#this is also an unedited draft!!!! so i know there are some things i want/need to fix/change so keep that in mind!!!

[stevethehairington]

OKAY!! here it is!!! a lil peek at what i've been working on the past couple days! my first foray into the terror fic!! and subsequently the first dip of ny toes into 1800s prose fjsjkfj so PLEASE be gentle with me, i'm still figuring it out! but yeaH! here ya go:

[eccentricallygothic]

When I want to read dark fics, your writing just hits. One of my guilty pleasures recently has been dark!winter soldier stuff and I was hoping you could write one.

If you can, can you make it where Bucky is still the Winter Soldier and finds himself completely enamored with the reader. He stalks her briefly and decides he has to have her. So where it gets dark is mean, brooding soldier kidnaps reader and makes her his housewife. (I’d like to think that some of Bucky’s 40ness is still there along with some good old fashion 50s idealization where he basically molds her into being his perfect little housewife.)

He can still be with hydra or not but this thought has been buzzing around in my head recently and I personally am not good at writing dark fics.

Um, hell yes I can! Also, not me having almost exactly the same idea (it was in my drafts and I totally merged it with yours). Sorry for being late uni kicks my butt hard TT. Also, please note that this is a headcanon kind of situation type deal but apparently there's a limit to how many bullets you can put per post so that's why it looks the way it does! Hope you like it still. Unedited ❤️

Warning(s): Dubcon (just to be safe), stalking, kidnapping, housewife kink, stockholm syndrome, spanking, misogyny, domestic discipline, breeding kink (dash), age gap (I mean, man is over a century old). Contains mature content. Browse at your own discretion. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! 

You are absolutely shit faced as you stumble out the backdoor of the club with two of your girlfriends tangled around each arm. 

You are all giggling, stumbling and slurring out curses, trying to shush each other as you trudge your forms to your apartment complex that is close by because driving is obviously out of question now. 

Were it not for your overly intoxicated state, you would have totally noticed the dark silhouette that stills in the dark alley facing the backdoor. 

The man masked in the darkness tilts his head to the side as he tries to read your party, having gotten caught off guard by the sudden bursting open of the door. 

One of your friends stagger in his direction and he moves back, his labored breaths warm in his mask, watching the girl as she retches her guts out.

Silence follows the wheezes and gags of the girl.

Then there is a sound– a melody in the air.

Soldat feels something stir within himself.

Something his masters did their best to suppress. 

Not that they would be doing any more of that. 

They needed to be alive to do something like that ever again.

His eyebrows furrow as he scans your group for the source of the sound; you. 

You are laughing.

At your friend that is throwing up.

Hands clutching your hurting sides, eyes scrunched, head thrown back, flushed and sweaty face vibrant under the bright moonlight as your hair frames it in the most perfect way possible. 

A shaky breath escapes the man covered in tears and blood of his captors and oppressors.  

His eyes scan your form. 

Beautiful. 

His metal hand clenches into a fist and he makes his resolve almost instantly;

Mine.

Soldat cannot recall much of his past except for a few things like his name.

But he knows that it has been a long, long time. 

And it's time to go home.

But a home is not walls and concrete. 

It is the people that live in it. 

His head is a mess as he scales a wall and follows you to your building, skipping from roof to roof effortlessly with a careful eye on your form.

James had finally broken free against hydra yesterday morning while they were experimenting something more brutal. 

And during the following hours, all various leaders that made the organization what it was were dead.

For what is a structure without its pillars?

He had plundered them single handedly. 

And now he was a slave no more.

James would live, and he would take.

Just as had been taken from him.

You woke up the next morning, sprawled across your bed.

As you winced and sat up, you could swear you had knocked out on the couch last night. 

But since you couldn't teleport, it was probably just a gap in your memory.

Right?

The second sign was the painkillers and water next to you on the bedside table.

The third was the window of your room that was open wide.

But you shook your head as you were behind on your schedule for the day and got on with your busy university student life. 

You should have taken notice of the signs. 

How things would always somehow work out when you were struggling with some sort of a problem. 

Regardless of whatever type of an issue it was. 

Your friends joked about it as Divine Providence. 

And Divine it was, you lived to learn. 

When it happened, it wasn't after a dramatic chase or anything. 

You had simply woken up in a room you had never seen before, tucked in the bed like it had been yours for ages.

What even happened? 

You had finished an assignment before heading to bed for an early class the next morning. 

But now you were timidly surveying the room, more and more panic filling you by the passing second. 

The house is beautiful and bright outside the dark room you had woken up in, big glass windows facing tall trees and various other type of greenery outside. 

A loud gasp escaped you when you were somewhere in the middle of the living room.

You turned around to find a huge and by that you mean, giant man standing a few steps away from you.

You could swear he wasn't there a minute ago.

But now he is towering over you, head tilted to the side as if interacting with something from an outer planet, eyes scanning your form slowly. 

As if he's savouring the sight of you in a…

Your blood runs cold as you look down to realize that you are dressed in a white sundress with yellow and red flowers printed on it.

Your eyes widen in horror.

Because you had been wearing your PJs last night–

Or, rather, the last time you were awake.

Before you can say anything, he extends a hand towards you invitingly, nodding sideways to what seems to be the kitchen. 

Something in his hand glints in the sunlight coming from the windows.

It is when your panicked vision realizes that the hand and the whole arm is made up of metal, your body backs away.

With your mouth agape, you demand shakily.

"Who the hell are you?" 

He sighs. 

"What the hell is this place? Why am I here? What the fuck is going on?!"

The man's features scrunch in disapproval. 

Your choice of words is much unappreciated.

"Good little wives don't ask questions." 

In his angry, fried and entitled delusional mind you are as much in love with him as he is.

Otherwise, why would you just accept all the favours he did for you during all these months he was building a perfect home for the both of you and your future children?

He takes a step in your direction and you leap back.

After a short game of cat and mouse, you are trapped against the glass window.

He is too close. 

There is a heavy looking vase on the table next to you.

The shock on his face is evident.

He hadn't expected you, his wife, such a small and innocent girl to disrespect her husband like this. 

You whimper in horror when he doesn't budge against the decoration piece exploding against his brow bone.

James' eyes narrow as he leans in, a thick stream of blood running down the hurt side of his face.

"Bad girl" and you take off without a second thought.

Thankfully, the door is straight ahead and surprisingly unlocked.

You run without looking back. 

The man is not chasing you like you expected. 

But you don't want to stick around and find out why. 

Though the reason is soon revealed when you race through the little garden and out of the fence door. 

You are looking behind you and at the house so it is not until you are a good distance away from it do you turn your head to look ahead. 

Icy horror pierces its way down your spine.

Sand and palm trees dominate your vision as far as you can see where you are and your right side.

A devastatingly vast ocean washes the shore you are running on from the left side.

That doesn't stop you until your body gives up after a few minutes. 

You ran into the jungle for some cover.

Sobs and tears burst out of you as you collapse on a blanket of leaves.

Your body is weak and confused. 

Many hours pass.

You wander and starve.

You hide and shake.

You tip toe and give up.

There are wild animals all around you.

You can hear them.

It's terrifying. 

So terrifying that when you hear the stranger's voice some time after dusk, you are almost glad.

Are you done? His bright blue eyes that you can make out even in the dim light ask you silently. 

"How'd you even find me?" You were sure you had run a good couple miles.

He refuses to respond until you place your shaking hand in his awaiting metal one. 

"I can smell you" his accent is almost foreign as he pulls you up, frowning at your hurt bare feet. 

It took you hours to get to where you were but it only takes James a few minutes to get you back home. 

"Before I clean you up, I need to punish you." You are baffled. "Good wives don't run away from their husbands." 

He doesn't listen to any of your protests and reason that day or ever.

"Little girls don't know what is right for them. Only their husbands can decide that." 

He thoroughly washes you that night after giving you the worst spanking, paying no mind to your begging and crying.

You are sniffling as you sit on the bathroom counter wrapped up in a towel an hour later, your sore ass buzzing under you.

Your captor is kneeling in front of you as he tends to your hurt feet. 

He tells you your rules as he does so.

"First, you are to always obey me no matter what. Second, your body belongs to me as I am your husband, so you should not try to deny me of it because it will never end well for you. Third, you will respect me or you will live to learn to do so. Four, you will do your chores like a good wife and fulfill your wifely responsibilities. Five, you are to always accept your punishments and thank me for disciplining you after I am through with you, should you choose to break a rule or misbehave. Six, you will not indulge in any activity that can potentially corrupt your little mind. Seven, you will speak with respect and never out of turn. Eight, you are to always greet me when you wake up or if I have been gone a while. Nine, you can try to run. I will never stop you. But when you return home after failing, you will take your punishment obediently. Ten, you must never touch yourself. You are mine and mine alone." 

Since the spanking is still fresh on your skin you panic a little and fear forgetting them.

But you find them pasted on the fridge the following morning because he knew you were too dumb to remember them.

A few days pass before you explode about not being his wife and call him crazy.

"You weren't saying that when I did you all those favours." 

Horror dawns upon you as you realize that it was him all along.

You don't give up easily, though.

You try to run more times than you can keep count.

Every direction, every plan and every map you make proves to be useless.

Because the last time you do so, you realize that you are on a fucking island.

And since there is a dock near the house with the pantry never running low on groceries, James has a means of transport hidden somewhere is no mystery. 

But you don't know when he does it. 

So far you haven't been able to figure out a pattern. 

Either he was right about you being dumb or your captor was really good at staying one step ahead of you.

Anyways, you have no choice but to return to him crushed and sobbing as always.

He is reading something when you collapse between his legs; ready to accept your punishment as you have learnt that hiding and denying only makes it worse. 

James isn't so bad if you follow his rules. 

He is just a kidnapper and a misogynist with dangerous reflexes. 

His face is smug as he puts the book away. You have noticed that he is not as stiff and troubled as he used to be when you first woke up here months ago at this point. 

"How was it, doll?" He loves to hear you talk about it as he bruises your ass. "Any luck?" 

Today, though, something different happens.

You don't know if it's resignation and surrender finally settling in or if you have actually started to like this life.

How James gives you a nod of approval and pats your head rewardingly whenever you follow all your rules without any trouble.

The way he lets you stay up past your bed time (yes you have one because good wives are healthy for their husbands) to read a book or watch a movie.

If you were extra good and talked to him (though he was a man of a few words) and helped him out with a little farming thing he had going on in the backyard/patio, he would even let you sleep in the following morning. 

No stress or pulling yourself through classes and tight budgets.

Just being what he considered good and then whatever you would mention briefly would be in the house within the next few days.

When he is done punishing you, you thank him and apologize according to routine. But then you hug him.

You tell yourself it is due to the sad reality that your torment is your comfort.

Has to be.

You have no choice.

And then something unexpected happens in the course of the next few days. 

While trying to make the best out of this situation, you start to notice the little things, quirks and rituals, habits and mannerisms of this man. 

How he doesn't say anything if he doesn't like a certain ingredient or condiment in something you cooked but pushes it aside to use as compost later.

The way he holds you extra tight some times when he mutters a foreign language in his sleep. 

How he stares at the scary metal arm after a long day while waiting for you to finish up dinner.

Or the way he struggles to hold himself back whenever you are in a close proximity to him because you cried once he crept his hand up your ass in a sexual way. 

You don't get him sometimes.

His morals are as mysterious as him. 

Because he kidnapped you and forced you to be his wife in a '40's way, strips you to spank and humiliate you during punishments, then bathes and comforts you in his own way of silently holding you against his chest in his arms until you calm down.

Your tears don't effect him. 

But then he refuses to touch you sexually after the one time he tried.

It takes you a while to make the most peace that you can with James, but it happens eventually because you don't have a choice.  

The loneliness starts to drive you mad otherwise.

You are helping him with his farming one day when you collapse.

James isn't happy to find out that you haven't had any of your daily water intake for the day. 

After he is sure you are hydrated, it is punishment time because caring for yourself is also a rule you are supposed to never break.

Your ass is red and seething by the time he's done. Everything is pretty much routine except that you don't sit up to apologize and maybe hug him like usual.

Not even when he pats your ass to signal that he's done.

"H- Hubby?" You sniffle as you use the endearment.

It had been a proud discovery of yours.

James always gave in a little whenever you used it.

"Yes, little mouse?" You bite your lips as your thighs tremble.

Fuck.

"Y- You say we are husband and wife…"

"What about it?"

You bite your lip as you push your ass out and towards him, letting your legs part.

"Then why don't we act like it?" James is good at concealing his emotions and showing restraint.

But he can't help the way his cock hardens at the sight your pretty red thighs reveal to him.

Your perfect pussy is glistening with your creamy arousal, the entrance of your vagina blinking to indicate its need to be filled.

Fuck. 

Though James starts off small and slow with his fingers rubbing your cunt, the night ends with him balls deep into your pussy with his length rearranging your organs.

Whatever was left of you to own for him, he does so after that night.

You cannot go on for long without having some sort of physical proximity to him.

The sex is wild and it's amazing with his stamina. 

It is also instrumental in bringing you two closer than ever. 

James opens up to you slowly, but only when you ask about it.

You had done so in the past as well. 

But since it's genuine curiosity now, he feels comfortable telling you all about it.

It is a lot for you to take in and you almost don't believe him until he shows you some of his belongings from his time.

Things drift on as smoothly for a while as the waves outside your house.

And then comes the ultimate test. 

Which decides the course of your future with him.

He is still asleep one morning when you wake up.

It isn't a usual occurrence. 

But you had introduced him to comics lately and he had been obsessed with them despite claiming that they were too childish and unrealistic. 

While he had a metal arm himself…

You adjust the quilt before getting ready for the day and heading out to make breakfast. 

It is when you realize in panic that there aren't any apples left even though James had asked you to make a grocery list (that started when he started trusting you more) and you had assured him that you had enough apples for a while.

"I am gonna get the hairbrush today, I swear to God!" You mutter to yourself as you rush through the house like a headless chicken. 

Thankfully, your garden had an apple tree so you could save yourself from a breakfast spanking at the very least.

But something standing next to the dock catches your attention before you can the apples you try to budge free from their branches.

A motorboat. 

Before you can decide what you think of it, you are standing next to it on the dock.

It has fuel and a map. The key is in the ignition.

You narrow your eyes and feel your head splitting. 

A lot goes through your mind.

Flashbacks play before your eyes.

It is almost a full circle moment. 

And then you are standing in front of James who is seated on a stool next to the kitchen counter you use for dining. 

His head is lowered as he sips on his coffee and stabs at the breakfast you prepared with a fork.

"Hubby?" Your captor freezes before he slowly looks up at you. 

The blue of his eyes is troubled. He is in disbelief. As though he wasn't expecting you to be standing here.

"There is a boat outside. Do you think someone could be–" 

"You didn't leave." His voice is heavy. 

"What kind of a wife leaves her home?"

You two just stare at each other for a while. 

No words exchanged.

Then, for the first time ever, James gets up and hurriedly closes the distance between you two, enveloping you in his arms before pushing you against the wall behind you.

"I felt so angry and wronged that I thought I could take anything because I deserved it after everything that happened to me but… I love you too much, mouse."

He has never spoken this earnestly before.

"I just realized that I do too."

James kisses you passionately before you wrap yourself around him and close your eyes blissfully. 

He tightens his own arms around you gladly.

He would have hated to end up back on square one with you had you chosen to try and escape. 

The boat would have blown up a small fuse that would have been loud enough for his enhanced hearing if someone– you, were to turn the keys in the ignition.

Yes, he wasn't expecting you to be back but only too soon.

It was a test and you passed. 

As always, James stuck to his ways and rewarded you for being such a good wife. 

By giving you a ring, a new wardrobe and a baby that was the first of many to come.

.

What do you think hAH-

[badsassitude]

The Boyfriend: Why Shun Needs Hugs (Deep Dive Part 1/3)

My brain does not want to shut up about the dynamics on this show, and I am ready to fight everyone talking smack about Shun.  Look, that boy needs to be hugged, not shamed, and that is a hill I am ready to die on.  

Emotions are complicated and messy. Sometimes the things we want the most are the things we are the most scared of, and sometimes we desperately struggle between wanting to connect and wanting to protect ourselves from pain and doing neither well. It’s a bit like trying to go left but also go right and just pacing back and forth and not going anywhere. What was meant initially to be a simple reflection of exploring Shun’s behavior through the lens of attachment theory took on a life of its own, and now we have parts.

So here is part one, in which we look at Shun's behaviors through the lens of anxious attachment and I draft adoption papers 24 years too late.

Shun as presented in episodes 1-6 of The Boyfriend, has anxious attachment written all over him. **I think it is MASSIVELY IMPORTANT to understand that I am not saying Shun has an anxious attachment style.** First and foremost, what we as watchers see is only a series of filmed interactions edited together. Even if we could see 24/7 unedited footage from the moment Shun stepped into the Green Room, we would still only be seeing a small part of Shun’s life, during a time where he is outside of his normal life and environment. Secondly, we can only see what is outwardly observable, so at best our perspective is based off of guesses and interpretation for which there is no way to validate, elaborate on, or clarify.

For context, in a super brief, overly simplified cliff notes version: anxious attachment is one of the insecure attachment styles included in attachment theory.  Attachment theory describes common behaviors and characteristic of 4 primary attachment styles (of which anxious attachment is an insecure attachment style).

Second note: attachment is not static, remember, emotions are complicated and people don’t fit into neat little boxes. How we attach in different relationships with different people at different points in our lives is unique to that relationship and that context. 

Now back to Shun (well, my interpretation of the Netflix reality TV edited version). Some behaviors I have seen demonstrated by Shun in the show that characterize anxious attachment include:

fear of rejection 

Frequent need for validation, reassurance, attention 

Low self-esteem 

Intense desire for intimacy and closeness, but afraid of abandonment- contributing to the push/pull of clingy to pushing away

Difficulty trusting others 

Jealousy 

For children who grow up feeling as if their needs are not met, with inconsistencies in caregiver responses and an environment that feels unpredictable and perhaps unsafe - they have a higher risk of developing an insecure attachment style (such as anxious attachment) because they did not experience secure attachment bonds. 

Think about what Shun has shared of his story:  Shun never knew his parents. Most likely they abandoned him, and he doesn’t know why. He grew up in a children’s home/orphanage. He was raised by caregivers who took care of him because it was their job. It is reasonable to infer that there was likely turnover in staff at an unknown frequency, and there was likely inconsistency in how staff treated him. It is possible that other children came and went, possibly were adopted. There was nothing stable or secure in that environment, and the even the most loving of caregivers weren’t family and could leave at any time. 

Additionally, he made two comments that set my trauma spidey-senses tingling. Per the Netflix translation, Shun said “Even there… I went through a lot.” Quickly followed by, “And… well, after a lot happened, I ended up coming to Tokyo on my own.” He then added that since coming to Tokyo he has been free, which was said with a little smile and a nod that pierced me to my core. The way he presented while telling his story, so matter of fact with a level of detachment, is very consistent with how I have experienced many trauma survivors telling their stories. 

Now add to all that what he has shared about his past relationships - primarily that he had experiences with “player types” that were clearly painful enough that seeing whatever pictures he saw on Dai’s phone triggered him to the point of tears. He described one relationship as horrible, he “couldn’t get out of it.”  

When you think about what that man has been through, is it that strange that while he may desperately long for love and intimacy, that he’s also terrified of being vulnerable in the way you have to be to get it? 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

[nsfwflint]

Melody

A/N: So as you can tell from the boring non-pop punk style title, this is one of my oldest drafts that went unfinished for well over a year. I chose to finish this piece for my anniversary because out of all my drafts it had most of the framework finished. As you can tell by how short the smut scene is, I'm still very much retired. I just wanted to do something special for all of you for supporting me this long. Anyway, here's to my third anniversary and I hope you all enjoy the piece. Also this is largely unedited, so read at your own risk lol.

The soft neon glow from the sign in front of you washes over you as a shaky sigh of relief finds its way out of your lungs. After a long week at work, you’re always excited to stop by here on Friday nights. Habin’s Harmonies, a small, classy piano bar located in an alley near your apartment. Your home away from home, your secret oasis. The place you always come to unwind and release your stress. And after the week you’ve had, you definitely need to release some stress.

You take one more deep breath to settle your excitement before walking inside. Chestnut paneling lines the walls as maple tables are scattered around the room. In a stark contrast to the dark furniture, a white piano sits square in the middle of the barroom floor. As you approach the bar, the bartender gives you a friendly smile.

“The usual sir?” 

“That will be great, thanks Mina.” You smile as she hands you a cold glass of beer.

