#The temptation to give up really is that bright and welcoming

[namelessmisfortune]

23:59

[beabnormal24]

Your dog ~ carcar, angst

Piñon still bites him when he sees him. He's a distrustful dog, Oscar has learned.

He doesn't like it when Oscar sits on the left side of the couch, pushes his nose against his calf until he's shuffling to the right. He doesn't sit on that side either, though, and curls up under his feet.

He doesn't like it when Oscar looks at the coats hanging nearby the entrance, he doesn't like it when Oscar puts his hand in the biscuits jar, he doesn't like it when Oscar uses the body-wash in the shower and smells of musky pinecones.

He doesn't like a whole lot of things that Oscar does, truthfully, and even though he does try not to show it, sometimes it really hits close to home, where it already hurts the most.

And yet, he still gets up at eight sharp in the morning to take him out for a walk.

They stroll on the sidewalk for ten minutes, already with the easiness of a routine that doesn't feel like it belongs to him fully yet, and Oscar can almost say with certainty that it doesn't feel that gross to grab his poop from the ground.

Every morning they walk past a local bakery, just on the right side of the parallel road, and every single morning Piñon starts barking, perhaps out of familiarity, perhaps just out of curiosity, his vision zeroing on the bright yellow of the signs.

Oscar... he would rather not walk in, honestly. It's not even about avoiding falling into temptation, the smell of fresh baked goods always seeming to make his empty stomach grumble like a full engine.

It's more about the way the people around him seem to advert their gaze for a short second before actually meeting his eyes, it's about the way the woman behind the counter sharpens her grimace into a somewhat welcoming smile, as if all of a sudden she's not angry anymore at Oscar for only knowing how to utter a bunch of words in broken Spanish.

Even worse, though, it's the way they always sit on their calves and pat Piñon's head with a familiarity that Oscar is almost jealous of.

He may not understand a lot of the language, but still it's easy to make out the grand scheme of it all, how they sneak treats under the dog's mouth, how they whisper close to his ear.

"Has he been treating you good? How are you doing? How is him?"

Piñon never answers, and maybe that's exactly the reason why Oscar decided to take care of him.

When it came to deciding what should go to whom, he had almost fought tooth and nails to insist he would be the one getting the dog, in ways that he would probably be immensely embarrassed of if he thought about it now, lucid and the wound of it all less open and fresh.

But when Piñon tilts his head there's always the memory of something that tickles the back of Oscar's head, something that he's not exactly ready to let go of completely.

And when Oscar just needs to talk without the feeling of judgment and guilt clouding over him, Piñon just nudges his nose against his calf and sits at his feet and leaves him the benefit of self criticism that sometimes Oscar forgets he still has.

And other times, even, he looks up at Oscar with big brown eyes that hold a distant sentiment that Oscar can't face just yet.

He has read, somewhere in the middle of a late night binge search on how to get rid of it all as fast possible, that dogs are able to talk to spirits.

Oscar doesn't exactly believe it. Though it is true that Oscar doesn't believe in a lot of things that don't lie in the same Venn's diagram of a throttle and a brake.

He still doesn't know if he should believe in God or if it's God who should believe more in them, give them a bit more credit for all the things some people have to go through without even asking for them.

And Oscar also sincerely hopes Carlos has not gone and become a spirit, because that would imply that even the last shred of hope has to quietly die like a burnt candle.

Because that would mean Oscar would have to live the rest of his life looking for a metaphysical appearance that he knows will never come, that he would have to feel haunted, even.

And it's ridiculous to even think about believing in something like that, and yet at two in the morning on a Thursday night Oscar thinks that there can't be any damage to do if he just lets himself be ridiculous for a little while.

The corridor is bathed in moonlight when he walks through it, but Oscar still finds some difficulty in making his way through the rooms, leaning against the wall with a hand as he feels the quiet thrum of an empty house surrounding him.

He is careful with his steps as he reaches Piñon, sleeping soundly at the entrance where he had dragged his own bed a few days ago.

He thinks about it for a second, then two, watches little puff of air heaving Pinon's chest, his head resting on crossed paws, turned towards the door as if it could open from a second to another. Waiting.

He doesn't think about it more than three seconds, because Oscar has never had the privilege to make decisions in longer than that, so he kneels on the ground, passing a gentle hand through the longer fur on Piñon's back before ducking his head and pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

Piñon doesn't wake up, just scrunches his nose for a second before his breaths even out again, same rhythm as before, as if trying to fall back into a routine that doesn't quite fit right.

The sofa is soft under his legs when he sits on it, careful to not disrupt the untold equilibrium as he presses his feet to the left armrest and leans his chin over his bent knees. He is not going to sleep anytime soon, either way.

"I gave a kiss to your dog." Oscar chuckles, lets himself feel ridiculous for just a second before relaxing against the back of the couch. "I did it when he was asleep. He would've killed me if I had tried to do it when he was awake."

The only answer he gets is the eerily quiet and the muffled sounds of Piñon's breathing.

For the first time since he can remember, Oscar wishes there could be another voice coming from the right side of the couch.

"I think he doesn't like me a lot, you know? Sometimes it's like he wants to blame me and I- I get it, I want to blame myself, too." A knot rises in the middle of his throat, tight and uncomfortable. Oscar still talks past it. "But he is the closest thing to you that I could get, the closest thing that is alive and well. And when he glares at me he- he almost reminds me of you which is ridiculous because I can't even remember the last time you were actually angry at me but I think it's better for me to remember you that way than..."

He rubs a hand under his eyes, pretends like he can't feel the sudden wetness on the sleeves of his hoodie. He doesn't even think it's his own.

He doesn't even remember when the division line started to blur.

"I think that's what you would want me to do, if you could say it."

Lando hadn't been of the same opinion, looking at Oscar warily when he had suggested he would be the one taking Piñon for the first time. Now, he just looks at Oscar with his downturned eyes and tells him he wishes he could do more to help him.

Oscar doesn't think there's more to do, anyway.

"I read somewhere that dogs talk to spirits. I think it's the kind of shit you would yell at Lando for believing in it. You always d- do that." He caresses his own knees, seeking the comfort of a warm touch in his own coldness. "And trust me, I hope you are not a fucking spirit and that you won’t become one anytime soon. But if there is even a small- small possibility, I-" he closes his eyes for a second, lets the knot in his throat dissolve like salt in water, stinging on an open wound, where pulsing blood is still rushing to trail on his skin.

"If there is even a single possibility of it being true I- I gave him a kiss and I hope he can bring it to you. And then he can come back home if- I hope he thinks this is still home, even without-“

The light blue colour of the sleeves has tuned into a darker patch under his eyes, blurry from a lucidity that he can't make himself feel ashamed of.

As if on cue, the silence is broken by the ticking sound of Piñon's paws on the hardened wood floor. When Oscar manages to open his eyes again without wishing to disappear into the dark blue void outside the window, Piñon is looking up at him, curled under his feet with his head close to Oscar's shin.

The dog sighs, a shaky thing that sounds almost like a rumble and Oscar can only answer with a choked sob of his own that doesn't feel like it belongs to him at all, to his vocal cords that always found no use in crying.

Many things can change in the span of a few weeks: Oscar's beliefs and a dog's routine.

"But I- I think," he swallows around nothing, bending down to press a hand to the top of Piñon's head, caressing lightly. "We are not so different, me and Piñon."

The dog sighs again, almost sad. Oscar wonders if he is listening to what he is saying, if he can actually understand it all. Will he bring a kiss from him, then?

"We both miss you the most when the night comes."

—

This little story is heavily inspired by the song “your dog” by Pinguini Tattici Nucleari

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: You once again found yourself face-to-face with Eddie not even twenty-four hours after he checked into the motel, and your interactions left you with more questions than answers. (3.8k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, drug use, parental conflict, poverty, grumpy Eddie, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter two: here today

Bzzzzzz!

Your alarm clock blared its tinny ring at 1 PM. The sun was bright, a welcome change from yesterday’s overcast skies and steady rainfall.

You stretched as you awoke before shedding your oversized shirt and shorts, padding over to the shower and waiting a full five minutes for the cold water to turn lukewarm. The thinning bar of soap formed sad suds in your palm, and you lathered your skin as best as you could.

Despite your best efforts, you kept thinking about your encounter last night—that morning, really—with Eddie Munson. There was a cocky edge to him, evident by his initial refusal to put out his joint, but at least a shred of humanity; after all, he did eventually comply. There was even a semblance of…something that’d you’d shared in your brief interaction.

Or maybe it was just your imagination, the summation of your exhaustion and his high.

The towel scratched as you dried the water droplets from your bare skin, and though the cloth dampened, you could have sworn that it wasn’t wicking any moisture. Dad had been saying for years that he’ll invest in new linens “as soon as business picks up.” But business never picked up enough to do anything more than barely break even for the year, so the ancient towels stayed.

Picking the lint off of your purple T-shirt, you tucked it into your jeans and shoved your feet into your sneakers without bothering to unlace them first. One look in the mirror determined that you definitely needed makeup to look half-decent, or at least awake. There was no earthly way you would sacrifice a minute of precious sleep, so you swiped on some mascara in favor of an intricate routine and quickly fixed your hair. 

You plucked a granola bar from the stash on your dresser: your usual breakfast, tossed into your backpack as you headed out the door towards the lobby. The bus would be arriving in about five minutes, giving you just enough time to get to the stop before the doors closed. Barring any traffic, it followed a consistent schedule; one of the few certainties in life. 

“Hi Dad; bye Dad,” you called out, stopping in your tracks when you saw an obviously irritated Eddie standing in front of the desk, his arms crossed over his chest and his foot anxiously tapping. At least he was fully dressed this time, clad in a faded band t-shirt, ripped jeans, and the same denim jacket he was wearing last night when he’d first walked in. “Everything okay?” 

Dad motioned to Eddie. “Our guest is having some issues with his TV,” he said, his raised eyebrows indicating that the guest was being quite persistent about the matter. “Can you help him?” Before you could answer, he looked at Eddie and explained, “my daughter’s better with this technology stuff than I am.”

There was a temptation to argue that it was probably just a matter of smacking the side or replacing the remote batteries, but you didn’t have time to waste. “Yeah, sure,” you relented, turning to Eddie and waving him over. “Come on.”

Eddie waited to speak until the two of you were completely alone. “That was your dad?” 

You nodded, shoving your hands in your pockets and keeping your walking pace until you reached his room. 

“So what’s the problem?” you asked as he turned the key in the lock. It stuck for a moment before it fully unlatched, and he opened the door with a shove.

“The reception’s shit,” Eddie muttered, keeping his fingers splayed on the door so you could walk in first. “Every time I try to put on MTV, it’s all static. Tried it last night, too, but I figured it was because of the storm.” He gestured to the now-sunny skies. “But that shouldn’t be affecting it anymore.”

You offered a wry smile, the way you always did when delivering bad news to a guest. “Nothing’s wrong with the reception,” you explained, “there’s just no cable.”

“What?” His brows shot up in disbelief. “How is that even possible?”

“It’s simple.” You shrugged. “Cable costs money, we don’t have money; ergo, no cable.”

Eddie raked a hand through his messy curls. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.” His feet could have worn holes in the floor with the way he was pacing. “Where can I watch MTV around here? Like, is there a bar or something?”

“Yeah, I mean, there’s one right down the—” You turned to the window but stopped mid-sentence, your stomach sinking as you watched your bus fly past. You heaved a dejected sigh as tears prickled at your eyes embarrassingly, and you blinked them away. 

It’s okay; I haven’t been late at all this semester, you silently reminded yourself. You could take one of the dollar cabs that runs up and down Jamaica Avenue. It wouldn’t get you exactly where you needed to go, but it would be close enough.

Eddie remained oblivious to your inner turmoil, eyes trained on the TV. “Fuck,” he grumbled, sucking through his teeth. 

“The clock radio plays music,” you offered as you hiked your backpack higher up on your shoulder. “I know it’s not the same as watching videos, but–”

“It’s not about the stupid videos!” he snapped, curling his palm into a tight fist and biting down on his forefinger knuckle. Dark eyes exuded distress, and you couldn’t help but think that his sheer panic mismatched the problem’s minimal severity.

You recoiled at his sudden outburst and took an instinctive step back. He noticed this, his expression instantly softening. His hand unfurled and fell to his side. 

“Shit, I–”

“I’m gonna be late to class.” You composed yourself, straightening your posture and forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “But the bar is right on 144th and 89th.”

He sputtered as he searched for the right words to apologize and explain himself. If you had time, you’d wait for him to unscramble his thoughts, but you were already behind schedule now that your bus was long gone.

You strode across campus like you were on a mission, feet flying over the pavement. The cab had left you at another bus stop closer to school, and that bus had thankfully arrived on schedule. At this rate, you would only be ten minutes late to class. 

Sweat trickled down your back from midday sun’s warmth and your fast pace, but you kept walking until you reached the lecture hall’s double doors. This class was a smaller one, only twenty or so students, so there was no sneaking in unnoticed. 

You shot your professor an apologetic look that she accepted with a polite nod, sliding into your usual seat next to your friend Nora. 

“Is everything okay?” Nora whispered, moving her own bag from the chair. The concern on her face was palpable; if you weren’t able to make it to class, you would have called her. 

“Yeah, just stuff at the motel going haywire as usual,” you reassured her with a small smile, digging out your notebook and a pen. You flipped to the first blank page and scribbled today’s date next to the right-hand margin. “What did I miss?”

Nora shook her head as if to say, nothing. “She just gave back last week’s homework. I grabbed yours, too.” She handed you a sheet of paper with a bright red A+ on top. “I figured if something had happened to you, you could be buried with your most recent perfect paper.” 

She winked, and you rolled your eyes to mask your burgeoning pride. 

Truthfully, you’d worked hard on the assignment. You might have already been accepted to graduate school, but NYU’s prestige didn’t come without a hefty price tag, and you still needed to apply for scholarships in order to afford it. 

Now was not the time to slack. 

You tried to pay attention to the lecture, but your mind constantly drifted to the way Eddie had behaved in his room, having a meltdown like an overtired toddler. The man who had lost his temper over a television channel was starkly different from the one who had readily swapped playful jabs with you the night prior. 

Maybe whatever buzz he’d managed to acquire before you’d interrupted him had made him uncharacteristically pleasant, and today’s outburst was indicative of his true self. 

You bit the inside of your cheek and willed yourself to focus on the case study being presented on the board rather than your own personal Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. 

Try as you might, you couldn’t shake the mystery that was Eddie Munson. Guests had had their choice words with you before—there was a reason why you had pepper spray at the ready—but this felt different. When most guests screamed like he had, they were specifically angry at you; it was the reaction you had expected when you’d told Eddie that he couldn’t smoke pot in the motel. Others simply were not in their right minds and didn’t realize that they were shouting at a random woman and not their mom or childhood bully or the monster under the bed. 

Eddie differed from both categories in that he’d recognized his mistake. That he was frustrated at the situation, not at you. That he had started an apology that he might have finished If you had stuck around.

Or maybe he wouldn’t have. Maybe he would have continued yelling, face growing red with rage. Maybe he would have stopped his tantrum but stormed out to the bar without a second thought. 

You looked down at your notebook page, still blank except for the date. 

Maybe you should stop playing this game of what-ifs and actually listen to the lecture. 

After your professor handed out the rubric for the final paper and dismissed the class, you and Nora made a beeline for the food cart outside the building. Dining hall food was too expensive and bland; besides, Niko knew both of your orders by heart. 

He greeted you with a chipper smile as soon as you approached the cart. Bacon sizzled in its own fat, drowned out only by the sound of the chopper scraping against stainless steel as Niko scrambled the eggs.  

“Better enjoy this nice weather while it lasts,” he said, fuzzy gray brows pinching together. He grabbed two styrofoam cups from a stack and filled them with coffee. “Temperature’s s’posed to skyrocket this summer.”

You grimaced, pulling a few bills from your backpack’s front pouch. “If food service doesn’t work out for you, Niko, you should look into meteorology.”

He brushed off your sarcasm and adjusted his apron over his protruding belly. He added cream and sugar to the coffees and slid them towards you. “Been doin’ this a long time,” he said, gesturing to the food cart set-up. He took your four singles and handed you back two quarters, doing the same for Nora. “Longer than you two’ve been alive. And some things never change: you kids always have somethin’ smart to say.” 

Your mouth watered as he toasted the rolls and added a slice of American cheese to yours before combining the ingredients into hearty sandwiches. He carefully wrapped them in tinfoil and handed them over. 

You smiled, uncovered the sandwich, and took a hearty bite. Melty cheese oozed out from the roll and clung to your lip, and you collected it with the tip of your tongue. “At least we’re consistent,” you teased, waving goodbye as you and Nora walked to the bus stop. 

“What went down at the motel today?” Nora asked, chewing her food as she spoke. “I mean, I’ve seen you get to class early during a blizzard,” she added with a knowing grin. 

You remembered that day, February winds whipping around you and cutting through your layers of clothes like a knife. The snow stung your nose and cheeks and made it nearly impossible to see three feet ahead of you, but you’d made it to class before the professor had even arrived.

“Nothing really,” you tried to say nonchalantly, taking another bite of sandwich to keep your mouth busy. You don’t want to think about the way Eddie had raised his voice at you this afternoon; more specifically, the shame that tugged at you for being disappointed. You’d had one decent interaction with him and you’d foolishly assumed some kind of mutual respect had been built, but it all boiled down to the basics: he was a guest at the motel who would be checking out on Friday, and then you’d never see him again.

Nora wrinkled her nose, not quite believing you, but any further interrogation was interrupted by the bus squeaking to a stop. You dropped the five quarters into the tray before squeezing your way through the aisle.

“Just…” Nora dropped her voice to avoid drawing the ire of your fellow commuters, grabbing onto a pole to steady herself, “you didn’t need to break out the pepper spray or anything, right?” 

You gave her a grateful smile. “Nothing like that. I promise.”

“Good.” She reached over and gave your hand a small squeeze, careful not to brush up against anyone else. “Because I need my study buddy in one piece.” 

“I’m fi—” The bus lurched forward suddenly, the driver slamming on the brakes just as the yellow light turned red. You tightened your grip on the pole and planted your feet into the floor to keep your balance until coming to a complete stop. The other passengers grumbled and groaned as they shifted, leaving trails of mumbled sorry’s in their wake.

The Metropolitan Transit Authority would likely cause your demise well before any motel guest could get to you.  

It was barely after six PM when you got back to the motel. The sun began to creep down from its pedestal into purpling clouds and teased dusk’s beginning. Horns honked as rush hour traffic dragged along the expressway as though their cacophony would make the other cars evaporate into thin air. 

You had about four hours before your shift started; it was just enough time to work on the paper, take a quick nap, and boil water in your electric kettle to make some Cup Noodles. 

“Hey.”

You looked up to see Eddie leaning against the wall, a cigarette burning between his pointer and middle finger. It was freshly lit, but he still extinguished it under his foot before stepping closer to you. His brown eyes flickered from the ground to your face and back down again. 

“Hi.” Short but polite, your customer-service smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. You could see Mom through the glass door, leafing through paperwork that was almost certainly a stack of past-due bills. 

Eddie shoved his hands in his pockets, scuffing one Reeboked heel against the pavement. “I went to that bar you told me about.” He said it all in one breath as though he expected you to take off running. 

“Oh.” One corner of your mouth quirked up in a hesitant half-smile. “Did you, um, did you get to watch your show?”

He nodded, a forlorn look clouding his eyes. His right incisor dug into his lower lip. “Yeah. Thanks.” He paused, and you started for the door once again before he spoke up. “Sorry, I—you said you had a class today?” he asked, clumsily tripping over his words.

There was no sense in lying; not with your backpack hooked over your shoulders. “Mhm.” 

“Were you…” His tongue swiped nervously over his lips. “Did I make you late?”

You shook your head. “I got a dollar cab.” Not quite a lie, just omitting the truth. At this point, you were willing to let him smoke weed again if it’d result in easy conversation.

Eddie bit the inside of his cheek, head tilted slightly as he assessed your response. He seemingly accepted it at face value, exhaling a quiet, “that’s good,” and fumbling in his pocket for another cigarette. 

You took that as your cue to leave and ducked into the lobby to greet your mom with a quick wave. She returned it with a weary smile, eyes creased at the corners. The soft lines etched into her forehead had deepened over the past few months. The Reagan-Bush trickle-down economy era might have come to an end, but its remnants still affected small businesses and the even smaller people running them.

“How was class?”

“Good.” 

The usual exchange, no real information revealed. The mother-daughter song-and-dance performance of the ages. As long as neither of you disrupted the routine, the music played on.

Ten PM rolled around too quickly, and you plodded into the lobby with a stomach full of sodium-drenched noodles and your tote bag full of books. A street light flickered outside, more off than on, illuminating the sidewalk in a hazy glow every so often.

Mom handed over the register keys and placed a kiss on your cheek before she left to go to bed in the room she shared with Dad. Nighttime was the only time they got to be together uninterrupted, and it was spent sleeping.

That wasn’t what you wanted. When–if–you found somebody to share your life with, you wanted to have conversations with topics besides financial upkeep. You wanted to talk about meaningless topics and make each other laugh. You wanted to lay with your head on their lap, gazing into their eyes and revering in the beautiful silence. Nothing forced or planned. Just being.

You positioned yourself behind the desk, spreading your supplies in front of you. You’d managed to draft the opening paragraph for your essay before sleepiness overtook you and you’d had to nap, and your goal tonight was to revise it to perfection. The upcoming weekend would be spent at the public library, nose deeply buried in every psychology book they owned while you outlined the body.

Red pen marked up your page, commas added and removed three times over. Arrows shifted sentence order, while some sentences were altogether crossed out with heavy lines.

It was perfect. It was all wrong. You loved it. You hated it.  

Maybe I should scrap it altogether and start over. 

Your palm pressed to the notebook page, ready to tear it out and crumple it into a ball with jagged edges that would dig into your skin. 

“Hey.”

In your intense focus, you hadn’t even heard anyone walk in. A rookie mistake; somebody could have snuck up on you and you’d be none the wiser.

Eddie stood there, a folded one-dollar peering out from between his thumb and forefinger. He shuffled to the desk and held out the money, his eyes offering a silent apology. 

“I owe you for the, uh, cab,” he mumbled, lips forming a tight, nervous smile. “And don’t argue with me. I know my bullshit made you late, so…” He flitted his free hand as if dismissing potential concern.

You clicked your tongue in mock disapproval. “You’re not from New York City, are you?”

Eddie shook his head with a laugh, fingers scratching at a stubbled patch along his cheek. “How’d ya know?”

