as he withdraws from you completely and heads towards the bathroom. He doesn’t react to your tears, and it starts to dawn on you that this wasn’t Ignis comforting you for Gladio’s behaviour; this was Ignis punishing you for your behaviour. The arousal and frustration is gone in an instant, replaced by a cold rush of dismay. Sensing you watching him, Ignis turns his head to meet your gaze

“A warm bath then you can apologise to Gladio” His voice is calm, almost cold and you fight the desire to throw yourself at him and beg for forgiveness. “Ignis….” you trail off as he turns away from you. His rejection stings and you suddenly feel very alone. The realisation that if the boys started to find you too much trouble, your disobedience too much of a hassle, they could walk away just as easily as Ignis had done, hits you hard. You truly would be abandoned in this world. You would never get home. They had saved you more times than you could count, they fed you, gave you a bed to sleep in, patiently helped you through the hormonal changes in your body, looked after you and obviously cared about you, and they didn’t ask for much in return really. Just to listen to them. The stubborn side of you wanted to deny it, that you could find someone else to help you, but their over-protectiveness and the lengths they’d go to keep your Omega status hidden made you think they were telling the truth when they said not all Alphas would be as willing to help as they were. Not that they let you have much interaction with others to disprove that but was it a risk you were willing to take? You wanted to go home, maybe Ignis’ was right, they did know what was best, it was their world after all. Ignis’ sharp call of your name startles you out of your thoughts and you look over at him, watching as he sorts a towel and some bodywash out of Gladio’s bag. You feel exhausted. Upset and completely drained you can’t bring yourself to fight anymore so you just nod.