Spotting an open seat right in front of the piano, you thank the stars and quickly slide onto the wooden chair. After a few sips of your beer, you set the glass down on the table in front of you and glance around the room. A slightly smaller crowd than usual, but you still spot most of the regulars sharing a drink they call loneliness. Quiet chatter fills the small room while everyone waits for the main event. Suddenly, the lights dim and a hush falls over the crowd. The main attraction finally takes the stage. 

And attractive she definitely is. With a short black satin dress tightly hugging all the right places, tonight's pianist is the definition of sexuality. Her huge pillowy breasts are barely contained in the soft fabric, putting her bountiful cleavage on full display. The dress is so short that it barely covers her perfectly round ass, leaving her long heavenly legs in plain view. Every inch of her skin looks soft and smooth as silk. You just want to tear the fabric apart and ravage her right here and now. You also know that every guy and most of the women here are thinking the same thing. 

A few whispers make their way out of the crowd as she slowly sits down on the bench in front of the piano. Suddenly, her hand shoots straight into the sky; her index finger pointing towards the heavens. The entire room falls completely silent, and it seems like even the generic city noise from outside disappears. With the most graceful composure you’ve ever witnessed, she slowly sets her fingers atop the ivory keys. A brief pause. In reality, a second, maybe two. But it feels like an eternity of anticipation. Finally, she begins to play and you can feel your soul transcend.

You can't help but stare in awe as her beautiful fingers gently dance around the keys. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve seen it, the sight of Habin playing the piano captivates you like nothing else. An emotional harmony eases your body as the enchanting song washes over you. The more you hear, the more her melody enraptures your soul. Every note is just as beautiful as she is and you're losing yourself to her by the second.

A series of interconnected notes dances in your ears, the effervescent flow of emotions melting throughout your body. As the impeccable melody of awe inspiring notes pours into your ears, the existence of the other customers fades from your mind; the crowd experiencing secondhand the serenade that feels like it's just for you. Hypnotized by the captivating harmony, you lose track of time as Habin drifts from one bewitching song to the next. 

You’re finally returned to reality as her fingers play the last note of the night. Touched by the emotional ballads, you wipe a small tear from the corner of your eye as a smattering of applause erupts around you. You quickly join with your own applause. Habin stands, bowing repeatedly towards the different parts of the bar. For her final bow, she dips down right in front of you, giving you a peek into her delicious cleavage. On her way back up, she gives you a warm smile along with a flirty wink. Standing back up, she addresses the crowd.

“Thank you all so much for being here for my performance. I’m so glad you all could make it. Unfortunately, I have some personal matters to attend to tonight, so we’ll be closing early.” Habin says.

Grumbles and complaints make their way through the crowd.

“I know. I’m very sorry about this. To apologize, everyone gets a discount on their tab for tonight. Please settle up with Mrs. Kang over at the bar in the next twenty minutes.” She apologizes.

Over the next few minutes, the small crowd slowly trickles out of the building. After settling your bill, you make your way back to the center of the room and sit down on the piano bench. You notice a few men trying to stay until the very last minute in order to keep flirting with Habin. You chuckle as you watch her shoot them down one by one with a polite smile.  

"Sorry, I'm not interested in dating any of my customers." 

"What if I stop being a customer then?" One of the men asks. 

"If you stop being a customer, what reason would I have to see you?" 

You stifle a laugh as the stupidity of his question finally registers in his brain. Not that you can blame him for it. A woman as gorgeous as Habin definitely makes men dick dumb. 

"Now gentlemen, I'm flattered, but if you wouldn't mind leaving now please. I have to finish up a few things and I'd hate to have to call the police because you kind souls wouldn't leave." She smiles. 

The men nod and finish paying. You'll always be amazed at how she can make a threat feel like a compliment. After a few more minutes the bar is completely empty aside from Habin, Mina, and yourself. Habin walks over and slides onto the bench next to you. With a long sigh, she gently lays her head on your shoulder.

“Ugh, I always hate when they try to hit on me.” She groans.

“Unfortunately it’s always going to happen, especially when you’re as beautiful as you are.” 

You gently kiss the top of her head as you put your arm around her shoulder.

“How was I tonight? I played a new song at the end, did I do okay?” She asks, staring up at you with her big eyes looking shining in anticipation.

“You did great honey. Even better than I imagined when I wrote it.” You smile.

Habin gives you a shy smile as she hugs your torso. 

"You guys are so cute together." Mina chimes in from behind the bar. 

"Haha, thanks." You say, chuckling as you scratch the back of your head. 

"I can't believe you have your own exclusive songwriter unnie."

"Hehe." Habin giggles, looking up at you with pride. 

"And they're always so beautiful. You're really talented sir." Mina says as she finishes counting the cash drawer. 

"What can I say? I have an excellent muse."

You grin before leaning down and softly pressing your lips against Habin's. She gently pokes her tongue into your mouth before pulling it back out. Pulling you closer to her, she repeats the process over and over again; gentle kisses with her tongue darting in and out of your mouth intermittently. 

"Gross unnie, get a room." Mina groans. 

Habin pulls away from the kiss and your lips immediately miss their warmth. The two of you both turn towards the bar to see Mina pretend to vomit.

"I did. As the owner of the bar, I technically own this room." She fires back teasingly. 

"You know what I mean unnie." Mina whines. 

“Yes I do. I also know you have plans with your boyfriend, so you can leave now. I'll take care of whatever is left.” Habin smiles at the young barkeeper.

“Really? Thank you so much!” Mina gives you both a bright smile as she excitedly runs out of the bar.

You both wait several seconds to make sure Mina doesn't come back. Three, two, one. Turning back towards you, Habin wraps her arms around your neck.

“Where were we?” She says with a coy smile.

“I believe you were sticking your tongue in my mouth. Miss Habin.”

“Ah, right. Let’s get back to that.”

Not giving you any chance to respond, she presses her lips against yours again. Her tongue pries its way into your mouth far more lustfully than before. Habin swirls her tongue around yours, massaging and rubbing against it as the two of you indulge yourselves in the passionate kiss. Without breaking the kiss, she maneuvers herself so she’s straddling you. Her curvaceous body pressed against you, your cock throbs against her cunt. A small giggle escapes her lips as she pulls her lips away from yours.

“This hard already, babe?” Habin chuckles.

“I’ve been wanting to tear into you all night, I can’t help it.” You respond as you squeeze her waist.

“Good, I always get so wet when you watch me play.”

Habin sticks her tongue back into your mouth, lustfully entwining it with yours. You quickly sink into the depth of the kiss, rubbing and swirling your tongues together. A soft moan makes its way out of her as you gently suck her tongue. After a few seconds, you release it from your lips. As she stares into your eyes, you feel Habin guide your hands from her waist to her ass. 

Wrapping her arms back around your neck, she once again attacks your tongue with her own. You begin to squeeze her ass instinctively, your fingertips bunching the black fabric as you dig into it. Even through the dress, you can feel how soft and supple her magnificent ass is as you fondle and knead it in your palms. Your tongue continues to duel against hers while you stare into her eyes as your tongues keep pushing and massaging each other. 

As you swirl your tongue around her’s, Habin’s eyes glaze over with a cloud of lust. Which is fine, because you’re sure yours are the same way right now. After a few more minutes of wrestling with your tongue, she withdraws her tongue from your mouth. You don’t have time to miss her warmth, because her lips immediately reconnect with your own as she begins sucking on your bottom lip. She pulls and nibbles on your lip as your fingers forcefully squeeze her ass. As she pulls on your lip she slowly slides off your lap; making you bend over to stay connected to the kiss. Habin gives you a gaze of erotic seduction before finally releasing your lip and sinking between your knees. Looking down, you see a giant wet spot on the crotch of your pants.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding about how wet you were.” You say in surprise.

“I never joke about how wet you make me.” Habin says without breaking her erotic eye contact.

Your body reacts to how hot her statement is before your brain does; your cock visually throbbing against your pants.

“Looks like someone wants to get out.” She teases.

With the same deftness that danced along the piano keys earlier, her slender fingers quickly undo your belt. As she pulls down your pants, your dick pops up and almost hits her in the face, no longer contained by the fabric of your boxers. She gives you a smug smirk as your tip twitches in anticipation. Habin always seems to get off on how hard she makes you. 

“So, what do you want tonight?” She asks, notes of mischief hiding in her voice.

One of the things you love about Habin. When it came to foreplay, she always let you pick what you wanted. Staring down at her bountiful cleavage barely being contained by her satin dress, you gulp excitedly and decide that you weren’t in the mood for foreplay tonight.

“The only thing I want tonight is you.” 

You pull her back on top of your lap, pushing her panties to the side as your eager tip brushes against the moist entrance of her cunt. Thankfully, Habin is just as hungry for your body as you are for hers and she quickly sinks herself onto your cock. The heat of her tight walls voraciously grips your shaft as her satiny skin crashes against you.

“Fuck, you’re so amazing.” You groan as your hands instinctively take their place on her shapely hips the way they have hundreds of times before.

“You’re the amazing one baby. You always reach so deep inside me.” Habin moans with a shaky breath.

She lifts herself up until only your tip remains inside her before slamming herself back down. It doesn’t take long for her to quickly establish her lustful rhythm as she frantically bounces on your cock. Her voluptuous body crashes against yours like waves upon the shore, her silky skin undulating like the rough seas. Illicit moans pour past her lips to make music to your ears as she bombards you with pleasure.

The contrast in Habin’s composure will never stop surprising you; her graceful elegance from before all but vanished as she lustfully bounces on your cock. You can’t help but stare at her face that’s now contorted into erotic mess. The hot walls of her cunt hungrily clamp on your shaft. Her massive breasts heaving wildly as she continues rapidly riding your dick. 

Knowing exactly what you like, Habin gives you a teasing smirk before pulling her dress down and revealing her perfect tits. 

“Come on baby, suck on my tits like you always do.” She moans as she places her hands on your shoulders.

Needing no further invitation, you dive in and attach your lips to her stiff nipple. Your hands quickly sink into the giant orbs of heavenly flesh, your fingers practically melting into her silky skin. The delectable taste of her breasts quickly coats your tongue as it swirls around the erect nub. Rapidly flicking your tongue up and down her nipple, you messily slurp on her delicious tits. 

“God you’re always so good at that.” Habin gasps as she continues to lustfully bounce on your cock.

The more you tease and devour her chest, the tighter her moist chasm clamps around your shaft. Erotic heat pressures your dick as you begin thrusting into Habin, meeting her halfway from her slamming on you. Synchronized in this amorous motion, you lose yourself in the sexual experience that is Habin. 

You roughly squeeze and knead her giant breasts, your fingers obsessively addicted to the sensation of her velvety flesh giving way in your palms. As you forcefully suck on her luscious tits, your hand moves to her free nipple and begins to lightly pinch the stiff nub. Melodious moans float endlessly past Habin’s lips as she grabs the back of your head and pushes your face even deeper into her chest.

Taking her fleshy nipple between your teeth, you chew on it gently as you continue teasing the other with your fingers. You push and pull on both of her erect nubs, losing yourself in the curvature of her fatal body. Her tight walls cling to your shaft, pulling lustfully on your cock as the two of you mindlessly thrust into each other like animals.

The sound of your bodies crashing against each other fills the room, only slightly overpowered by constant frantic moans that escape both you and Habin. The delectable taste of her skin dancing on your tongue fuses with the inescapable heat that hungrily grips your shaft to send you into sensory overload. Sex with Habin is always an assault on the senses that overwhelms until dawn does you part.

Your tongue constantly swirls and flicks the delicious stiff nipple in its continual desperate journey to commit the taste to memory. As you continue to feast and suck on her heavenly breasts, your hands travel down to Habin’s shapely voluptuous ass and squeeze as hard you can. The sensation of her silky skin rippling against you only fuels your hunger for her body.

Every thrust into her moist depths becomes harder and harder, an insatiable lust for the ecstasy of Habin’s body grows stronger with every second you spend inside her. You furiously pound away at her cunt, your tip slamming against the entrance to her womb over and over again. Velvety heat grips and pulls on your shaft as you mercilessly plunge your cock as deep as you can with reckless abandon. 

“Fuck you’re so deep. Just like this baby. Ravage this tight little pussy. I’m almost there.” Habin cries out, her body so desperate for relief that her fingernails cut into your shoulders with how tight her grip is.

The two of you frantically slam against each other as violently as you can, both of you eager to reach an unrivaled ecstasy that nobody has ever felt. Your fingers sink into the satiny flesh of her curvaceous ass, the thick slabs of her ass jiggling against your palm with every animalistic thrust. You take the fleshy nipple between your teeth again, sucking and slurping her massive tits as they ripple endlessly against your lips.

Without warning, Habin lets out an ear-piercing shriek as her walls clench your dick with an overwhelming tightness. 

“Oh fuck.” She screams.

A surge of sticky fluids rush down your shaft as Habin squirts an unbelievable amount of her sweet nectar over your cock. The tightness of her cunt only intensifies your thrusting as you intensely seek your own orgasm. Your bodies slam against each other hungrily, creating a giant mess as her squirt splashes around you.

Thankfully it only takes a few more thrusts before you reach your limit and you feel yourself tighten inside her depths. You regretfully peel your lips away from her delicious tits to announce you’re almost there.

“I’m gonna cum.” You grunt.

“Cum inside me. Fill my womb until it cries” Habin moans.

Before you can say anything else, Habin’s lips crash against yours and her tongue once again pries its way into your mouth. Your tongues erotically entwine, swirling and dancing around each other. You squeeze her ass as hard as you can, your rough grip turning her pale skin into a bright shade of red. With one final slam, your tip kisses the entrance of her womb and throbs violently.

You erupt inside of Habin, finally unleashing your pent up lust as you relentlessly pour every drop of your virile seed directly into her womb. What feels like an ending torrent of cum floods her moist cavern, rope after rope of hot semen filling Habin to the brink as her walls hungrily gobble up each drop. Her lustful assault on your tongue combined with her perfect pillowy breasts pushed against your chest intensifies your orgasm, drawing out as much of your cum as she possibly can.

After what feels like an eternity and all the sperm your body could ever produce, your orgasm finally slows down as one last blast of hot cum drowns Habin’s womb. Her tongue gradually stops swirling around yours before she finally pulls her lips away from yours and gives you a satisfied smile.

“That was fucking incredible.” She says contently before giving your forehead a gentle kiss.

“Yeah. I definitely think that breaks into our top 5.” You nod with a chuckle.

Habin’s bright laughter fills the room as she slowly lifts herself off of your cock. Standing up to get ready to leave, you notice the sizable puddle of cum that leaked from Habin’s pussy onto the piano bench. Despite wiping it up, a noticeable stain still remains. You worriedly glance at Habin as she gives you a carefree shrug.

“It’s fine, it’s white anyway. Who is really going to notice?” She says as she pulls her dress back into place.

“Fair enough. Let’s go home. You’ve given me inspiration for a new song and I want to write it down before I forget it.” 

As the two of you turn towards the door to leave, both of you freeze in place upon seeing Mina  standing in the doorway trying to adjust her own clothing. Your eyes are immediately drawn to a small puddle of her own creation at her feet.

“I, uh. Forgot my phone. And then I didn’t want to interrupt. But watching you guys go at it like that, I uh. I just. I couldn’t help it. Um. I just.” Mina stammers before bolting out the door like she’d seen a ghost. Or you know, her boss fucking.

You turn to Habin who simply shrugs again.

“Eh, she’ll be fine. I’ll talk to her tomorrow, after I make her clean up that mess. Let’s hurry up and get out of here. I want to hear this new song you’re going to write for me.” Habin says with an excited smile.

A/N2: Like I said. This one was pretty short. Honestly, not super happy with the smut for this one since I'm so fucking rusty and it's been so long since I've written anything. Hopefully that's just me being negative and you all enjoyed the piece though. Thank you all again for all the support, but I'll get more into that in a post on my actual anniversary. I love you guys <3

[tsukkismoonlight]

When It Comes To You || J.K × Reader

Summary: You've somehow gotten stuck with the most obnoxious (Minus boy genius Armin Arlert) group ever for a college class project. Eren Jeager, and Jean Kirstein. The latter of which seems to find a way to weasel his way into your life, making your plans for a quiet college experience fall away.

Author's Note: okay, like a year and some odd change in months later i'm finally posting this fic!! Honestly life kinda got in the way but we all know how it is. Anywayyyys, I hope yall enjoy! This is my first longer fic, so let me know what you guys think! Also super big shoutout to my buddies on discord for beta reading the first portion of this! <3 wk: 16.7k

Warnings: unedited, probably ooc characteristics who knows

"Would you two knock it off?" were your first words since the two bone-headed, annoying, loud-mouthed boys had started arguing. 

Here you were, in an empty classroom, supposed to be working on a group project for at least an hour or two, and the /only/ thing that your group had done was bicker back and forth. 

The first of the two boneheads, Eren Jeager, had spent the whole time insisting on his ideas, and his ideas alone, while the other, Jean Kirstein, had only been arguing that the former's ideas were stupid and that 'if anything, Eren should shut his trap and just do the grunt work.'

The blonde, Armin Arlert, was clearly just as done with them, but took a more quiet approach to trying to stop them. Any time he could interject, he tried to reason with the two, but of course neither would listen. 

So, when you stood up, slamming your palms onto the table and shouting at them, all three of them quickly grew quiet. "We only have so much time to work on this project, and I am /not/ going to fail this project because you two idiots can't let go of your egos for more than two seconds!" 

"Well, maybe if this asshole would-" Eren started, mostly keeping his voice at a low grumble, sounding like a scolded child.

Jean, cutting Eren's words short while crossing his arms across his chest, "Oh yeah, /I'm/ the asshole here…"

But with another of your glares sent to both of them, the two stopped once more.

"Maybe we should split up the work?" Armin was already writing out two plans, where you could make out his name and Eren, meaning that you were stuck with Jean. 

Not that you wanted to be with either of them. You'd rather take Armin and just leave the other two to fail. But, as this was a group project, Professor Hange had made it clear that points were to be docked for any group that did not complete the assignment together.  

You plopped back into your seat, sighing heavily. "Okay, we will work in two groups. Looks like Eren, you're going with Armin, and Jean, you're with me." You paused as Armin slid over the paper he had drafted up. 

Glancing over it, you could see that he had given you and Jean a good amount of work, yet he had still given himself more. Part of you wanted to point it out, maybe even offer to take some of the load, but the other part of you knew that Armin would refuse and somehow make it sound like the nicest thing he'd ever do.

"Okay, so, from there, once all the research is done, Armin and I will meet up in person to work on the presentation bits, which means that Eren and Jean, you will only need to put your findings in a document for us. That should be easy enough." 

When no one objected, you started to pack up your things.You waited for Jean to take a picture of the draft before tucking it away in a folder carefully. 

Around you, the others started to do the same. With a small breath of relief, you finished packing up and slung your bag over your shoulders, looking to each of your groupmates slowly. "If anyone has questions,” you announced, “please text me. I gave Armin my number already, but if you need mine, ask now."

Eren slid his phone across the table to you, a sour look on his face, as he was clearly upset with the whole situation, and the fact that he had been yelled at over it. You ignored his attitude and typed in your number before returning the phone to him.

Next was Jean, who looked at you for a few moments, then handed his phone over to you, where you repeated the process of saving your number for him. 

With that done you set off to your dorm.You didn't live alone, but it was bound to be a wonderful change in pace (and in volume levels). When you arrived, you slipped your shoes off and headed for your room, pausing for a second as you saw one of your roommate and probably your closest friend Sasha Braus. Currently she was sitting on the floor of her room, clutching a bowl of soup…or what was probably a bowl of soup, as it was empty now. 

"Oh, hey! You're back already?" she asked, turning to you with a spoon dangling from her mouth. It caused a slight slur in her words, so it came out more like, "Ohhh, heyyy, yer bick alreaty?"

With a sigh, you walked into her room, dropping your bag by the door before flopping onto her bed (which was incredibly comfortable). "Yeah, I called it quits early because I got paired with Armin, Jean, and Eren, and Armin is fine and all, but your stupid friend and Eren can't go more than five seconds without fighting." 

You could hear a soft clink as Sasha put her spoon down. "Well, it always works for me to hit them." 

"I can't hit my group mates…even if I want to," you grumbled, rolling over onto your side so you could see her.

"I can hit them for you then, just tell me when and where." She flexed her arms, raising her eyebrows up and down at you as she did so. 

This caused a breathy laugh to come from you. You could feel yourself starting to relax. Your two roommates were probably the only reason that you had stayed sane so far. 

Sasha was always good at getting you to smile, at times she wouldn't stop until you showed some sign of positivity. And of course you were more than grateful for it. 