“A New York man knows better than to tell a New York woman not to argue with him,” you teased, capping your pen. “Also, you tried starting a conversation with me earlier, and any New Yorker knows that’s a cardinal sin.”

“Having a conversation?” 

“Making small talk with a stranger.”

His nose crinkled in adorable bewilderment as though the thought never occurred to him. “We’re not strangers. We met last night.”

The innocence of his remark drew a genuine laugh out of you. “I see the same people on the bus every day,” you told him, “and they’re still strangers. Being more than mildly aware of someone's existence doesn’t mean I know them.”

“Fair point,” Eddie conceded, leaning in slightly, “but I’d argue that we know each other’s names, so we’re not total strangers.”

Humming your acknowledgment–but not necessarily agreement–you plucked the dollar from his grasp and tucked it into your back pocket. “I’ll put this towards your bill.” 

“Oh, yeah. About that.” Eddie cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Are there any pawn shops around here that’ll buy a guitar?”

“No, sorry.” There had been one down the street but it had already been shuttered for a few years. Guests would go there all the time to hock whatever they could to pay for another night at the motel.   

He let out a long, disappointed sigh. “Shit. Okay.” The playfulness behind his eyes faded. “Um, thanks anyway.”

He turned away from the desk, shoulders slumped. You knew that look all too well; it was the stance of someone who just needed life to cut them a break.

“Eddie?”

He swiveled back around, his curls a half-second behind. “Yeah?”

“Do you know how to re-wallpaper a room?”

“Huh?” Your question caught him by surprise, and he took a moment to collect himself. “I mean, yeah, kind of. I did it for my uncle’s trailer once. But I’m not, like, a professional.”

You smiled. “No professional experience necessary.” You gestured to the various spots on the wall where the paper was cracked and peeled. “If you can make this look presentable, you can stay a few more days. Free of charge.”

His expression immediately darkened, eyes narrowing and crossed arms closing off his body. “I don’t need charity,” he asserted through a tensed jaw.

“It’s not charity; it’s a favor.” The harsh reaction caught you off-guard, but you refused to let him unsettle you again. “Look around: do you really think we can afford to hire someone to install new wallpaper?” 

You didn’t bother to wait for his response before continuing. “We need to fix this place up, and you need a roof over your head.” Shrugging casually, you held onto the hope that he would also view this as a mutually beneficial offer and not a pity handout.

Eddie just scoffed, a rejection in itself, compounded with a growling reprise: “I said, I don’t need charity.” 

Spikes jutted out from his words and pinched your skin, each one a reminder of your uncanny ability to worsen every problem you tried to solve. 

Offering a job to someone you barely knew? He gave you a buck to pay for the cab you only had to take because of him—not exactly the best character statement. The man could be a serial killer who preys on low-budget motel owners and you’d be none the wiser, signing his checks like you weren’t his next victim. 

Maybe next week, you could hire Ted Bundy to change bed linens. 

“Understood.”

He looked at you so intensely his pupils should have bored a hole right through you. Behind his eyes wasn’t an ounce of hate or even anger. 

It was raw shame. 

I’m sorry got caught in your throat and didn’t reach your tongue until he had disappeared back down the hall, out of sight. 

--

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[3lyvshiro]

𐙚 ⋆₊˚ 10:31 ..ᐟ

˗ˏˋ୧ —pairing: Suna Rintaro x f!reader

˗ˏˋ୧ genre: fluff, suggestive,

—warnings: mentions of tits, ass, and thighs

𐙚 —Synopsis: your bf comes home tired so he strips infront of you and shoves his head on yo chest.

"Bad day?" you asked half heartedly, leaning your weight onto the headboard by your shared bed, your eyes on the book you were currently immersed in.

you could see Suna coming into the room from your peripheral view, and even you could tell he looked like his life got sucked out of him. From the way his shoulders sagged more than usual, and how he didnt greet you with a kiss yet like he usually would.

Rintaro was tired. he had a shitty day at work. everything was too bright, everyone was too loud, nothing went his way, his blocks were so noticeably sluggish today that his coach had to ask him to go home early. Rin was not having it. He was exhausted. All he wanted to do was come home to you and recieve your affection and comfort. he had priorities.

"Youre home early." You mumbled, trying again.

At his lack of answer you glanced up at him dryly only for you to do a double take, looking up from your book as you watched him take off his shirt. woah.

You bookmark your page before placing your book down the table next to your big bed, but before your boyfriend could take a step to you and get your affections,

He felt himself have to physically pause as you let out a low whistle the moment he lifted his shirt off. You couldnt resist the temptation to tease him, plus, you couldnt take your eyes off his abs and toned upper body the moment he flat out stripped.

"bad day?" you questioned, once more, testing the waters.

At your playful grin, he ignored you with a tired look before slumping in bed with you, curling next to you as he blatantly layed his head down on your chest unannounced.

"Mm" Rin let out groggily, his first instinct stuffing his face on his girls chest.

You were surprised by his sudden action, without any hesitation too. Not that you minded. it was actually really cute the way rin was nuzzling onto your chest. he reminded you of a cat. a big.. 6'3.. cat...

You didnt mind at all. it's just that knowing Rin.... He honestly wouldve just groped you on the spot.

Your boyfriend has absolutely zero shame. none at all. not even in public. in fact he would publicly grope you. wherever, whenever. doesnt matter if its your chest, ass, thighs, he cannot keep his hands to himself if it would save him. You half expected him to curl into a ball on your side, rest his head on your shoulder and start squishing your chest with his big calloused hands but you assume he was just too tired to joke around like that right now, and all he needed was a relief and some love from his girl. His comfort, His home, His love, the person he can come home to everyday knowing she'd be waiting right there to welcome him in her arms.

You placed your hand on your boyfriends head and started playing with his soft locks, cooing at him at how adorable he was acting right now. Usually, if it were any other time, Rin would've rolled his eyes at you, maybe add in a sassy remark, but not right now. right now, he just wanted to bask in your love and affection.

Feeling Rins arms wrap around your waist, you gently clawed your nails at his broad back, humming at the way he buried his face even deeper on your chest, if that was possible.

As you had one hand buried in his hair and the other on his back, you slowly glided your nails up his shoulder blades, not hard enough to leave scratch marks like when..when you two are doing certain activities... but just enough for him to sigh in the relief you were giving him right now.

You subtly moved your nails to claw at his back once again, barely reaching the middle when you heard him groan in satisfaction and contentment in the semi-massage, and attention his girlfriend was giving him.

A smile graced your face shortly after you heard his voice. theres my rin.

With slow movements, you moved your hand down to massage his neck. Rintaro sighed, thanking the gods for whatever thing hes done to deserve you.

He doesn't know what he did at all, but it must've been damn fucking good just for him to score a person like you. He must have been an angel whos done not a single bad deed, he thinks. i mean its only rational, considering how you came into his life and changed everything. hes convinced he did no wrong, commited no sins at all.

Rin shakes his head, dismissing the thought as he felt your nails dig onto a good spot. he let out a low sigh as your thumb gently rubbed over his neck. you took the short strands of hair framing his face, then tucked some behind his ear. Much like what he would do to fluster you. This time though, you could feel him smiling through the way he hummed and nuzzled his head further on your chest. rin loved being babied by you.

You had a soft look on your face too, watching him act like this, it really does do an effect on you.

you leaned down and kissed his temple, whispering your love to him and nothing but sweetness.

it didnt take long before your eyes met his soft gaze after a few seconds. you see him lift his head, and despite his eyes being the only thing you could see, you still caught that furious blush that adorned his face, no matter how he had tried to hide it with shoving his face deeper onto your chest, your could still see the red spreading onto his ears as you giggled at him.

After your giggles died down, and his struggling came to a halt,

".. i love you. Thank you for loving me." you heard rin whisper, voice muffled.

LMAOOOOO SORRY FOR THE SYNOPSIS IT MIGHTVE BEEN A WEE BIT MISLEADING 🤓

[dabislittlemouse]

tainted angel 🪽 MASTERLIST

ෆ pairing: Dabi x Hawks’ little sister

ෆ Synopsis: While stalking Hawks and trying to find out more information about him, Dabi comes across his little sister, a sweet angelic thing that welcomes him inside her house with a bright smile on her face. Dabi can’t help but get obsessed over her, the sudden urge to make her his takes over him entirely, maybe to have Hawks under his control while he enjoys his little sister, or maybe he really does like her. Nevertheless, she does not know the danger she just involved herself in, nor does she know that her brother’s handsome “friend” is in fact a dangerous villain who has sick twisted intentions.

ෆ cw‼️: smut, yandere themes, corruption kink, dubcon/noncon, mixed feelings, Dabi being a flirt and a pervert, stalking,

ෆ A/N please read before going further: This multichapter fic is written in Dabi’s POV mostly, it’s written in first person. You will come across Dabi’s thoughts and feelings, how he perceives things. He calls Keigo’s sister “angel” instead of the famous Y/N label, so I’ll be calling her angel too. Sometimes I include angel’s POV too (which you can totally insert yourself and imagine being her. As I write this fic I also imagine myself being the sister as well). Due to her being Keigo’s sister she might have specific descriptions such as hair color, eye color, skin, wings etc.

CHAPTER 1

During a boring rainy day of wandering around, Dabi gets a call from the men he hired to get more information on Hawks. They had found his old house, where supposedly his mother lived. Dabi decides to pay her a little visit, not knowing the surprise that was waiting for him: the little angel Hawks used to keep hidden from the public.

CHAPTER 2

Hawks threatens Dabi to not get close to his family, specifically his sister. But Dabi definitely has other plans the moment he got her number, deciding to call her late at night.

CHAPTER 3

Angel continues to secretly interact with Dabi despite Hawks warning her not to. She is entirely captivated by his charm and mysteriousness. Dabi decides to pay her a little visit and leave a small gift.

CHAPTER 4

She finally agrees to meet Dabi behind an alleyway, late at night. They both head to an empty park, where Dabi decides to make a move and savour her. From that moment things get heated up.

CHAPTER 5

Hawks is worried that his sister was out so late at night. He starts doubting her words, wondering if she is even telling the truth. He is not pleased with what he sees once she comes back.

CHAPTER 6

As Dabi refuses to elaborate on who he is and what bad things he has done, angel starts getting more paranoid. Especially knowing that he might’ve possibly entered her house at night or stalked her. As much as she enjoyed his company, she doesn’t feel safe, so she decides to listen to her brother’s warnings and stop talking to Dabi. Though Dabi is anything but pleased with her decision.

CHAPTER 7

She has been keeping watch for a few nights by now, anxiously waiting just in case Dabi decided to appear again, living in constant fear. Strange dreams appear in her sleep, of him being so close to her, touching her body in ways she begs for more. But is this really just a dream?

CHAPTER 8

“You like the danger don’t cha?” Dabi smirks. “You like some thrill in your boring peaceful life, something troublesome that has your blood boiling and adrenaline rushing.. isn’t that right doll? You like to play with fire, mess with the unknown, scared that you’ll burn and yet needing more. Confusing isn’t it?”

CHAPTER 9

Time for a real date. Giving Dabi another chance, she again lets herself swim in dangerous waters, though this time she won’t come back unscathed

CHAPTER 10

Giving in to the temptation and burning desire that could no longer be contained, she finally lets her body and soul into Dabi’s hands.

.

.

Divider credits @cafekitsune

🏷️current tags on this fic: @dabihawksluva @syrenkitsune @touyalove @awalkingshame @cr-33-d @luvsymai if anyone else wants to be added in the taglist and get notified when a new chapter drops, let me know!

[seedsofagony]

Breakfast in Bed (KnY ♡ Kyojuro)

Cherrytober Day 24: Morning Sex // Body Worship

Series: Kimetsu no Yaiba

Characters: Rengoku Kyojuro

Word Count: 1,341

Summary: modern au, x reader (f), vampire Rengoku, fluff and smut, body worship, choking if you squint, marking if you squint, monsterfucking, morning sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, no pregnancy, vampirism, wounds, blood, blood loss

Notes: Aftercare is juice and cookies ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Disclaimer: Underage, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked. For everyone 18+, FUB free or filter my unique tag for this event: #sweets🍒24

ETA: Since this fic is getting a little traction, I'd like to remind everyone that minors are not welcome here. I block underage, ageless, and blank blogs.

Kyojuro crawls underneath the blankets just as the sun begins to rise, rays of light sweeping across the bed. He pulls the sheet over your heads and hugs you close, enveloping you in a soft cocoon.

"Cold!" You startle awake, flinching as he presses his cool skin against you.

Kyojuro plants a kiss on your forehead. "Sorry…"

Still groggy, you blink at the sunlight filtering through the sheet. "You're late."

He smiles, bright enough to rival the early morning sun. "I was watching you sleep."

You make a wry face. "That would sound creepy coming from anybody but you."

"I love watching you sleep—you're so beautiful."

Bedhead, cheek imprinted with the wrinkles of your pillowcase, oversized pajama shirt turned halfway around—you can imagine just how "beautiful" you look.Your preternatural lover, however, is, as always, an absolute vision.

His golden hair curls softly around his face, framing bright ruby eyes and that dazzling smile, his canines coming to sharp points. Blue veins spider along his temples and down his neck to the bared pale skin of his muscular chest. They flow down his belly and disappear beneath the waistband of his pajamas—incidentally, the bottoms to the shirt you're wearing now.

Eying those veins, you coil a strand of his hair around your finger, then let it unspool. "You haven't eaten yet."

"Not since dinner."

You flick your eyes back to his mouth, the white pearl of his canines. "You want breakfast?"

Kyojuro's face darkens and, for a split second, he is every bit the predator you know him to be. His gaze moves to your neck, lighting on the neat, twin wounds he gave you the night before. You swallow, stomach fluttering at his unabashed hunger. But it's momentary—his expression quickly softens to its usual sweetness.

"Are you sure…?"

A smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. "I love breakfast in bed."

He hesitates. You ruffle his hair, "That was an invitation by the way."

Kyojuro scrunches his face as you give him the golden retriever treatment, closing one eye as you tousle his waves. He reaches up and catches your hand. Bringing it to his lips, he presses a kiss to your palm.

"You're so good to me," he murmurs.

Shifting, he kneels over you, pulling the sheet tight across his back, pinning it against the mattress with his forearm to block out the morning light.

"You don't want me to close the curtains?"

"I don't mind," he says. There's a slight edge to his voice, an eagerness that tingles pleasantly between your legs.

Matching his mood, you shrug out of your shirt and shove it aside. Your bare skin prickles at the cold emanating from his body, nipples coming to pert buds in the chill.

"You really are beautiful," Kyojuro says.

He cups your cheek with his free hand and strokes the corner of your lips before drifting down to your throat. Your breath catches as the tip of his thumb just brushes one of the wounds.

His brow creases with concern. "Does it hurt?"

"A little," you admit. "But it feels good, too."

Kyojuro hums, his grip tightening ever so slightly, closing around your naked throat. You can see the confliction in his eyes—the temptation to give in to his most base desires warring with his fierce love for you, his fragile and very much mortal mate.

Your pulse quickens and he flinches as it races beneath his fingers. It's frightening, titillating, knowing you're at the mercy of a killer, but there's no question in your mind—Kyojuro would never do anything to harm you.

His fingers loosen, just as you knew they would, and he moves to your breast, palming your soft flesh, teasing your nipple with the flat of his hand.

Kyojuro's touch glides down to your belly. "Do you know what you look like to me?"

"A snack?" you tease.

Your joke sails over his head—he didn't even hear you, he's so transfixed by the dip in your waist, the curve of your hip. "A goddess."

Again, coming from anyone else, a line like that would never work. But, lying beneath him, soaking up his tender, loving gaze, you blush—a fact Kyojuro doesn't miss. He responds immediately to the high color in your cheeks, erection tenting his pants.

Slipping your fingers beneath his waistband, you push it down, tugging his bottoms over the mound of his ass and his straining erection. Kyojuro kicks them off as he pushes your thighs apart, still gripping the sheet with his other hand.

For a brief moment, you each pause to admire the other—his twitching length and the leaking bulb of his head, your hips angled in offering and the sweet nectar almost dripping from between your legs. Then, as if in mutual abandon, you embrace each other.

Kyojuro slides forward, covering your body with his, cock nosing at your slit. You take him easily, stretching around him as he groans, burying himself to his base. You close your hands over his hips as he begins to thrust, rutting into you with smooth, rolling licks.

He presses his forehead to yours, "Feels so good…"

You hum in agreement, basking in the way he fills you up, his length reaching the deepest part of you, your walls stretching deliciously around his girth. You turn your head and Kyojuro buries his face in the crook of your neck. His lips brush over your wounds, a fluttering kiss followed by the drag of his tongue, slick with hungry saliva.

"Can I?" he asks, breath icy on your neck.

Biting your lip, you answer—reaching up, you tangle your hands in his hair, pulling his mouth against your throat. Kyojuro throbs inside you. Groaning, he snaps at your neck, teeth sinking into your flesh. You gasp and moan, warmth flooding your body.

Teeth and tongue working against your skin, Kyojuro's pace quickens. He drinks you up greedily, pulling long draughts from your neck, rutting with primal need. Closing your eyes, you hold him to you as your head begins to spin. You bring your knees up and wrap your legs around his waist, clinging to him.

A whine rises from Kyojuro's chest. He nuzzles your neck, making needy sounds, gulping you down. A swoon presses you back against the pillow. It's hypnotic—the rhythm of his hips, his cock dipping in and out, and his tongue on your bleeding throat. You can feel your climax building, your flush leaking out into Kyojuro's starving mouth. Fingers caught in his hair, thighs clutching his rolling hips, you cum, moaning against his temple.

Kyojuro thrusts through it, feeding your core as it clenches around him. His teeth sink deeper into your throat—the predator satisfying himself, taking everything you're offering. He bucks fast and deep, desperate, urgent. Growling, bite tightening, he thrusts to his base, cock spurting hot inside you.

Still holding you by the throat, he doesn't release you till he's spent his last drop. He eases his teeth from your neck, drawing a shiver from you as he laps once, twice, at your wounds.

Pushing himself onto his elbows, he looks down at you, smiling as he catches his breath. The predator has been sated, and the drape of the sheet over his head looks like a veil, the light shining through, a halo. A healthy flush colors his cheeks, the tracery of blue veins all but vanished from his skin.

You brush the hair from his eyes with trembling fingers. "That was some wake up call…"

Kyojuro's smile widens, "I'll get you something to eat."

You shake your head, "The curtains." His smile fades. "Don't worry about it. I'll eat something when I get up. Just come here."

Kyojuro shifts, stretching out beside you. He slides his arms around your waist, and pulls you close, tucking you under his chin. Pressed against his chest, you can hear his borrowed heartbeat gradually slow as he begins to drift off. You nestle against him, safe and sound in the arms of a killer, and go back to sleep.

[pparadiselost]

happy ending.

masseur iwaizumi hajime x fem reader iwaizumi's feelings run deeper than he expected. warning(s): nsfw, sex worker iwaizumi, ambiguous relationship minors do not interact.

“hello again,” the all-too-familiar voice welcomes you with a bright smile. “the pretty lady’s come to visit me.”

your heart threatens to beat out of your chest as you lay down on the massage table. a thin robe separates your bare body from iwaizumi hajime’s expert eyes, acting almost like the last line of defense between the man and your nearly-demolished pride. this kind of back-and-forth relationship was nothing new to you, and especially him, yet your stomach swirls like it’s the first time.

your eyes flutter shut, and you force a deep breath through your mouth. a large, calloused hand teasingly flutters over your exposed legs, rubbing slow circles up from your knees to your thighs. his fingers are slick, all oiled up with massage serum, and they glide over your body with little resistance.

even if it’s for your pride, you know goddamn well that attempting to resist him would only be a farce that he’d see through in an instant. 

“not even a ‘hello’?” iwaizumi laughs, pretending to be hurt. “i got excited when i heard that you were coming to see me today. you know how much i like seeing you.”

you had sworn to yourself each and every time you came crawling here that this would be the last time, swearing off of this temptation for good, but without fail, you somehow found yourself here not too long after. god, you always thought you were better than this, better than to turn to such underhanded ways to take care of your needs, better than to turn away from every other functional solution in the book.

better than to become dependent on a sex worker.

“c’mon, where has my chatty little lady gone?” iwaizumi snaps you out of your thoughts when his fingers knead suggestively at the curve of your thighs. his hands are no stranger to your body, and your body immediately begins responding to him as his fingertips explore your legs. “normally you’re so eager to talk to me. you have to tell me where you want me to massage you, or i won’t know how to service you best.”

your mouth feels dry when you manage to peel your eyes open. he glances down from above you, and his eyes are as warm and enticing as always. you hate how physically attractive he is: broad shoulders and chest, toned biceps built up from his years of massaging clients, big hands that easily grab and coax your body into a state of relaxed euphoria. it’s like his presence is a drug in it of itself; just knowing that he’s staring at you and giving you all of his attention has you squirming underneath him.

“i-i felt lonely,” you squeak out. “i wanted to be with someone, and all i could think about was coming to you…”

“so you were thinking of me,” he murmurs. a coy smile tugs at his lips, and you swallow thickly. He's ridiculously handsome, and you hate how lecherously your body responds to everything he does. “that makes me really happy, did you know that? knowing that a pretty lady like you thinks of me makes me feel really good.”

his voice is low and sensual, and he continues to rub at your thighs. your core twists and throbs dully, already feeling the effects of his hands on your legs. part of you wishes that he wasn’t so sweet with you, so ready to indulge whatever fantasy you had, but the other part of you revels in hearing that. 

you sigh as he works out the tension in your thighs, his hands traveling dangerously upwards. just the sheer anticipation of seeing him had your pussy drooling while you changed out of your clothes, swapping them for the massage robes you had grown accustomed to, and whenever his knuckles travel higher and higher, your core pulses.

you want him. you want those thick fingers inside you, teasing at your needy cunt and fucking you out of them. your head spins with desire, and your body flushes with heat. 

“let me guess…” he pinches at your flesh gently, dragging up the hem of your robes up to your waist. you shudder when his hands drop down to your kneecaps, and he pushes against them gently to spread your legs open. a shiver runs up your spine when the cool massage parlor air rushes against your inner thighs and up your exposed slit. “if my pretty girl is sounding this stressed, then i have no choice but to give her some special treatment… you don’t mind now, do you?”

you shake your head. “please… i want it.”

“good girl,” he praises sweetly. “i know what’s best for you. i promise i’ll make you feel reeeeeeal good in a little bit. you have to trust me, okay? gotta make sure that pretty body of yours can keep up with me.”

you nod. you’d let him do whatever he wanted to do to you so long as you’d get to stay with him. your eyes never leave him as he continues to massage your legs sensually, making sure no part of your lower half went untouched. you know he means best, but having him touch you without anything to alleviate the heat coiling and pooling in your gut feels like pure torture.

he can see the way your body trembles underneath his palms, your curves filling out his palms and submitting to his touches so easily. “you’re doing so good for me, dollface. you know how much i love working with you. you always take what i give you, that sweet body of yours… it’s like you were made for my hands.”

“iwa-,” you manage out. you want to rub your thighs together so bad, alleviate some of the pressure in your stomach that’s choking up your senses. your cunt won’t stop clenching around nothing, your hole fluttering excitedly whenever his hands would slide up a little too far.

“i know, pretty, i know,” he soothes. “i’m doing my job. i’d hate to make you all sore when you came to me for the exact opposite.”

sore? you’re pretty sure your body’s about to cave in on itself if you don’t get him to do something. the last thing on your mind is about how you’re going to feel later. a sick part of your mind reasons that if you end up sore after this, you can always come back to have iwaizumi work out the knots. a perfect excuse to visit your momentary sweetheart once more.

your breath catches in the back of your throat, and a pathetic excuse of a moan escapes you when he massages the part of your body where your thighs meet your crotch. his fingers move in suggestive motions back and forth right next to your drenched cunt, shamelessly making a mess between your legs. you’re sure iwaizumi has noticed how wet you are by now, and he’s purposefully sticking to his professional shtick just to rile you up.

if that’s the approach he’s going for, it’s working. as much as you hate to admit, it’s taking everything in you to not grind against his wrist every time he touches near your crotch. your mind is foggy and heavy with lust, your rationale easily clouding over with primal need. iwaizumi has a knack for sending you spiraling into this animalistic like state, where all you can think about is having your cunt stuffed stupid on his massage table. 

“you’re holding out so well for me,” the young man murmurs. his voice is sticky and sweet like honey against your ears, and you want to taste his mouth on yours. “do you think you’re ready? think i’ve prepped you enough to take me?”

“yes…!” you gasp. “i’m ready- ‘m ready to take you-”

two fingers move to your core, and he presses his knuckles against your drooling core. you whimper as he slowly spreads your lips apart and finds your swollen clit, rubbing slow circles onto your sensitive nub with his fingertips. heat jerks up into your core, and your pussy’s desperate to have something inside it, to have something stretching out your walls and fucking into you. 

iwaizumi hums to himself as he toys with your clit, his honed eyes watching every twitch of your body as he plays with you. he isn’t brutally rough, just rough enough that you can feel every purposeful movement of his wrists and fingers, enough to send you recoiling into the massage bed with pleasure. his other hand latches onto one of your kneecaps, forcefully keeping your legs spread out so that you’re fully exposed to him. you grip at the side of the bed, trying to keep yourself grounded in some way while iwaizumi imitates the motions of a vibrator against your clit.

“nngh…! mmh- iwa- please-” you almost unconsciously buck your hips against his hand, your back arching into his touch. “need more- please, i’m so horny-”

he moves his fingertips up and down your slit, coating his fingers generously with your slick. you moan as he ghosts over your hole, not indulging you with the pleasure of penetration just yet. it’s so humiliating, having your cunt spread out all vulnerable for a man who’s taking his time admiring you and teasing you to your limit, yet you can’t help but get aroused at everything he’s doing to you. 

“does this feel good?” he asks. “it’s my job to make sure all my clients feel good before anything else.”

you swear that this man is going to be the death of you. you sob out, “yes! yes, yes, it feels good! don’t tease me like this, iwa- need you in me- need you inside my pussy-”

“oh?” he laughs. two fingertips prod at your entrance, and he laps up the sight of your pretty cunt fluttering at the touch. “you weren’t even saying hello to me earlier, but now you’re feeling rather chatty, aren’t you?”

“‘m sorry-” your body burns with need. if you don’t have him right now, you don’t know what you’ll do with yourself. “please, i’m sorry, i really am- please, iwa, finger me already…”

“now, if you give me a direct command like that, i have no choice but to follow.” he smiles down at you. you grit your teeth as he slowly sticks his two fingers inside of you, your walls eagerly clamping down on his knuckles as he penetrates you bit-by-bit. a strangled moan rips through you as his knuckles stretch you out, and you can feel every little movement of his fingers as he buries himself into you.

you nearly shut your legs from the overwhelming feeling, but iwaizumi keeps a firm hold on your knees. he chides you mockingly, “ah, ah, ah, dollface. i can’t do my job if you don’t give me proper access.”

he can feel your cunt tightening and squeezing around his fingers. his cock strains against his pants, imagining how good it would feel to have your walls all fucked out on his dick instead. but iwaizumi is a professional, and no matter how much blood rushes south as he watches you whine and squirm just from being penetrated on his fingers, he keeps his cool.

everything about this man is unfair to you. his fingers feel inhumanly good inside of you, and before you can even give him your usual clear, he’s already pumping them in and out at a moderate pace. your stomach curls in on itself, and you whimper, your pussy making lewd squelching noises. you know he’s not doing much, only moving his hand back and forth in the general motion of fucking, yet you already feel so heavy-headed and buzzed off of it.

“my pretty lady’s so desperate today.” iwaizumi likes the power rush this gives him. he has you right where he wants you—all at his mercy underneath his hands. you’re already acting this fucked out and horny from his fingers that he can’t fathom how dicked-down-dumb you’re going to be once he gets you ready for the real deal. “did you miss my touch that much? hmmm?”

he scissors you carefully, wiggling his fingers inside of you. you jerk violently against the cool massage bed, crying out loudly as the knot in your gut coils violently. “d-don’t move like that-! don’t be so rough with me…!”

“so sensitive too,” he whispers. despite your cries, he doesn’t stop his onslaught on your cunt. he keeps moving his fingers in a way that drives you mad, has you shaking and mewling to no avail under his touch. he fucks you out on his fingers, curling them into your cunt in a way that has you seeing stars and pumping them in and out to feel your hole clinging to his knuckles greedily.

nothing, absolutely nothing, escapes his notice.

“let me guess.” he plunges his fingers into you again, probing around for your sweet spot. your nails dig into the soft material of the bed, leaving crescent moon marks into the foam. “you couldn’t get off properly since the last time you were with me, could you? no matter how much you tried to fuck yourself on the toys you have home or cum on your fingers, nothing could make you feel good, could it? you just had to come back to me in order to feel anything, to take out everything that’s been building up in you?”

you don’t dare answer him. iwaizumi knows your body like it’s the back of his hand, having explored every inch of you over and over again. he knows you don’t stand a chance against him, not when he knows the perfect ways to egg your body into perfect submission.

if you won’t speak to him, then he’ll simply find a way to force you to answer. he twists his fingers so that his fingertips fuck right into your g-spot, and the effect is immediate.

“iwa!!!” you shriek. your buck your hips suddenly, right into his touch, and he’s nearly unraveled you right there and then. his grip on your tightens, keeping you pinned down against the bed with no choice but to take his fingers as he tortures your g-spot.

“that’s what i thought,” he chuckles darkly. “couldn’t hit that spot right there on your own now, could you? you’ve gotten too used to how i feel. why else would you visit me this much? my pretty lady can’t get herself to cum without me. you need me in order to feel good again.”

“fuck. fuck-!” pleasure overwhelms your body, rushing all through your veins like an incessant monster demanding to be noticed. your cunt shamelessly squelches and gushes all around his knuckles, and your hips can’t help but grind against his fingertips. it’s almost inexplicable, the effect iwaizumi has on you. he knows this best, and he savors the power rush it gives him to see you like this, practically squirting all over his wrist while he keeps you stuck on his massage table.

your orgasm nearly breaks you. iwaizumi feels your plush walls contort and cling to his fingers, and he continues to coax your climax for as long as he can. you’re panting, your body twisting and turning as you squirm under his touch, but iwaizumi wants to keep you in this drunkenly euphoric state for just a little bit longer. 

he thinks you look beautiful like this: your body weak and pliant for him, puffy pussy overstimulated and spread out on his fingers, your cunt glistening with your cum and pulsing around his hand like it's begging for something bigger to stretch it out.

something like his cock, for instance. 

you shudder. your body feels ridiculously heavy, as if your blood was replaced with lead, and the after effects of your orgasm cling to you. your mind is numb and foggy, reeling from the mind blowing pleasure that iwaizumi forced out of you, and your breathing turns ragged as you lay there all sprawled out on his work table.

“that’s a good girl,” the dark-haired man praises. you shudder again when he pulls his fingers out of you, and iwaizumi admires the sticky string of cum that connects his fingertips to your hole. “bet that felt good, didn’t it? yeah, i know it felt good cumming on my fingers.”

his entire body screams at him to fuck you. his cock strains against his pants, practically choking against the tight material of his underwear, and despite the calm demeanor he keeps, iwaizumi’s barely keeping it together himself. his base instincts are tempting him, telling him to toss his pants off and grab your thighs, to pull you flush to him and fuck into you more like an animal than a man, to fill that slutty pussy of yours up with the cum that you’ve been so desperate for and to feel you shake under him from how good it feels to have your hole stuffed and fucked.

he shakes his head. no. you’re not here for him to use. you’re here to see him, to feel good yourself. it would be unprofessional and straight wrong of him to view you so selfishly, to look at your body with so much lust that he swears he’s going to asphyxiate. 

he rubs gentle circles into your thighs, waiting for your breathing to stabilize. “hanging in there?”

“yeah-,” you gasp out, nodding your head slightly. “felt good- that felt so good, iwa…”

he laughs, and he hopes you can’t hear how shaky his voice is. “don’t get all weak on me now. we’re only just getting started, doll. you ready for me, or do you need another minute?”

iwaizumi wants to ravish you. it isn’t right for him to feel this strongly towards a client, towards someone that he shouldn’t hold any feelings for, but the way you tempt him makes him want to scream. he doesn’t see a ring on your finger, no mention of a boyfriend making you so unhappy that you have to come see him instead to sate your sexual needs, and he wants to daydream so bad. he wants to think that he’s the only man that can make you moan, that can make you feel good, that can make that cute cunt of yours squirt all around him until you can’t even breathe.

it’s bad. he has it bad.

“i’m ready…,” you eke out. something inside him stirs sadistically at your voice, and his mouth feels dry as he methodically undoes his pants. you stare at the bulge in his boxers, your pussy throbbing at the thought of his cock inside you, and when he pulls his underwear down, your eyes widen at the size.

this isn’t the first time you’re going to take him, and you doubt it’s going to be your last. but you’d be damned if you thought that you were going to have any of it easy. you swear you can already feel the burn, the stretch, in your cunt, and you’re grateful that iwaizumi took the time to loosen you up with a round already.

he pats at the table, motioning for you to get into position. you scoot down so that you can press your crotch up against his, your legs hanging off of the table while iwaizumi stands over you. his dick rubs up and down your slit, coating himself with a generous amount of your slick. you can feel him twitch against your cunt, desperate to be buried deep inside you, and your pussy painfully clamps up against nothing. 

“i don’t think i’ve even done that much to you, but your body’s already ready to take my cock,” he remarks wryly. “gonna make you feel good, alright? stop me at any point if something doesn’t feel right.”

“don’t worry.” you smile at him weakly. “that’s never an issue. you’re so sweet to me, iwaizumi. there’s a reason why i keep coming back to you.”

he grabs his hard cock, lining it up with your entrance. he doesn’t push himself in immediately, but rather, he grabs your hips tightly. his dark eyes meet yours, and your chest tightens when you see the dangerous expression that swirls in his irises.

“hajime,” he breathes. “don’t call me ‘iwaizumi’ while we do this. say my first name.”

iwaizumi doesn’t wait to hear you respond before he’s sliding himself in. your mouth immediately falls open when you feel his cock stretching out your walls, heavy and invading every inch of your sensitive hole. he’s being careful, but even then, it feels like he’s splitting you into two. you whimper, clenching your eyes shut as your velvety walls envelop his dick completely, and he lets out a low groan when he feels you fluttering and pulsing all around him.

he hasn’t even bottomed out inside you, yet your pussy welcomes him in so greedily. it’s like that insatiable cunt of yours was made to take him, made specifically for him to fall in love with and for him to fuck out on his cock until you couldn’t even think about having sex with other men. 

“ohhhhhhhh, fuuuuuuuck-!” your voice is airy and drawn out, and iwaizumi wishes he could record it to play it over to himself over and over again. it’s wrong for him to feel this way, to let his heart reach through his bones and flesh towards you, but you keep squeezing his cock and trying to burn the imprint of his dick into your plush walls. 

and this is coming from him. he’s seen all sorts of clients, fucked all sorts of different people with that cool professionalism he prides himself with, selling out his body like some kind of commodity because people are willing to fork over money for him. 

but when it comes to you? iwaizumi’s convinced you’re a gift sent from heaven. you look so angelic—body all laid out for him, eyes clenched shut as your drooling cunt adjusts to the stretch, legs hooked over his hips, your entire body drunk off of him.

“feeling that good already?” he teases lightly. his calloused hands slap at your hips, and the slight sting makes you clench up around him. “not so fast, pretty lady. we still have a lot of fun in store for us. i can’t serve you properly if you’re going to let yourself go this quickly.” 

“c-cock feels so big-,” you whine out. his stomach lurches when he hears you moan, his swollen length threatening to twitch inside of you. the most animalistic urge to pound into you ruthlessly overtakes him momentarily, but iwaizumi swallows heavily and draws his hips back carefully instead. 

you let out such a breathless gasp when you feel his slick cock slide out of you before slowly penetrating you again. your walls clamp up and follow him, trying to suck him back into you, greedily clinging to every inch and vein on his girthy dick. what a greedy cunt you have, already broken in so obediently thanks to iwaizumi’s constant efforts, that it’s willing to eat up whatever the masseur is willing to give you. 

and he knows you’re feeling good. “c’mon, you’re doing so well for me, sweetheart. you can take it, can’t you? you’ve taken me before—yeah, that’s it, baby. gonna make you feel good on my cock. that pretty pussy of yours is doing so good…”

your gut twists at his words, and the heat that floods your stomach goes right to your head. your body feels sticky and hot, already overwhelmed from earlier. he’s so dirty even with his praise, and having your hot masseur’s cock splitting your cunt in two doesn’t make the throbbing in your core and skull feel any better.

“c-can’t take too much-,” you sob out, your voice shaking. “‘m still so sensitive- i just came-”

“you said you were ready, doll,” he reminds you. his voice pulls you through the fog and fatigue and overstimulation clinging to your nerves, and you peel your eyes open to look at him. your cunt won’t stop coiling around him, and he pumps his dick in and out, in and out. he’s not being particularly rough or even that demanding, yet having him fuck you slowly like this makes your toes curl.

it doesn’t even feel like he’s fucking you anymore. you swear that it feels like lovemaking, like he’s touching you in the way a lover should, rather than a monetary exchange between a patron and a worker… you’re overrun with the urge to cling to him, to call out his name like he asked you to.

he fucks his dick into you, carefully and lovingly. your pussy eagerly takes him in, sticky walls rubbing up all against him and making his head spin. iwaizumi wishes he could properly articulate how you feel, how good your body feels when he’s balls deep inside of you, but all he can fixate on is the way your cunt drools and sticks onto him. 

“so deep-,” you choke back a wave of lewd moans. your core flares with heat, with need, and every time his cockhead teases your insides, you shudder with ecstasy. it’s so wrong, to be so dependent on someone that isn’t even your lover to let out all of your pent-up libido, but it feels so good. “you’re going so deep…!”

“i know,” iwaizumi whispers. “i can feel your pussy taking me in. you’re doing so good for me, pretty girl. does it feel good?”

“yes! feels good, feels so good-,” you eagerly reply. “faster- you can move faster- wanna feel you more-”

oh? the knot in iwaizumi’s stomach hardens, and you let out a wanton whimper when you feel his grip on your hips tighten. you know you begged for him to give you more, yet when he snaps his crotch against yours a bit rougher, your body threatens to give out on you. he’s already pushing you to your limits, stretching out your seams, yet for some reason, you can’t get enough of how good it feels to have him break you over and over again.

“let yourself go, beautiful.” iwaizumi’s voice is haunting, determined to coax you into melting away. he wants you all tucked out and fucked in his arms, and your mind blanks every time you feel his cock ram into you with that much more force. your body lurches and shakes on the massage table, letting out loud gasps every time his dick plunges into you. 

“so good-!” you throw your head back, hands clawing at the sides of the table. “oh- god, fuck, fuck- fuuuuuck, you’re going to make a mess out of my pussy…!”

“haven’t i already?” iwaizumi lightly quips back. “you wouldn’t feel the need to visit me this much if i hadn’t.”

“more- more-,” you pant. your thighs quiver around his waist, locking around his body and trying to force him in further. you should know better than to trust him this much, especially when he’s fucking into you raw, but all your sex-crazed mind can think about in that very moment is having more of his cock inside of you. “ruin me, iwaizumi! break me even more!”

iwaizumi?

he furrows his brows, and his hands move from your hips to grab at your thighs. before you can look up at him, he’s forcing your legs apart and pinning them down to the table, spreading your cunt out wider and fucking into you harder. 

you immediately squeal and try to flail underneath him, the new angle and depth instantly scrambling up your insides. but iwaizumi’s grip on you is tight, and he holds you in that half-mating press-half-standing position as he drills his dick as deep as he can into you.

“i thought i told you not to call me that.” his dark eyes lock with yours, and your breath hitches in the back of your throat when you see how feral he looks. something unhinged and uncontrollable swirls behind his all-too-strained composure, and with how aggressively he’s pounding into you all of the sudden, you must have done something to him. “didn’t i tell you to quit using my last name?”

you’re fucked. you know deep down you are. with how iwaizumi’s ruthlessly angling his cock, making it feel like his cockhead is slamming right up against your womb, you can’t do anything other than letting him do as he wants. and god, does it feel good to let him have his way with you. 

“i’m sorry-!” you splutter out. you sound absolutely pathetic, your words starting to slur and rise in pitch. he’s perfected the art of breaking you apart piece by piece, and the wet noises of his cock rearranging your guts makes you only feel wetter and even more aroused. it’s too much, the way he’s stretching you out and teasing your sweet spots. “n-not too rough-! if you keep moving like that, i’ll cum…!”

“isn’t that what you want though? isn’t that the reason why you came to visit me? because that cunt of yours couldn’t feel good on its own?” his nails burrow into the soft flesh of your hips, and you moan out. everything hurts. everything feels too good. everything makes your body feel like it's been lit on fire and left to burn. “c’mon, sweetheart. i’m only here to do as you want me to. it’s not my fault if you can’t listen to my instructions. i’m going to make you cum all over my cock, break that cute pussy of yours with how good my cock is, and make sure you come back here begging and drooling for my dick every time you even so much as think about getting horny.”

the tension mounting inside of you is too much. you can barely think straight, too focused on iwaizumi pounding into you like a bull in heat. his balls slap against your ass, reminding you that you’re completely at this man’s mercy. you want to beg properly, grovel and whine underneath him to be nicer to you, but the way your hole desperately inhales his length betrays your rational intentions.

“i’m sorry- i’m sorry- i’ll be good-,” you promise. you’re not even sure what you’re apologizing for or what you’re promising to behave for, but the last thing you want to do is get on iwaizumi’s bad side. this is the only time he ever acts like this, acts so selfishly that it turns you on to the point where you think you’re about to enter cardiac arrest. you can’t help as much as he can’t: his cock feels perfect inside of you, like it was made for the sole purpose of pleasuring you and filling you up. “i can’t control myself…! feels like i’m going crazy-”

“yeah?” he pistons his hips into you, and the onslaught makes your vision go blank. “gonna lose yourself like that over my dick? over your masseur’s cock?”

“yes! yes, yes, yesyesyes-,” you breathe. “never had anything like your cock before- your cock is the best!”

“stroking my ego now, huh?” he chuckles. the pressure in your stomach won’t let up, but you feel your orgasm tingling around your senses. dangerously, slowly, like a snake slithering in the grass—even when he’s being brutish, iwaizumi’s movements are controlled and calculated. he’s only doing this to make you feel good, to find a way to maximize your pleasure, so that you turn into nothing more than a shell of a person. 

“please-,” you weakly blurt out. “‘m so close- so close to cumming… need just a little more! don’t tease me this much- i can’t do this anymore…!”

“you know what to do.” what iwaizumi wouldn’t give to reach over and hold you in his strong arms. to kiss you while you fall apart, tongues sloppily intertwining with one another as he mouth-fucks you while you cum all over his length. he’d touch you better than any lover could, pleasure you like you’re his partner. but he keeps his place, putting more force into his thrusts so that you shudder and thrash around futilely under his touches. 

it’s not right for him to want this or to demand this from you, but iwaizumi doesn’t care. you trust him, honestly more than you ever really should, and he wants to believe that maybe somewhere in your heart, you want this as much as he does. 

“say my name,” he demands. “just like how i told you to in the beginning. say my name, and then i’ll let you cum.”

you’re desperate. your stomach warps and wrings itself out of need, and you don’t even have the consciousness to think about whether or not this is appropriate. all you care about is cumming and cumming all over iwaizumi’s faithful cock.

“haji!” his name feels right on your tongue. it tastes sweet, like the syllables were made for you to moan out. “hajime, please! let me cum!”

that’s all he needs. everything about you feels lethal. your pleading eyes, body spread out all for him as you take his cock, pretty voice calling out his name like he’s always dreamt you would. he knows he’s going to be jerking himself off to this moment for months, hearing your voice echoing around his ears like the call of a dedicated girlfriend rather than a client. 

“fuck- fuck!” iwaizumi grunts. you shriek when he buries himself deep into you, cock brutally stretching out your cunt as he stuffs his entire length into your pussy. “take it! take it all…!”

he cums inside of you, spilling all he has into your fucked out hole. you feel his dick twitch and pulse before something hot floods your insides. it scalds you, and you arch your back at the sudden feeling before you’re cumming all over him too.

that’s so dirty. your pussy drools and clamps up all over his dick, milking him with all its got. iwaizumi’s made you cum plenty of times before, but this is the first time you’ve ever came from being creampied. it’s lewd, so ridiculously lewd, that it fills you with equal parts shame and pleasure. 

how far the mighty have fallen. 

your cunt flutters around him, and he groans, thrusting through his high. your head feels numb, and your senses nearly give out on you. your breathing turns shaky as you practically convulse underneath him, pussy overwhelmed with the mind blowing sensation of your second orgasm being forced out of you. you already felt stuffed full just from his cock, but having his cum rush into you makes it feel like you’re being bred pregnant by him.

the thought makes your heart skip a beat. it’s horrid, but you can’t deny the fact that it tempts you.

you don’t realize he’s pulled himself out of you until you feel his semen leaking out of your abused hole. iwaizumi takes a step back before almost collapsing against the wall, inhaling desperately as his hawk-like eyes never leave your form. there’s something possessive about the way he looks at his pearly cum oozing out of your cunt, and as much as it fills your face with heat, you don’t have it in you to close your legs just yet.

even through the haziness of your climax, you can’t help but think about how pitiful both of you are. separated by the wall called professionalism, you wonder if these fleeting moments of understanding are about as close as you’ll ever get with being honest with him. or at the very least, letting your heart speak for itself. 