When you had first moved to the dorms, you had kept to yourself, unsure if you really liked her at all. But with time, you warmed up to her easily. 

There had been a handful of nights where she would invite you to stay up and just talk, or watch some movie. And, at times, she would share food with you, which you learned wasn't always her favorite thing to do. 

"Hey, one of these days we need to catch up on Food wars." 

You looked back to her, nodding along, "Oh for sure! Maybe sometime this next week I can stay up with you and we can watch it. Maybe buy some junk food too." 

At the prospect of snacks, she perked up even more. "Can we get-"

"Yes, we can get the baked potato flavored chips." 

"You didn't even let me finish!" Sasha pouted a little, though still unable to hide her excitement at the confirmation of her favorite snack.

You reached down and flicked her forehead lightly, "Well I already knew what you were going to say. It wasn't hard to figure out."

"Hey! I could have asked for something different! Like, salt and vinegar ones!" 

"You don't even like those, and neither do I. We wouldn't ever buy any." 

The two of you talked for another five or so minutes until she had to leave, shouting something about Connie Springer owing her dinner. You took the time to go back into your own room which you actually shared with a third roommate ( neither of you wanted to share a room with Sasha because of her snoring). However, he wasn't home yet, which meant that he'd probably be back late.

You pulled your laptop out of your bag and plugged it in; then you went to grab your notebooks, some pens and pencils, and finally your copy of the book for your project. It was best to get a headstart on the project, as it was worth most of your grade. 

Professor Hange had assigned the class to read and analyze an old book written by a nameless author. The idea and plot was interesting to a point. It was a war between mere humans, and a race of humans that could take control of what they called titans. The main two parties at war were named Marley and Eldia, both of which claimed that the other was in the wrong, and had vowed to take revenge, wanting to eradicate the other's existence. Towards the end, there was something of a compromise, and Marley seemed to come out victorious. All in all, there was a lot more to it, and the details were typically gorey and morally wrong. The ending wasn't ever written, leaving all readers to question what they knew and what they may not have been told. 

This is where your project came in: you were to try and look into the book, outside sources, even artwork, whatever the class could get their hands on, and work on an analysis. Hange hadn't given many guidelines; they wanted to leave it open and see what the class would come up with. Your group hadn't made a decision yet, but so far, Eren was dead set on writing an analysis on who he thought was right and freedom and some other crap, while Jean only had talked about how Eren was wrong. 

Luckily enough, Armin had already written up a potential analysis summary, one that focused on how the two sides were similar and what they shared in common with the rest of humanity, and how trying to pick a side would only allow their bloody history to repeat again. His was rather long winded, but it allowed for you to pick and choose the best parts, and what you guys wouldn't really need. 

You spent some time searching the internet for more sources, coming across a few articles on what could be a deeper meaning to the story, and a few on what could have been the rest of the world's view on both Marley and Eldia. 

That was when you came across a page for the local museum; it seemed that there was going to be an exhibit about the book, featuring many different artists and even some written works. Taking a moment to write down the dates and price for tickets in your phone’s note app. You then sent a quick text to Armin about it, letting him know that if he wanted, you could go and check it out with Jean. 

Clicking your phone off, you gave a heavy sigh and stood up, pulling your arms above your head in a stretch before continuing to work on the project. You knew that you should probably eat something, and drink some water, as you hadn’t really been able to do so in the last few hours. But with the project being so important, you decided against getting back up. If you got up now, chances were that you’d end up wasting some time doing who knows what. You really needed to just focus on your work, food, water and relaxing could come later. This was typical for you, what was one more time anyways?

Quietly, your afternoon quickly turned to night, and you wouldn't have noticed if it weren't for both of your roommates crashing into your room. 

You turned around, eyeballing Sasha and your third roommate, Marco Bodt, unsure if you really wanted to ask questions. 

"She was drinking with Connie at his place," 

"Huh? Noo I waz'nt ! Conn and I were jus playin a game an' then…and then..mmkay maybe I was drinking, but!" Sasha rambles on for a minute, still leaning heavily on Marco, who just gave a half hearted and weary smile. 

You shook your head, and stood up, making your way over to Sasha taking her off Marco's hands "Was Connie like this too?" you asked.

"Yeah, he and Jean both…" Marco sighed, following you as you took Sasha to her room. While you carefully put her in her bed,  Marco pulled her shoes off for her. 

At his words, you paused for just a moment then you continued to fish Sasha's phone from her pocket, placing it on the charger for her. 

"Of course, Jean was drinking, too." you remarked. You tried your best to ignore the irritation rising in you. It wasn't like you guys had to get the whole project done right away, or that Jean couldn't enjoy a drink with his friends. But, it wouldn't surprise you if only Armin and yourself had been the only two to even start.

As the two of you left Sasha to sleep, Marco motioned to the kitchen, saying, "Hungry?" You gave a small nod in response.

Once in the small kitchen area, you hopped onto the counter while your roommate got to work on making something simple. From the looks of it, he was just making mac and cheese, but you couldn't really care less. You hadn't noticed it earlier, but you were actually starving. 

A quiet buzz from your pocket pulled your attention from Marco cooking, and you pulled your phone out, seeing a few messages from an unsaved number. 

"Heyy, it's me"

"Jean"

"just figured i'd text you since we have be partners"

"Not complaining cause i dont wanna be stuck with eren" 

You shook your head at your phone, typing a quick reply back, “Wow really? I couldn’t tell.”

Another buzz, another incoming message, “I really hate that guy. He’s stuck up, and always thinks he’s right”

“You know, I feel like there’s someone else like that too.” You sucked in a deep breath, already feeling a tinge of annoyance creeping its way into your body. Sure, Jean was bound to be the better of the two, but that didn’t mean that you wanted him texting you about his testosterone fueled hatred for Eren.

A few moments pass before he texts you again, the words a little hard to make out at first, “you better not be implying that im like him”

“I would never do that. You are an okay person in my eyes”

“Just okay? I’m fuckin’ great!”

“Yeahh, sure. I agree with you, 100%”

You could almost feel his skeptical gaze through your phone as he sent yet another message, “I dont know if I believe that.”

“I dont care if you believe it or not tbh”

“I cant tell if you like me or not”

At this, you paused. You didn’t really know the guy outside of what you were told by Marco and Sasha. And he definitely did not know you. If he did, he wouldn’t be bothering you right now. But as much as that all was true, you also didn’t want to outright say that you didn’t like him, at least not over text while he was suspiciously hitting you up out of the blue.

“im not sure if like is the right word. Right now I tolerate you.” 

“Thats a good thing right?”

You didn’t answer, figuring that he would eventually get the hint. But, within minutes, he was texting you yet again. You watched as more messages popped up one by one, all of which just as hard to read as the others. Though you eventually figured them out. He was promising to do his share of the project, as well as promising to keep on schedule with it. The last thing he sent was asking to meet up tomorrow, and figure out what you wanted him to do, and something about how he couldn't really understand the guideline sheet. 

You sent a quick reply, just a place and a time, before returning your phone to your pocket, and just in time, Marco had a bowl of delicious mac and cheese for you. 

"Thanks man, you're the best." 

"Hey, you cooked last night," he said, shrugging, "and somehow it was pretty impressive, given the fact that we're all super broke and have next to nothing in our cupboards," 

You let out a small laugh at that. "I am a person of many talents."

"Do tell your secrets, as I am eager to know," Marco says in-between bites, playing into the bit.

"Oh, I couldn't, because then you would have to learn my /tragic/ backstory of how I had to fend for myself as a child." You dramatically sigh, placing a hand to your forehead, and then paused, peeking out at Marco before saying, "That part is actually true. At my house, we often had 'Fend for Yourself Nights' where you kinda just threw stuff together it could be leftovers, cereal or, like, dry ramen." 

Marco chuckles, pointing his fork at you and saying "So that must be the secret then!" 

The kitchen rendezvous went on for a while longer before you both headed off to bed, agreeing that Sasha can do the dishes when she wakes up. 

The next day, you had managed to drag yourself out of bed and find your way to the coffee shop where you were supposed to be meeting up with Jean. 

Key word is 'supposed' to be, since it had been 30 minutes since you had gotten there. Hopefully, you didn't look like some poor soul that had gotten stood up on a date and more like someone enjoying their Saturday morning. 

Another ten minutes passed, and no word from Jean, you had finished your coffee, and had already finished working on pulling out key information from a few of the web sources that you found the night before. 

You glanced at the time again and cursed under your breath. You had better things to be doing. So, you quickly pack up your things and toss out the trash before leaving.  

Just as you returned to the little table to grab your bag, the bell at the door chimed, drawing your attention.  

There stood Jean Kirstein himself, out of breath, hair hastily brushed out of his face, and clothes a whole mess…you were pretty sure he had worn them yesterday too. 

However, his sudden entrance had also gathered stares from everyone in the shop;most people looked on with a frown, questioning why he had just thrown open the door like that, just to stand there looking like a lost puppy. 

You groaned, marching towards him and then grabbing his wrist and dragging him out of the way. 

"Seriously? You show up almost an hour late, and make a big scene?!" you say, continuing to pull him down the sidewalk.

"I know, I know!" He took in a sharp breath, stumbling as he went. 

"I mean seriously?! What's your deal?" 

"I didn't mean to be late! And can you stop shouting? My head is killing me…" 

You came to an abrupt stop and turned around to face him. "It doesn't matter if you didn't mean to be late, you were still late! I mean, come on, I sat there and looked completely stupid while I waited!" 

At your words, he tugged his arm free from your grasp, and hesitated for a moment before, saying, "Okay, I'm sorry. I should have been here on time." 

"Or at least texted me to tell me!" You sighed, bringing a hand up to your temple. "Whatever, let's just find somewhere else to sit and I can show you what your part of the project is." 

With those words, the two of you walked in silence until you were back at campus, arriving at one of the rooms designated for studying. It didn't take long to run through Jean's responsibilities, and for you both to settle into a somewhat uncomfortable quiet and begin to work. 

Currently, you were taking the information gathered earlier and writing them into evidence for your thesis while Jean was searching for art pieces to analyze. 

Every fifteen to twenty minutes or so, you'd check in with eachother and help if needed-and Jean needed more help than you did, really. 

And maybe if he hadn’t spammed you with drunk texts the night before, and then came late to your meeting, it wouldnt have bothered you as much. So when he did ask for your help, you were being short and to the point. Luckily for you, helping him was easy. It consisted of choosing between artwork, and identifying key themes or details that stood out, and then giving him ways to write it down so that it made sense with the overall idea behind your project. Now and then, you'd have him read over what you wrote, just to see what all he thought and if he had any suggestions.

Finally, after a few hours, Jean leaned back in his chair and sighed loudly. "Okay, I think we've got a lot done. Why don't we break for the day?" he suggested.

At his words, you hesitated. While a break did sound nice, you'd much rather keep working. If you got ahead, there'd be time for breaks later, or time for helping Armin and the others. 

"You go on ahead, I'm going to stay a little longer. Thanks for showing up today." You gave a small smile before looking back down to your laptop, trying to spot where you left off. 

For a moment or so, Jean packed up his things, not necessarily quietly, but enough for it not to bother you. Though, after he finished doing so, he didn't leave. Instead, he stood /annoyingly/ close to you, seemingly trying to burn holes into the back of your head. 

"Is there something you need or…?" 

"You're seriously going to stay and work more?" 

"...Yeah?" 

Jean let out a small series of 'tsk' noises and began to close your notebooks and the few textbooks you had brought. You stuttered out half of a sentence, none of it making any sense, as you watched him stack up your things, his finishing move to carefully close your laptop without even shutting it off. 

"What are you…Why…I mean-what?" 

"I think you work too hard." he remarked, grinning. Normally that would sound snarky coming from him, this time he sounded gentle, and nothing in his face seemed to show any ill will. "I mean, I've never seen you do anything fun. All you do is push yourself to do work." 

You were at a loss for words, face heating up with embarrassment. Just because he had never seen you do fun things didn't mean that you were some sort of shut in who only ever focused on homework and studying. 

Jean waited for you to pack your things, all of which you did while in a small haze, trying to comprehend it all. When you were done, he motioned for you to follow him, not saying a word of what he had planned. 

The two of you walked outside, Jean slightly ahead of you as he continued to lead the way. Occasionally, someone would stop Jean, asking him about a party or a class. He seemed to have a lot of friends, or rather just a lot of acquaintances.

Eventually, you both came to a little grassy field, one where students often came to waste time, or play games like spikeball, or frisbee. Currently, it wasn't very busy, and the two of you found a spot to sit and relax under a warm spring sky.

For the first five minutes, you sat in silence, an almost comfortable one. You found yourself mumbling about how this wasn't so bad, noticing from the corner of your eye as Jean turned to look at you. 

"Would I ever lead you astray?" Jean elbowed you carefully, earning a scowl from you. 

"Given that we don't really know each other, I'm not sure," you retorted. 

"I know that we've had at least three classes together since freshman year, and that you don't seem to like anyone," he pointed out. 

"Not true,” you said. “Sasha and Marco are very nice people who I like a lot," 

At this he barked out a laugh, a wonderful sound really, compared to his typical evil sounding snicker. "Okay, so you appreciate the presence of three specific people." 

"Three? I only named two people," you said, holding up two fingers to signify your only two friends. 

"Well, correct me if I'm wrong, but right now you don't seem to hate me, so I counted myself."

You gave another scowl."If we were able to pick our own groups, I would have picked other people, just for the record" 

"Ouch, that kind of stings." 

You couldn't tell if he was serious or not, but one thing you did know was that he probably wouldn't have picked you either.  Not that it really bothered you. While it was true that you've shared classes in the two years that you've been in college, the two of you never really talked. 

Sure, you've had the quick conversations in the hall, or maybe accidentally bumped into each other when trying to take Sasha home, or even just when Jean would hang out with Marco at your dorm. 

It wasn't that you didn't like him (aside from his huge ego and inability to get along with certain people) or even that you didn't like people in general. You honestly just wanted to focus on school, so that you would graduate on time, and get the hell out of this town. Personal relationships could come later, and you were completely content with that. Being alone wasn't something that bothered you. Or, something that you /let/ bother you. 

You leaned back until you were laying down in the grass, staring up at the cloudy sky. The more you thought about it, the more your head seemed to churn with an anxious and maybe even guilty conscience. 

"By the way, I'd say that, even though we didn't get to pick our own groups, I don't mind being paired with you." You sighed, keeping your eyes trained on the sky as Jean laid down next to you. 

From there, the conversation switched to a few different topics, one of them being a small argument over the particular shape of a cloud and what you thought it was. 

Eventually, the clouds dissipated, and the sky faded from its blue to a dusty orange lined with a pale pink-ish-purple. 

"I guess it's time to go home for the night," Jean said. 

"Mhm, guess so," you quietly said, but made no effort to sit up yet. 

Next to you, Jean stood, brushing off his clothes and running a hand through his hair, attempting to make sure there wasn't any grass on his person. Then, when it was apparent that you still hadn't even moved, he nudged you with his shoe. "You coming or what?" 

"I’m waiting," 

"For what?" 

"The first star I see" 

Jean slowly looked away from you and to the sky, "Can I ask why?" 

"No." 

It wasn't really a big deal, but this was your favorite time of the day, and you had the habit of looking for the first star you could find and making a small wish on it. It had been something you'd done ever since you were a kid; old habits die hard. But it wasn't something you just went and told people about, especially not someone like Jean. You were sure that he'd poke fun at you for it. 

His voice pulled you away from your thoughts, and you watched as he pointed just above your heads. "I think there's one over there." 

From your perspective, he was lined up to where the star was atop his finger.The sight made you smile softly; you didn’t notice that he had glanced back down, watching the small moment. 

"Okay, now we can go." You sat up slowly and climbed to your feet, grabbing your bag from where it had been by your feet. 

The two of you parted ways for the night, and you found yourself back at your dorm, which was uncharacteristically empty and quiet. Either Sasha would come home drunk again (or with her hands full of food that she got from Connie or that Niccolo guy) or that she would stay out for the night. Marco on the other hand, was probably visiting some other friends for the short weekend, so most likely, you had the place to yourself until the following evening. 

With the freedom at hand, you took some time to make dinner and lounged around the shared living space, until eventually, your eyelids grew heavy, and you forced yourself into your bed for the night.

The sound of knocking at your door woke you up. At first, you had half a mind to ignore it, but with your roommates, and the friends they had, the knocking wouldn't stop.  You glanced at the clock, seeing that it was around noon, a time that you hardly ever slept in till.

"Yeah, okay, I'm up. Who is it?" you grumbled at the door, noting that if it was Marco, he wouldn't necessarily need to knock, meaning that it must be Sasha. 

And it was. At your words, she swung the door open lazily, and leaned around the corner, "Heyyy, I was wondering if you had plans today? Connie, Jean, and I were going to play some volleyball! Wanna come? Marco is gonna join us later!" 

You took a moment to think it over. It was Sunday, so you didn't have classes, and depending on how long you were out, you could always do more homework later. Not to mention, Jean's comment about how you worked too much was still fresh in your mind. 

"...Yeah, okay, I'll come play. Give me a few minutes and I'll get dressed." 

She gave you a huge grin, shouting over her shoulder, "They said they'd come! You guys still have the net?" 

You watched as she disappeared back into the main area of the dorm, and then shut your door to change. When you exited, you could see the three of them waiting by the door, Jean holding the net, while Connie was tossing the ball between his hands. 

The walk was fairly short, as Jean had suggested the field that the two of you had been at the other day, and just like the day before, there weren't very many people out. You guys could set up a spot without having to worry about anyone else. 

At least, that's how it was at first. The game went smoothly. Surprisingly, all three of them were pretty good at the sport; though, if you had to rank them, it would be Sasha, then Jean (mostly because he can use his height to his advantage), and then Connie. 

For the first game you played, it was you and Sasha versus Jean and Connie. Then, it switched to you and Connie, and finally, you and Jean. 

No one was really counting points; no one could keep track, though each side was sure that they were winning, even if they weren't. It was about halfway through the current match, right as you were about to serve, when something came crashing into your head. 

It had hit you pretty hard, and it took you a moment to even realize what had happened and what was currently happening. 

"Hey, man, watch where you throw this thing! You nearly took my partner out!" Jean was holding a football and pointing it aggressively at another college student, who you think was named Floch or something close to it. 

The guy snatched the ball from Jean, giving him the dirtiest look. "Well, maybe you guys shouldn't be playing so close to where we are." 

At this, Connie and Sasha stepped up. Connie took to Jean's side, starting to bicker with the guy, while Sasha checked your head, fussing over you. 

"Just say sorry to our friend already. You can at least agree that you hit them!" You weren't sure who said that, as all the voices blended together until that moment. Suddenly all eyes were on you. 

More specifically, Floch's eyes. He regarded you warily, annoyance clear in his eyes and voice. "Your dumbass friend looks fine to me,” he sneered. “And besides, we tried to warn them, and they didn't move. It's their own fault. Don't go blaming me for your friend being an idiot." 

You weren't sure what came over you; maybe it was anger from the childish name calling, or maybe it was the stress of the week getting to you, but within an instant, you had crossed the few feet to get to him, and threw a punch. 

You watched as he stumbled back, nearly running into one of his nameless friends, as he clutched at his face. He was clearly seeing red.

"How dare you!" he shouted out. He started to make his way over to you, obscenities of all sorts falling from his mouth.

None of which you really heard, because at that exact moment, Sasha and Connie both shouted the same thing, 'Run,' and took off. 

And, before you knew it, Jean grabbed your hand, pulling you along as he chased after the two, until you four were sure that Floch and his extras weren't going to follow you. 

When you finally stopped, everyone was bent over, stuck in between laughing and gasping for air. 

"Holy shit! That was insane!" Sasha wheezed out, and straightened out, turning to the group with a large smile on her face.

Connie spoke next, hands still on his knees. "I can't believe we ran away." 

All at once, realization hit you: you had just clocked a guy, and then ran away, without even thinking twice. Never in your life had you done something like that. You weren't super confrontational, and you certainly would rather avoid physical altercations. But, at that moment, you had just done it. And, the crazy thing about it was how amusing you found it. Because even though you were struggling to breathe, you were laughing. The kind of laugh where you couldn't stop, and your eyes would start to tear up. 

From where he was standing at your side, Jean watched for a moment, a certain fluttering in his chest (though he could pass it off as his own endeavors with taking in air). You, for the first time that he had seen, were so laid back about the fact that you had hit someone. And the way that you were now chuckling to yourself, clearly in a sort of disbelief mixed with content. 

Jean drew your attention, "Is it bad that I kind of liked seeing you hit him?" Then he paused, as if he had rethought his choice of words. "I mean, in the sense that Floch is a stuck up, entitled bastard, and that he had it coming." 