…

…

…

��how much do i owe you for today?” you pull your coat closer to yourself, gripping your wallet in his hands. iwaizumi doesn’t look up from the cash register, but he waves his hand and dismisses you.

“don’t worry about it. i don’t mind letting you have today’s session on the house.” he pauses slightly before he glances up. the awkward silence between the two of you is both tragic and heartwarming, and you quietly pocket your wallet. 

“are you sure? i don’t mind paying. i’m your client,” you offer meekly, only to be met with his adamant refusal. 

the story always begins, ends, and repeats the same. 

you shuffle here, craving iwaizumi’s touch. he has his way with you, lets you have your fun, before you pay and disappear before he can ever do anything more. that’s all it should be and all it was ever supposed to be. he wonders when that line became blurred and at what point that he began wishing that the obvious ending would change.

there would come a day when you find someone, a man that you could love without all of these scary unknowns. maybe then you’d be satisfied and no longer find the need to visit him, and he’d be left here, alone in the massage parlor without the thought of you to keep him company. maybe he’d yearn for years on end, praying that you’d miraculously walk through the doors one day to see him again.

but good things don’t come as easily to men like him.

you smile and lean over to place your hand on top of his, breaking him out of his thoughts. “thank you, then. you really didn’t have to do that.”

“will i see you again soon?” he asks. even under the guise of politeness, his emotions betray him. and as for you—you swore that you’d stop coming back, that you’d quit being so dependent on iwaizumi for your sexual needs. 

but how can you say no when he asks you so directly?

you nod. “yeah. i promise to be back soon. you’ll be here for me then, hajime?”

his answer is what you expect. “always.”

[aller-geez]

CW/TW: Mentions/semi-visualizes (no direct drug use pictured) a certain wolf boy’s struggles with opiate addiction. Please don’t keep reading if you are sensitive of this topic!

You can now read up to the end of Chapter Four of A Shifter’s Tale (73k words……) on toyhou.se that can be found here!

Since I’m 99% sure no one has read AST on tumblr to know much about my boys’ lore or so this makes sense… 🥲

Lemme know if anything needs clarification for a TL; DR 🥹

@thekinkyleopard owns Levi as always 💚

Remington’s first love was always heroin.

Until his most recent stint in rehab with Levi that has kept him clean for two years— longer than he’d been clean since he was 14 years old— he has always had that crutch to fall back on when everything felt like too much all at once.

But this time, he promised the only person that really mattered to him that he would stay clean this time, no matter his temptation. And after almost losing Levi to the very same substance that night more than two years ago, he had kept up on his promise, despite his sometimes debilitating cravings that he just had to swallow and carry on.

But as of lately, his cravings had been way more intense and mindnumbing than even a determined Remi could dismiss.

Over the past month, a handful of nights a week when Levi would fall asleep way before Remi, he would fish his old trusty dusty kit that got him through it’s share of benders from its hiding spot in the cabinet. His large hands would shake every time they would even touch the worn green plastic of the pencil box, rattling the contents loudly throughout the empty kitchen and forcing him to gulp down a frustrated growl before slipping out of one of the doors silently and padding quickly into the dark forest around his house with the old pencil box clutched tightly to his chest.

He would then find a spot to sit, away from prying eyes of course, and pop open the plastic lid with a lit cigarette between his pursed lips, his eyes scanning the contents to make sure everything was still in its…. place…

Often he sat on a large rock or tree stump as he proceeded to chain smoke half of a pack of cigarettes and just stare longingly at the objects inside.

Hearing his heartbeat in his ears, his luminous green eyes filled the darkness with unmistakably bright light as they darted from shadow to shadow in case Levi woke up and came to look for him (he never did, but that didn’t ease the wolf’s paranoia.)

Every stick that was broken by a clumsy raccoon or bush that was rustled by a deer twisted his expression into guilt, giving a cautious glance around him, expecting to see his mate’s icy blue eyes filled with much deserved disappointment and shame in his actions even if he didn’t actually lose his sobriety.

But after sitting by himself for sometimes upwards of 3 hours just staring into the mouth of what seemed like a past life by that point, the disgust in himself would finally overcome the wolf and he would trudge back to their house, hide the green pencil box somewhere high where Levi wouldn’t think to look, and slink back into bed next to his mate who was always fast asleep, but still welcomed him into bed as soon as the wolf’s hot flesh grazed his own.

“How do you honestly go to sleep next to him like nothing happened? You’re pathetic. You need serious fucking help.” The voice in his head would chant until he would finally fall asleep.

—Just to do it all again the next day.

[mlpdestinyverse]

“Heir”

Feat. Nova Spark, Prince Amadeus , Princess Star Chime

Amadeus’ coronation has Prince Novis thinking about his own impending crowning. He can’t shake that something just feels...wrong. 

Previous: “Pressure”, 

~Destinyverse Archive~

Story Under The Cut!

Dresses and coats pass Prince Novis as dozens of ponies and creatures mingle and meander about Canterlot Castle's massive Great Hall. In the background, elegant ballroom music drifts about from a professional ensemble, passionately playing their instruments at one corner of the room. Louder than the music is a constant rumble of pleasant conversation and laughter from the celebration's guests. Novis himself, however, chooses to stand off to one side of the room, taking small, periodic sips from his cup of sparkling cider. His foreleg bounces as he watches a newly crowned Prince Amadeus warmly welcome distant dignitaries at the center of the room. Flanking Amadeus' sides are his mother and younger sister - Princess Luna and Star Chime - both mares respectfully dipping their heads in greeting at each approaching visitor but being sure to give the stallion the figurative spotlight. The coronation ceremony had come to a close a few hours ago. Once the afterparty had commenced, Novis found himself and his mother Twilight not only separated from the lunar family as ponies lined up to offer their congratulations, but the two of them were quickly surrounded by other attendees wishing to converse with Equestrian royalty. It was only when his cheeks began to feel numb after an hour and a half of consistent smiling (a new record, for sure) that his merciful mother gently nudged him to walk around and mingle with everyone. He graciously and swiftly took the exit, and to be fair, he tried to carry out his royal duty of entertaining their subjects. But three near-identical, boastful conversations later, Novis' mind had become too fatigued to handle one sentence more. 'If one more person goes off about how they shook Amadeus' wing once, I'm going to lose my mind.' Novis isn't sure what's worse; the mindless idle conversation, the citizens gushing over members of the royal family, or the noble ponies' and their not-so-subtle gloating as they take the opportunity of a grandiose event to discuss business propositions with one another. Each kind of exchange meets his ears in a rise and fall of voices from where he stands. What Novis really wants - what he's waiting for - is one chance to just say hello to his best friend. They hadn't spoken in months due to the preparation and rehearsal the stallion's coronation required. And Amadeus had been too occupied pre-coronation for Novis to sneak in a word. Now Amadeus is preoccupied with aristocrats and leaders of other lands alike, and an opportunity to have a second of his time seems unlikely. Novis' blue eyes refocus, noticing a group of strangers waving enthusiastically a few yards away. By instinct, a smile too bright to match his inner discomfort stretches across his muzzle and he waves back. Just smile and wave; the basics of royal etiquette. Immediately his smile falls once the ponies have looked away, and he ducks his head to take one long sip, as if that'd be enough to avoid any more social contact. It's then that he feels a rumble in his stomach and he remembers he hasn't eaten since he and his mother arrived in Canterlot. As he maps out a route to the nearest snack table, one with the widest berth around groups of partygoers, a familiar voice reaches his ears. Novis immediately has to fight that urge - the temptation to pretend you didn't just hear someone call out to you, but the voice in question is too close for them to be addressing anyone else so unless you want to feign hearing loss, ignoring the voice would be impractical- "There's Prince Novis! We've been looking for you!" A young male unicorn - one of the many noble children he's been forced to converse with, so who-in-Equestria-knows what his name is because Novis certainly doesn't - and two unfamiliar unicorns approach. 'Oh my God, leave me alone.' "Friend! It's good to see you!" Novis's fake grin and saccharine voice greet them. In Novis' mind, there's no way his forced friendliness is convincing. But people are too self-absorbed and eager to hear themselves talk, so he's proven wrong every time, watching the male unicorn proudly raise his head high. "Good to see you too, friend!" The unicorn preens, tossing his head and his coiffed mane with it. Novis hears the two ponies accompanying the other stallion exchange impressed whispers and giggles, and even someone as oblivious as himself can read the situation and recognize a pony flexing his connections. Novis feels distaste form on his own tongue. "What a gorgeous coronation that was! Truly worthy of everyone's envy!" The unicorn leans in with a smirk. "Even your own~?" '...what kind of arbitrary-ass question-" "No, no, never!" Novis isn't sure whether to take it as a joke or a jab, so he settles on a weak laugh. "Amadeus is my bro- brother. My brother at heart. Why be jealous when I can be proud? He's come so far and worked hard for this." "Does that mean your coronation will be even grander, Prince Novis?" One of the other unicorns pipes in curiously. Novis barely conceals a flinch. His voice gets stuck in his throat, his eyes darting between each pony's expectant face. "Um-" "Prince Novis," his savior speaks in the form of a butler, whose magic hovers a tray in front of them. They dip their head respectfully, tilting the tray in his direction and revealing miniature orange cakes with soft, cloud-like white icing. At the sight, Novis perks up. "As requested by your mother, we've arranged your favorite carrot cake treats. Please, enjoy yourself." A sense of delight fills the young prince's chest, his belly feeling that much more hollow while breathing in the sweet scent of carrot and cream cheese icing. Just as he intends to push his magic forward and pick up a delicate treat, he doesn't miss the chuckle from the stallion next to him. "I'd say to watch your figure, but I suppose you won't have to worry about your coronation for another few years." Novis glances at his company, only to find their eyes boring into him. Despite wearing his formal attire he feels a shiver run across his pelt, causing hairs even under his dress wear to rise. The other unicorn just smiles back. "Don't mind us, your highness. Go on! You can probably afford it." That's when Novis catches the unconcealed movement of each of their eyes, darting between his face and his body, and his stomach churns in realization. The sickening feeling crawls under his skin, making even tailored clothes feel tight around him, making him feel exposed enough to take a step back from the platter and say, unthinkingly; "Thanks, but I'm not hungry." That's enough to dismiss the butler, who bows one more time before wandering away. The three other young unicorns pick up their laughter and chatter, but Novis hears none of it. The quiet bitterness simmering at his core brings him to block out their noise, yet simultaneously, his royal training puts him on autopilot. Not that it takes much effort to converse with nobility so self-absorbed, they'll put others down in every subtle way they can just to bask in a sense of superiority. He just has to be pleasant; smile and nod, laugh when everyone else does, 'ooh' and 'aah' as the other party boasts- Rinse and repeat. A robotic loop for...the rest of his life, Novis supposes. The aristocracy is a crowd Equestrian royalty has always strived to maintain a cordial relationship with, being collaborative partners and descendants of long-gone, highly esteemed wizards who once aided the crown. 'This is just the company I'll have to keep.' With his mind lost to a dull buzz of trivial exchanges, Novis would have missed the movement in his periphery had he not noticed the shift in the murmurs around him, now light and filled with reverence. Halfway across the room, Amadeus gracefully strolls away from his family, approaching a table of refreshments on the sidelines. The male Alicorn smiles and dips his head to the groupings of ponies he passes, who eagerly bow and curtsy in return. Novis sees his chance. "Uuh- excuse me, you three, I just remembered there are important matters I need to address, good day-" Novis quickly echoes what he remembers reading from his mother's list of "Common Phrases for an Eloquent Exit", the riveting sequel to her initial gift,  "Helpful Responses and Phrases for Pleasant Conversation." Novis doesn't bother waiting for an answer, throwing common courtesy to the wind in favor of making a beeline for his friend. It takes a moment of weaving and excusing himself, but Novis' eyes stay locked on that starry mane of blues and purples. A tinge of nervousness settles in him at the idea of not reaching the older prince in time, but to his own relief, the purple stallion finds his hooves past the crowd. Novis lets out a heavy sigh he's been holding in for far too long, and it's loud enough to catch the ear of the larger stallion. When Amadeus' lavender eyes fall on his smaller form, the other prince's whole expression brightens. "Ammy!" Novis greets first, grinning toothily and closing the last few steps between them. Amadeus surprises him by placing a hoof over his own chest and bowing deeply. "Novis, my friend! How wonderful it is to see you in good health!" He proclaims, standing up straight with a polite smile. Novis' face crinkles at the odd greeting, only for realization to hit him when he very much sees the mischievous twinkle in his friend's eye. The noise Novis releases is a sophisticated mix between a scoff and a laugh. "Hey, hey, hey! Don't you use your formal voice on me!" Amadeus' polite smile immediately splits into a cheeky grin. Horn glowing a similar shade to his eyes, the blue-splotched Alicorn levitates and tips his newly earned black and white crown at the purple stallion. "Mmmmm-m'lord~" This time unrestrained laughter bursts out of Novis, and he shakes his head vigorously. Oh, he missed him. "My Gods you're so stupid, come here." Amadeus is squeezed into a hug before another cursed phrase can leave his muzzle, and the silver-pelted prince chuckles low, surely aware of this. Novis feels the weight of one of Amadeus' shimmering wings return his hug (two wings would smother him, good thing his friend is thoughtful). Upon pulling away, Amadeus' face practically glows as much as his hair does in the night. "I made it, Nov..." "'Course you did." Novis' mouth quicks up in one corner. He lightly thumps the back of his hoof against the Alicorn's chest. "Like me or anyone ever doubted you, man. Congrats." "Thank you..." Amadeus sighs out. Novis can see a few tired lines under his friend's eyes, but he also sees relief in his relaxed features. A weight has been lifted; irrational fears and insecurities Novis knows the stallion has been holding onto, ever since... 'Your dad would be proud', he doesn't say. Novis can imagine the dozens of times Amadeus has to have heard that exact phrase within the hour alone. But meeting his friend's gaze, Novis sees warmth emanate from Amadeus', and the young stallion knows the sentiment is understood. "Sooo..." Novis rocks back and forth on his hooves, the awkward and mushy silence beginning to make him antsy. "What was your coronated name again? 'Amadeus Sirius Altair'?" He exaggerates a thoughtful hum. "Pretty cool, but uh....maybe leave some star names fooor, I dunno, Star Chime?" Amadeus laughs heartily, easily breaking away from the heavy atmosphere. "Sister has plenty to choose from. And she has as many years as you do to choose her new name. You're both up next, after all." It happens again. Like a sack of rocks being forced down his throat to weigh in his chest cavity, Novis feels like he's physically recoiling away from the topic despite standing completely still. The sheer agitation catches even him off guard. 'It's just a coronation. You get through a big fancy ceremony, you're given a gaudy crown, then it's over. You move on with your life.' ...he knows it's not that simple. "That reminds me!" Novis puts every shred of energy into a completely natural topic change. "Now that your coronation is over, we should have a game night this week! It'll be a celebration between us! It's been WAY too long." Novis' hopeful smile falters upon hearing a nervous laugh tumble out of the Alicorn. "Oh yeah...sorry Nov, I wish I could, but it sounds like I'm going to be busier than ever now that I'm crowned. Mother informed me that there'll be responsibilities I'll be officially taking over, full-time. But!" Amadeus perks up. "But once things settle down in a few months' time, I can probably schedule something in!" A few months. Novis isn't sure what shifts in his own expression, but whatever it is, Amadeus catches it. The older prince's eyes soften, and he offers an assuring smile. Leaning down, Amadeus nudges the top of Novis' head with his nose. "Hey, it won't always be like this, Nova. Don't worry. We'll make time, I promise." "Yeah..." he returns in a weak attempt to agree. Novis tries to find the faintest bit of assurance in his friend's words, but the unease in his chest weighs heavier. "Oh, mother is waving me back over. I suppose I have more leaders to meet." Amadeus chuckles softly. Before Novis can look up, a single glimmering feather gently flicks his nose, startling him. The offended look he shoots the other stallion earns him a delighted laugh. Novis' suppressed smile betrays his feigned annoyance. But boy, Amadeus is lucky they're in public. It's like he forgets that lightning magic and pretty, manicured galaxy manes don't exactly go well together- "Cheer up, okay? We'll go all out and stay up as long as we want the next time we get together. And then you can tell me about all the progress you've made on your game! Believe me, I'm looking forward to it!" Right. His game. Novis presses his mouth into a tight line, but he manages a smile and a small salute when Amadeus glances back at him. "Yeah, yeah. Go get'em, prince." Amadeus reciprocates with a playful salute of his wing before striding back in the direction of his family and a cluster of attendees. With his back turned, Novis feels his smile vanish. 'Right...I'm next', he thinks, in a room full of carefree partygoers all gathered to celebrate the inauguration of their beloved lunar prince. A coronation is a joyous occasion, for the royal family and their subjects alike. Novis tries to imagine his own. The weight in his chest remains. -------------------------------- 'Where did she go?' Novis travels down another hallway, nearly identical to the one before it. Were it not for the years he spent exploring the castle during his and his mother's frequent visits, Amadeus acting as his tour guide, he would have absolutely gotten lost in the maze that is Canterlot Castle. Thankfully, he has a decent map of the layout in his head. It's been an hour since Amadeus' afterparty ended, and Novis was surprised by how fast everyone had scattered. One minute his mother and Princess Celestia were conversing in one corner of the Great Hall, and the next, they were both gone. His mother most likely assumed he would have rather stayed behind to see his "friends" off, as opposed to the reality of him ducking behind the snack tables to sneak his way behind the crowd with the precision of someone who's played one too many stealth games. Novis originally opted to retire to his guestroom for the night. But the discomfort he'd felt during the party had failed to leave him. He can't shake it. He can't pull his mind away from the reminder that in three years' time, he'll be faced with the finality that is his crowning. And the fact that this is his knee-jerk reaction to the mere thought has made it obvious that something is very wrong. He knows he won't be able to rest, not until he tries talking it out with her. And the only place his mother and Celestia would head off to would be... Beyond him to his left, Novis sees the large, open doors of the pillared corridor that leads straight to the throne room. When he turns to walk through the colossal doorway, he expects his eyes to lock onto the set of double doors on the far end of the hall. Instead, his deep blue orbs flicker toward a figure, standing off to the side. Princess Twilight Sparkle, framed by the towering windows and panels of stained glass lining both walls of the corridor, is gazing up towards one of the artistic glass panels. The light beyond it shines through, reflecting colors off of her tranquil face. Novis approaches wordlessly. If he's honest, he rarely pays any mind to the stained glass windows in this hallway, always shrugging them off as relics portraying events from far in the past. But as he slows to a stop beside his mother, the young stallion tilts his head back, eyes wide as he fully takes in the regal majesty that is his mother's stained glass portrait. The glowing, immortalized image of his mother on her coronation day, powerful wings outstretched, smiles elegantly back at him. "Amadeus will have his own panel built tomorrow. It'll be constructed next to Lumina's." Novis turns towards the sound of his mother's voice, now noticing that she's smiling warmly at him. He peeks past her and further down the corridor. Where there once was a panel that depicted the defeat of Lord Discord by the royal sisters now resided a more promising display; Princess Lumina in all her Celestia-like grace, with brilliant gold and orange glass illuminating the space around her half-Alicorn, half-Draconequus form. "And if I'm right," Twilight continues, a tinge of excitement in her voice. Her wing wraps around him and pulls him into her side. She gestures her hoof towards one of the normal windows next to her glass portrait. "Celestia plans on assembling yours right beside mine!" "A-ah..." he struggles out. "That's...great, mom." His mother's wing squeezes his side at the same time she grins down at him. "I'm beyond proud of Amadeus. But I have to admit, today has made it impossible to stop thinking about your coronation!" "S-same here." A painfully stilted laugh shakes his shoulders. "Actually, um, mom...that's what I came here to ask about, if-" Novis cuts himself off, because Twilight's eyes practically shine at the prospect of questions. She pulls her wing back and straightens her posture, taking on the stance of a wise, experienced teacher. "Ask away, Novie~" she answers with an almost sing-song cadence. A smile threatens to tug at his muzzle. He takes in a deep breath instead. "Well...today it's come to my attention that I'll most likely have less time to myself once my coronation has passed. There's..." He pauses because no way in Tartarus will he suggest to the Friendship Princess that the Friendship Prince has been spending his spare time and resources developing a video game. As if just bringing up the subject to his "friends" has ever ended positively. He's had quite enough of being subtly ridiculed. "...there's a project I'm trying to work on- not an invention, just for fun. It's a lot of meticulous work and I'm honestly worried I won't have time in the future to give any projects like it the attention they need. Am I wrong?" Law amendments, passing legislation, working with representatives and leaders; meetings, paperwork, hosting festivities, bringing ponies together and spreading the values of friendship; a long-winded list that barely scrapes the iceberg of duties Novis knows will be completely his one day. Novis' studies on those subjects and the times he's shadowed his mother alone have left him with only small windows of time to himself. And half of that free time is usually spent on everyone's long-awaited magi-tech research. It's not unlike the free time his mother sets aside to aid Sunset Shimmer in the mare's magi-tech pursuits. 'Maybe I'm overthinking this...once studying is out of the picture, I'll have more time than I'm imagining to-' "You're right that you'll have less time than you do now! You'll have plenty of fun work to occupy you, but that's the joy of making a schedule!" Twilight gushes, and oh, his mother speaks that single word like it's a holy phrase. "Once all of your duties for the day are organized nice and neat, you'll find yourself with at least an hour of downtime here and there, for any extra activities you want to fit in! Since your activities are just fun side projects, the work will be gradual, sure, but it'll simply be a matter of patience at that point." Oh... Novis really thought getting a straight answer would ease his gnawing anxiety. Instead, it feels more like his worst fears have been realized. An hour "here and there" won't be enough. The feeling in his chest shouts this at him, at her. It's not enough time to dedicate his...his attention and passion to his work. He doesn't want to just "fit it in", like a trivial hobby he'll drop the moment he's bored. He... "Is something wrong, Novie?" He's been quiet too long, he realizes. Twilight's looking at him, puzzled. "...I don't know, I've been feeling kind of..." Out of my mind. Restless. Terrified. "...nervous. Thinking about my coronation. I-it just feels like a lot, I guess." Novis bites his lip. "Almost like I'm...panicking inside." His mind feels scattered. He thinks back to earlier in the day; the forced socializations, the hollow friendships, his fake laughter and royal courtesies. Everything he's played along with until now...everything that'll be a permanent part of his life once he takes to the throne- And now he knows that the singular passion that gave him an escape will barely have a place anymore. Twilight's awkward chuckle snaps him out of his spiraling thoughts. "Oh yeah, you...might have gotten that from me. I used to panic ALL the time." Novis pauses, taking a solid moment to eye his mother. "...you still kind of do." "Alright, you got me there. But my point is that I developed a far better grasp on it once I settled into my role! You're quick to adapt, Novie. It'll get easier for you too, I'm sure. I can even teach you the breathing techniques I use to calm down-" Something crosses Twilight's face, as if she's been reminded of something. That eager shine returns to her violet eyes. "But fiiirst...I want to share something with you. I was planning on waiting a year or two, but maybe this will be an exciting source of encouragement!" A spark of magenta magic manifests a black velvet box between them. Her horn alight with energy, his mother wastes no time in presenting it to him before opening its lid slowly. Inside is a golden crown. It's covered in intricate carvings and adorned with evenly spaced blue gemstones. His family's six-pointed star sits neatly at the front, carved out of a red jewel that glimmers under the light of the stained glass. Novis feels an icy wave overtake his entire body. "May I?" His mother asks. He numbly nods, despite himself. He feels the metal settle on his hair, and when the Alicorn before him stands back to take him in, her expression is soft and prideful. A small mirror sparks into existence, blocking out the sight of her and replacing it with his reflection. He sees himself for the first time that day and sees creases under his wide eyes. The sight of that crown accompanying his face brings back the churning in his stomach. "A perfect fit." His mother declares. "I decided to have this custom ordered early! Rarity helped with the design. She used the highest quality gemstones she could find." She then playfully curtsies, dipping her head as an exaggerated fancy accent takes over her voice. "I'd say you look quite dashing, Prince Novis Noctis Spark." -the name he settled on for his coronation. Twilight lifts her head up to look at him, her expression expectant and playful. Novis tenses, his eyes flashing between her and his reflection. She's trying to get him to laugh. She's expecting a reaction. "It's...good." The words come out strangled, but clear enough. He tries to smile. The mirror reveals a grimace. "It's like a...new me." The mirror disappears in another spark of magenta magic. His mother's face is now clearer to him, and there, he sees a worried frown. The weight of the crown leaves his head, and he watches her carefully angle it back into its box. A soft sigh leaves her as she teleports it away, back to her room or whatever pocket dimension her powerful magic pulls items from. "Oh Novie..." she murmurs, catching him off guard. The tips of her feathers reach out and smooth back his hair. Novis meets her sympathetic gaze, feeling more vulnerable than ever before. A small sliver of hope manifests in him. Maybe his mother understands his fears better than he does- His hopes are dashed. "A coronation is a big change. You might feel like you're not ready for something that feels bigger than you. I've been there." Her feathers move to his cheek, holding his face there. "But I promise you, Novis; fulfilling your destiny is the most freeing experience. Soon you'll realize that there was never anything to be nervous about in the first place. You're more capable than you realize. You'll see." The gentle caress of her feathers ends at his forehead. She shoots him one last, loving smile. "Hey. Celestia told me dinner would be ready soon. We should get going; I'll teach you those breathing techniques after." Novis nods, because he isn't sure what else to do. With that, Twilight turns towards the archway exit of the hall, her regal white and blue gown flowing out behind her as she strides away. While he turns to follow, the young prince pauses in place. With a tilt of his head, Novis looks up one last time at the immense stained glass portrait. Celestia's fading sunlight illuminates her faithful student's panel from behind. The radiant purple and pink hues of his mother, in turn, fall on him in streams of colored light. His shadow hides behind him. A sharp pang hits his chest, and his ears pull back as his mother's words return to him. Fulfilling your destiny is freeing. Novis wonders, then, why he feels trapped. ________________________________________ Twi be out here like "It worked out for me, so it'll work out for you!" She's trying, guys. A bit of lore I ended up leaving out in this chapter, because it interrupted the flow: the "coronated name" is a tradition that started with the oldest of the royal children, Fleurence Valentina Heart of the Crystal Empire (AKA Flurry Heart). It continued onto Lumina Alice Solae, and then Amadeus Sirius Altair. As mentioned in his bio, the "Noctis" in the name Nova picked out is a nod to his soul brother and lunar prince, Amadeus. The tradition was intended to help each royal heir fully embody their ascension to the throne. I'm so happy with this art piece. Twilight's stained glass window from the MLP movie is one of my favorite MLP visuals of all time (I have a poster of the full version that includes her friends on my wall~), so getting to recreate it was such an honor. Also, you may notice that this illustration is an absolute parallel of a certain back shot of Twilight from the movie~ It was heavily referenced when making the background! But yes, this chapter is more of a transitional one, meant to fully establish Nova's inner conflict. ; w ; Very important nonetheless.

[glowyjellyfish]

…so here’s my FF7 fanmix. It’s an eternal work in progress, but this is the most stable incarnation before Rebirth hits and gives me new ideas. A few of these songs have been on my list basically since the original ff7 came out. I’m pretty happy with most of it—Yuffie and Red need work, Barret, Aerith, and Cid need more songs, and although I like the narrative I constructed with Vincent’s songs the tone is all over the place, but conversely I adore the Tifa section. I just figured I’d finally share what I have, see if anybody out there had any bright ideas, and let other people see if they like mine.

These are based on the OG, with Remake providing lots of inspiration. There will be spoilers for anybody unfamiliar with the OG, more than just The One Spoiler everybody knows, some vaguer than others.

Cloud

Bullet With Butterfly Wings by Karen O (I know this is cheating but it’s such a good song for him!)

Seven Nation Army by Seven Nation Army

Break Out by Foo Fighters

Best Imitation of Myself by Ben Folds Five

When She Was Bad by Buffering the Vampire Slayer

Hollow by Yosh (also cheating, but too good not to use)

Who Are You, Really? by Mikky Ekko

All These Things That I’ve Done by The Killers (I think this is a pretty popular song for Cloud fanmixes)

Still by Ben Folds

Butterflies and Hurricanes by Muse

Invincible by OK Go

Barret

We Will Rock You by Queen

Uprising by Muse

Still Swingin by Papa Roach

Ready Aim Fire by Imagine Dragons

Big Yellow Taxi by Counting Crows

Angel Down (Work Tape) by Lady Gaga

Tifa

All the King’s Horses by Kamina

That Distant Shore by Rebecca Sugar

It Takes All Kinds by Aimee Mann

Breaking Up Girl by Garbage

Hush by Buffering the Vampire Slayer

Losing My Religion by R.E.M.

How Not To Drown by CHVRCHES & Robert Smith

Back to the Start by Mr Little Jeans

Shake It Out by Florence + the Machine

Dogs Days Are Over by Florence + the Machine

Braver Than We Are from Dance of the Vampires (look… just listen to this song if you can find it and try and tell me not to include it. I had to!)

Aerith

We Are by Ana Johnson

Somewhere Over the Black Parade by Zoe Zoller (so… this is a mashup of Welcome to the Black Parade and Somewhere Over the Rainbow from an amateur theater production. It’s amazing and absolutely perfect for Aerith, but you will not be able to find it and I don’t know if it is okay for me to share it. Just FYI.)

On My Own by Peach Union

Stand My Ground by Within Temptation

Never Let Me Go by Florence + the Machine

Nanaki

(I have really struggled to find songs for him over the years; these are fine but I think he needs more)

Dirty Paws by Of Monsters and Men

Run Boy Run by Woodkid

Babylon by Barns Courtney

Blood Like Lemonade by Morcheeba

Little Lion Man by Mumford & Sons

Heartlines by Florence + the Machine

Welcome to the Black Parade by My Chemical Romance

Twisted Logic by Coldplay

Yuffie

(I was a bit inspired by Intermission, but she still needs a lot of work)

Just a Girl by No Doubt

Something That I Want by Grace Potter

Mutiny, I Promise You by The New Pornographers

Boomerang by Lucy Schwartz

A Little Less Conversation by Elvis Presley (cover from Megamind)

Opportunities by Pet Shop Boys

The Future by Mystery Skulls

Feel It Still by Portugal. The Man

Reeve

(Cait Sith has a separate section below, although my view is that they are both Reeve)

Road to Joy by Bright Eyes

The Logical Song by Supertramp

Natural by Imagine Dragons

Scapegoat by Chumbawamba (one of the songs I put on here in the 90s before I understood what it was about, and now it reminds me of him even if it doesn’t totally work)

So Called Chaos by Alanis Morisette

Mowgli’s Road by Marina and the Diamonds

LIES GREED MISERY by Linkin Park (my Angry Reeve song!)

Diminishing Returns by Harvey Danger

Consequences by Buffering the Vampire Slayer (thinking about removing this one)

Cait Sith

(I think he’s basically the same person as Reeve, but he does have different vibes which requires different songs. Could use some ideas; these were just fun to give him and may not be as apt as they should be. I’m hoping Rebirth will give me inspiration.)

I Am Not A Robot by Marina and the Diamonds (recently added, may need a new position or something)

The Check’s In the Mail by Weird Al

Heist by Ben Folds

Win Or Lose by Foo Fighters

Vincent

(he is a bit of a mess; I struggled to find good songs for him and am constantly adding a bunch and removing a bunch. I think what I have is okay, and I do like the narrative I constructed here, but the tone is all over the place and I really don’t have any Perfect songs for him.)

Hopelessly Devoted to You by Kristin Chenowith (yeah, the Pushing Daisies version because I have it. I could really use a darker cover for him.)

Back to Black by Amy Winehouse

Gaeta’s Lament by Bear McCreary

The Abandoned Castle of My Soul by The Gothic Archies

Parades Go By by The Magnetic Fields

Some Kind of Monster by Neon Trees

Animal I Have Become by Three Days Grace

Howl by Florence + the Machine

It’s Over Isn’t It by Deedee Magno Hall

Blinding by Florence + the Machine

Beauty and the Beasts by Buffering the Vampire Slayer

Cid

Firefly - Main Title by Sonny Rhodes

Flying by Blue Rodeo

Holiday by Green Day

We Are the Champions by Queen

Sephiroth

Liquid Smooth by Mitski

Let It Go (Epic Metal Cover) by Connor Engstrom

Wild by Poe

Holding Out For a Hero by Nothing But Thieves

Apocalypse Please by Muse

Hellbent by Mystery Skulls

And So It Went by The Pretty Reckless

I Just Wanna Be God by Alice Cooper

Zack

(his songs are kind of a mixed bag, although the last two are great. I hope to get inspired by Rebirth.)

Bud Like You by AJR

Shake It Off by Scott Bradlee’s Postmodern Jukebox

Battle Cry by Ludo

Brothers In Arms by Dire Straits

Soldier by Tommie Lee Profitt & Fluerie

The Turks

Come On Come On by Smash Mouth

Ballroom Blitz by Sweet

Goody Two Shoes by Adam Ant

Istanbul (Not Constantinople) by They Might Be Giants

…plus the odd song or two for other characters or general purposes that I’m really not sure about.

I probably should have tried making a Spotify playlist to share or something, but to be fair I hate Spotify.

[moon-catto]

Hey could I request a story of Y/n and Gojo being divorced but they have a kid together whos 6, y/n used to have a childhood friend who’s actually pretty attractive, he’s a really famous soccer and he comes to Japan for awhile but they get close again and gojo can’t seem to stand that, the boy is really flirty but also really respectful and nice

Satoru's Little Helper

I wanna make this a pure angst but my weak heart can't stand it hehe.

Summary: The reunion with your childhood friend doesn't sit well with your ex-husband.

Warning: Hurt with comfort.

Masterlist

Satoru couldn’t be more happier when he’s finally able to meet his precious daughter again. His lips curved into a gentle smile as he found her running towards him ninja style— a habit she begins to develop after he and her binge watching season one of Naruto months ago.

Satoru kneeled with both arms open to welcome the toddler who is giggling happily in her father’s hug.

“Whoops—slow down, baby. You’re going to knock me down with that speed.” Satoru lets go of her to have a closer look to his little angel who now is giving him a wide grin as bright as the sun. His heart melted at the sight of her because it’s overflowing with unlimited affection and love to his sole star.

“I miss you daddy!” she snuggled closer to him and he couldn’t resist the temptation to not hold her up as he began walking from the school.

“I miss you too, sweetheart.” He kissed her chubby cheek and earned a precious giggle from the young girl. “To be honest, I think I might die if I spend another day without you.”

“You’re overreacting!”

“Where did you learn that word, huh?”

“From mommy!”

“Figures.” Satoru hummed. The bittersweet feeling inside his heart made the smile on his face faltered a bit. He thought after months not seeing you, the pain will be numbed a bit but it’s just the opposite. The yearnings he had for you just grow stronger in each passing day— leaving him wondering and imagining the happy days he had with you before.

If he weren’t so selfish back then, is he still able to come home to you and his daughter?

He knows it’s useless to think about the impossible, but the thought stayed in the depth of his mind like a plague. Regret rotting inside his heart, knowing he lost the most important things of his life, one he couldn’t retrieve back however hard he tried.

“You’re sad again.” He doesn’t know since when he’s zoning out after his daughter talked to him again. “You’re thinking about mommy again, aren’t you?” His daughter, Shion puts her temple on his shoulder so she can see the expression on her dad’s face.

Solemn, he have so many expressions on his face that she couldn’t comprehend fully due to her young age but she knows that he’s genuinely feel sad.

“How do you know, honey?” he said with a gentle smile on his face.

“You always have that look on your eyes when You see mommy.”

A sharp pang appeared at his daughter words. She haven’t had any training yet but she’s just as observant like her dad. Should he be happy to see his daughter having his trait like this?

He lets out a soft chuckle, then he sat on the nearby bench with the young child on his lap.

“I am thinking of your mother.” He admitted. Despite her young age, she’s good at keeping secrets unlike Satoru. Maybe she got that from you instead of him.

“Do you think about her a lot?”

“... I do.” He said, softer this time.

“Then doesn’t that mean you still love her?” she tilted her head curiously, how can she be this cute when she’s asking a serious question like this?

“I am still in love with her.” He kissed her forehead. “But don’t tell your mother this.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t stop her from being happy.”

The trip to your house is short as he spent the time answering the questions of his curious daughter. She’s wondering why he doesn’t chase after you when he’s clearly in love.

“You’re still young so you don’t know about it.” He parked near your house and turn off the car.

“About what?”

“Love story doesn’t always end in a happy way, my daughter.”

“That’s really depressing...”

“Huh, I guess i spent too much time with Nanami.” Satoru shrugged casually and hold Shion's hand to walk to your house.

He used to feel happy when he’s in front of your doorstep because you would be waiting for him there, but now after he knocked on this door he needs to leave his daughter and you, then goes on with his life.

He will need to wait for next week to be here again.

He feels the small hand of his daughter grabbed onto him tighter.

“Cheer up, daddy.”

Sometimes he wondered how can someone so stupid like him could have a mature daughter like her. His heart swelled with so much joy at her encouragement.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

The girl replied him with a sweet smile before go and pushing the door open.

“Mom, I’m home!”

“Hello, love!”

His heart throbbed at your voice. The pet name, you used to call him just like that.

You appeared from the corner, running slightly to greet your princess with a warm hug. Your smile is just as bright as hers, the crinkle on your eyes as they fluttered shut made his heart clenched in both pain and endearment.

“You’re hungry?” you asked Shion.

She nodded.

“Go and have lunch in the kitchen.”

“Aye, aye!” the toddler then ran to the kitchen still with the ninja style.

“You’re teaching her that?”

Noticing that you’re talking to him, he couldn’t hold back his smile. “No, not really.”

“Just don’t teach her something dangerous.” You reminded him and he just nodded in silent.

“So, uh, are you well?” you asked, the awkwardness in your voice is strange and it just harshly reminded him that he’s just a stranger to you now. The bond you shared with him already severed, you don’t have any obligations to ask about his well being but here you are now.

If I told you that I’m not okay, would you comfort me?

He wanted to ask that, yet he knows better than to give you another pain.

“I’m good, you?”

“Ah, I see... well i'm—”

“Y/N?”

“Oh, Shinji-san!”

You turned to see your friend coming to you and missed how Satoru froze in his place. Shock painted all over his face and his skin goes colder at the thought that maybe... You found a replacement for him.

That soon?

“Ah, yeah, I forgot to tell you that uh—” you paused to find a perfect word to describe your relationship with Satoru without making the atmosphere weird.

“I’m her ex-husband.” He smiled and shook Shinji’s hand with a tight grip. “Gojo Satoru.”

“Oh, y-yeah. I’ve heard a lot about you, Gojo-san.” He’s stuttering over his words at the strong handshake. “The strongest sorcerer in Japan, right?”

“Oh, you’re a sorcerer?” Satoru asked with a fake surprise. He already figured it out, This useless conversation bored the hell out of him however he had to play nice because you’re here. “I don’t reckon seeing your face.”

“Ah, that’s because I worked overseas. I came back to Japan once in a while.”

“I see...” he looked at Shinji and then you. “So you’re her...?”

“Childhood friend.” You cut in and explained. Shinji may not noticed it, but you know well that Satoru is silently expressing his dislike towards your friend.

“So why is he here.” He doesn’t bother to ask him and turned to see you. For a moment you think you saw his blue eyes flickered, is he scared?

“Why do you need to know.” You bit back and watched him frowning at your cold reply.

“I’m just dropping by to say hi since I heard Y/N-san is divorced recently.” Shinji said after a few minutes of intense silence. “Just wanna make sure she’s okay.” He smiled to you.

Ah, would you look at that?

That smile on his face made his blood boil. He wants to punch his face and exterminate him for good, but he can’t .

Since he lost the privilege of doing so.

“I told you I’m doing okay.” You rolled your eyes. “You’re such a worrywart.”

He feels like he shouldn’t be here. He’s not a part of this conversation, however his heart is on fire right now. He doesn’t know what to do, he’s sure you don’t want to see him here when you’re trying to have fun... Without him.

He’s about to excuse himself when the proud daughter of you both came and pulled Satoru by his sleeve.

“Don’t go yet, Dad!”

“Why? Your dad is a busy person —”

“I can give you some time, honey.” Satoru cuts you off gently, and kneeled to see his daughter with a rice sticking on her left cheek. “What is it?”

“I-uh, uhmm...” she hummed, totally panicking under the gazes of the adults. “Oh, yeah! History homework!”

“Do you even learn history at your age?” you questioned her and she goes pale in the next moment.

“Y-y-yeah, we do!” she stomped her feet to solidify her words but you don’t buy it.

“Honey...”

“How about I take a quick look on your history homework first?” Shion gazed at her dad with wide eyes. Satoru winked at her, signalling that he’s going to help her with whatever she’s planning.

“But we’re going out now.” You told her and Shion sulked. “With uncle Shinji, remember?”

“No! I need to submit it tomorrow morning!”

“Shion, your school starts at 10 am.”

“That’s not the point!” she insisted and you soon gave up, because Shinji needs to take a flight this afternoon.

Then you leave Satoru with Shion. Looking at your attire, it seems like you’re going for a date with your supposed to be friend.

“You’re even sadder now.” Shion clipped another colourful hairpin on Satoru’s hair. He’s currently laying flat on his stomach, his head buried deep in the baby blue blanket of his daughter.

“... I don’t know anymore.” Satoru groaned, his voice muffled by the soft blanket.

“Why don’t you tell her?” Shion brushed his hair gently. The little palm of hers did wonders to soothe the pain a bit in his heart.

“About what?”

“That you still love her and want to be with her.”

“... I don’t think she’ll like that idea, honey.”

“Why not?”

“You see, she’s seeing someone now. I shouldn’t mess that up.” Satoru turned his body and smiled to see the confused face of his daughter. “I want her to be happy, even if it’s not with me.”

“How do you know?”

“Hmmm?”

“How do you know that she’s going to be happy with someone else?” Shion asked, she followed her father and lay beside him. His arms wrapped around her tiny body and pulled her to his chest.

“I... I’ve hurted her before.” He says, hesitantly. He’s not going to tell his problems with you to his young child, but the attentive stare that she gave him prickled his heart and spilled everything he has stored inside. She may have his six eyes, but she have your warm gaze. One that would melt his ice cold heart with just a simple glance. “I don’t deserve her, angel.” He admitted, and she pulled his head to her chest in an attempt to comfort him.

He’s not planning to cry, not in front of his own child. But the quick pats from Shion just made his tears fell. The image of you leaving the house with another man, he never feel this helpless before. He wants the earth to crack open and swallow him whole so he would never see that kind of sight anymore.

“You wouldn’t know if you haven’t tried, daddy.“ Shion kissed his forehead. “You’ll have to try, I’ll root for you daddy!”

Satoru chuckled. He patted her back gently and now hugging his little baby. “You don’t want another daddy?”

“No!”

“What about Shinji? He’s a nice guy.”

“Just you. You’re the one that I love, daddy.” She snuggled closer to him and he feels his heart bloomed at the cute gesture.

“I love you too, my child.”

Shion woke up mid sleep, she noticed that his father is in deep slumber. The skin under his eyes are slightly red because he cried earlier.

"Poor dad..." She muttered to herself. Her dad may appeared normal on the outside, but Shion often found him unable to sleep whenever she's having sleepover at his house. He would look at the old album when he's still with you and smiled fondly at the images.

On the other side, she noticed that you often look at your wedding ring at night. You've been in countless date before, but not even one man interest you because you would come home sighing, while glancing at the Teddy bear he bought for you— hidden in your wardrobe.

You treasured it, even after you separated ways with him.

You both clearly still in love.

Love story doesn’t always end in a happy way, my daughter.

"Bullshit." She muttered and took the phone you bought for her to contact you if anything happened. "I'll prove you're wrong, dad." Shion smiled mischievously and tapped on your contact's name.

The clock dings when it’s finally midnight. Satoru waited in the darkness of Shion’s room, wondering what took you so long to come home. Or are you planning not to come home after all and spend the night at that man’s house?

He shook his head.

No, you’re not the type to abandon Shion for something like that. He believes that you’ll come home and decided to wait.

Besides, he can’t let Shion alone here the entire night.

Not long after, A car stopped in front of the house and Satoru immediately get up from the bed.

He walked to the window to find you’re getting out from a cab with some paper bags in hand. You hurriedly went inside the house and Satoru prepared to greet you once again. His heart beating faster.

He’s walking down the stairs when you run towards him, surprising him by holding both of his cheeks with worried expression on your pale face.

“Satoru!”