You gave a little huff, and shrugged. "Well, I'm sure anyone would pay to see that…I honestly didn't know that I was going to hit him…until right after." 

"Well, that was amazing! That guy's been a tyrant since the beginning of the year! He even tries to get in with Eren's group, as if he was even worth being someone to talk to." Connie clapped a hand on your back, his adrenaline still running through him. 

"And I thought that Jean was the one to start fights," Sasha teased.

"Sasha! I don't start fights!" 

Around you, the three continued to talk while you watched, enjoying the sight.  

It was rather nice, for once. You weren't holed up in your dorm room while everyone else had fun, even if the fun was getting into a fight of sorts—which, as you thought back on it, the whole thing was kind of funny. It would have easily been solved if those assholes had just apologized, but you were starting to think that this outcome was better. 

“Hey, should we go back for our things?” Jean asked, pulling your attention to him.

“Yeah, probably, and if those assholes are still there, I think we know someone who can take them on for us.” Connie sent a lopsided grin your way, a certain mischievous look in his eyes.

You shrugged, acting as innocent as possible. “Oh yeah, you’d be the perfect guy for that, even with the serious height disadvantage.” 

Connie’s mouth dropped open, not quite expecting that kind of remark from you. As far as he knew, you were silent, hardworking, and the person who likes to keep to yourself. Even you were a little surprised, but, maybe after today’s events you could try out some new ways to enjoy your life a little more.

Once again, the four of you made your way back to the field, and as you did, you could see a familiar figure standing by your net, looking down at his phone. 

“Marco! You made it!” Connie shouted out, drawing your friend’s attention. “You missed all the action; it was insane!”

“Huh? Did I miss out on playing? And where were you guys?” 

As you approached, Sasha and Connie exploded into answers for his question. 

“You only missed a little of our game-”

“We had to run from Forrester and his braindead lackeys!”

“We’ve got our own Rocky! You should have seen the way they punched him! No hesitation at all!”

Slowly, Marco seemed to piece all of the information together, nodding as he thought it all over. His eyes looked at everyone one by one until he got to you. “You punched someone? The most I've ever seen from you was the time you swore at your computer when it crashed!”

A small and almost shy smile escaped you, “Well, to be fair he started it. I honestly didn’t even think about doing it; my hand moved on it’s own,”

He only shook his head, looking back around the group. “So, are we still playing?”

Jean shook his head. “Maybe we should head back to one of the dorms? Relax or play some games?”

“Oh! I’ve got some fun games!” Sasha chimed in, then paused. “But I’m kind of hungry, so maybe we could make some food, too!”

Once everyone agreed to the plan, the now five of you ended up in the dorm you shared with Marco and Sasha, where Connie, Sasha and Marco focused on setting up some games in the little living room area, and you and Jean were tasked with making some dinner. Of course, it wasn’t exactly easy, given the few options, but eventually, the two of you were able to settle on a college delicacy: instant ramen. 

You pulled out a pot to fill with water, while Jean opened a few packs of said ramen. All in all, it was easy to make, and didn’t take terribly long. Before you knew it, you were handing out bowls to the other three while Jean brought over yours and his to where you were now sitting on the floor, some game cards in front of you. 

“Okay, listen up, I’m not explaining this twice,” Connie announced. “The game is simple: read a card to yourself and then say someones name who you think matches the card. You flip a coin. If it’s heads, you tell everyone what was on the card and give that person the card. If it’s tails, you keep it to yourself, and the card is yours.” Connie gave everyone a pointed look, and when no questions or objections were raised, the game started.

The first to go is Marco; he took a moment to read his card before immediately calling out Connie’s name. Then when the coin was flipped, it landed on heads, earning a small sigh from Marco. 

“It asked who would be the one to need parental supervision no matter what age someone is,” Marco explained.

“What? Why not Sasha?! She gets into more trouble than I do!” 

“Hah! Say that to Professor Levi and all the times he has had to tell you to shut up,” Jean remarked “And not to mention you black out at every party you go to. Do you know how many times I have to carry you home while you sing at the top of your lungs?”

Connie grumbled a bit, but didn’t try to deny the claims. Instead, he pulled out a card to read. His turn ended with a flip of tails, making it now your turn. 

From the main deck, you pulled your card and read it over silently: ‘Out of everyone in the group, who would you rather make out with?’

You can feel your face heat up, already knowing that you only really have two options, Jean or Marco. And Marco is only really a choice because of how well you know him, but even then, you wouldn’t really want to do that with him. So after a few moments of silence, you call Jean’s name, looking anywhere but at his face. 

“That took you some time; must be a good card.” Sasha grinned, reaching for the coin and giving it an impressive flip. Everyone seemed to hold their breath as it landed, and all at once, five heads stuck together to see the outcome.

Heads. The worst possible way for things to go. You could feel all eyes on you now, and you begrudgingly read out the card, once again avoiding looking at Jean entirely. 

A chorus of ooo’s and ahh’s filled your ears, and everyone had something to say about your answer. 

The only one you even managed to hear was the man himself: “I hope you plan to take me out first, I’m not won over so easily." Of course, he had a cocky smirk on his face, pointed directly at you. 

“Whatever, just…whoever is next, take your turn.” You shook your head, busying yourself with eating some of your food that was now starting to get a little cold. 

Time seemed to escape you all and the night drew to a close with Connie and Jean taking their leave. Marco took the time to wash the dishes, roping Sasha into helping, and you retired to your room. You took the time to change into some comfier clothes and settle into your bed, though not quite wanting to sleep just yet. 

Your mind was still stuck on the first game you played and the card you had picked Jean for. While you wouldn’t argue against the idea of finding Jean attractive, or even the idea of kissing him, you just weren’t sure why you were so trapped in thinking about it. You didn’t even know him all that well, and for the most part, you had thought that he was pretty unbearable. 

And yet, the more your thoughts seemed to revolve around him, the more you could feel an uneasy knot forming in your stomach. There was no way that you were going to let yourself get wrapped up in developing feelings for him, or anyone. You were supposed to be focusing on school so that you could get the hell out of this town and make something of yourself.

Not to mention the fact that all of your previous attempts at relationships crashed and burned. The last time that you had gotten close with someone in that way, you ended up with a mixture of being heartbroken and incredibly angry. That was about the time you started keeping to yourself, as if getting to know someone in a more than platonic way would cause your world to shatter again. You couldn’t-no /wouldn’t/ deal with something like that again. 

You let out a groan, planting face first into your pillow and trying to shoo away all thoughts related to romance and feelings, and of Jean Kirstein. 

“Suffocating yourself?” 

You jumped lightly, head snapping up to see Marco in the doorway, leaning against the door frame. His expression was a little hard to read, though he could be like that at times. 

“Uh…no, not quite what I’m going for, but if it gets the job done, then sure,” you joked.

He moved across the room to his own bed where he took a seat, facing you. “Then what’s with the face-in-pillow tactic?”

You hesitated, knowing full and well how close Marco was with Jean, closer than he was with you. “Oh, uh, just, school things, homework, assignments, that sort of thing…”

His eyes narrowed slightly, brows furrowing. “Yeah, for once I don’t buy that, but if you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t force you to spill the details."

Again, you paused, turning away from Marco and looking towards the door. In truth, it wouldn’t hurt to tell him, since he wouldn’t ever tell a secret that wasn’t his. He was definitely the guy who would just want to talk things out, not wanting things to end badly. 

“Okay…Well…that card I got earlier,” you began. “I’m just worried, and I know that it’s just a stupid game, but I cant help but think about it.”

“Worried that Jean took it the wrong way, or worried that you’d actually want to kiss him?”

Marco was somehow always hitting the nail on the head, a talent of his. 

“Would saying both make sense?”

He thought for a moment, the room filling with an unnamable silence, until he spoke again. “Well, I’m sure Jean is going to take it in the way he always does: an ego boost for his way too big head.” Another pause. “As for the idea of maybe wanting to kiss him, I wouldn’t say that's an all too terrible idea, besides the fact that it’s Jean. But, if you really aren't sure about how you feel towards him, maybe you could…test it out?"

“Test it out?” you repeated, confused.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “Like ask him to hang out or something. You don’t have to necessarily make it like a date, but you could use the time to get to know him more, and figure out if it’s just because everyone made a big deal out of it, or if you might actually be interested in him, or getting to know him.”

You thought for a moment. The idea was pretty simple, and a good one at that, though just thinking about it made your heart rate speed up. It wasn’t like you had never been one on one with Jean, but now, with all of your thoughts being scrambled like eggs, it was slightly overwhelming. But when it came down to it, you wanted to sort it all out. If you could set your mind straight, and get rid of these terrible thoughts about Jean, you could get back on track for school.

“You’re right, I’ll definitely try that.” You let out a small breath of air and turned back to Marco. “Thanks, I’m glad you’re here.”

“What would you do without me? And don’t worry— I won’t say anything to anyone. my lips are sealed” He smiled, hand coming up to his mouth to mime a zipper motion.

“Okay, good. Unless you want to end up like the douche from earlier, I wouldn’t recommend telling a soul.” 

He gave a laugh before gathering some of his things to go and take a shower, leaving you alone once more. You eventually drifted off to sleep, and surprisingly, you didn’t wake up once.

The next day, you only had one class, and once that was over, you had gone to the library to study, needing to get work done for a few of your other classes. It was a nice change in pace from the day you had yesterday. It wasn’t super crowded, either, which meant you could focus on your work in peace. 

Though, it didn’t last long, as two new faces joined your table. You looked up, almost expecting to see Jean and Connie, or Marco and Sasha, but to your surprise, it was Eren and Armin. 

“I hope you don’t mind us joining you!” Armin smiles, though something in his eyes tells you that he didn’t pick your table without a reason. 

“Uh, no that’s okay.” 

He and Eren settled into two of the chairs, the latter of the two only pulling out his phone. Armin did the exact opposite. He took out two textbooks, a large notebook, and a handful of pens, pencils and markers. 

For the first five minutes or so, the three of you sat in silence. You worked on homework for a communications class, while armin was seemingly working on a paper for a psyche class. But when Eren suddenly scoffed at his phone, you stopped what you were doing to look up at him, questioning his action. 

He in turn looked at you, maybe even through you. “So, turns out, someone gave Forrester a nasty bruise yesterday. He wont say who, so i’m thinking he got his ass kicked and just doesn’t want to admit it.” 

You feigned ignorance, giving Eren a blank stare, “I’m not really sure who that is, but sounds like a tough time for him.”

Eren regarded you for a moment, but it wasn’t his stare that bothered you. You now had Armin’s attention, as if he wanted to ask a question. Or, make a comment on what you said. But instead he said, “Well, I’m not the one to really get into these things, but Floch does like to cause problems for himself, so maybe he deserved it?” 

You nodded along, not wanting to give Eren any more information. With him, rumors tended to get out of hand quickly, and you really did not want to be the talk of the school over an altercation with Floch. To everyone in the school, you were pretty much some nobody, and frankly, you weren’t upset at the idea. If it meant less trouble for you, it was going to be something you’d stay okay with.

“Well he’s been bitching about it all day. It’s starting to get on my nerves.” Eren flipped his phone over, leaning back in his chair as he did. 

“Does he expect you to do something about it?” You asked, still trying to keep a low profile, while also trying to pry more information out of him.

“I’m sure thats what he wants, but I’m not going to help him with that, Floch can fight his own battles.”

A thick silence descended over your table. You took it as a sign that you could continue working on your homework. The one for your comms class wasn’t due until tomorrow, but you really wanted to finish it. 

This had always really been how you did things. You tried to finish things early, study as soon as possible, take as much time to get your work done as possible. And you weren’t the only one. Armin had also gone back to his work, and though you weren’t sure when it was due for him, but it wouldn’t be surprising if it was due at the end of the week or so.

You weren’t all that close with Armin, but the two of you had taken the time to study with eachother for the one class that you did share, and you had even reached out once to ask if he would tutor you for a few sessions, needing help with your math at the time. It was a nice thought to know that you weren’t the only student to stray from the eyes of their peers.

Though he had a harder time with it, being best friends with Eren and all. Not to mention he was also friends with Mikasa Ackerman, who was arguably the girl who drew most people’s attention. 

Before you knew it, two hours had passed, and you felt your phone buzz. You picked it up from the table, squinting your eyes at the bright screen. It was Jean.

“Hey, why are you with Armin, and that idiot.”

At this, you paused, looking around the library, not seeing Jean. 

“Where are you?” you replied.

After a minute or two, your phone buzzed again.

“Come and find me.” 

And that was it. He didn’t send any other messages, even after you sent him two more, questioning him again. You frowned, then looked to your things. You had been working for awhile, so getting up and moving might not be the worst thing. You proceeded to pack everything that you had pulled out earlier, and stood from your chair, looking to the other two.

“I think I’m going to head out. Let’s meet up again later in the week to work on Professor Hange’s assignment.”

Armin glanced up, and smiled, “Okay! How about Thursday? I can show you what all I’ve finished!”

“Sounds good.” You gave a short wave, and turned away from the table, scanning the surrounding areas before setting off in a random direction. 

There were a few more tables behind some of the bookshelves, but none of the students sitting at them were Jean. You checked out the library’s computer section next, and kept looking until you ended up near Armin and Eren again. Another frown crossed your face, until you heard a muffled laugh. 

With the new hint, you looked upwards to the second floor. And there he was, leaning against the railing, smirking down at you. You felt your face heat up in what you were going to call embarrassment, and definitely not any other word that had to do with your complicated thoughts on him, and how from where you stood, he looked almost handsome. 

You sent a halfhearted glare his way and headed up the stairs, making your way over to him, about to comment on his antics, but you weren’t able to get a word out before he could make fun of you. 

“You looked really dumb running around trying to find me.”

You gave an astonished laugh, “Yeah, well you sounded like a complete stalker just now.”

“And you still came to find me. I’m starting to think you like me more than you let on.” 

The unsettling feeling returned to your stomach at his words, though you weren’t surprised that he was poking fun at you after yesterdays game. “In your dreams.” You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to ease the increasing amount of uneasiness that was slowly taking ahold of you. 

“Hm, I guess that’s true. Does that mean you want me to dream about it?” He looked at you contently, despite all of what he said being the brashest thing you had heard from him yet.

You didn’t say anything to that, instead you changed the subject quickly. “To answer your question about who I was with, I actually didn’t plan on sitting with them. Armin and Eren joined me.”

He gave a slow nod, and peered back at the table down below, where the two were still sitting, “Do you think I could spit on Eren from here?”

“No, and I dont think you should even try.” 

“Buzzkill.”

You scoffed, “I am not a buzzkill. You are just in the middle of some pointless battle of being better than each other.”

Jean looked back to you, staring at you for a moment. Then back down at Eren. “I just don’t get what everyone sees in that guy. He’s clearly an egotistical bastard with no regards to anyone else.”

“Do you think that you guys have anything in common in the fact that you both have ridiculously large egos?”

“Don’t lump me in with him.” This he said more seriously, “Anyways, enough about him, do you want to go do something?”

“Like what?”

He shrugged, and started for the stairs. You followed him wordlessly, and the two of you left the library, now back outside where a light breeze met you. The silence continued to hang over you two as you walked aimlessly in a random direction. You couldn’t tell if he was still thinking about your comment on him and Eren, or something else completely. You decided against asking him about it, and instead found a different topic. 

“Hey so, I found this art exhibit at the museum, it’s about the book Hange assigned us. I was thinking that we could go and check it out and see if we can find anything useful?”

He thought for a moment, eyes wandering the path ahead. “Okay, it doesn’t sound like the worst way to spend an afternoon.”

“Would eleven in the morning on Friday or Saturday be okay?”

“Friday works better for me, I think I’ve got plans with Connie on Satuday.” 

“Okay, Friday it is.” You paused, a smile slowly making it’s way onto your face, “Just make sure to be on time. I wont wait for you this time.”

“Hey! I already apologized for that.” He stopped in place, giving you a pointed look.

You stopped a few feet in front of him, shrugging as you continued to speak, “I need to cover all the bases. I am not going to wait around for you, just for you to tell me that you were hungover.”

“I am not going to be hungover again. I’m not going to make you wait, I swear.”

“You better not, I won’t be as forgiving this time.” You go to move past him, elbowing him as you do. 

He turns on his heel to catch up with you, giving you a slight push at the same time, “You were hardly forgiving last time. You were mad the entire time we were working on the assignment,” Jean pauses, taking a moment to look at the path that you had set off on, “Wait, where are we even going?”

You glanced over to him, then back infront of you. “Well, I’ve done nothing but school work today, and you didn’t mention anything specific other than ‘go do something’ and last time you picked where we went, so now its my turn.”

“Are you going to tell me where we are heading at least?”

“No.” You smiled a little at the statement, remembering how you had done the same thing to him when he had asked about you caring so much about seeing the stars. Looking back over to Jean, who was staring straight ahead, you took a moment to really look at him.

He was pretty tall, and when he wasn’t smiling like some sort of evil bastard, he had a pretty nasty resting bitch face, a combination that probably scared anyone who didn’t know him. Though, you could say that despite all that, he had a few attractive features to him. When he was smiling, actually smiling that is, his eyes lit up. You hadn’t noticed it much before, but now when you thought back on the past few days of being around him, you could see the way his eyes would hold a certain softness.  And when he was thinking, he tended to frown, scrunching up his nose until he came to whatever conclusion he needed. And when the two of you were in the field the other evening, he had an almost blissful aura to him, as if he had no cares in the world, you wouldn't ever guess that he was someone who caused so much trouble. Honestly it was probably a good thing that he had a difficult personality. If his ego was bad now, you don't want to know what he'd be like if he knew all of this about himself.

You looked away before he could catch you staring, and before you gave yourself any more time to think about him, not wanting to let yourself actually fall for the guy. 

Instead you focused on finding your way to today's randomized destination. If you were being honest, you hadn't actually thought of somewhere to go, and frankly, with how little you actually went out, you didn't know too many spots around campus. Regardless, you continued to lead the way, until an idea formed in your head. 

Earlier in the year, you had gotten a tad bit lost while trying to find a class, and ended up on the edge of your campus, where you stumbled on an old tree. Aside from the size of the thing, it seemed completely normal. But when you had looked further at it, there was something of a hidey hole in its backside. Since discovering it, you had made countless trips to the tree, using it as a place to get away from the school. You definitely weren't the first person to discover it, but it seemed like no one else ever really visited the old thing. 

As you and Jean came upon the tree, he gave a low whistle, craning his head back to take in it's height, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you just took me to a make out spot," 

You threw a bewildered look at him, before shaking your head slowly, "Well, since you do know better, you should know that it's more likely that I've brought you to the best place on campus to hide a body."

He in turn shook his own head, "And here I thought we we're getting closer," 

"Closer to hiding your body?"

"Not quite what I was thinking…" he trailed off, taking a moment to circle around the tree, his hand trailing along the bark as he went, "so, what made you pick here? Other than premeditated murder."

As he came back around, you watched as he took the time to drop his bag at the ground by his feet, kneeling down next to it for a moment, searching its contents. 

"Hm, I'm not entirely sure. I'm pretty sure I'm the only person who ever comes here anymore." You pause, eyeballing what Jean was now holding in his hands, "It's kind of like a secret hideout minus the secret part, since anyone can stumble on this old tree." 

"And yet you brought me here…I'm starting to worry about my wellbeing," he chuckles, then takes a seat a few feet away from the tree. 

In his hands, he held a sketchbook. It looked a good few years old, as loose pages stuck out here and there, and the sheets were starting to yellow along the edges. You watched on quietly, as he flipped open to one of the last few pages, pausing as he glanced back at the tree. 

After a few moments you moved to stand just behind him, looking down at the page, which now held some sketch lines, resembling the tree just ahead of you.

You kept quiet for a bit, watching him quietly. He was lighthanded, it was as if any stray line within the whole piece would fly off the page and into the world around you. 

"You know you can sit and watch me draw too, right?"

"Yeah, and sit next to you? No thanks." You moved away from him, a slight flustered tone in your voice as you realized just how long you had been observing him. 

Instead, you took a seat at the base of the tree, opening your own bag, pulling out some more of your homework. Between the two of you, the only noises were the sounds of pencil on paper, and the occasional shifting of branches in the wind. 

You weren't really sure just how long things stayed that way. The only thing that brought your mind back to reality was the feeling of being stared at. 

"Need something?" You asked, arching a quizzical eyebrow in Jean's direction.

He shook his head, closing his sketchbook quietly, "Not at all. I was just wondering how much homework you were going to do before you got bored of being such a studious person." 

You scoffed at him. He was teasing you for this again? 