“Uh, yeah?” He doesn’t know how to act when you’re this close to him, your cold hands cupping his hot skin and made his heart jumped.

“Are you okay?” You examined his face, not caring about his flabbergasted look. His eyes are slightly red, he must've been crying earlier.

“Huh? What? I’m okay.” He studied your face to see the reason why you’re acting this way. “Wait, hold on. Why are you like this? Did somebody threaten you?” he noticed your anxious expression and hold your wrist with his big hands. “Why are you shaking so much?”

“N-no, i-it’s just that i—” you finally realized just how close you are with him and it flustered you. You attempt to move to make some space between you two but he doesn’t let you.

“Y/N.” He calls you, he sounds stern but there’s a gentle undertone behind it.

“It’s Shion.” You groaned and he frowned. “She texted me an hour ago and told me that you have been crying ever since we left. I thought something happened to you.”

Satoru blinked. An hour ago? He recalled falling asleep at some moments... That little devil.

“Nothing happened to me.” He said and your shoulders slumped down due to intense anxiety earlier.

“Thank God.”

“You’re that relieved?” He guides you to the couch before walking to the kitchen to fetch you a glass of fresh water, you looked like you’re going to pass out any second.

“You never cried. That’s why I...” you gulped down your words, not daring to continue further. You would spilled the reason why you cut your date short with Shinji and came home hurriedly.

Because you still have lingering feelings towards the man who was your husband for five years.

Satoru smiled unknowingly. You haven't changed much, you're still a faint hearted woman because you're just too kind to others, even if they hurted you.

“Is that so?” He told you when he offered you the glass. “I do cry... But never in front of someone.”

“Because you hate being weak?”

“Yeah.” He admitted.

Silence once again filled the air before he opened his mouth to ask.

“... So do you like him?” he asked, he took a seat beside you still leaving some space between you both.

“Huh?”

“Your childhood friend.”

“... Why do you keep asking about him.” You sighed. “Aren’t you busy with your woman?”

“I don’t have a lover let alone a wife.” He says, the solemnity in his voice is raw, you doubt he’s lying now.

“Why?” you ask. You thought he Already moved on from you, he’s doing so well unlike you. You struggle to fight the wants to go back to his embrace, his shadows haunting you in your own house.

“The same reason why I ask if you like that guy.” He admitted quietly. “It’s pathetic, I know.” He rubbed his face, you can see his cheeks slightly red due to embarrassment. “But I can’t do anything about it, I feel like a sore loser seeing you going out with him.”

“I’m not a competition prize, Satoru.”

“I know. You are worth more than that.”

“Then?”

“I’m a loser for losing someone so precious like you.” He finally looks at you. His eyes glows softly like a jewel in the dimness of your living room.

“What are you up to?” you asked, the suspicion in your tone effectively broke his heart. You’re being wary of him, that’s expected however the pain that comes after feel twice as painful.

“Nothing.” He answered honestly. “I don’t even know what I’m talking about. Just... Forget it.” He rubbed his face again, clearly frustrated with the building emotions inside him just with a sight of you, sitting so near but still unreachable nonetheless.

“Are you going to leave?”

“If you ask me to.” He says in a small voice as if he’s wishing that you’d never heard his answer so he can be with you a bit more longer.

Even if all he feel is pain, he found comfort being near you. The one who keeps him sane while standing in the brink of insanity. He never told you how much power you hold over him, he’ll give you the world if you want.

“Then leave.”

Your words pierced straight to his core. For a moment, he thought his heart stopped beating.

He feels like he’s a step closer to death.

His legs feel too heavy to move when he’s walking towards the door. Wearing his shoes with so many thoughts roaming in his head, do you hate him? Do you not want to see him again? Should he never visit your house again?

As he stood and grabbed the door handle, he can feel your presence behind him.

“Tell Shion to meet me next week.”

“Okay.”

There’s no hesitance in your voice. This is it. This is the real end.

He opened the door and took a step out.

You were going to close the door, but the. He spun his body and grabbed the door just before it finally closed.

“Wait!”

Surprise washed over your face at the urgency in his voice.

“Wait! Just... Hold on...” he breathe heavily, his eyes are frantic when they met yours.

“What do you want, Satoru?” You scowled.

“I—” he gulped.

You wouldn’t know if you haven’t tried, daddy.

“Do you hate me?”

“W-what?”

He pushed the door open and took a step closer to you. His tall figure overshadowed you and made you took small steps behind while he’s inching closer and closer.

“Do you hate me, Y/N?”

“Why do you ask—”

“Please,” he sobbed softly. “I want to be with you again.”

“What?”

“I know. I’m months late.” He paused before continuing. “Truth to be told, I was afraid to see you. I’m scared that you would reject me again, so I’m running away from you. But I can’t do it anymore. I’m tired of hiding from you, Y/N.”

“Is it because of Shinji? You really don’t like it if I’m with another guy?”

“No!” he quickly shook his head. “If you think you can be happy with him, then I will never disturb you again.”

You don’t reply him and instead pulled his chin so you can see his face better. Tears are starting to fill his waterline while he tried his best to hold them back.

“...You’re lying.”

“Of course I’m lying!” he sobbed and everything broke loose. He decided to fuck everything now and just spilled everything to you. “How can I be fine when the only woman I love is in another man’s arms?!” he hits the wall beside you and you flinched.

“I can’t live without you.” He put his forehead on yours. “You’re my everything. My world and my greatest weakness. You can stab me with a knife and I will be grateful for it.” He cupped your cheeks with trembling hands. “Just stay with me.”

“Then why did you leave me?” you asked. The hidden feelings you’ve hurried slowly emerged with his gentle touch on you. “You’re the one who left.”

“I’m sorry.” He quickly hugged you. “I’m sorry, my love.”

“Do you know how much pain I felt when you slammed your door in front of my face?!” you hit his arms in a futile attempt to release your anger. “Do you know how long it took for me to be fine again, Gojo Satoru?!” a batch of tears streamed down from your eyes and wet his shirt, his skin seethes underneath as the guilt starts to burn his heart. Your painful cry amplified the fire inside him.

“I don’t know, I’m sorry honey.” He choked on his tears. “I’m sorry for being so selfish.”

“And you have the nerve to ask for my heart after you broke it.” You tried to pushed him, he’s trying to grab onto your arms desperately. “Let me go!”

“It was my mistake, Y/N. I swear I won’t do it again, even if the higher-ups threatened me again.” He fell on his knees and became a sobbing mess, his pieces shattered on the floor.

“You... What?”

“They’re planning to kill you and Shion.” He sobbed. “Just because you are my family.” You watched him slowly breaking while telling you the truth he kept all this time. It’s not the usual Gojo Satoru or your ex-husband who is kneeling right now. But a broken man who lost so many things just because he simply exists.

“I know I’m supposed to ask you first whether you want to stay or not.” He looked at you, all in his vulnerability and affection towards you. “But the fear of putting you and Shion in danger is so much bigger so I—"

You don’t wait for him to finish his sentence. You hurled towards him and hugged his frame with everything you got.

“OF COURSE YOU SHOULD’VE ASKED ME, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!” You began to wail, crying so loud and he’s unable to react immediately.

“If I had asked you... Will you stay with me?”

“Of course! Do you think I would leave you just like that?!” you pinched his arm annoyance and he couldn’t believe his ears.

“Do you really?” He pulled you so he can be more certain by looking at your expression.

“If I were afraid because of that, then why the hell would I marry you in the first place?!” You’re beyond angry, you feel like you want to kick his face for being such a fool for keeping it all and hurting alone— but you couldn’t, since his lips shut yours in a gentle kiss that had your heart skipped a beat.

“Satoru...” you whispered his name and he whispered yours back softly.

“I love you.” He kissed your cheek lovingly. “I just love you so much, it’s hurting me being away from you.”

You wiped his tears from his face. He leaned into your warm hand like a stray kitten.

“I’m still afraid...” you said and he looked you with such gentle gaze, urging you to continue. “That you might leave me again.”

He bit his lips. “I know. I won’t be having your heart back this easy, I’ll fight for you so you won’t be afraid of me anymore.”

In his tender gaze, you let yourself bask in his warmth again. Like a puzzle, your body fits perfectly into his as he wrapped his arms around you protectively. He kissed every skin available with silent promises to not let you go this time.

Hiding behind the wall, Shion peeked onto the living room. Watching gleefully at her parents currently hugging each other on the floor. Both looked peaceful and also tired from arguing and crying.

She smiled widely before walking quietly to her room. “My plan worked hehe.”

Masterlist

[galaxyedging]

Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings. Angst. I don't want to give too much away, TLOU type stuff.

You and Joel spend a quiet moment together on patrol

Regret

This was not how you were expecting this day to turn out. Joel frozen as you leaned in to kiss him.

It had taken over a year to get to this point. Everyone at Jackson had been welcoming, cautious but welcoming. The circumstances of your arrival in Jackson won you a lot of good will. It was Tommy who found you while out searching for one of the horses. The poor thing had gotten spooked, throwing one on the newer kids on patrol before bolting. Hearing it's frightened whinnying just off the trail, he pushed through the trees to find you desperately trying to free the frightened mare from some barbed wire. He entered the small clearing with his gun raised. Instinct raised your with one hand as the other stayed on the horse, trying to keep it calm. There was a brief silent exchange before Tommy lowered his weapon. Mirroring his action, you worked together to save the horse. Tommy and the rest of the town were grateful. For you saving the horse and for agreeing to use your skills as a veterinarian to help them in exchange for a safe place for you and your dog to live.

Said dog was a major part in breaking the ice with Jackson more reserved resident, Joel Miller. Joel was relatively new to Jackson too so your houses were practically next to each other. Close enough for Hund to wander over there when he smelled bacon cooking one day. When you caught up to him he was already licking a plate clean. Sat at the foot of the man that you had slowly been developing an increasing interest in. Joel was handsome, he cared for the young girl who lived with him, he often play guitar on his porch. A few passing conversations had given you a glimpse into his intellect and his humour. There was a lot to pique your interest.

"I hope you don't mind. He seemed hungry." There was that voice too. Deep and somehow reassuring. "There's some left if you'd like some?"

That was the first meal Joel had cooked you. They soon became a regular thing. Meals with Joel, with Joel and Ellie, with Joel, Tommy and Maria. Joel became an steady presence in your life. Helping around your house, giving you a hand with the jobs that needed two people. Sometimes while completing those tricker jobs, he'd have to stand close, really close. Like when you both worked together to install a new light in your pantry. The room was tiny anyway. The shelves either side gave only a narrow space to stand. On top of that you had to stand on your tip toes to hold the fixture in place, you could feel the heat radiating from his body. For a while his chest pressed against yours as he set the fixture firmly in place. That was the final straw for you.

For months you had resisted the temptation to let your thoughts wander to Joel as you sort relief with your hand between your legs. This time you let yourself think of his broad chest pressed to yours as he was buried inside you. His breath that you had felt on your neck earlier coming out in harsh pants as he rocked into you. Once you came, louder than you would usually allow yourself, you buried your head under your covers in shame. It was wrong to think of Joel like that. A harmless one sided crush, a little bright distraction in your day was fine but this was crossing a line.

As if he could feel the shame rolling off you Joel didn't push when you gave him a wide birth for the next couple of weeks. It came as a surprise to you when he changed his patrol duty so he could go out with you.

Joel watched as the German shepherd climbed the steps of his porch. Joel quietly hoped his owner would follow. He struggled with the idea of entertaining his rapidly building crush on her. Opening his heart was not a good idea. Ellie has prised her way in and that had lead to death and lies. He struggled with that every day while he tried to build a relationship with her. Joel wasn't even sure if he had the strength in his broken heart to carry this new paternal love as well a romantic one. His internal debated ended when the dog's owner appeared.

"I hope you don't mind. He seemed hungry." He tried to keep the hopeful tone from his voice. "There's some left if you'd like some?"

From then on he let himself indulge in her company. Ellie, Tommy and Maria, all subtlety pushed for it. Sometimes they weren't all that subtle so he began to help around her house when they other were busy. He savoured their alone time. The only time he began to regret it was when her body had pressed up against his. That night he'd laid awake. His cock, hard and heavy between his legs. He was not going to touch himself at the memory of her warmth, of the fullness of her breasts. He took himself for a walk instead. Unfortunately, his route passed under her open window. Where he heard her moans of his name, followed by a scream of pure ecstasy. Shame filled him once he came in the privacy of his bedroom, the sound of her voice in his head. Luckily, for the next couple of weeks she was constantly busy and didn't notice him avoiding her. He succeeded in avoiding her until Maria changed his patrol duty. Now he was going on an extra long patrol route with her.

"So why did Maria want us to come out this way?" You asked after the first hour of riding. When the silence started to get too much.

"The snow thawed further out. It's more likely that we'll get some visitors heading this way." His answer made you feel better. From a few passing comments from Tommy, you were had a suspicion that Maria had sent you two together to force you to work out whatever was going on with you. Maria ran a whole town, she didn't do it without knowing a thing or two about human behaviour.

The first leg of of the trip went smoothly. Everything was quiet, even your mind. Joel's company was soothing once again, having pushed your shame and your crush to the back of your mind. Joel was a friend, a good one. An even better one to have at the end of the world. He was strong, competent and loyal. All the things that attracted you to him made him a perfect ally. That's all he should be to you. Gambling for anything more ran the risk of losing him.

The midpoint of the patrol route was a barely-there town. A handful of houses, most of which were dilapidated. A gas station that was a lot sturdier than the surrounding buildings. With one long road down the middle. The gas station seemed the best place to stop and eat. The horse were tied up in the auto repair shop next door, relatively safe from the elements, while you and Joel ate.

Swallowing the last of your sandwich, leaving your stomach full. Listening to the birds in the trees, with the early spring sun on your face. Feeling Joel at your side, you got lost in your own thoughts until they tumbled out of your mouth. "This is nice."

"The food?" Joel asked around the last mouthful of his own sandwich.

"No." You laughed. "Well, not just the food. The day. This moment. The company."

Fearing you had said too much you looked at Joel, who's eyes were already on your face.

The two of you looked at each other. Really looked at each other, for the first time in a couple of weeks. It was as if both of your emotions finally came to the surface. They overflowed until you were neck deep in them. For the first time you saw how Joel felt his eyes awash with affection for you. Both of you sat in them for a moment. Wading through the outpour made your movements slow. Joel shifted slightly closer to you, building on his momentum you leaned into him. The panic whines of your horse drained everything from the moment.

The two of your were on your feet in seconds. Still, you weren't quick enough. Three infected barged in through the back door, one instantly on each of you. The third fell over itself trying to get to you. Joel managed to bludgeon the one trying to rip him to pieces. As you blew the head off your attacker, Joel stomped on the skull of the one on the floor. His boot came back out with a sickness squelch.

The sound of your shotgun drew the attention of more infected. The bone chilling sound of Clickers carried on the air. The horses pulled themselves loose and bolted in their panicked state. They ran passed the windows, down main street. Joel quickly weighed up his options. "Come on." He pulled you along.

The two of you made it three houses along, the sound of Clickers still echoing behind you before Joel realised he was still pulling you.

"What are you…? We need to go." He huffed dragging you through the front door of an old family home.

"You need to go Joel." You told him calmly. The fidgeting of your hands didn't match your tone.

His beautiful features contorted in confusion. "What…?"

"You need to go Joel. I'm sorry." Lifting your jeans you showed him the deep bite on your ankle.

"No." It was an order. To the virus creeping through your body. No. Not her.

"Take my rifle, leave me my pistol. They'll come at me when I…use it. You can get away. Back to Ellie. Please."

"Ellie. She is immune. It's real. Maybe you are…"

"No, Joel. We can't waste time." The Clickers were nearer now. God knows how many other infected could be with them.

"I can feel it." Your arms twitched as if the two of you, you and the virus were wrestling for control. Each pulling a different way.

Until you weren't. Until you were both moving in a unified direction. Until you were both moving towards Joel.

Your lips parted as you leaned into Joel. Your yearning for a first kiss, matching the viruses yearning to spread far and wide. Joel's hand came up to stop you. He wrapped it around your throat to keep you at arms length. Against every ounce of common sense, just as the virus took you, as your consciousness slipped away but before it could take a good hold on you, he pulled you close. He pressed a single kiss to the side of your head only to press the barrel of his gun to the same spot. Even though the extra seconds could have cost him his life he carefully lay your body down. He made sure your eyes were closed, your hair was off your face, he lay you so he couldn't see the hole in your skull or your blood matted hair. He took one last look before he did as you'd told him. He went back to Ellie.

Years later, your death haunting him like so many others, he awoke in a cold sweat from a nightmare. He'd locked your death away in his mind. He hadn't dared open it, but in the quiet of the night, his brain couldn't resist cracking it open. Death had become part of his life. There were always those what ifs and regrets. What if he hadn't been so distracted by the realisation that his feelings weren't one sided, would he have saved you? The regret that stung the most was that he had kept you at arms length. All those times enjoying your company, stealing lingering glances when you weren't looking. He could have been holding you, kissing you. You could have been his girl. He could have let you into his heart. Into his bed. You were already in his mind. Yet he kept you out for fear of being hurt. Joel Miller was a man full of regret, but by far the biggest was when he tried to protect himself from a loss that happened anyway.

Tags @kirsteng42 @babydarkstar @prolix-yuy @thegreenkid @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed @aynsleywalker @mswarriorbabe80 @quica-quica-quica @rise-my-angel @adancedivasmom @graciexmarvel @kinda-nobody @movievillainess721

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: For The Greater Good.

Commissioned by the very lovely, very patient @meri47.

Pairing: Yandere!Batman x F. Reader (DC).

Word Count: 2.5k.

TW: Implied Kidnapping, Imprisonment, Physical and Emotional Abuse, Codependence, Slight Infantilization, Mentions of Blood/Violence.

You used to pass the Wayne Manor every day, twice a day. For your commute.

You never really thought about it. You were a transplant in Gotham, an outsider who never quite made yourself into anything but an outside, but it was cheaper to live outside of the city, and safer, and you didn’t mind the drive, a little over an hour, mostly on roads devoid of all other signs of life and tunnels with bright yellow lights and dirty grey tiles. You liked how quiet it was, considered it a break before the bumper-to-bumper traffic, and you liked the Wayne Manor, too, tall and sprawling, distorted by acres of trees and foliage but no less imposing for its distance. You liked the way it glowed at night, how welcoming it seemed compared to your tiny, run-down apartment.

Imagining what it looked like beyond the gates, inside of those ancient brick walls, was one of your guiltier pleasures, but you’d always written it off as a harmless fantasy, a meaningless daydream. You never thought you’d actually get to step across its threshold, to be allowed to explore all of the winding halls and dust-covered, forgotten rooms you were sure it had. You never thought you’d actually be invited inside, much less find the confidence or the time to accept that invitation.

You never thought you’d have to fight so hard just to leave, again.

You were bleeding. You could feel it, dripping down your arms, over your hands, staining the shards of glass still stuck in your fist, your forearm, your bicep. The cuts hurt, stung, burnt, but the adrenaline dulled the pain, and you’d gotten used to swallowing this kind of thing, blocking it out until you had time to take care of the lesions properly. You should go to the hospital, after this, have professionals note down every scar, every scrape, every lasting injury, but you pushed down the temptation, smothering it before it could manage to rise to the surface. Hospitals were public, loud, crowded, and more often than not, funded with generous donations made by some fabricated branch of Wayne Enterprises. You were better off spending as little time in Gotham as possible, finding a city he didn’t have such a vice-grip on and looking for help, there.

It was all you could do to give yourself the small luxury of pulling over, taking momentary refuge in a near-empty parking lot on the outskirts of the city. It was one of Bruce’s cars, the keys stolen from the pocket of a jacket one of his pet-projects had been careless enough to leave where you could get your hands on it, but you tried to ignore the polished leather, the symbols on the dashboard you didn’t recognize, focusing on your arm, instead, on picking out the more noticeable shards while you thought about what you had to do, next. You should’ve taken cash, too, enough to buy a plane ticket, or enough gas to get you over the state line. You didn’t have family in Gotham, but you had friends, here or there, some close enough to maybe, maybe, maybe believe you, if you made up a lie that didn’t involve billionaires and obsessive fixations. Something with an abusive ex-boyfriend, or…

You heard something, in the background. Footsteps, almost too light to be human, then a slow, quiet hissing.

You had a hand on the gearshift and a foot on the gas by the time the door swung open, something latching onto your hair, dragging you out of the car entirely and onto the cement, below.

“What the hell were you thinking?” It was Dick’s voice. You would’ve known it anywhere, despite the harsh, stifled whisper he’d taken on. He sounded angry, which made sense. You’d lied, destroyed property, stolen a car. You’d tried to run away, and he hadn’t been able to stop you. Not for a few hours, at least. Not quickly enough to deny it ever happened. “Do you know how worried he is? Do you know what his expression looked like when he found your fucking blood smeared across the floor? Alfred’s still trying to convince him that you’re not dead in a fucking ditch.”

You didn’t respond, only leaning back, keeping your eyes shut. They’d slashed your tires, obviously, so the car wasn’t an option anymore. In a small, insignificant way, it reminded you of how you’d first met Bruce, of the tire spikes you hadn’t noticed as you drove by his estate and the hour and a half you’d spent in his parlor, waiting for a tow-truck as he sheepishly apologized for his youngest son’s newest hobby. He’d paid for the replacements, and for the dress you’d worn to the gala he’d invited you to – a charity function, he’d promised, nothing too formal, nothing you’d feel out of place at. A charity gala you'd attended, as Bruce's friend. Only ever as Bruce's friend.

There’d been so many gifts, back then, jewelry and clothes and rent paid months in advance, invitations disguised as suggestions, presents you were too starry-eyed to turn down. You’d been greedy, charmed by the idea of opulence. The staring had started later on, then the soft, lingering touches, then the hidden cameras, scattered around your apartment. While you were still allowed to stay in your apartment.

Dick might’ve known. He probably had. He was the closest to Bruce, aside from Alfred, and you knew they tended to confide in each other. You wondered if he helped, installed security systems, slipped something into your drink the night you stepped into Wayne Manor and failed to leave. You wondered if they all had something to do with it, some minor role in your captivity.

“Save it. We’re better off getting her home and saving the lecture for Bruce.”

Or not.

You doubted Tim would get himself wrapped up in all this, if he had a choice.