"Well, unlike some people, I need to pass all my classes so I can get the hell out of here." 

"You hate it here that much?" 

You paused, a lump forming in your throat. How were you even supposed to answer that question? All in all, this small town was horrible, and had been that way your entire life. Growing up you didn't have very many friends, and your family was fairly distant to you. You had shouldered all of your problems and responsibilities by yourself. Even now, in your college years it was hard to shake the feeling that you were still alone. 

You drew in a breath. "Sometimes, I sit by myself at my desk, and just stare at one of my notebooks until all the lines blur together. And then I realize that I'm crying. But what's funny about that is, I never know why I'm crying. " you start, bringing your eyes to his, "I never have the words to describe what i'm feeling in those moments. It's the same with how I feel about this place. I really don't know if I hate it, or if I'm just…projecting something else onto it." 

Jean stills with the information, until he takes a long breath in, "Art isn't much of a passion for me, as much as it is a hobby. I can't tell you how many half finished sketches I have. Sometimes I feel like I just don't have it in me to finish them, as if I'm scared of not knowing what I'm going to do next." 

He isn't talking about art. You know this from the way that Jean looks at you, not with pity, but with a hint of understanding. 

It was silent once again. Your brain turned over and over as you repeated his words in your head. Slowly, a wistful smile spread across your face. 

"You know Jean, you're not so bad after all." 

He stands up, shaking his head as he does, and makes his way over to you, holding out a hand for you to take, "I have my moments, I can't always be the charming asshole everyone says I am."

You hesitated for a moment, eyes flicking to his hand. Slender fingers and a wide palm, his hand looked soft, and the thought of holding it, even just for a moment, would be comforting. You took his hand, averting your gaze as he helped you to your feet. 

"I'm sure everyone leaves out the 'charming' part."

"That's where you're wrong, everyone thinks I'm charming."

"Everyone but me that is," you chirp back, letting your hands fall to your sides.

"You dont think I'm charming?" 

The churning sensation is back. You /wanted/ to say no, to tell him that he was annoying, loud-mouthed, and a pain in the ass, but somewhere in the time you'd known him, he had become annoyingly endearing, loudly funny, and a pain in the ass to ignore the thumping in your chest. 

"I can't say charming is the word I'd use to describe you. Horribly pleasant maybe, but not charming."

At this he smirks, starting to walk backwards away from you, "Oh so you think I'm pleasant? Hopefully in the way that I'm nice to look at." 

"You missed the word horrible," 

He waved off your comment, instead placing one hand on his chest, right over his heart, while reaching out the other hand towards you, "and yet, if I asked you to join me to a delicious five star dinner at my dorm, you'd still say yes." 

You could feel your face flush, knowing that he didn't mean anything more than just to hang out for a little bit longer, and not in some sort of lame date way, "I'd only come because it would be free food, even if the food is terrible. Like you." 

"So, that's a yes you'll be joining me for dinner? I've got…box mashed potatoes, frozen broccoli, and hopefully leftover seasoned chicken." 

You turned back to where you had left your things, a slightly messy sight. "Alright alright, I'll come, pick up your things and we can go." 

You knelt down next to your bag, trying to ignore the nervous shaking of your hands as you collected your things. Your mind raced with warring thoughts. How did this happen? How was it that Jean Kirstein of all people, had weaseled his way into being someone that you didn't fully hate? But, there was no way you were going to let him get in the way of school, and your plans to finally be free from this horrible town. But then part of you wondered, was it all one sided? Jean seemed to be the type to have all sorts of girls and guys fawning over him, even if he had only ever been open about one specific girl that he was interested in, which of course had been Mikasa. But you couldn't even blame him, she was out of everyone's league. How she seemed to be completely and obviously in love with Eren Jeager of all people was a mystery to you. 

"Hey, are you listening?" His voice stopped your thoughts in their tracks, as you hadn't even noticed that he had been speaking to you. 

"Now why would I be doing that?" You shouldered your bag, standing back up and facing him.

"We've been over this, because I'm charming- sorry, pleasant." 

"Again, you left out the horrible part." 

"I've got a feeling that you don't mean that, otherwise you'd just call me horrible." He turns halfway away from you, looking back to the general area of the school. 

You paused, walking up next to him, trying to ignore the fact that he was right, "You just have selective hearing." 

Jean eyed you while starting to head back to the dorms, a different and softer smile making its way onto his face, "Not when it comes to you." 

You nearly tripped over a stray rock, his words repeating in cycles in your head. You could only give him a glance, busying yourself with avoiding any other stones on the sidewalk. 

What did he mean by that? What did you want those words to mean? Your mind flashes back to your conversation with Marco. The feeling of your heart painfully pounding against your ribs surfaces. Your hands tremble ever so slightly while they grasp at the straps of your bag. Marco was right, and he hadn’t even said anything about you actually having feelings for Jean. 

As the thought hit, you spared another quick look towards him. He was looking at you. Careful eyes studying your demeanor. The way you walked. The way your eyes struggled to meet his. The way your mouth formed a tight line as you realized all of this was happening.

“Hey, if you really don’t want to try my cooking, you don’t have to come.” He let out a breath, running a hand through his hair for a moment. 

You looked away. You could turn him down, you could go home. It would be the easy way out. You could ignore any of his future attempts at hanging out. You could finish school and leave this place. Leave him and everyone else again. 

The thought of it made you shudder. In doing so, you would be condemning yourself to your worst self. Being alone. 

You looked back to Jean, his face morphed into one of concern, clearly puzzled as to why you were taking so long to answer. 

You were tired of being alone. Tired of pushing away your own happiness in pursuit of a future that wasn’t even set in stone. 

You flashed a smile his way, and waved off his words, “No way, you said it was a five star dinner. I can’t pass on that.”

He stared at you for a moment. Then, his confusion melted away, replaced by that famous cocky smile, “Okay good, I wasn’t sure what to do if you bailed on me.”

“Maybe you could have cooked for Connie too, light some candles, play some mood music, you know, make it all romantic for the two of you.” You chuckled, about to make another remark when Jean gave you a playful shove. 

“Why would you say that! I can’t have a romantic dinner with Connie of all people!” 

“Sure you can! It’s easy! Candles, music, food! All you need!” 

Jean groaned and shook his head. “You’re horrible.”

“Pleasant, actually.” You grinned. 

He hummed in response, and you could’ve swore you heard him mumble ‘horribly pleasant my ass’

His dorm room was warm, and set up similarly to yours. The same bland, small kitchen and the same questionable excuse for a couch just a few feet away. Three sets of doors that led to his roommates, and two bathrooms. 

One of the doors were open, and you caught a glimpse of Connie attempting to take mirror selfies. He would take one, bring the phone close to his face, frown and then try again. It wasn’t until his third or forth picture that he noticed you staring through the mirror. 

“Well if it isn’t our very own Rocky!” He grinned, hastily shoving his phone into the pocket of his sweats. 

“Hey Connie” you waved, then smirked a little, “I'm sure the ladies will love all of those selfies.” 

His face flushed slightly, and he stepped out of his small room, “For your information, the ladies already love seeing my handsome face. I was just taking a few more for-”

Jean cut him off, a bark of a laugh filling the room, “Like you can get a girl to think your ugly mug is anything worth looking at.” 

Connie gaped, “Dude, that’s just cold. I thought you liked my face.” 

You eyeballed the two, before turning to Jean and mouthing the words, ‘romantic dinner’ 

Jean glared halfheartedly, before a smile broke through, “and here I thought I was treating you to a five star, romantic dinner.” 

Connie was now the one looking between the two of you, unsure if Jean was being serious or not. You, on the other hand, could feel your face heat up. He had to be joking. Jean was making a joke based off of your joke. That was the only thing that would make sense at the moment. 

“Only if it involves candles and music.” You attempt to force your voice into sounding level, as if you weren’t sickeningly thrilled by the idea of your dinner with Jean being a little more than friendly. 

His head swivels around the room, scanning the small area before emitting a sigh of halfhearted defeat, “Might need a raincheck on that, I don't have any candles.” Jean pauses, thinking for a moment, “Unless you had your heart set on the romantic dinner with candles and music, maybe I can make something work.” He smirked in your direction, true to his usual cheeky self. 

You faced away from him, moving to set your backpack down on the floor by the door, “No candles, no deal.” You pause, practically feeling Connie’s wide eyed stare pointed at your back. 

“That’s not a no to having a more than friendly dinner, now is it?” Jean fires back, smiling in a not so innocent way. Your stomach twisted in knots. He wasn’t wrong. You had intentionally avoided his question, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of yet another person falling for his aggravating charm. 

You shrug a response, giving back another flippant response, “Sure, if it helps you sleep at night to think of it that way.” 

After a moment of silence, Connie’s voice fills the room. “Yeah so, I don’t really know whats going on here, but i’m gonna head out. Sasha is waiting for me with Marco.” He slides on a pair of shoes, grabs a bag and promptly leaves, but not before saying a goodbye, “See ya later Rocky, and Jean, I hope you choke on your food.”

To which, all Jean says is, “Yeah, whatever man.”

You watch him leave quietly, then turn back to face Jean, studying him for a moment. He hasn’t noticed your stares yet,  not when he’s busying himself with pulling out what he needed for this dinner supposedly high rated by Michelin themselves. 

Throughout the past year or so, you had noticed that when Jean was concentrating, he tended to screw up his face a little, eyebrows scrunched in, mouth quirked off to the side, usually whatever was in his hands was being toyed with. But right now, he was different. A content soft smile, and the look in his eyes was gentle. Fond. Domestic. 

“Do you need help with anything?” You asked, feeling the need to do something other than just stand around. 

Jean looked back up at you, bag of frozen broccoli in his hands. “Do you want to make the instant potatoes or the broccoli?” 

You walked to him, and grabbed the bag from him, “Where do you keep your pots and pans?”

“Planning on making this a fancy dinner?” He paused, taking a moment to grab out a small pot for you, and then a lid. “Are you steaming them?”

You set the bag down, then eyed the pot and lid, “Would you happen to have one of those steaming baskets? Or do I need to get creative?”

Jean smiled sheepishly, “I’ve got Connie for a roommate. If I was Niccolo I would definitely have one of those, therefore, you’ll have to get creative. But you’re pretty smart, so I believe in you.”

You nodded slowly. That made sense. Jean and Connie were in the same boat as Sasha, Marco and yourself. If you had done more planning for dinner you probably could have worked something else with Niccolo to borrow his cooking supplies. Though you were sure that the guy would say no, as he was pretty particular about his things. Oh well. You’d have to figure something else. 

The rest of the preparations went fine, and before you knew it, the two of you were sitting at a dingy table that each dorm room had, making small talk over left over chicken and mid-tier potatoes and broccoli. 

“Okay, so I’ll  bite. What’s your deal?” Jean asked suddenly, then his eyes went a little wide as he realized the wording of his question, “I mean! Uh…Well-”

You cut him off, easily able to tell what he meant, “Do you mean why do I have no life and only study and do my work alone?”

He melted under your gaze, before nodding slowly, “I meant it a little nicer though.”

“Its okay, I got what you meant…I think.” You set your fork down, suddenly scrutinizing a small crack in your plate. 

Jean cleared his throat a bit before speaking again, “It’s just that…you spend so much time studying, and it definitely pays off. I’ve heard from Sasha that you have really good grades. But…”

“But?”

“They worry about you. Sasha and Marco that is…and well, I kind of do too. At least, more now that I know you a little better.”

You don’t respond. He’s going somewhere with this. You can tell by the cadence of his voice, how he seems to be picking his words carefully.

“I think that even just in the past few days, you’ve opened  up a lot…I finally got to see you smile.” He paused, “I remember one time last year, in one of our shared classes, I went to see the professor, but you were already there, pleading with him for some extra credit. And when you came out, you look like you had been crying. The next day, I went out of my way to tell you a joke, hoping that maybe you’d smile.”

“I remember that. I told you that I was busy with a make up assignment and ignored you.” You hummed a little, thinking back to Jean back then. His hair was shorter, and he was even more obnoxious that he had been this year. It was one of the few times you had actually spoke to him at the time.

“So…I guess I was just wondering where all this pressure on you comes from?” He fidgets with something in his hands. Like when he’s focusing on his work. You’ve seen it countless times in the past, you just never thought about it until now.

With a sigh, you resign yourself to telling him a little bit about yourself, “I’ve lived here my whole life. And my whole life, I’ve basically been alone. Friends were hard to come by, especially after I decided that all I wanted to do was leave. So, with no one to hold me back, as long as I finish college strong, I can leave and go anywhere I want. I have to do this. Staying here is out of the question…” You trailed off, thinking about how you had never truly said these words out loud. 

“But?” He spoke softly, as if he could tell that you had been battling with yourself on what you truly wanted. He stared at you, not through you as most other people did. Your heart sped up. What were you supposed to say now? You had only started to question your aspirations because of him. And you absolutely would not be sharing that thought now. 

“But nothing. I meant what I said. I’m getting out of this hell and I’m not looking back. Ever.”  you spat the words out, a sudden low and hollow feeling settling in your stomach. What were you doing? A small voice in the back of your head answered that question for you. The same one that you let control most of your college days. You were wasting time, you had assignments to do and a degree to work towards. 

You moved to stand suddenly. “I have to go…I forgot that I’m supposed to meet with Armin tomorrow. I should really make sure that I’m ready to show him my part..and yours too.” You grabbed your backpack, and escaping out into the hall. 

You stood there quietly, chest moving up and down as you took in harsh breaths,  not entirely sure why you did all of that. With a shake of your head you made the journey back to your own dorm, not bothering to take off your shoes at the door like you normally did, instead you merely trudged into your room, tossing your bag onto the ground by your desk, and finding a seat on the edge of your bed. 

“Are you okay?” Your freckled friend spoke up, nearly giving you a heart attack in the process. You hadn’t even noticed that he was home.

You didn’t answer. Instead, tears began to fill your eyes. He was by your side in an instant, arms wrapping around you carefully. Muffled sobs wracked your body. With each one Marco only hugged you a little tighter. He let you cry until you were done. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.” The words fell from your lips, and you couldn’t stop what came after them, “This whole time i’ve had one goal; to graduate with soaring grades, and to leave. Make as few friends as possible so that way I wouldn’t get distracted…and so that leaving would be easier.” 

“What changed then?” Marco asked, his voice soft and careful. You got the feeling that he already knew the answer.

“Jean. Jean crashed into my life and ruined my plans. I haven’t even really known him that long and suddenly I’m throwing away school just to hang out with him. I haven’t been studying the same way I used to, instead I’m playing volleyball with him, and he’s holding my hand as we run away. I’m sitting with him by that old tree and thinking about him instead of the words on my papers. I’m cooking with him and thinking about how muchI want to do it all again.” Your words are quiet, but Marco hears them all the same.

“You do know that those don’t have to be bad things, right?” He lets you go, taking a moment to scoot away ever so slightly, making you look up at his face, where a small smile rests, “It’s been nice to see you let loose. And I know that you’ve been enjoying yourself.”

You attempt to frown, “Thats not true.” 

A beat passes and you speak again, “Okay. Maybe a little…but I-”

“No. No buts. You are the hardest working person I know. You are smart and you always apply yourself to your work. You are doing amazing. It’s time that you see that for yourself. You will finish school, and you will be able to go out into the world and do whatever you want to do, but that doesn’t mean you have to wait to have any of that fun. You deserve to enjoy your life, the one right now in the present that you are living, okay?”

His words played on repeat in your mind a few times, you tried to interalize them, make them into your own instead of letting that voice shoo them away. 

“Okay.” You nodded, then brought a hand up to your face, covering your mouth for a moment, “I left Jean.”

“What?”

“We were eating dinner and talking and then I got upset and I just…I just left. “

Marco pursed his lips, nodding slightly as he tried to imagine the scene. Jean sitting alone at his table, probably confused and wondering what he did wrong. “Well…theres only so much you can do about that, which I suggest texting him. Let him know that you’re alright, and just so that the poor guy doesn’t overthink, that he didn’t cause you to run off.”

You nodded, “Right. Okay. I can do that.”

It grew quiet between you and Marco, though it didn’t last very long. There was a light tone in his voice, one he used when he wanted to tease someone without making them aware of it, though you had learned to recognize it fairly well. 

“So, I’m assuming that you like Jean…at least a little bit.”

“Okay. Get off my bed. This moment is over.” You push him gently, facing away from Marco. 

“Are you going to tell him?”

“Oh would you look at the time? I should really head to bed, okay goodnight Marco, get off my bed.”

He laughed, and did as you said, letting you have the room so you could change, “goodnight lovebird.”

Ignoring him as best as you could, you changed quickly, and crawled right back into your bed, under the safety of your comforter.  Once there, you pulled out your phone, fingers trembling as you brought up the chat with Jean.

You stared at it for a moment. The last messages were from earlier this day. He hadn’t said anything since then. 

Slowly you typed out an apology. “Hey Jean, I’m really sorry for just bailing earlier. Super not cool of me.”

You groaned at the words, quickly backspacing and starting again. “Sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean to just leave you there. I promise things are fine. It wasn’t you, or the food for that matter.” 

You hit send, not giving yourself time to overthink the text any longer. 

Fairly quick after your message had been sent, Jean had already replied. “Its okay! You had me worried for a minute there. Thought maybe the food tasted so bad that you just had to leave to get an actual five star dinner.”

He was being courteous. Trying to keep the conversation light as to not scare you off again. 

Your fingers flew across the keyboard once more, “Let me make it up to you. Friday, 11am, at the museum.”

“You really don’t have to make anything up to me, I get it.”

“Jean. Just let me feel bad and try to make it up. Or else I will think about this all night.”

His next message wasn’t exactly what you thought he’d say…or actually, it was exactly what he would say, “Oh, so if I don’t let you have your way, you will be up all night…thinking about me?”

“No.” You hit send. Then sent another message, “Ykw nevermind. I’m not sorry. Be on time friday or else.”

He was quick to shoot back another response, “Okay fine. Make it up to me.”

Then another message, “How do you plan on doing that anyways?”

“You’ll see. Be patient.”

It wasn’t long after that did you eventually fall asleep. The next day was pretty uneventful. Your meeting with Armin was fine, as the guy already had about half of the presentation outline done, and with all of the information and other necessary work that you had gathered, Armin would most likely have the whole thing done by the time he went to bed that night. 

The rest of the day passed quickly, almost too quickly for your liking. Before you knew it, your alarm was going off, signalling that it was ten twenty-five in the morning. 

You had spent some time the day before thinking of how to make up for ditching Jean the other night, and finally settled on an idea. Said idea was currently sitting on your desk, inside a plastic bag. 

You gave it a quick look before climbing out of your bed, moving to your dresser to get ready for the day. 

You had just thrown on your shoes, sparing a glance at your phone to the time. It was eleven. You were going to be late. Of course after all that talk to Jean about being on time, you were going to be running behind this time. You could only imagine what he would have to say about it.

You hurriedly grabbed the bag from your desk, and shoved your phone into you pocket after sending yet another apology to Jean. 

The trip to the museum took about twenty minutes with public transport. It was eleven twenty-three and you had finally made it to the museum doors. 

Jean was standing just to the right of them, staring down at his phone, his back to you. You watched as he brought his phone to his ear, and smiled slightly as your phone buzzed in your pocket. 

You let it ring. Walking up and tapping his shoulder a few times. “Sorry I’m late.”

He spun around, eyes landing on your form. His mouth hung up for a moment before he hung up the phone call, “Is this to get back at me for the other day?”

“No…I just slept past my first alarm.”

“Oh so when you’re late its okay but when I’m late its the worst thing ever.”

You shrugged slightly, “I at least texted you in advance.” You paused, then remembered the bag you were holding, “Oh…um. I got you this. To make up for bailing.”

He eyed the bag suspiciously, “I thought I told you not to worry about it.”

“I worried about it. Now just say thanks and take the bag from me.” You rushed the words out, holding it out to him, “No refunds so you have to keep it.”

His fingers deftly took the plastic handles from you, and reached inside the bag. You watched quietly as he lifted the gift out, eyes softening as he realized what it was. 

“You bought me a new sketchbook?” He hummed a little, looking at the cover for a few moments, “This is a really nice brand too. I’ve always wanted to try it out.”

“Your other one looked a little full the other day…so I figured I could afford a nice one to say that I’m sorry. “

Jean let the sketchbook slide back into the bag, “Well…thank you. I really appreciate this.” He toed something on the ground, eyes unable to find yours. 

You instead took this moment to find the exhibit tickets on your phone, nudging him slightly, “Let’s get going, there’s a couple of pieces I think we should look at specifically.”