“The others can only play damage control for so long. The sooner we get back and prove that she hasn’t been kidnapped, or hurt, or murdered, the less clean-up we’ll have to do while Bruce calms down.” Tim, always the voice of reason. He'd always been more sympathetic than Dick, more likely to let you get away with small things, disabled security cameras and walks in the garden and hiding yourself away in dark, unused guest-rooms, tucking yourself into the smallest corner you could find while Bruce called your name, on the other side of the estate. He was willing to acknowledge that you were miserable, even if he refused to act on it, even if you doubted there was any amount of sympathy that would force him to look the other way and let you escape. You doubted he’d be the one to buckle underneath it, if there was. “Getting her back to Bruce is our first and only priority. He probably has Barbara working on another microchip, by now.”

You perked up, at that, opening your eyes. “Another?”

“Keep your mouth shut,” Dick snapped. He’d caught you in one of your hiding spots, once. You couldn’t remember what he’d said to you, what he muttered before he turned around and shut the door, again. Something about ‘not doing that where Bruce might find you’. You’d found better places to hide, after that. “Why should we? We’ve been through this so many times. We keep doing this, and she’s not getting more cooperative, and he just keeps getting worse—” He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a deep, exasperated groan. “This isn’t what we’re supposed to be doing. This isn’t making anything better.”

“It’s making Bruce better.” Tim, always the voice of reason. “This isn’t what any of us want, but you’ve gotta remember how bad it was before we had (Y/n). He was pulling himself in too many directions, and the stress was getting to him. He was losing it, Dick. He has something to focus on, like this. He can hold himself together, if he has something to focus on.”

“I know that. I know that.” Another groan. There was a storefront, a few hundred feet away. It was dark, clearly closed, but there might’ve been an employee inside, a stranger waiting for the strange men in strange costumes to leave before they locked up. If you let Dick groan himself to death, you might be able to make a run for it. “But, there’s a difference between starting a new hobby and kidnapping a civilian.”

That caught you off-guard. It was a numb sense of shock, but it was there, somewhere inside of your chest, a slight pang followed by a steady, pulsing ache. It’d be better, if he didn’t care. It’d be better, if none of them genuinely thought what they were doing was wrong.

It made you feel less guilty about refusing to fall into line, if you could tell yourself they didn’t feel any guilt about trying to force you to.

“You don’t have to help.” It came out quieter than you meant it to, muttered under your breath. You half-expected one of them to tell you to shut up, to glare or move on with their own conversation and ignore you completely, but Dick looked away, and Tim sighed, and you took that as a sign to go on. “I could get away, on my own. You don’t need to buy me a train ticket, or break me out yourself, just…” You nodded towards the car, made dysfunctional by a dagger with a bat-shaped hilt, still embedded in one of the back tires. “You could just not do this.”

Tim frowned. “We’d still be letting you escape.”

“You would be.” You moved to stand, to push yourself to your feet, but Dick shot you a warning look and you settled for crossing your legs, preserving as much dignity as you could. “But, it's better than forcing me to go back, right?”

Dick, this time, back to staring at the pavement. “Bruce would be inconsolable.”

“For a few weeks. A few months, maybe.” You let your head lull to the side. “He’d find someone else, eventually. Someone who doesn’t mind being locked in a bedroom and spanked when they misbehave.”

“Does he actually…?”

“Do you honestly want me to answer that?’

Neither of them responded.

They were quiet, for a few seconds. Tim broke the silence first, but even that was hesitant, reluctant, his mouth opening long before he anything made it off his tongue. You’d never noticed how young he was, before – Dick, too, even if he was taller and stronger than you’d ever be. Younger than you, probably. Too young to have to deal with this, on his own. “He cares about you,” Tim said, and Dick nodded absent-mindedly. As if it was something they’d already discussed, something they’d already agreed on. “He wants to keep you safe. Would it really be so bad to just…” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can’t you just let him?”

You thought about the last time you’d tried to escape, about the week you’d spent handcuffed to your bed, afterward, only ever allowed as far as the en-suite bathroom, and even then, under strict surveillance. You hadn’t been allowed to see Dick, or Tim, or anyone aside from Bruce, pale and paranoid, desperate to know you hadn’t managed to get yourself killed in the handful of hours he’d been away from you. He’d been quieter than he usually was, more prone to holding you in his lap, against his chest, to burying his face in your neck and muttering about villains and criminals and big, bad things that could get to you, if you ever left him, if he ever let you leave him. He’d been angrier, when you said that he was the only big, bad thing that’d ever hurt you. He'd done things to you that he'd never done before. Things you couldn't let yourself go back to.

“He doesn’t treat me like he treats the rest of you.” Hands on your hips, on your chest, around your throat. You’d been gone for longer, this time, gotten farther. He’d be worse, when you got back. “I can’t live like that. I can’t just hope and pray it’ll get better, if I play along.”

“No need to be such a pessimist, angelface.”

You jerked forward, clenching your fists at your side. Tim didn’t react, but Dick crossed his arms, straightening his back. Regaining a fraction of his confidence, if only for the sake of appearances. “You’re late.”

“Had to lose Damian,” Jason said, coming into view, his voice muffled by his mask and a silver pistol already in his hand. “He wanted to help, but I managed to shake him off. I thought the adults deserved a chance to talk.”

“We just finished.” Any doubt he might’ve had was gone, now, replaced with an even tone, an expression so impassive, it was hard for you to believe he’d been on the brink of a breakdown only minutes ago. “She says she won’t stop trying to get away. All we can really do is take her home and let Bruce decide what he wants to do with her.”

“And, let me guess, you know this because you asked her?”

“What else are we supposed to do?” Now, the agitation was back, but it was barely a shadow of what it’d been before. A glimpse at the pure, unfiltered exhaustion he must’ve been used to neglecting, by now. “Not all of us are willing to hospitalize our problems, Jason.”

“Hey, nobody wants it to get that ugly. I wouldn’t suggest anything Alfred couldn’t fix. But, if she tries to run, and we’re afraid she might actually get away, or worse, get herself hurt…” He gestured vaguely with his pistol, and you felt yourself go cold. “I’m sure Bruce won’t blame us for making sure she can't. As long as we bring her home in one piece.”

“What?” Your vision blurred, panic overriding your sense of caution. “You’re going to shoot me?”

“Just your legs. I’ll aim for the tendons, try to make it clean.” He shrugged, and you felt something start to claw at your throat. “Unless one of the batboys want to do it.”

Tim shook his head. Dick remained still.

Until you tried to move, at least, to stand, to run, and he caught your wrists, forcing you back down. Holding you there, while Jason cocked his gun and positioned himself in front of your thrashing legs.

You tried to curse them out, to yell, but Tim stopped you, covering your mouth with one hand and resting the other on your shoulder, like he was trying to calm you down. Like he was trying to comfort you. “It’s not that bad. I’ve been shot, before - all of us have, and usually by Jason, too! In a few hours, you’ll forget it’s even there.”

You screamed into his palm, the noise muffled but no less desperate. Tim only looked away, a smile drawn tight across his lips, pretending he hadn’t heard anything at all.

“It’ll heal,” He tried, instead. “It will heal, won’t it, guys?”

Neither of them said anything, for a moment. For a long, silent, painful moment.

Then, Dick scoffed. "Better hope it doesn't."

There were gunshots, too close, too loud, and suddenly, you couldn't hear anything at all.

[my-insanity-is-an-artform]

*Inhales*

Obligatory beach episode for first,twi poly. Maybe they went to wind's era. Because I'm positive that wind is definitely cheering the ship on. Maybe the menaces will be flustered this time who knows huhuhuhu

(Maybe the inn room has only one bed but that's if it's okay)

Nonny, you have a genius brain and I love it! Sorry this took so long! We love us a Beach Episode!

Landing on Outset Island was a break they all honestly needed after several days of travelling and fighting.

Wind's Grandma was welcoming and Aryll was a ball of joy. She seemed to split her time between trailing after Wind and asking you plenty of questions about your adventures.

It was decided to take a couple of days to rest and a majority of the group made an almost bee-line for the beach.

You, on the other hand, were captured by Aryll who had discovered you didn't have 'proper' beach clothes and Wind remained behind to help Aryll with her self-declared mission.

With such bright blue eyes peering up at you eagerly, it was hard to deny them such a simple thing.

Eventually, Aryll settled on a floaty material and a couple of tight wrappings in a deep Hero green that Wind had pointed out, looking mischievous.

It was very cooling and covered enough skin to ensure that sunburn wouldn't be a problem.

Ayrll clapped her hands happily as you gave an obligatory twirl while Wind looked as if he was the cat who'd caught not just the canary but the whole aviary.

"We should show the others! I bet they'll like it as well!" Wind cheered and started tugging you out of the room, leaving enough rupees to pay for the outfit. You laughed happily as the two eager siblings hauled you along, chattering energetically as you all approached the beach.

"Hey guys! Look what we picked out! Aren't they pretty?!" Aryll yelled, gesturing to you while Wind presented you. You laughed and gave a bow.

There were several compliments thrown your way and someone whistled. (You were pretty sure it might've been Wild judging from the wide grin.)

Unbeknownst to you, Twilight had ended up swallowing a mouthful of seawater as he tripped in the surf and First was staring at you.

Once Twilight had finished coughing, he muttered under his breath. "Goddesses have mercy."

First could only nod in agreement. Seeing you in their colour and with that kind of material floating around you, the Goddesses would need to grant both himself and Twilight some form of mercy before they did something completely stupid.

Like propose.

(Even if the temptation was getting stronger with every second.)

Finally, you made eye contact with them and bounded up to them, giving a little spin to really show off the clothes.

"What do you think? Aryll has great taste and I really like what Wind picked out." You plucked at the clothes.

Both of the near-speechless heroes nodded, their eyes lingering on the deep green.

"You look...stunning." First said, barely holding on to the last thread of his sanity. The colour on you, marking you as theirs, made something sit up and take notice in the depths of his mind.

Twilight nodded, staring at you as something resembling hunger crossed his face. "They suit you." Twilight internally rumbled with pleasure at the idea of wearing the same colour as you and the way the floaty material settled around you made you look very alluring.

You beamed at them, flushing, as both Wind and Aryll came up to drag you away.

Just as you were being tugged off to play, you remembered something that Wind's Grandma had mentioned.

"Oh, before I forget, Wind's Grandma said that the local inn and her house don't have a lot of space, so if you guys don't mind, We'll be sharing a room tonight. I might need some help with the ties on this when I want to get changed."

You were promptly whisked away by the two kids, leaving two breathless and stunned heroes behind you. The idea of sharing a room with you plus the bombshell you just dropped on them made them both totally shut down long enough for Warriors and Time to drench the two in the surf.

The Goddesses certainly weren't showing them any mercy today it would seem.

[kashimos-hajime]

no regrets (8/8) | r.b.

summary: For the first time, he thinks of a future he could have, and someone who loves him, and there’s something bright in his heart. Or, Reiner finally understands what peace is.

WARNINGS: MANGA SPOILERS!!! angst, mentions of violence, we get our happy ending :) pairing: reiner braun x fem!reader word count: 6.7k

a/n: welcome to the last chapter!! thank you so much for being on this journey with me. there are a few callbacks to previous chapters so see if you can catch ‘em all heheh 

masterlist

crossposted on ao3 x

Few months ago ymir asked if I could let her write one last letter to krista, and I did let her. I stood over her shoulder the whole time, watching her pen down all this sappy shit and I kept thinking about you the whole time, behind those walls. What you were doing, what you were thinking. Maybe if you thought about me. I dont know.

I’m starting to see the appeal of wrting what youre not strong enough to say to a persons face. I never thought Id find myself on the other end of this stick. for some reason, I thought that I could stop myself, resist the temptation, or maybe that I didnt feel for you as strong as I thought I did once I was away from you. I was wrong.

What do I even say? I mean shit, I can barely see, my limbs are barely in tact, and all of it—shiganshina, it haunts me, even though I cant really remember it that well. Half of it goes black and then I remember hearing your voice, I remember Bertholdt, I remember you screaming.

You couldve walked away. why didnt you walk away? It doesn’t make sens. Why did you think to cut me out? Why did you try to save me? Im trying to make it make sense inmy head. It’s not working.

Fuck I dont know what I was thinking when I asked for a paper and pen. Why am I asking you questions? Its not like ill ever understand. At this point, I think it’s pity thats letting Zeke let me waste ink on trying to write straight. He doesn’t know what im doing, but thats better this way. Better than sleeping—better than eating. I just wanna talk to you and this is as close as I can get. Its my own damn fault, but I dont care. 

I completed my mission. After this, im done. ill give up the rest of my term. I dont want any of that glory anymore. I dont want to be a hero. Im just done.

Fuck, my head hurts so much. I dont really know if what im saying is making sense. Im hoping you never read this.

im sorry. I wish I could explain it to you some day, but chances are, ill be dead soon. Whether for treason or because they need to pass on the Titan, and I wont be able to see you again. Which means youll never know how sorry I am. How much I

Thats okay. I dont think youd believe me now even if I did say anything.

I remember your dream to live by the lake with a bunch of kids. You know I started to wonder if youd mind if they were our kids, not just some orphans who needed a home. I’d imagine one of them with blond hair. Imagine them swimming in the lake.

Never told you that was my dream too. Never knew i could have a dream of my own, something only I wanted and not just something to further marleys damn agenda, til I knew you. Sounds stupid but its true.

I think youd like Marley, if we weren’t sworn enemies. Just want you here with me right now. make me sleep easier knowing you’re there when I wake up. 

Dont want secrets either. Fuck I miss you so bad. I feel s o tired all the time. 

I rember when i first saw you all could think about was how you were the most prettiest girl id ever seen. I don know if you know thats why I tried to distance myself. Knew I couldn’t get distracted from my mison. happened anyway. Wish I could tell you that. 

wish I could tell you I love you. Wish I could see the look on yur face when you try lobster for the first time. Youd love it. Not sweet, but tons of desserts here too.

Shit. And the ring on your finger. ill put a ring on your finger. I promised. i swear ill go home and buy a ring for the moment I see you again. Might not be pretty but will do the best I can.

Olnly wnat only wnat only want to see you again and beg for your forgiveness. Let you know if I had a choice, I wouldnt have done it. Would take it all back, nd stay. i wanted to stay, stay with you and the others. I used to want to spend the rest of my life in those walls, now I think im sick and tired of them dividing people who arent even that differnet.

My eyes are beginning to burn. Worse because the skin is sitll growing back. Fucking hell god I miss you. miss your smile more.

I know i dont deserve your forigvneess forgiveness. I want you to be angry with me. I deserve as much, and I cant ask you to, but 

With love,

Rienr

You fold the letter, eyes closing as your fingers trace where the ink bled, the old tear stains wrinkling the paper beyond measure. Some are older than others, and you trace over his name again, your eyes burning, your throat tight enough to suffocate.

You’re leaning against the wall as everyone disembarks. They had taken Eren off first, Hange and the others getting ready to depart for the city while Connie and Jean lift a covered stretcher too white for the vivacious girl that lays dead beneath it.

They pass you silently, and you catch sight of a certain captain approaching, his pale eyes nearly swallowed by the shadows haunting his face.

“Captain,” you say, straightening. Placing the letter back into the tin, you slide it back into your pocket as he folds a green jacket over his shoulder. You give him a nod.

“You made it out alive,” Levi observes. He stops beside you, eyes more focused on what’s ahead. No doubt he’s not looking forward to having to take Zeke to wherever he needs to go—somewhere far, far away from Eren. You cross your arms. 

“It’s good to see you, too, Levi,” you intone. Sighing, you step in beside him and look out at the Walls you can’t see in the distance, your entire body wrought with a strange fatigue that’s only sewn into muscles by adrenaline leaving the body. “I think I’m going to stay.” He tilts his head to you, eyes flickering to your face, and you mirror the shift, your arms tightening. “I can’t leave this unfinished. Not after Liberio.”

“The farm will have to be abandoned,” he points out. “The kids, too.”

“I’ll make sure I move them where someone can take care of them. Somewhere north, far away from the brothers,” you assure, although still, your heart begins to sink and you close your eyes, exhaling deeply. “I have to hope they understand.”

Levi only nods, and you open your eyes as he wordlessly takes the jacket off his arm and offers it to you. Grasping it wearily, you open your mouth to ask questions but he only sets off, back towards the cabin where Zeke is still being held, and you snap your jaws shut, looking down at the jacket.

When you unfold it, you swallow the hard rock in your throat at the blue and white slipping beween the folds of olive green before there’s a sharp whistle. Looking up, you see the carriages already beginning to load up, and you glance back at the door where the captain has disappeared through before jogging down the ramp.

You slither your arms through the sleeves and shuffle the fabric along your frame as something thumps against your thigh, and you frown, reaching down into your pocket and coming into contact with something smooth and hard.

Withdrawing, your lips part at the green bolo tie gleaming in the lights of the port and you, without another thought, pull it over your head, letting it fall against your breastbone. 

“For your services to the Survey Corps.”

There’s no time to second-guess now. No time to debate.

“Good to have you back,” Hange murmurs as you walk towards the carriage taking Mikasa, Armin, and the others back to the city. You tug the lapels of the jacket tighter around yourself and flash them a weak smile. 

The Wings of Freedom on your arm feel like a brand, and it prickles your skin as you climb in after them.

.

Distantly, he remembers flashes. 

Eren reaching forward for Zeke, the exhaustion ripping him every which way, the sound of ODM gear whizzing in his ears as he tries to make sense of the punctured sensation in his armour.

How he had softened his nape, intending to die then. At least, let his death have some meaning, he had thought. Let him make one last effort to repent for everything he did to Paradis, and to his friends who’d been more family than his own mother.

He slips in an out of consciousness for the next few days. He doesn’t know what is up, what is down, but he does recognize his surroundings blearily, the way his head spinning somehow slowing when he presses his temple to the wooden floor.

How can he almost hear your voice in the echoes of the panels, countered by someone who almost sounds like Annie before he drifts off again.

When Reiner finally regains consciousness again, he wakes to someone crouched down in front of him. Jerking up, he lets out a sound before a palm slaps over his mouth and your face is shoved against his own.

“Shut it,” you whisper fiercely. “It’s just me.”

Your name muffled by your own hand, his eyes begin to burn and you lift your palm away as he sits up and you draw back. You’re dressed in clothes that look like they’ve seen better days but you’re relatively uninjured as you pull back. New lines adorn your face—one of the many prices of their damned war—and you only look exhausted. 

Sitting up, Reiner’s whole body groans as he leans against the wall, but he can’t tear his eyes away from you. Your hands are hovering around his body like you’re scared he’ll collapse and there’s a fracture in your mask.

Something gleams on your finger and his eyes flit to it, his heart lurching when he realizes what it is.

The ring. You’re wearing it. You…

For a moment, a glimmer of their teenage selves shine through and he wants to reach for it—touch it so he can remember what it’s like to be happy. He thinks it’s an awful like now; the swelling of his heart so big he can’t breathe; the way his lungs are static in his chest; how he can’t say anything because there are so many words that want to come out first.

“You’re here. You’re alive,” he finally settles on raspily. Your eyes glint with a youthful pain as you nod.

“So are you.” 

And he doesn’t know who moves first—you or him. Nothing is forgiven as their bodies crash in an embrace that lacks grace, but they cling onto another like the world is ending and they’re the only ones left standing. 

Maybe they are.

He buries his face in your neck, and your arms are so tight around him your fingers dig into his shoulders as your body melts against his and his skeleton sags in his own body.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your skin, eyes fluttering shut. “I‘m sorry.” A hand against your neck and an arm around your waist, he wraps his legs around your own and traps you against him. You seem to only sink into him even more.

Is that enough? I don’t want you to hate me.

You suck in a breath, and then it comes out shuddering. “You can spend the rest of what life you have left repenting for making me fall in love with a man who was always supposed to die.”

Softly, in his mind, your voice cools the searing heat of hatred inside him. It’s enough. It has to be.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. It’s like they’re the only words he knows. He can’t remember ever meaning it this much. For him dying, for making you love him, for ever coming to Paradis. For loving you. For loving you. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know. I know.” Your face turns to press against his own. Your lips brush against his jaw and his eyes slide shut, tears rolling down his face. “I read every single one of your letters.” Drawing back, you cup his face in his hands and your fingers smear his tears all over his cheeks as his palm rests against your neck. Thumb stretching up to touch your chin, he feels sobs shuddering in his throat at seeing you again—looking at him almost like you used to. “I can’t begin to understand, but I know you are. And I know you love me.”

Choking, he gasps, “You should hate me.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I should.” You’re crying, too, voice thick, tears stubborn on your cheeks as you give him a watery smile. “I should hate Marley, too. But it’s beautiful there. The water by the sea… I want to be there with you next time. We need to go together, before you leave me alone, okay?”

Reiner doesn’t quite hear you. He hears Marley, and beautiful, and he’s never noticed how beautiful you are when you cry, but right now, it’s the simplest truth he knows. 

“Okay.”

When you tilt his chin up and kiss him softly, something inside him explodes from the gentleness that makes him want to crack in the palm of your hands. It sears him from the inside out, makes him grab onto you like you’ll disappear—this is another dream, isn’t it? 

It has to be. 

You can’t be kissing him again after four years. He doesn’t deserve it. You’re an illusion, something his mind made up to deal with the pain. He’s finally cracked for good, just like Bertholdt said he would, and he’s the devil, not you.

But then you pull away just for a moment to smile, eyes barely open as you look at him with a sad tenderness that wraps him in an invisible embrace, and he is faced with the heart-wrenching reality. 

The sky is falling, you are holding him tightly again, and they’ve lost their years. But you’re here. With him. 

He knows that this isn’t a dream as he feels the coolness of the silver band on your finger and the heaviness in how he knows he hasn’t repented a damn thing. 

Why him?

As you run your hand through his hair, you press their foreheads together.

“And I do want a family with you, by the water if you’d like,” you murmur fleetingly against his mouth and his eyes widen, cheeks burning, entire face crumbling as he turns his face in to your shoulder, crushing you in another brace. Sobbing into your neck, his fingers dig into your shoulders, wrap tight around your waist, squeeze you so close he isn’t sure where you end and he begins and your lips brush the shell of his ear. “Reiner, say it.”

“Please,” he whispers thickly into your skin, and you cradle the back of his head with a hand. He’s nothing more than shambles. “Please, don’t go.”

“I’m not letting you out of my sight again,” you promise. His breath is hot against his own face as you pull his head back and cradle his face again, thumbs brushing away the tears from his red face. “Just a bit more. A bit more and then it’ll be all over, you know?”

And he understands, then, what you want from him. Struggling for breath, for his lungs to stop seizing in his aching chest, he cups your face that turns into his palm on instinct, your face wet with your own tears as, for a moment, they try to pretend this isn’t where they really are.

Like they’re still in that afternoon in Trost, a thousand years ago, with the kids flipping coins into the water fountain and a cream bun between them. Like they’re under the tree, apple juice on your wrist and his lips on yours.