Once inside, you took a few moments to study the map of the place, trying to figure out which hall you needed to go to, before Jean took your hand in his, face a little flushed as he did so. 

“I come here pretty often, most of the new exhibits are near the back on the first floor.” He said, pulling you along with him. 

It wasn’t too crowded, and as most museums were, it was quiet. A nice solitude for those who liked to hide away from the world, and find new ones in the art and historical pieces sheltered there.

When the both of you made it to the exhibit, you found that you were the only ones there. Meaning that you could stare at the art as long as you needed. Which you did. Slowly you let Jean’s hand slip from yours.

You hadn’t thought about seeing the art in real life, and how much it would effect you. Entrap you in every single paint stroke, every single carving of marble. It was beautiful. Clearly the story that was assigned to you had meant a lot the various artists. 

You found Jean staring at a drawing. It was mostly in charcoal, though some color had been added here and there, giving the piece whimsical dimension. It looked to be a tree. A large, barren tree in a valley of never ending sand. From the branches, blue and green spilled out across the paper, spanning what would be the sky. 

“You like this one?” You asked with a hush, not wanting to startle him. 

He nodded, “It’s simple, but I just know that the artist put a lot of work into it. Every line is purposeful. And we will never truly know what it means.” He responded, eyes traveling down to the plaque, where it read the piece’s title, “Paths.” With an unnamed author. 

You let him look at the drawing for as long as he needed. You wandered to a sculpture on display a few steps to the right. It seemed to be one of the titans depicted in the story. Creme colored marble in the form of a woman, skeletal mouth open in what the book claimed to be a war cry. There were ribs formed around her abdomen. Her hand outstretched towards the open air. From this perspective, despite the lack of facial features, the statue almost looked sad. A women with an extraordinary ability, forced to use it for harm, all because she was in love with the wrong person. At least, that’s what you wanted to think.  You were sure that others in your class thought the opposite. Which of course was exactly what your analysis was going to focus on. 

You studied it for a few more moments, before looking away, finding Jean now standing across the room, in front of another painting. You moved to stand next to him, looking at what held his attention.

It was of a starry night sky, bathed in dark blues and purples. Underneath, was a lone pig in a field, head faced towards the grass. 

“This is what started the book, right?” You asked, watching as he nodded once.

“But that’s not what i’m thinking about.”

“Then what’s going on in your mind?”

Jean looked back to you, smiling sideways, “Why did you wait the other night, at the field? I figured that you were waiting for a star, but why?”

You brought your eyes back to the painting, looking from the dark green grass, to the pig that was grazing on it peacefully, then to a star painted to be the brightest one there. 

“When I was younger, I used to stand outside, or at my window, and just wait. As soon as I saw the first star of the night, I made a wish on it.” You paused, thinking back on your childhood, “I used to wish for a friend, or someone more than that. I was pretty lonely as a kid. Eventually I started wishing for a future other than that…and then, I stopped wishing. I still would wait for the star, but I made sure that I wasn’t relying on a ball of gas in the sky to make my wishes come true.”

“I’d say that they came true then.” Jean turned his body to face yours, looking down towards you, some thought dancing in his eyes.

You mimicked his motion, allowing yourself to face him fully, “And what makes you say that?”

“You’ve made two whole friends.” 

“I’ve made three.” You corrected him softly, thinking back to your first conversation about it with him, “Sasha and Marco are very nice people who I like a lot.” You state matter of factly.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “And the third? Don’t tell me it’s Floch…or even worse, Eren.”

“Mmm close. It’s you.” 

He places a hand to his heart, dramatic words escaping him, “How long have I waited for you to realize that you and I are friends.”

“You’re still horribly pleasant.” You remark, shaking your head, “Maybe I should take it back about being friends.”

“Too late, you already said it. No refunds.” He drew closer to you, enough to where you could feel his warmth. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Isn’t that technically already a question?” You pause, then nod to him, “But, yeah, go for it.”

“When you graduate, and leave this town. Will you forget about your friends?”

You hesitate. You knew that he wasn’t really asking about Marco or Sasha. You can feel your stomach flip over a few times, that annoying feeling of nervousness that came whenever you thought about Jean.

“No. I wont. How could I?” Your words seem to have some sort of effect on Jean, as he dodesn’t speak. You continue, trying to pick your words carefully, “When it comes to you, specifically you…I would have one hell of a time forgetting you, Jean.”

“I am pretty cool…” He mumbles, then swallows his pride, “But, what if I don’t want you to remember me?” 

You tilt your head to the side, giving him a confused look, but still allowing him to continue.

“I just mean…what if I want to be remembered as not just a friend. As more than that?” 

He locks eyes with you, his face serious as he waits for you to say something, to say anything really. 

You swear that your heart stops beating altogether. It wasn’t one sided. You thought back to your conversation with Marco from two nights before. You deserved this. Deserved to enjoy yourself. To let yourself live a little. 

“I think i’d like that.” You smile warmly, “Because I like you Jean. I tried really hard not to, but I do. And maybe, just maybe I don’t want to look back on college and only remember you as a friend.” You pause, taking in a small breath and willed yourself to finish your thought, “Maybe, after I graduate, we both can look back on the time. Together.”

“So, you don’t want to skip town and never look back?” he asks

“Skip town? Still do, but I can’t afford to ignore my time here.” 

“What if I came with you when you leave.” it’s less of a question, and more of an idea.

“Let’s just get to graduation first, Jean.”

He lets out a breathy laugh, nodding as he does, “Got ahead of myself there. But I have one more question.”

You study him for a moment, just as you had been studying the rest of the art in the museum. “You know, you were only supposed to ask one question anyways.”

“Last one, I promise.” 

“Okay, okay, what is it?”

“Can I kiss you?”

You’re suddenly all too aware of the small gap in your bodies, and his baited breath, and the sensation in your stomach that feels less like churning water and more like butterflies floating around blooming flowers. You hardly hear yourself tell him yes. 

The stiffness leaves Jean’s body, and he brings his hand free from the plastic bag up to your face, cupping your cheek lightly. His hand is warm, but not as warm as your flushed face is. His thumb moves back and forth slightly as he pulls you to him. His lips are soft, and you can feel his lashes flutter against your cheek. You easily find it in you to move in sync with him, allowing yourself to lean into the kiss, a small smile finding its way onto your face. 

He lets you pull away first. And for a moment all the two of you can do is stand there. You’re sure that you could stand there all day with him. 

You let him speak first. 

“So, am I still horrible?”

“Horribly, yet pleasantly charming. Yes.”

[kristvns]

# ( 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒 𝐉𝐔𝐉𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐍 𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐅𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 ! )

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆; featuring: 𝗍𝗈𝗃𝗂 𝖿𝗎𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗎𝗋𝗈, 𝗇𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗆𝗂 𝗄𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈, 𝗋𝗒𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗎𝗄𝗎𝗇𝖺, 𝗌𝖺𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗎 𝗀𝗈𝗃𝗈, & 𝗇𝖺𝗈𝗒𝖺 𝗓𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓; 1600+

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒; sexual content, mdni, fem! reader intended.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒; old draft from a while ago so posting it on here. And even though they aren’t all canonically dilf’s they are in my head. Reblogs are appreciated <3 unedited

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎: humiliation + degrading

ღ Humiliation kink: I think everyone knows he's into degrading but let's talk about how Toji would definitely have his fair share of humiliation ( sadist ). Sex in the public? yes. Fucking you in the mirror. yes. Fucking you against the window of his high-rise apartment on the very top floor? yes. In fact he would drive insane from the pleasure he would feel from the high chances of both you and him getting caught. There was one time when Toji decided to take you out to a fancy dinner because he wanted to "get out the house" and of course your innocence believed it.

You thought it would be a quick little date of both you and him talking over some overpriced food and wine. Wrong. Of course, Toji didn't just pick the table in the far back just to talk to you about your day. Poor Toji just wanted to experience one of the many things on his bucket list and that's eating you out while the waiter takes your order. Be happy he didn't pick a table in the middle of the restaurant.

ღ Degrading: Now let's speak about Toji and Degrading. It's such a dangerous combo. He would Mutter phrases like "stupid fuckin' slut. You're that fucking cock hungry? Takin' me in whole I see" or when you whine out "it's too much m'cant take it" in the pillow he's pounding you in. Toji can sometimes go a little too far by accident. We all know Toji fushiguro does not know when to filter his mouth even if he tried his hardest.

He would go a little overboard when it comes to degrading. Bringing up your insecurities or soft subjects you really don't enjoy talking about. Toji usually struggles with soft words, speaking about how he feels or even showing kind jester's. And since your his first love he really apologizes when he goes to far since he have the fear of loosing you

𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀: size kink + overstimulation

ღ Size kink: Sukuna secretly enjoys the size difference. Doesn't matter your weight, size, or height sukuna would always feel the need to "overpower you". you, he can't help but compare how small you are to him. He also Love's it when you ride him, he also would fondle with your breast while you're at it. Kissing and teasing them is always a must. Sukuna also loves watching you struggle to take his fat girth which brings out his dominate side more than anything. He grunts when he tries to push his girth in between your wet folds since your so tight, even after the many times the two of you had sex it still amazes him how you fit so tight around him. When sukuna is holding You think he's just showing affection when he's caressing and massaging against your stomach in reality he's just measuring how far his cock can go before touching your cervix once again.

ღ Overstimulation: Sukuna can't also always have what he wants, but he can't help himself but to keep going when you came around his cock 3 times in the last 30 minutes. Overstimulation and sukuna is a bad combo. He won't stop until you begging, telling him you can't cum anymore. He still managed to make you cum an extra 2 times. Too bad sukuna always get's what he wants. Sukuna would have you pinned down on your stomach on the bed while eating you out doggy style. You don't know what's making sukuna go so angry and crazy for doing something like this unexpectedly. He made you cum 3 times already in the span of 20 minutes.

Nanami kento: bondage + dracryphillia

ღ Bondage: it took quite a while for Nanami to find the kink’s that really turned him on. It started when you decided to stop by your husbands office to drop off his lunch that you unfortunately forgot to pack for him to take with him. When you arrived nanami was very stressed and frustrated: so like any other perfect wife would do you, you decided to help him take his mind off things. Nanami used his tie to tie around your wrist and to bend you over his formal desk area before fucking you in obliviation. Nanami actually really enjoys the view, he also really loves how it gives him all the power in the world for him to throw you around like a sex toy.

ღ dracryphillia: Nanami know’s it’s wrong, but he honestly can’t help it. You look so pretty when you cry and nanami can’t hold back. Whether it’s edging you, fucking you, overstimulating you it doesn’t matter nanami will do anything to watch fat tears roll down your cheeks. Nanami also enjoyed it when you cry giving him a blowjob. When he purposely shoved his length a little to far for your liking causing you to cry from the impact that Nanami knows good and well you can’t take. He almost felt bad when he watched your cheeks get stained with your warm tears. Almost.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎: hate sex & Voyeurism

ღ Hate sex: hate sex is the best sex. Gojo is the type to purposely argue with you, specifically getting you riled up because he did something he clearly knows you told him not to do. Here's how it started, you specifically told gojo to NOT interrupt you since today you're working from home. You reminded him for a week straight prior to this important zoom call that was being taken in the home office. Gojo just couldn't help it though. He would hate to admit it but seeing you in formal clothes was definitely a new kink for the growing man.

Gojo knew what he was getting himself into when he would prouposlj budge in asking dumb questions during your zoom meeting. Saying "where's the toolbox at?" even though the two of you never owned one to begin with. Or "can you help me which tie to where for work?" Gojo hates ties and dressing up. So all theese shannaginvs were really blowing you. It came to the point where the boss had grew tired of you turning off your camera and mic every 5 seconds. One in which you forgot to turn off when you cursed out gojo. After that meeting you didn't talk to gojo the rest of the day, neither the next day. He apologized so many times with his kisses and affection saying he was just bored. And so, for having him to appologize gojo and you had the best hate sex there was. Just to apologize by having sex or just simply fucking and getting it over with. It never fails, It always works.

ღ Voyeurism: Piggybacking off the previous, gojo enjoy’s fucking you while your on the phone. He can’t help it, it’s something about the excitement & risk that gets him off, he really can’t help it. There was once when your mother called and gojo just couldn’t keep his hands off of you as he promised he’ll keep quiet. There was also another time when your ex called; which of course made satoru furious but that didn’t stop him from making you ride his face while he was on the phone, but this time he wouldn’t keep quiet. He wanted the prick on the other side of the line to get the memo and fuck off. He placed his tongue and all your sweet spot’s knowing you couldn’t hold back and forbidden you to hang up.

When satoru heard how your ex was begging for you to come back and to ditch whoever you were with it made satoru very annoyed and pissed, which caused him to start fucking you while he was still on the phone. Unfortunate for your behalf you let out a few moans which caused your ex to think you were getting off to him. When it clearly wasn’t the case at all. Maybe satoru should record you and send a video to him so the damn prick can back off of what’s his.

Naoya zenin: brat taming.

ღ brat taming: Naoya loves being in control. He want’s to be the one that call the shots whether that’s not allowing you to cum, overstimulating you or even edging you. He rarely, and I mean rarely allow’s you to control him but when it happen’s naoya completely bottom’s out which is why he rarely allows you to take control. Naoya enjoy’s making you pissed, hell purposely get you rolled up, act’s naive when your needy, purposely get’s you to do stuff he told you not to do to then give him a reason to be in control and put you in your place.

Suguru geto: praise + breeding kink

ღ Praise: Suguru loves you. He loves everything about you and that’s where the praise comes in. He’s obsessed with you in every way possibly which is why suguru has a very very strong praise kink for you. He know’s you have you doubt’s about the relationship the two of you share but he makes sure to prove them all wrong while the two of you are making love. Whether that’s constantly telling you how much he love you, saying how good your taking him or even saying how much of a “good girl” you are to him.

ღ Breeding kink: it’s just something about the way suguru can’t pull out when he’s about to cum. Yes suguru pull out game is weak but having a couple kids with him couldn’t be that bad. Suguru fucks you in a full mating press as he can’t stop fantasizing of filling your cunt up with loads of cum. It’s a risk that gets him off knowing that there is a high chance you can get pregnant if he keep it up. Suguru would groan just of the mere thought of it — you walking around the house swollen with his kids, your kids. As your breast are constantly growing sore and swollen just waiting for the comfort of his hands.

© 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐕𝐍𝐒, 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗓𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗓𝖾, 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗒, 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅, 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 ( 𝗎𝗇𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗌𝗄 ) 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅 — 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 !

[dootznbootz]

hello hi hello i am here to hold out my little bowl and ask for a 'penelope abducted' snippet please

*coughs up blood and places strange, radioactive goop in your bowl* 🙃

I wouldn't say it's a snippet but it's more of a

SCRIPT

with some "writing" slapped in between. (there's a reason why I take forever to write things :'D Or then they end up like this)

I don't have a reason for Paris kidnapping Penelope, this is more to just explore characters and their emotions as I LOVE THAT SHIT. Honestly, this whole thing doesn't make too much sense plotwise lol. Don't think about the logical shit, JUST SIT BACK AND FEEL THINGS. This unedited af and it's basically first draft, so while I think the concepts are okay, the writing is sloppy.

This is a younger Hector, why he's a lil bit more unsure. Odysseus and Penelope are around 25-26. Telemachus isn't here yet. Realistically, Hector would be dead, but I REALLY want a certain conversation between them >:)

Honestly, writing this made me weirdly learn I write more/better when the text is smaller :P BUT I'm sorry anon, I'm sending out what I got when I didn't do that. as..you sent this a while back and I should get on it. I also tried not to "headhop" as I know that's "not a good writing habit" but oh my fuck. Take me outside and shoot me in the backyard. It's AGONY and feels so fucking BORINNNG to write. What's the point if I don't know every single DETAIL?!?!? kljhuytdfuyghk

ANYWAYS

Warnings: Miscarriage mention, violence.

Andromache whimpered as the man, Aethon of Same, he had called himself, pulled the knife closer to her throat. Smoke and screams sounded from outside as whatever godlike blasts went off once more as King Odysseus ran through Troy.

Hector felt anger and despair surge through him. For every blast, another sibling of the fifteen taken hostage dies. His throat burned.

(More stuff. Don’t wanna do now. Aethon pulls a "whoops. I missed." and cuts Andromache's collarbone to get Hector to comply.)

“I am without weapons, let her go now.”

Aethon nodded, only to push her into the arms of the other two men with him, held once more.

“You said you would-”

“Let her go? I did. She’s simply no longer held by me. You will guide us, and if you try to lead us astray, my soldiers here will not miss Lady Andromache’s throat like I did.”

“You are without honor! There is no reason to do this. I will show you to where Lady Penelope is, you didn’t need to take my wife-”

His words were cut off when a large hand cut off his words by grabbing his neck, the sounds becoming a squeak as it left his mouth.

Gray eyes burned into him as they got closer to his face. “There is no honor in kidnapping a queen while she recovers from a great pain either! Barely back on her feet and taken from her home.” Aethon hissed, trembling with a barely restrained rage. He breathed slowly, before letting go. “Simply repaying the favor...I will not repeat myself; You will show us where she is.”

Hector started to walk forward, restrained as he was. He remembers how Penelope spoke with such warmth for her husband. “Does your King approve of your methods?”

Aethon chuckled darkly, flicking the dagger between his fingers before tossing it to one of the men who held Hector. “Why do you think he sent me? Move along, Prince of Troy.”

(Stuff happens. Cassandra is muttering to everyone that no one will be hurt as long as they did as told, (no one believes her).One of Hector's brothers tries to step in only for Aethon to pull a one-punch-knock-out like he does with the Irus in the Odyssey as a beggar. One of Hector's sister-in-laws is naiad-born, he gives her a look, not realizing Aethon noticed her ears as well and is letting this happen. Aethon knows about Naiads just as much.)

Hector lifted his head as much as he could with how he was restrained, and gathered strength in his voice. “Lady Penelope! A man by the name of Aethon of Same is here to escort you!”

No reply. All that could be heard is more screams outside as another blast as loud as thunder went off. Another sibling is now dead. He tried to focus on the task.

The door was somehow blocked from the inside, despite how much she raged at being blocked in there by Paris himself. 

Hector started to shift his shoulders a bit. Fear gripped him as he glanced over to Andromache once more, still crying and bleeding from the wound on her collarbone. Her dress now sticking with red as blood seeped through. 

He looked forward again. “Lady Penelope,” Louder this time. “Are you in there?”

No reply. There seemed to be shuffling but he could not truly tell with how his ears were ringing.

Hector turned his head around to look at Aethon, the brutal man, hoping to make him understand that he was trying. That she should be here. 

From under one of his brother’s helm, sharp gray eyes flicked from the door back to Hector. His strong arms were tense as they crossed over his chest. It disturbed Hector how it fit him as if it were his own. A flash of light went across his hard face as another blast happened close by. He was unfazed

Hector was about to plead again, for the man to let Andromache go and take him if he felt the need before Aethon lifted a hand for him to be silent.

Aethon stood in front of the door then, eyes looking down towards the crack at the bottom of the doorway as he watched for movement. He frowned when there was nothing. He took a deep breath and leaned forward a slight bit, “Queen Penelope! We are here to take you home!”

A quick “Oh!” and a crash of pots sounded. 

Aethon’s eyes blazed and teeth gritted as he grabbed and rattled the door handle. “Penelope!”

He panted hard, the door handle now bent from his strength. He began to frantically throw his shoulder into the door, ramming himself and charging like that of an angered boar. 

“Penelope! Are you hurt?” His voice strained. Hector wonders if this man was related to Penelope in that he was so informal.

Another blast sounded and another shuffle and crash sounded from inside the room. Aethon swallowed a breath and he growled as he savagely rammed again. One hand going to undo the strap of the helm he wore, he pulled it off his head, revealing a tight braid of auburn curls on his head. Aethon began slamming the helm into the hinges of the door until one came off. The dented helmet in his hand, he once more barreled into the door. This time it worked. 

Aethon frantically looked around the room before an “Odysseus!” sounded from his left to which he turned swiftly to. 

The fear on Aethon's face turned to joy as he called her name back, lifting his arms to wherever she came from to pull her to him. Her bare feet dangled a short bit as she rested her chin on his shoulder and clung to him, before he sank to the ground. His knees barely missing the shattered pottery. A sob of relief escaped his lips as the lady kissed his face between comforting words.

It suddenly clicked into place. This wasn’t just a devoted captain to a king, this was a devoted husband. 

King Odysseus.

Hector could only watch in confused awe at the scene that unfolded. This man, this king, was weeping. To any outsider, it would look as though it was he who was being rescued. The strong shoulders that burst through the oaken door now shook with sobs. His fingers, ones that had bruised his own neck, were now caressing Penelope’s back, trembling as they combed through her hair. For her or his comfort, Hector did not know. 

Penelope soothed, a tearful smile on her face as she scratched at his scalp in small circles as he cradled her. “It’s okay, I’m here. I’m not hurt. He didn’t touch me”

A whimper escaped him. He lifted his head from her bosom and tears hung from his lashes. A hand, blood already dried from the broken jaw of Thoon, gingerly touched her abdomen.

Penelope’s face twisted up and more tears fell from her silver eyes as she told her husband something Hector couldn’t hear.

Hector realized that it had be begun to rain, what had soft pattering became a downpour, as though the couple’s tears had been what filled the clouds themselves. It put out the fires. 

“Andromache!” Penelope gave her husband a knowing yet disappointed look, a few surprised blinks from red rimmed eyes as a response. She took some raindrops on her fingertips from outside. “Let her go. Now.”

The men released Hector’s wife, who immediately went to touch the wound on her collarbone, wincing as she pressed her hand to it. Hector lunged from the men holding him only to be restrained further.

Penelope started to stand, only to be stopped by the shards that still littered the ground. Odysseus, his eyes and hands never leaving her, lifted her up as he walked across the room. The sandals on his feet protecting him.

Andromache shied away a bit before Penelope grabbed her hand as water went to her wound, sealing it as though it had never been there. 

Hector felt sharp eyes upon him and looked back at Odysseus. It…truly was hard seeing him as the same man who had cut Andromache. Once hard as flint gray eyes were now red from tears, calm and calculating. Two trails went down his ashen cheeks and revealed freckles Hector didn’t notice before.

Odysseus took Penelope’s hand and placed it on the collar of his armor for her to pull away. It now being pulled away, he easily reached in and grabbed a damp parchment. Sweat smudged it but it was clearly a map of Troy. Some circles on the map made Penelope shift and give her husband a questioning look only for him to shrug. She gave a glare, he responded with a smirk.

“Your siblings are still alive,” he started quietly. “I swear upon Almighty Zeus that your siblings are still alive upon the ship. At most some have a headache.” He gestured with his head towards the window, a curl that had been tucked by his wife fell from behind his ear with the movement. "If you want your siblings back, my men, my queen, and I will be treated as guests until we leave…after this storm ends, hopefully.”

Hector was about to yell, to call him a liar, before Penelope interrupted. “They are alive, Hector.”

Striking silver eyes were now piercing through him, though not cold, they didn’t hold the same warmth as before. Her cheeks still damp from tears yet her mouth set in a fine line. One hand reached up and held her husband’s face, who gazed at Hector with the same expression. 

Was this what Paris meant when he said that Lady Penelope should be nobody’s wife? The cruelty he spoke of...?

“The rain started as soon as we were reunited. The fires are put out by Lord Zeus... Hector, I would prefer if your siblings joined us with a feast.”

(More bickering talk shit. blahblahblah. Hector realizes that while Penelope was "nice" while in Troy, She does so many tricks that no one realizes, as she's trying to stay alive while waiting and Paris is scared of her as Aphrodite isn't here. Hector realizes that she's just as cold and that Odysseus is "just a guy" in way. Realistic? No. But I want Hector alive so then a certain convo can happen >:)

(Again, this is unedited. :'D so yeah. it's not great right now)

She sat up to look back at him, his eyes already looking watery still but she would let him decide if he would share with her or not. 

Penelope didn’t have to wait long as he relaxed his shoulders and took a deep breath, once more shoving his head under her neck, like how Anthos would shove her little body against Penelope’s for pets. 

Odysseus took peace in this silence, her chilled body against his own once more. Her being taken from him was a fear he had never experienced before. (more stuff)

“I hate that we're trapped here until...Whatever it is the gods want us here for is done."

"I know. We should be in our palace, in our nest...But we're together... And we have their favor as of now...They didn't even notice what we've taken yet."

Odysseus smirked, reassuring Penelope a little bit. She waited more for what was really bothering him. (more stuff)

"The Timing of everything…It frightens me.”

“Timing?” 

He nodded. “First, our…Our loss,” His voice cracking at the end, his warm palm pressed against her lower belly. She swallowed the lump in her throat, pushing her own pain down in hopes he would continue. 

“Then the Pirates, and then among them that…Paris, taking you away. I couldn’t hear the gods. I-” Tears started to spill now, finally flowing from the dam he had put up. “I am always so afraid of losing you after each loss. I never thought…I never thought I could ever possibly lose you like this. That the gods decided that I’ve caused enough pain and that you’d be best with another husband…”

(more sappy crying. When am I not making shit sappy and weepy?)

She chuckled, “You came with so few men and thought you had the gods against you and you still come to get me? You really are a silly man.”

Hector is alive for a conversation that will be better than this.

Hector watched as King Odysseus’ smile shined as he watched Lady Penelope race across the pasture; a request she had before they would leave.

Hector knew she had good horsemanship, remembering the day she first tried to leave for the shores only to be returned. But he was surprised the King of Ithaca agreed, even more that he wasn’t with her as well, as he has been woven to her side since he came. 

And Hector couldn’t help but be angry once more. 

How was this smiling, doting man the same man who terrorized his city?

“Spit it out.”

Odysseus still watched Penelope as she laughed as she rode one of Hector’s large dapple grays. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know what you’re thinking about. Spit it out.” 

Hector huffed and shook his head at the king. How could he even start?

“Even if the messenger you apparently sent did get to us, and we were too late, as you thought…Why was your first plan of action to terrorise us?”

Odysseus twisted a ring he had on his finger, seemingly amused by Hector’s question. “Prince Hector, I had to make sure you wouldn’t say no when I asked again.”

“Would you have even asked?” Hector hissed, bracing his shoulders a bit.

Odysseus chuckled. “You got me there.”

Hector seethed. “I will admit that Troy did the first offense and I am very grateful that everything went peacefully, but to retaliate to such extreme-”

“To even compare what your brother did to what I did is stupid,” His hands gripped the fencepost, knuckles white. “Be thankful Troy still stands, Son of Priam.”

Hector was taken aback by the venom in Odysseus’ voice, having not heard that since the very same white knuckled hands had held his throat…

Hector keeps forgetting Aethon and Odysseus are the same man.

Odysseus turned his head back around towards the pasture as he heard Penelope’s laughter, his shoulders easing as she raced by. 

“What would it take for you to do what I did, Prince Hector?”

“What?” 

Odysseus stood up straight, waiting until Hector looked back at him before he continued. “Maybe you wouldn’t be able to come up with the same plan,” -he ignored Hector’s rolling eyes- “But what would have to happen for you to ‘go mad’ as you said? I held back and you still think so lowly of me…Do you think you’re above it?”

Odysseus stood right in front of him, those flint eyes seeming to pry him open. “Or…Do you even know what would make you do that? Do you think you have something so important to you that you’d defy gods just to make things right again?” 

More (hopefully) quality stuff will replace this. But I LOVE the thought of Hector (and many of the Trojans) falling for the two's charms only to suddenly remember. "Wait...You guys are violent as fuck". Also How "Odysseus would sacrifice all of Ithaca for Penelope and Telemachus but I don't think Hector would do the same for Andromache and Astyanax" which klsjdf dklsjf kl FUCK YEAH. I SO BADLY WANNA COOK WITH THAT!!! I JUST NEED to get more good ingredients :'D

Notes/reasons/just more stuff

While I don't have a reason as to why Paris kidnapped her, I desperately didn't want Paris to TOUCH her as holy shit, I'm tired. So I had to think of something that was realistic that would make it so that he couldn't and well, Odypen already experience some miscarriages over the years and with the potential angst??? Yeah. :'D Also she scares Paris. He USED to have long hair. (Penelope doesn't have a goddess making her be nice)

Odysseus' plan is supposed to be sloppy kind of. I'm also not a fucking battle strategist. I'm making this up. He doesn't have a huge army and is so so terrified and angry. He basically rushes out (despite being told not to) on one of the pirates boats (undercover in a way). They DID send a messenger but we know he's violent. Basically a few of his men snuck into Troy and quickly stole some armor and snuck around using the fires (idk olive oil) as a distraction. Honestly he's fucking lucky. He's not the experienced and calm(ish) man he is in the Iliad and the Odyssey. His plan is relying mostly on fear.

Penelope did try to sneak out once on horseback and that's why she's like "I wanna do that again. I can't on Ithaca. I wanna have one more chance to do it"

I kind of plan for Penelope to kind of be seen as "kinder" and they use that to their advantage.

I kind of want Penelope and Hector/Andromache to bond over fertility problems as idk, drama and why she cares for them, AND they're barely at 2 years into their marriage and get SO MUCH more shit for it because... Priam is a fucking RABBIT of a man (no hate against him but Idk how tf he can MOVE. He is trying to create his own army)

I so desperately wanted to switch to Andromache's POV so often as I kind of want to compare the two couples and how they relate to one another. but that's the headhopping in me :'D O: We'll be leaving now. P: Not without compensation. Later on P: "YOu didn't see that amazing cauldron they have?!" O: "Penelope, I was a bit preoccupied and freaking out. Besides you were the treasure I needed to bring back home- OH MY GODS" P: I KNOW?!?! You're such a sweetie. 😘

Also Penelope, pulling some jewelry out: I grabbed these. I think this one will fit your middle finger. Odysseus, 🥹: Penelope, you are what it means to adore.

Anon, I'm sorry it's not really a snippet but I hope you still enjoyed :'D Sorry about the radiation I put in your bowl 😅

[sugar-phoenix]

unfinished rought unedited short story about vampires

alright so the winning vote out of the polls was "yes" so I'm deciding to post my unfinished short story draft here because I'm too impatient to wait until i finish it to post it

My new roommate is a vampire.

How do I know this? Simple.

Johnny Robert-Mulligan told me, about a week after he moved in.

“Now you seem like a respectable man, Daniel, so I'll tell you straight up: I'm a vampire.”

I nodded, thinking that he was joking or high or something.

“I will be having blood packets delivered to me each week. You need not make dinner for two. And don't invite your friends over on nights of full moons unless you want them to be sucked dry.”

We stared at each other for a moment. It was then that I realized that he was being completely serious. And then, he laughed, quite loudly, which scared the wits out of me.

“I'm just kidding, of course,” he said, chuckling.

“Oh, thank God. I thought you were actually a vampire there for a moment.”

“No I am, I am a vampire. I was joking about the full moon thing. That's a werewolf thing, not a vampire thing.”

I only stared at him in shock again.

“Oh, don't tell me you believe in werewolves? Those are completely made up.”

“Well,” I responded, “until five minutes ago I didn't think of the possibility of either vampires or werewolves being real.”

And thus began our odd friendship, of which I learned a great deal about vampires. As it turned out, vampires were a lot less untouchable than I had previously thought.

“Is it true that vampires die from a stake to the heart?” I asked one lazy Sunday afternoon, while we were watching the game. The ads were rolling, and I was eager to take this chance to ask my new roommate more about himself.

“Technically speaking, a stake to the heart could kill anything. You could also kill me by stabbing me, shooting me, running me over, throwing me off a cliff,” Johnny proceeded to count off his fingers. “Anything that would kill you would kill me.”

“Oh, I see. I guess that makes sense.”

“We're not immortal either,” he added, taking a sip out of his Coke can. Although soda did nothing for him in terms of sugar intake or energy, he told me that he had gotten quite hooked on the taste.

“You aren't?”

“No, we're just extremely long lived. I think my great grandfather lived for almost 600 years.”

I let that sink in.

“How old are you, Johnny?”

“I think I'm turning 197 this year.”

I turned to look at him.

“That would mean you've lived through both of the World Wars.”

“Oh yes, I did. I don't remember anything though, I was too young. You see, vampires only reach adulthood at around 150 years of age.” He took another sip of his soda. “You know, come to think of it, my parents might have stolen blood from the opposing sides to keep us fed. I think there was a movement or something. ‘Make The Nazis Paler’ and all that.”

“I see.”

And then the ad roll finished, and we were back to watching the game.

 I neglected to mention that Johnny was roommates with me because we were both enrolled in a local college. I was undertaking my bachelor’s in graphic design, which meant that I was more often than not buried under design projects, the likes of which could run from posters to redesigning entire corporations. Thusly, I would often have myself shut in my room during the busier weeks, specifically midterms and finals.

Johnny told me that he hadn’t decided what his major was, and that he was simply experiencing what college was like. He doubted that he’d have a use for it, to which he told me his mother disagreed, since he would at least need to take a job of some sort and make money, but what was the use if it was only going to last him so long and in about 300 years it would probably become obsolete?

I only nodded and hummed to his explanation. I didn’t quite like thinking about these things. Everything seemed so impermanent when you were a vampire, and as a relatively short-lived human, it was creepy to think about.

Thankfully, Johnny got along quite well with my friends. He didn’t have any friends of his own, which I thought was strange, but it’s possible that he drove them away with his casual talk of things that happened long ago. If you didn’t know he was a vampire you’d probably think he was a freakish nerd of some sort. But because Johnny was my roommate, and because he got along with my friends, they were apt to invite him along with me whenever they had parties.

It was at one of these house parties that Johnny met Cynthia. She was a psych student, and she often twirled her hair around her finger like as if she could will it to curl just by doing so. She always had one or two girlfriends around that she talked to, and rarely did she talk to anyone outside of them. But for whatever reason, she caught Johnny’s eye.

“I think she’s a vampire,” he said to me one day, as I was trying to work with the pressure-cooker in our kitchen.

“Yeah?”  The contraption hissed steam at me, and I prayed it wouldn’t take my eye out. “What gave you that idea?”

“I think—no, I know she’s a vampire. She’s got that quality about her.”

“What quality?”

“Vampire quality. You know, we can sense each other out.”

“I see.” I didn’t particularly believe him, but I wasn’t going to say that either. What do I know, perhaps vampires did have a sixth sense for each other, and perhaps this was what was happening, rather than my initial theory that Johnny had a big fat crush on Cynthia and was secretly hoping she was just like him. Of course, I kept all this to myself.

“Go and speak to her then,” I said.

“What? No. Women must be approached carefully, Daniel, otherwise you risk spooking them away.”

“You speak as though they’re skittish deer. I think you’re just scared of talking to her.”

“Scared? No. I’m simply being strategic.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Strategic, scared. Either way, you haven’t talked to her yet.”

“I will talk to her. Soon. Next chance I get. I plan on it.” I nodded, gingerly lifting the lid of the pressure cooker to reveal the pasta and sauce within.

divider by cafekitsune!

[flyrobinflyy]

ooh pls pls pls, i beg for a snippet of the 5+1 chronically ill tim wip 🙏🏻

as you wish 🙂‍↔️🙏🏼 this is kind of an awkward part to post since it’s in the middle of a partially drafted scene but

cradling chronic fatigue tim so gently

very much so unedited so ignore grammar mistakes whoops

———————

The fact that Dick was outside his door, knocking loudly and yelling “Tim! Get uppp! It’s twelve fifteen!”, also helped with that.

He groaned softly, stretching his limbs out beneath the sheets. Patrol had been kind to him lately, no wounds apart from the typical bruises. Unfortunately, that wasn’t enough to prevent his body from screaming at him every morning.

“You can just come in, you know?” He responded, wincing as his hip protested when he rolled to face the door.

Immediately the door swung open, Dick happily strutting in. He tossed himself down on the bed next to Tim, splaying out on his back.

“Alfred’s making lunch. Do you want to run out with me afterwards? I need to pick up some things from Babs and Bruce wants me to stop by Leslies, for some reason,” Dick continued, face contorting as he seemed to realize how much he was supposed to be doing. “So, you in?”

Tim blinked owlishly. He’d lost track of what Dick had been saying by the second sentence, the words no longer loading or bothering to stay in his head long enough for him to think over. “What?”

Dick eyed him oddly before looking out the half-covered window. “Yeah, you’re coming. Can’t have you looking all…sickly for the rest of the summer.”

[wip post]

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

WIP Wednesday

I was tagged by @winterandwords to uh... talk about a WIP I guess? :D

I'll pass on this tag toooo... @starlit-hopes-and-dreams (as always <3) but I'm not sure who else, so if you feel like talking about a WIP, consider this an open tag.

Oh boy, which to pick. There are currently only 2 projects where the P in WIP actually stands for "progress" (for the others it stands for "procrastination".)

I think I'm gonna pick Till Death. It is the one I am currently obsessed with, and the only one I am writing, not editing.

Here's the blurb:

Finnian is a wandering healer down on his luck. When one of his patients dies, the village turns against him, beating him half to death and leaving him for thirst and scavengers to finish what they started.

Eilis lives deep in the forest, hiding from the world. When she finds him, impaled on a tree and barely alive, she can‘t leave him to his fate, even if it means upending the peaceful life she has built for herself.

As Finnian slowly recovers, days filled with quiet companionship make the prospect of him staying less daunting than either of them had expected. But he carries too many scars, and Eilis too many secrets, threatening to destroy their fragile relationship as the shadows of the past draw closer. When everything falls apart, will they save each other, or will the price be too high?

You see, in April I finished the last chapter of all my ongoing stories, which left me in a very weird mood. For 1,5 years I always had something to work on, and suddenly, there was nothing started. Sure, I had a few outlines, but nothing really called to me, with the added problem that for those, I have to figure out bullshit like politics. I needed something new. New chars I didn't know yet, a fresh story - and 🌟violence🌟 :)

I've been talking about wanting more gore with happy end, but sadly, existing OCs are so fragile, I can't even break all their bones without them dying 🙄 So it was time to fuck up another healer.

For a few weeks, I threw concepts against a wall like cooked spaghetti, grabbed whatever stuck, and then I just started. It's the first time in a year that I actually write a story without posting as I go. I can leave a little note "this sounds weird, fix later" or remember "shit, I forgot this injury" or change a name halfway in. I know. That's how a draft is supposed to work 😅

I'm at over 60k words, and it's looking good. There's a few 'first times' for me, a lot of things I love and a lot of things I am excited about. I have a rough outline of events still to happen that leaves me enough freedom to go wild. And wild I go; half of the scenes are gratuitous pain and suffering, and there will be more - but it's also a story of love and finding a place to belong. Which brings me to the next point:

I'm tired. Tired of feeling like I don't belong anywhere. Of having no genre and being "just whump" because it fits nowhere else. Of being "not enough whump" while still finding myself on every squick list.

So this one's written for a target audience of some very close friends - a target audience for which I don't have to write CWs at the top of each chapter, a target audience who doesn't grow bored at the first calm moment, a target audience who will call me a bitch while asking for more pain.

I love you, pocket friends 💜

Here's the start of the book (unedited, rip):

Finnian hated dealing with sick people.

Considering the fact that he earned his money with healing, that was rather unfortunate. If he didn’t want to starve to death, he had to grit his teeth and ignore the stench of sweat and blood while taking care of coughs and aches and fever.

Sometimes, he wished he had learned something else after it had become clear that this wasn’t the right profession for him. Then he wouldn’t be sitting here, explaining to a grown ass woman that when he had told her to keep the wound clean, that included keeping the bandages away from dirty water. And that yes, it fucking hurt, because now it was infected, and if she didn’t plan on losing a finger or two, she’d better keep her hand dry and clean this time. And that perhaps, just perhaps, that was a bit more important than cleaning the windows.

Unfortunately, he had not learned anything else, so he left the house half an hour later with barely enough coins in his pocket to make up for the supplies he had used. Most roots and herbs he could gather himself, but bandages and tinctures didn’t grow on trees.

[bylightofdawn]

WIP Sunday

Alright, zoomed through the first part of my Cahir timeloop fic. OF COURSE the title for this was stupidly easy and came to me with no problems whatsoever yet I cannot for the life of me pick a fic name of that Alpha-17 & Co fic to save my damned soul. I'm making up shit so much in this fic and going off of context clues from the show and from the wiki. So I'm prolly getting shit wrong, but ask me if i care. I'm also aware 1,200 words is a perfectly respectable length of fanfic for actual sane individuals but anyone who has been around my blog for more than five minutes knows I bloviate and expound upon things until the average chapter length is like 5k easily. I am hoping I can keep the other scenes a little shorter now that I've set the basis.

We shall see. Yadda yadda things are super rough and unedited and prone to be heavily in the final draft etc. And I guess blanket spoiler warning for Season 3 of the Witcher beyond the cut.

He’d done it.

Gods help him but he’d done it and in doing so, Cahir suspected he’d damned his soul to eternity.

The look of hurt, betrayal, and fear in Gallatin’s eyes as he’d started up at him, all accusatory and heartbroken, would haunt him for the rest of his life.

But it was his only hope for redemption, the only way he could reclaim his place at the White Flame’s side and that made it worth it.

Right?

Cahir was used to the bloody and gruesome work of killing. His hands had been stained over in blood countless times. Those of his enemies, those he might have called a friend, and even the occasional lover, but this time it was different.

He’d never betrayed a friend in such a fashion before.

The metallic-laden smell of blood clung to his hands and to the knife he’d buried in the elf’s throat as he dragged his fingers down Gallatin’s face in an attempt to close those accusatory eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it had to be this way.” He mumbled apologies to the dead man as bile churned in his stomach. The wine that he’d drunk so quickly in an attempt to steel his nerves threatened to sour on him now.

Cahir hadn’t felt this nauseous after a kill since the first man he’d killed when he’d been little more than a half-grown whelp. He’d taken his revenge on the traitorous castellan who’d taken over control of his family’s homestead when his father and brothers had been imprisoned.

The man had been supposed to see to their wellbeing but instead had left his mother and sisters to starve and scrabble out an existence while the Usurper’s tyrannical reign continued on.

Killing that traitorous worm had evoked a sense of grim accomplishment in the young man but it had also left him so sick to his stomach that he’d very nearly been sick all over his boots. Only sheer will and a desperate need to not look weak in front of the White Flame and his allies had kept him from throwing up everything he’d eaten that day when the awful stench of human offal and bowels laid open reached his nose.

He’d become used to that stench and far worse things in the last decade.

But for some reason, the sight of that crimson blood on his hands was upsetting in a way he had no words to convey. When Cahir looked at the heart-stricken reflection of the man in the mirror, he could barely recognize his own face. The man in the mirror heaved and sobbed for breath and looked on the cusp of crying.

The guilt and agony twisted up his face in an unrecognizable rictus that bordered on madness and he punched that face because he could not bear to look at it any longer.

And maybe…just maybe a part of him wanted someone to punch that expression off of his face. Maybe the pain of a broken nose could distract him from the emotional flux he was going through.

Unfortunately, the only person in the room was a rapidly cooling corpse.

Gallatin would have undoubtedly done the honors if he’d been alive, but the man would never throw another punch again. Would never see another sunrise or get drunk or kiss another person again. He’d never held a loved one as they were dying or would have experienced the pain and exhilaration of battle either.

All because Cahir had taken that future away from him with his blood-soaked hands.

The realization that he needed to get out of this room occurred to him as he looked at the now shattered face in the mirror. But first…he needed to address the body in the room.

First, he washed the blood from his hands and cleaned up the blood after wrapping Gallatin’s body in one of the rough-spun blankets from the bed, which he bound up with the rope from the curtains.

Emhyr had not given him explicit instructions on what he wanted done with Gallatin’s body. Whether he wanted to use the man in some pawn or machination like perhaps as a way to sew further dissent among the elves by pinning the blame on one of their Northern enemies.

Cahir had no doubt that if Emhyr had been there, he would have a brilliant plan to use Gallatin’s death and to pin it on just the right person to make the most impact but Cahir wasn’t as clever or brilliant as the White Flame.

He was a simple soldier and one who lacked the patience or foresight to plan out such intricate machinations. And if he were being honest with himself, he didn’t want to see Gallatin’s death twisted into some kind of machination or his memory used as a pawn in some inscrutable chess game only Emhyr could see with full clarity.

Instead, he picked up Gallatin and made use of the shadows at midnight to make his way down into the dungeons where the recently deceased prisoners and other unremarkable corpses were stored to be handed over to the undertakers to be cremated or buried in a mass grave.

It was an insulting and undignified ending for a man like Gallatin, but it wasn’t as though he was in a position to give him a proper funeral. And the more quiet his death, the better, especially if he didn’t want his death to be turned into a spectacle.

After that unsavory duty was performed and Gallatin’s corpse was tossed heartlessly into the pile, Cahir turned away with eyes that were stinging with unshed tears behind the shade of the cloak he wore.

Somehow he made it back to his room though his memory of it was dim at best. He remembered stopping by the kitchens and ordering two skeins of wine in hopes of drowning his memories out under a haze of alcohol.

The scullery girl knew better than to question even a dishonored knight such as himself and handed them over without a word of protest.

He immediately poured himself a glass of wine once he made it to his room and proceeded to gulp it down without even bothering to taste it. It helped to settle his stomach somewhat and he poured himself another. The next hour was spent getting steadily drunker and drunker until he was able to close his eyes without seeing Gallatin’s hurt expression of confused betrayal playing in front of his mind’s eye.

Eventually, he fell face-first into his narrow bed and felt the world spin around him dizzyingly before he surrendered himself to the oily darkness of uneasy sleep and even more uneasy dreams.

[mariatesstruther]

For the WIP game:

You've got me intrigued with the "maria and ellie" fic. Do you have a snippet? Is it canon compliant or an AU?

Also, I don't see the Christmas fic?!?!?! Maybe because you don't consider it a WIP yet because I know you've been sick.

I hope you're feeling better 💜

hello ameera 🥰🥰🥰 tysm, i am feeling better 🫶🏾

im glad you’re intrigued with this one! i was actually just working on this! i do have a draft, although very unedited because i’m terrible and don’t autocapitalize when i’m drafting, so be warned. it is a show/canon-compliant fic (haven’t decided if it’s a one-off or maybe the start to a whole mariaellie thing) in which ellie and maria have a meaningful one-on-one sometime shortly after ellie and joel get back, right after the end of tlou 1. i just really wanted a fic centered around the beginnings of the relationship between these two, especially addressing their conversation about joel from 1x06, because ive rewatching tlou2 gameplay and got struck by how close they seemed pre-joel’s death. i think plot-wise, it could also be an interesting start to a story about ellie finding her place in jackson under a mentorship program maria is piloting to help newcomers get acclimated to jackson. in this au, i’d imagine maria would want to mentor ellie, but ellie would need some serious convincing. here’s some snippets, i hope the it’s not too rough!

joel sending ellie to talk to maria:

“youre just too pussy to go over there and talk to her yourself,” ellie grumps, huffing down onto the couch to start pulling on her converse.

“that may be true,” joel says dryly. he doesnt look up from his stupid fucking carpentry book as he continues, “but i’m sending you anyway. have fun.”

“yeah, yeah, asshole. fuck you.”

“and try to watch your language.”

“oh, my bad! screw you! how’s that?”

-

maria talking to ellie:

“tommy told me yall had a hard time out there,” maria tries, attempting and failing at subtlety. it was always easier to her, both naturally and due to her career, to be more direct—but direct with ellie doesn’t always go well, in her experience. so she tries something different. “and that maybe you didn’t have the best time in school before, so. i get it.”

“yeah, well,” ellie snarks, and maria knows already that subtly isn’t the way to go with her, either. “tommy’s an asshole, and he has a big fucking mouth. you guys should find better shit to do than gossip about me and joel.”

jesus, this kid, maria thinks. the tone of her voice, honestly, is hilarious. despite herself maria barks out a laugh. “i have a feeling, ellie, that maybe you and i have the wrong impression of each other.”

“you mean you have the wrong impression of joel.”

“maybe,” maria says, which she can tell is more than ellie was expecting. “i admit, i have a lot of unresolved… feelings, i can say, about joel. i’m working on them. i’d prefer if we could focus this conversation on you and me.”

ellie seems uncomfortable at the prospect, shifting in her chair and fiddling with her long sleeves in her lap. “there isn’t really a you and me to think about.”

“there can be, if you’d like,”

“not if there’s shit between you and joel,”

“how i feel about joel has no bearings on how i’m going to treat you, ellie, and he knows that.”

“but it should. it has to. he’s my—“ ellie stops herself suddenly, cheeks going red and jaw locking in familiar tween-aged embarrassment. “he’s mine.”

“he is. and tommy’s mine.” maria decides to respond in the same way, putting things into ellie’s terms instead of her own, as juvenile as those terms sound to her ears. she’s realizing now, frankly, that this girl is quite the master at leading conversations, whether she realizes it or not. maria can’t help but wonder if it’s something she got from joel. “but they’re also each other’s, whether we like it or not. can we both agree on that?”

“i guess.”

“then it seems to stand to reason that we’ll be quite present in one another’s lives, right? whether we like it or not?”

ellie doesn’t seem to respond too well to the rhetorical questions, immediately bristling at maria’s leading on. “don’t fucking patronize me.”

“i’m not trying to, ellie. i’m trying to propose a proposition to you.”

-

thats’s what i’m giving for now! and i do have the xmas fic on my wip list, i just don’t have much drafted to post, at this point. it’s been hard to do anything this week on account of being sick, but i’m feeling better and writing more this week! hopefully i’ll have something soon, but i’m going to knock out the few wips i have on ao3 first.

@bumblepony ur ask is coming next bae i totally forgot i had one more thing to add to my catching fire au before i move to mockingjay!

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

💥 and 🌕 for any or all WIPs you have!

'Any or all' you say! I'll answer this for multiple, just because I can. Project names in bold are the tags I use for these ones if you want to look them up (and also feel free to ask me about them!), some more talked of than others.

💥 - What is the main conflict of the wip?

taira - The danger of the dragon rising is becoming more and more prominent, especially once Taira the white rabbit exists. Taira and her friends are trying to stop it from happening. [drafted and unedited]

knitting oc - Patience is angry that she has a new adopted sister, and the main focal point of the story is really them getting to know each other and getting along. Two fun facts: one, Patience is one of my older OCs who I've recently realised is unintentionally autistic, and two, that whole story is heavily inspired by Dear Enemy, only platonic and whatnot. [partially planned]

vaniah - Arranged marriage happens (well, to simplify), and they - already good friends - have to work out how to get along in a marriage. Also Emily discovers how terrible Vaniah's self-esteem is, and also many terrible things he's done she never knew about. They kinda pull each other out of their problems in a way. The conflict is much more internal than anything else. [drafting rn]

adira - Adira trying to work out the truth of the world and how it was created and who God is, really. More complicated than that but it can truly be summed up into What is truth? [much draft but mess]

story:wcb - a short story (well, currently 23k and expected to get more like 25k I think by the time I'm finished the final round of editing). The main conflict is that Miriam and Edward are trying to work out what happens after you die. Because (spoilers) Miriam hasn't got long to live. So there are lots of emotions and things. I never meant to get attached to Miriam as a character tbh - she's a background character already deceased by the time Edward appears in Adira's story. But when I was brainstorming short stories surrounding Adira's, this was one of the stories that came to mind pretty quickly. [on second-last round of edits]

story:hiraeth - another short story (13k, from memory), this one dealing with a crisis of faith of a completely different character, after her father loses his faith. It's an extremely personal story to me, as it deals with what I went through (not entirely the same, of course) after two of my siblings (a couple of years apart) lost their faith. [on second-last round of edits]

judastale - a novel still in the planning stages, which I'd intended to write next but I wouldn't be surprised if it ends up being my nanowrimo project, since vaniah jumped the gun and I started writing it earlier than I intended to xD It's a Bible-based novel about Judas, from a somewhat sympathetic viewpoint, but - of course - ultimately a tragedy. I intend to remain faithful to the Biblical account, but to add in things to make it human and - yes, if I do it right I expect to end up crying over Judas Iscariot. So far I've written a short prologue and nothing more until I get my notes in order; I really might just wait until November and write it then. [planning]

inklings - I originally began to write this as a short story for the Inklings Challenge, for which I was part of Team Lewis during October last year, using an old OC from when I was in year 10 (who is one of the other 'huh she's autistic' characters lol). The story revolves around Hadassah finding a place for herself in the world, really, but she also goes through a portal to a new world during the story. I've written 8k so far, and she's just gone through the portal and beyond that I've basically stopped because I need to do more planning of what happens beyond the portal. I wrote two shorter stories, one of which is available both here and on my website under two different titles I think lol and the other I'm not yet happy with; both were to submit to fairly local competitions, and surprisingly both were commended in their competitions. I'll probably post the other at least to my website at some point. This story is very dear to my heart; though it started out entirely different, it was directly written when I was in year 10 as a coping mechanism because I didn't have many friends and I couldn't understand why I didn't and why I was always the forgettable one. I still don't understand it entirely, but I've got more used to it, and found more friends who don't forget about me. (And friends who get annoyed by me as well as being friends, but that's just life I suppose.) [partly written and planning]

"Do I have any other wips really right now? Ah yes that other one - nope that's nonfiction and wouldn't suit this question. And that other one - wait no that's literally tagged secret project for a reason. What about that one - silly silly I haven't even opened the Scrivener file for months even though I have edits waiting for it, I can't call it a wip at present."

~

I couldn't see an emoji matching the second one you sent... feel free to either give me a different emoji or clarify which one you wanted, sorry!

Ask me to elaborate on anything of what I've mentioned above if you like!

[thedemoninyourwalls222]

I've officially decided how many books will be in my book series, Tribal along with the general plot of each. There will be nine including the prequel for the lore.

If you don't want spoilers don't read the next part idk (skip to the --- for next info without spoilers)

Book one focuses on finding out about The Creator and the tribes and rebuilding them. This is in Aleina's pov

Book two focuses on The Creator explaining who they truly are, Elka, the original tribe leader. They tells the current leaders about how they need to find the other original tribe members to help the gods being peace and bring back the tribes entirely. This is in Kayla's pov

Book three focuses back on Kevin, the villain of books 1-4. He will make a comeback trying to erase the tribes fully. This is in Ava's pov

Book four focuses on starting to learn more about the origins of the tribes and stopping Kevin. This is in Alex's pov

Book five focuses on Kevin's redemption arc and how he truly just wants no one to be able to harm him or his family again after his mom getting killed by someone from the school. He realizes that he's the one doing harm now and wants to stop. This is in Kevin's pov

Book six focuses on the other leaders and tribe members trusting Kevin again with being the Courageous Canines leader. They learn more about Elka and the original tribe as well. This is in Sahara's pov

Book seven focuses on remaking the Wise Wolves tribe and finding the other original tribe members and transferring their souls into the gems. This is in Layah's pov

Book eight focuses on the fact that everyone fell for the God's plan, and that it wasn't to bring peace. It was to bring chaos. The gods are able to control the original tribe members and use their magic, even though they are technically their children. Something like an apocalypse starts and all the leaders and tribe members work together to stop it once and for all. This is in Gavin's pov

The prequel, aka the lore book focuses on the original tribe and how it all started. It tells more about the gods at the time and their original mission, to help the world from darkness that was said to happen in a few decades. This is mainly in Elka's pov, but also in Tigera's, the gods and Elka's mom

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

I have no way of knowing when they'll be released as of now but the prequel will be released after book four even if I finish it before then. Some things might change as most of this is just general ideas of what I'll write.

I will try to write more often, at least 3 chapters each week but writing block sucks and I need a computer to type comfortably which I've been using my school computer last year but I start school in a few days from now so idk.

Remember that if you read what I have on my quotev isn't exactly official because of it being completely unedited and only the rough draft so there will be plot holes in that version. I'm hoping to at least release my books on Amazon if nothing else, at around 5-8 USD each copy. If anyone has questions I should be able to answer but I do have a lot going on as I just moved, I'm starting school on Tuesday and other personal reasons but I should be able to answer.

Names for the books and covers will be designed/decided within the next 6 months or so.

This whole thing is mainly just a passion project and not meant to be super official in any way and I'm not expecting a fandom but I don't really care what you do as long as you don't do these

S3xualize any of the characters. They are mostly minors and 10-15 years old

Spread misinformation about it

Bring in religion with this. The gods in the Tribal universe are fictional, anyone can enjoy my work. The tribes are not a cult

Hate on me specifically for reasons such as taking too long with one book (I am one person working on this. I do the writing, editing, names, draw the covers etc.), because of there being lgbtq rep in the books, and because of what others are doing

Otherwise have fun idc.

[savrenim]

SO it is the last week of January but you know what it's Been A Fucking Hell Month In This House so we are getting to our new year's goals post today and that's fine it's still January so it still counts

2023 was a wild year for me just in terms of oh gods I have never played with such high stakes before in my life in so many things and for so long and with such eroded or in some cases totally nonexistent safety nets, I got to the end of it arguably much better off than the beginning, just for the latter half almost totally at the expense of Doing Anything My Writing For Me. so in light of that, I've got some tentative 2024 goals, namely:

get a final draft of Opus into copyediting stage (stretch goal: actually publish it!)

write at least 20k words of another original project 

finish and publish at least one existing fanfic

publish all the mostly written but unpolished and unedited things I have sitting around in my writing folder 

I have no idea how I am going to make this happen, given that my household is still attempting to make up moving costs from last summer and rip we have just been hit with massive vet bills for the most beloved member of the household which means that I need to hustle the fuck out of working all of the hours that I can what is free time and sleep. it also means that I literally can't afford to put my patreon on hiatus, so at the very least there will be regular updates and drafts posted there. said patreon in 2023 is responsible for a solid half of the next chapter of ifmlam already written and the rest on the way, the final chapter of ttbotr in its 'being polished' stage, and the wind, the wind, the wind (lesbian Hadestown in space one-shot) being a scene and a bit of editing away from being ready to go. 

the absolute DREAM for this next year would be to able to rely on writing as a legitimate source of supplemental income instead of something that I need to carve out of free time that I may or may not have, and, you know, actually write A Whole Bunch More. given that I'm devoting 2024 to trying to get some of my original writing off the ground, I wanted to actually showcase some of my original writing too! My three biggest projects are:

1. Opus I: feral seer assassin pretending to be a bodyguard came out here to fight things and is honestly having such a good time right now; extremely tired diplomat saddled with her did not want to come out here in the first place and is having about the time you'd imagine with that. read the first scene here.

2. The Heart and The Heartless: shonen anime of a to-be-posted-as-a-web-serial about a bunch of gay teenagers going to sorcery school and learning how to fight Revenants, and their even more gay even more tired teachers dealing with trying to ensure that their childhoods aren't as bad as said teachers' were. read the first scene here.

3. The Numanok Files: series of novellas that follow a bounty hunter taking cases as she helps colonies and space stations deal with ghosts; half the time home inspection style it's a carbon monoxide leak or faulty wiring reacting to solar flares or alien fungi but half the time it Is In Fact Ghosts. read the first scene here.

Links lead to free posts of the first chapters/ scenes of them on my patreon. I appreciate any support in trying to, you know, actually keep writing this year. and expect to see this post reblogged with updates every month or so so that I can motivate myself via bragging about progress!

[spyroforlife]

11 & 14 for the ask game?

11. Are you more of a planner or an improviser?

Ahaha DEFINITELY an improviser. I have very rarely outlined stories and when I have, I usually find myself getting bored with the outline, and then when it comes to actually writing it, I'll very often find that certain events just work better in a different order, or I'll come up with a better idea and have to completely rework things, and it's just like. I might as well just wing this anyway and MAYBE use some things from the outline if I still like it but otherwise, eh

The vast majority of everything I've written just started at the first sentence you see and I wrote based on a vague idea of where I want the plot to go, maybe there's certain dialogue or whatever I envisioned from the start, but otherwise. I very much just wing it. This probably is not ideal. But it works for me and trying to do differently would just stress me out, so that's what I do :D

Of course I always reread and fix things as needed, and I've definitely added or taken out entire scenes and so on from longfics, so it's not like I'm just posting unedited first drafts, but yeah. I don't plan much. I just have a plot idea and see where it takes me.

Though I do have some stories like Heart Thief where I've talked about the storyline extensively in private with a friend so there's more of what I'd call a 'plan' but even so, there's things that end up getting changed at the last second because I'm like "hey you know what would be cool-"

Is what it is I guess lmao

14.Most fun and/or engaging character voice to write in?

I really like writing Scar, he's so charismatic and friendly, and I love his jokes, but he also has this capacity for serious mean or cruel streaks when he feels it's deserved. I don't think he fakes his kindness. When he's kind, he's so genuinely kind and I love that about him, and I like writing him when he's adoring his friends or partners, he's goofy and sweet and that's an enjoyable personality to write. I just ALSO like how when he decides he doesn't like someone, he can just focus so much pure malice at them and you get this feel of "oh my god he would kill them with a rusty spoon and not even regret it"

It's especially notable in the Life series tbh. I'll never forget Scar in Third Life when Etho and friends revealed they had gotten dark oak saplings, they all run off and Scar turns to Grian and his voice gets that hard edge as he says "I will murder them."

Just something about characters who FEEL so strongly, who commit totally to their feelings, if they love you they love you to pieces but if they hate you they WILL burn you alive at the first opportunity. It's delightful to write

He's just a charming guy and I love getting into his head, because as awkward as he might seem on the outside, he's just so confident and passionate about who he is and what he cares about. I am not immune to the goodtimes