Like it’s those trips to the city, the walks on the Walls. Honey is dripping down your chin and he’s pretending he doesn’t want to kiss you, or there’s grease smeared on his forehead, and you’re reaching up to wipe it off his skin.

Like a thousand moments all at once, and he nods to himself as you brush your hand over his temple. The world outside is startlingly quiet, as if the universe itself stopped everything itself to watch this moment, and Reiner takes a breath that bruises his sternum before he’s holding your left hand where that ring still sits.

And slowly, he pulls it off, whispering as firmly as he can. He’s sure he fails—he’s shaking all over from your presence alone.

“When this is over, I’ll put that ring back on your finger. I promise.”

The smile that splits your face is dazzling. It’s the smile he’s missed since the day he left it.

“We have a lot of things to work out, Reiner Braun.”

And your fingers barely brush his jaw before you’re leaning to press a sweet kiss against his mouth. It’s sugary on his tongue, like honey and apple slices.

.

Your back is warmer when you’re pressed up against Reiner’s. The ship is quiet, and their pinkies are just barely hooked on oen another’s as you stare blankly at the empty space between Connie’s boots. You don’t speak, and Reiner’s gaze is only on you. He can’t look at anything else now that you’re back by his side again.

There’s a cut on your cheek from the fight just half an hour ago, and there’s dried blood along your hands where your knuckles had split open, but everyone seems too exhausted to clean themselves up. 

Reiner himself has a blanket pulled over his shoulders, and he sighs, slouching in his own sack of flesh.

Your head tilts towards him, enough that your temple presses against his cheek. His eyes close and he leans into your touch. Not a word passes by, but their hold on each other’s hands tightens. And Reiner thinks. 

For the first time, he thinks of a future he could have, and someone who loves him, and there’s something bright in his heart. Something that hasn’t burned since he left Marley as a child.

Reiner thinks he doesn’t want to die anymore. He doesn’t want to miss you for another moment.

.

Raising from the steam, you groan, your hands searing from the inside out as you touch your face where you swore every inch of your skin had been stretched, but nothing seems out of sorts as you glance around. Everywhere, all your friends who had turned just as you had are in various states of disoriented. The air is still hissing, crackled with surprised screams and shouts of names as people look for one another across the field. 

It smells like cooked meat and burnt hair, a none-to-pleasant mixture that turns your stomach.

Getting to your feet, you wipe at your face, trying to ignore the weird feeling underneath your nails and the ache seizing your muscles. Trying to ignore the remnants of Eren lingering like a ghost that won’t really leave you alone. You shiver, and a strange cold sweat takes over your body.

He had taken you to the sea, except it wasn’t the shore you were familiar with. There was a cabin nearby, with blonde children running, chasing after one another and a man with golden hair standing on the porch, firewood in his arms as he calls out silently. Or maybe you had been standing too far to hear.

“Eren… where are we?”

“Wherever you think you are,” he had said. “I just brought you where you wanted to be.”

A voice, quiet as a memory, catches your attention. “Here let me help.” A soft wind blows throw the mist, cooling your scorching face as you feel a presence stand behind you.

“Oh, thank you.” You look over your shoulder to see a tall boy, and your heart stops. Mouth dropping open, you stare at his foggy image, but he only smiles fully, a smile so tender it reaches every corner of you as you stumble forward, fingers stretching for him. “Bertholdt!”

His smile grows only that much more, eyes squinting a bit and a flash of teeth before he’s looking at your hand that passes through his chest. All at once, all the hope built up in your chest crumbles, and your hand snaps back, trembling just before him. He lays a hand over your own and your eyes begin to burn, tears slipping down your cheeks.

And then, softly, you barely whisper, “I miss you.”

Bertholdt’s smile merely grows, as if to say everything he couldn’t say before. As if to show he’s at peace now—that your last memory together isn’t every part of him, and your lips press together, trying to stop yourself from shaking.

 Shadows form in the fog, and together, the two look as a freckled boy and another girl steps out of the mist a distance away, beaming like the sun. Connie and Jean stagger to their feet just behind you, and your heart lurches into your throat when you recognize them.

“Marco! Sasha!”

Someone calls your name and you turn around just as arms scoop you up and you let out a surprised noise before settling into Reiner’s arms. Looking over your shoulder to look at Bertholdt, your heart only sinks.

He smiles and Reiner lets out a sharp breath beside you, settling you down. “Bertholdt…” More shapes emerge. A shorter boy accompanied by another taller one, both alike in their features. You recognize one as the Jaw Titan holder before Falco, but the other—

“Marcel!” Reiner chokes out the name, hand stretching out to the fog, but the boy merely tilts his head and waves.

Closing your eyes, hot tears streak over your cooling flesh as you fling your arms around Reiner again and press your face into his neck. He cradles the back of your head, and he feels… somehow weaker, but still, there is that impassable strength in his core that wraps around you as he watches over your shoulder, still clinging on despite your clothes hot enough to burn.

I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive. It’s the only thought in your head. Your last clear memory had truly been the others taking flight, and the pain that had ripped apart your body before sewing it back together again in unjust proportions. Your limbs had been too big, your blood racing too warmly through your head as your legs pumped but your brain screamed to stop. 

Your fingers had sank into Reiner’s legs to pull him down and you had watched—watched Jean take a bite out of him—

You shiver and Reiner’s arms tighten around you instinctively, constricting enough to let you know that his attention isn’t on you quite yet.

Boots shifting on the ground tentatively, your knees feel gummy as you draw back long enough to look at him. He still looks over your shoulder, and you follow his gaze to watch the mist retreat. Bertholdt and the other two boys fall into a pool of fog, and your lips part in a farewell, but it’s already too late.

He’s gone.

A wind sweeps through the battlefield, tickling your sweating neck and cooling your boiling blood.

“Hey,” a soft voice croaks.

Their eyes meet in tandem. He regards you softly, like you are the reason the sun rises and the stars hang at the sky. Overwhelmed, you can only cup the back of his neck and pull him into a deep kiss. Your other hand along his jaw, it takes all you can not to pull him into a bone-crushing embrace that’ll send them both to the ground.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you whisper hushedly against his mouth, throat swelling as he lets out a soft noise of surprise as you pull him into another tight hug. You don’t care that you’re crushing him, just that his heart is pounding against your own chest. “I couldn’t stop myself. I’m so sorry.” 

His eyes widening, he wraps his hands around your wrists and pulling you back just enough to kiss your fingers that crumple against his mouth. Clasping one of his hands in both of your own, you close your eyes and he uses his free fingers to brush the tears off your cheek before reaching into some dented tin you don’t recognize.

Eyebrows furrowing, you feel the heat leave your entire body, sapping your energy too, and your eyes snap to Reiner who steps back, cracking it open and presenting it to you. 

“You’re not the one who has to be sorry. I don’t think I’m the Armoured Titan anymore,” he whispers. “I don’t know if I get the rest of my life back, but either way, I want to spend the rest of it repenting to you in any way I can, if you’ll allow me to.” A weak smile. “Truth.”

Your throat closes up, and you stare down at the ring so protected, gleaming despite the destruction around them. It looks almost out of place amongst the grime smearing your skin, the sweat drenching their skin, the smell of blood and metal clinging to their clothes, but Reiner only watches you with a tenderness you can barely meet. It’s so overtly overflowing with devotion that your heart is resting on your tongue, seizing control of everything. 

You barely nod, chewing on your lip, trying not to cry even harder as his eyebrows rise in relief and he lets out a long sigh.

He lifts the ring out of the tin, snapping it closed before sliding the band back home onto your finger and all at once, everything floods you. The exhaustion, the pain, the hunger, thirst, grief wrapping around your bones and chaining you to the ground.

It’s over.

The minute he put the ring on your finger, it would mean it was over. No more blood, no more fighting.

Just like he promised.

You barely croak out his name before you fall to your knees. You trust him to catch you, and he does.

[THREE YEARS LATER]

Just after the Rumbling had stopped, you had gone back to Paradis alone and came back with three children to a man who was still uncertain in a world that was changing. 

Since then, you’ve learned so much about the world, about yourself, about Reiner. 

How he’s seized by night terrors even now, just like you, and how one thing that soothes it is going out for a walk while the sun still simmers below the horizon, the sky a dark navy blue spliced with orange rays. The intricate details like him making a point to tie his own tie because his father never taught him how or the way he has to chug his coffee so he has enough energy to get through the day.

And some days are horrible, haunting, but now, it is far outweighed by the good. He teaches Xav how to dress smart, takes the girls out shopping. Sometimes, he’s spotted around Liberio with a flame-haired boy riding his shoulders, you trailing behind hiding a smile behind some ice-cream.

Different nations, foods, cultures surround you now—citizens of countries coming to settle down roots, spread cuisine to Marley. The idea before, of humans so different than you but still similar at the root of it all, existing, still blows your mind. The technologies that you had never seen before, languages you’d never heard, sights you’d never seen, had all swarmed you as you stepped into a new world with him.

But there is always one thing you’ll come back to.

Leaning against the railing in the port city Reiner told you was the harbour he had left twelve years ago, and returned to seven years ago, you watch the clouds travel in slow drags across the pale blue canvas hung high above your head. The water spans for as far as you can see, glimmering under the sun and gorgeous enough to take your breath away. You pull at your coat across your chest absently, ignoring the tender growl of your stomach. 

Breathing in the salty wind, you feel your chest expand at the litle fishing boats a little ways out.

Reiner was right. You don’t get sick of the sea. You never will—not of this much water. You still remember the first time you had swam in it, the salt-water making your hair crisp, the cold sweat forming on your your sun-warmed skin.

You feel a hand on your shoulder. Looking up, you spot blonde hair and warm eyes and smile. Your heart flutters a bit. You shift on your feet.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Reiner leans down beside you, and you clasp your hands, letting the sea wind curl against your neck. Reaching to slip his hand in between yours, he sighs and you lean against his shoulder, glancing at their pile of interlaced fingers. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” you whisper, although even still, you can feel a numbing at your fingertips. You remember what it was like to be a Titan, even now. The sensations haunt you—flashes of your own mutated body, the grotesque meat of your hands sinking into the ankles of the man beside you, the bloodcurdling roar spilling out of your throat.

Glancing at their fingers, you watch the flashes of silver of the rings play in the sunlight, your band now having a matching counterpart on his own hand. You grasp his hands tightly, bringing them up to your lips and his own grip tightens when you dust a kiss gently along his scarred knuckles.

“No,” you finally say at length. “I’m not okay. Going back to Paradis makes me nervous as hell, but we’ll manage.” He nods slowly, and you let go of his hands to wrap your arms around his neck. His own encircle your waist, pulling you flush against him and your eyes close at the familiar warmth—a warmth you’ve woken up next to most days for the past three years. 

“Have you eaten yet?” he murmurs, and your fingers play with the soft edges teasing at your pads as his nose presses against your cheek. Your eyes flutter at the soft heat emanating from his skin, and you shake your head, melting against him. With one arm still around you, he slants his body away from just enough to pull a bag out of his pocket and it crinkles as he hands it to you. Taking it, you frown and look inside.

A cream bun. You can’t help the crumbling in your expression and Reiner holds your face in his hands carefully, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Let’s stay positive,” he whispers. “We don’t know the situation until we get there and Historia briefs us.”

“I know,” you whisper and his entire expression eases at your words. His eyes gaze at you as if you’re the sole centre of his universe, and he cups your jaw more insistently, pulling you in for a gentle kiss, one you ease into, your eyes fluttering shut as his tongue traces the seam of your mouth. Laughing, you feel his little nose scrunch and your heart bounds up into your throat as he pulls back only to kiss you again, softer this time.

“Get a room!” A sharp female voice ruins their moment and you pull back just enough to see a red-headed boy running towards them and Reiner crouches down just in time to scoop Xavier up.

“When are you getting married?” he demands. “I was promised cake when you guys got married.”

“I dunno. When you move out of the house I guess,” you tease and Xavier pouts, rubbing at the side of his nose with the heel of his palm.

“Besides, you got cake for your seventh birthday, buddy,” Reiner groans as the boy twists in his arms. “You’re getting heavy. What are you feeding him?” he adds, smiling roguishly at you and you roll your eyes as Alina and Anya approach, sun hats protecting them from the glaring sun. Alina, grocery bags in hand, waves. Anya, who’d been the one to shout, tucks her coin purse back into her bag before flashing you a great big smile.

Only fifteen and seventeen. You can barely recall what it’s like being that young anymore, but you’re grateful they didn’t spend it the way you did. They get to know beauty, and no limits at all. The former comes naturally, the latter is partially because Reiner spoils them rotten.

Alina picks a flower with velvety purple petals from a bouquet she cradles in her arm, extending it to you.

“For good luck,” she says. “And protection.” Your heart melts at her words and you pause for a moment, looking from the gorgeous bloom to Reiner, occupied with the boy in his arms making silly faces at him. Then, without another moment, you sneak the flower behind his ear and he reaches up immediately to hold it against his head, turning to you in surprise. 

“To protect the both of us,” you explain.

“Thank you. I’ll be extra careful now.” He looks at the girls, setting his free hand on Alina’s head heavily and she flushes, smiling grandly. “You three behave while we’re gone, alright?”

You nod. “Listen to Levi.” 

“And listen to your sister,” Reiner adds to Alina and Xavier. The former rolls her eyes, the latter sticks out his tongue. “I’ll miss you.”

This is their home—their family that tumbles together into a huge hug, and you can’t help but stand back, watching how they all seem to merge into one unit, unaware of where one part of their reach ends and another begins.

As Reiner pulls you into the hug, your heart soars through your body, effortlessly pounding in your throat and in your fingers and everywhere at once. Liquid heat pools everywhere as Xavier screws up his face when you kiss his cheek, the same way Reiner does after he’s eaten something sour.

And maybe it’s a bit different, or a bit broken, the shards of their bloody history still poking at their heels whenever they think you’ve forgotten them, and it’s most definitely not perfect, but you would rather have it like this then anything else.

“Hey, guys!” Breaking apart, the family look over to see Armin, Annie, and Pieck walking over. Gabi and Falco meander a little bit behind, pushing Levi in his wheelchair, and Jean and Connie are running not far behind them, shouting at one another. You stifle a laugh and Xavier shimmies out of Reiner’s hold to run towards them. The girls follow after him, trying to hold back their runs but the closer they get, you can tell the more frantic they are to say goodbye.

So this is what they’ve made a peace. Something, you hope, is good.

Annie bypasses them quickly, making her way over to you and you survey her face as Reiner squeezes your shoulder, walking over to their friends. Her blue eyes are fixed on your face, and you feel your lips curving into a smile as she shoves her hands in her pockets. Her hair is swaying in the wind, gleaming flaxen, and you remind yourself, not for the first time, that Armin and Annie’s kids, if they ever decide they want them, will be gorgeous.

Hope for the future, and all that.

She stops in front of you, tucking a strand behind her ear.

“So,” she says at length, “we’re going back to Paradis. I’m surprised you decided to come with us. You don’t owe any of us anything.”

“I know. But… you’re my best friend. You do the talking, I fly the getaway plane, right?”

“Yeah. There used to be a time when it probably would’ve been the opposite.”

You nod, and they stand in silence for a moment, watching each other. Two women who should not have been friends, but were against all odds. You don’t think you would be here today if it weren’t for Annie.

Your heart lurches and you take a step forward just as she does, her mouth open to say something. You throw your arms around her and she lets out a noise in surprise as you close your eyes. Arms coming underneath yours, her hands dig into your shoulders and you smile against soft hair as she sighs, easing into your hug.

“Finally working together on an actual assignment,” you mumble and her head tilts as her small frame shifts, a hand patting you on the back as a sign for you to back up. “Just like we always said we would.” 

Bluntly: “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

“You, too.” Pulling back, the two look at one another for another soft moment before you remember the bag in your hand and you shift the bun up in the bag, extending it towards her. “Want some?” Her eyebrows rise in faint delight, before she’s reaching over, pinching and tearing a piece off. 

You grin and do the same and you gesture for her to come stand by the rails with you, stuffing the bag into your coat pocket. Leaning against the warm metal again, you hear a seagull call. The plane you’ll be flying to Paradis floats on the water, the technicians giving it the final check before you take off.

If anything goes wrong while you help prepare and oversee accommodations for the rest of the ambassador group, you’ll remember to fire the black signal flare, but you trust Historia. You trust your friends.

You glance over at them, all laughing, and you notice that the flower has gone from Reiner to Pieck, who’s taking it out of her dark hair to tuck it into Jean’s, and his cheeks redden as he brushes it more securely behind his ear.

Annie catches your attention again, pointing out idly that they’ll have to separate soon when they finish with the plane, and you tell her to just wait a couple minutes more as Reiner catches your gaze. Setting Xav, who has somehow wormed his way back into his arms, down, he walks back over to you, and his hand trails purposefully over your back before resting at the nape of your neck, a reassuring weight on your body.

“You guys okay?”

“We’re fine,” Annie replies. “You have a clingy boyfriend,” she tells you. 

“I think it’s charming.”

She rolls her eyes. Reiner smiles, and you pat the railing beside you—silent invitation. He leans in on your other side, clasping his hands and watching the fishermen pull themselves to shore, singing a tune to each other—one familiar to all three of them and one that you wish you could get out of your head. 

“Soon may the Wellerman come…”

A faint breeze tickling at your fingertips as a sharp call for embarkment splits the harbour, you simply sigh and look over at Reiner. “I just want these last few moments to last.” His eyes meet yours, and he leans forward to press a kiss between your eyes. Annie lets out a soft noise of disgust and you bump your hip against her as Reiner pulls back.

Closing your eyes and lifting your head to the wind, you can almost imagine the one person missing standing on the other side of Annie, dark hair like spun, stained bronze and eyes like warm chocolate. He’d smile and tell them not to worry in that sincere way of his that makes you believe every word he says—as long as they were careful, they wouldn’t walk into any traps.

Your chest aches, and your lips tug into a heart-wrenching smile as you begin to sing along. Reiner slips a hand in between yours, pressing his temple against your head and you loop your other arm through Annie’s.

She rests her head on your shoulder, listening to your voice, eyes on the sailors bringing in their haul below them. Reiner hums the shanty softly, distractedly, eyes cast across the sea.

You tilt your head up to the sky, at the stars you cannot see but will join one day, and smile.

[buckyownsmylife]

girl boss II - temptation

When Ransom Drysdale learned that his grandfather was cutting him off the will, he knew life as he knew would disappear. What he didn’t expect was that the only person that would be willing to give him a job was a woman half his age - a woman who despite her youth would come to teach him many things, especially outside the office...

Or the one where Ransom learns he’s a huge sub.

for general warnings, please go to the fic’s masterlist.

I should have known it wouldn’t be easy.

I wasn’t used to working, for one - although that wasn’t even the hard part. I found myself enjoying the editing process, the intricacies expected of someone with my role in the company. I’d always liked books, after all. It was interesting to see what went on behind the scenes until the readers managed to get their hands on a shelved copy.

My main problem had little to do with my lack of practice in the work department. Despite hating how tired I felt when I got home every night - to a small, little apartment that my own paycheck could afford - the most difficult part of my job was having to handle being around my boss all the time.

Oh, she was lovely. She was open and welcoming, unlike any authority figures of the same title that I was used to seeing on TV. When she smiled, it was like she shined from within, brightening up the entire office - which was already pretty bright, with its floor-to-ceiling windows.

It was impossible not to stare. And there laid my problem with this job: she was a constant distraction, almost a nuisance, really. And the clothes she wore didn’t make my job any easier. They were just enough to bait me while still keeping her professional elegance, and yet I found myself constantly dragging my eyes over the little bit of skin she let show.

It looked so soft. I’d constantly forget what I was doing just by following the edge of her skirt, exploring her thighs with my eyes.

It got even worse when she caught on to it. She’d wear blouses with cleavages and a necklace hanging low, just above her breasts, only to ask me about it when she caught me staring.

“Do you like it?” I’d stumble my way through a yes, trying to make it seem like I wasn’t actually fascinated by her breasts, but whenever I checked to see if she was offended, I’d find amusement in her eyes.

She seemed to revel in my admiration of her body. Only the meeting of that admiration with the one I already had of her mind made my own imagination run. I’d never  experienced this before. I didn’t know how to act.

So I just kept staring. When we were alone in her office and she was going over some of my notes, her pen in her mouth, attracting my attention to it. I wasn’t a romantic by any means, but right then I was sure I’d propose on the spot if it’d get her to swirl her tongue around my dick.

It didn’t take much longer to find myself getting off to thoughts of her. It’s not like I had any time to go out and date, with how hard she was riding me. Sadly, not in the way I wanted her to, however.

It all came to a screeching halt at the first author-editor mixer I attended as her employee.

The night started pretty well. She looked gorgeous in her deep red dress, and I absentmindedly licked my lips at the sight, feeling my cock stir to life so easily at her mere existence.

That was, of course, until someone approached her from behind and laid a very intimate, very possessive hand on the curve of her hip.

Barber.

I knew who he was even before that fateful day when I was hired. One of the biggest lawyers in town, he was in charge of a good part of my grandfather’s legal interests, and yet our paths hadn’t crossed as often as one might assume.

In the time I’d worked for the publishing company, I’d come to learn a little bit more about the guy and his relationship with my boss. Apparently, they’d been an item a little over a year ago, but then they kept this sort of on and off thing and now it had been off for a while and he just didn’t seem to be able to accept it.

It wasn’t jealousy - I had no reason to feel that way - but I couldn’t respect someone who was behaving the way that he was. It was actually sort of pathetic, the way she immediately tensed up upon feeling his touch on her body, turned around and then pushed him away.

I couldn’t hear what they were saying from this distance, but I imagined by her expression - and what I’d heard her say the day of my interview - that she was telling him off.

Unfortunately, the son of a bitch had a smug smile on his face. The kind of smug smile that let everyone know he was used to getting what he wanted. And it was clear that what he wanted was her.

I tried to distract myself and not focus solely on either of them throughout the party. I had made a few friends - well, actually, colleagues - and their jokes were entertaining enough to prevent me from getting bored, but as the night grew closer to an end, I was getting increasingly more annoyed with their sexual puns at our boss’s expense.

And then Barber decided to join in.

“You boys have no idea what you’re talking about.” The laughter immediately disappeared, everyone scared he was about to make us all feel bad. Shockingly, that wasn’t his chosen course of action. “You all wouldn’t be able to handle her even if she came with an instruction manual.”

The scoff left my lips before I could help it. “Not that you would be of any help,” I commented. “I mean, there has to be a reason why you two aren’t together anymore, huh?” Andrew immediately straightened up, cocking his eyebrow and taking me in.

“I’d watch your mouth, if I were you,” he warned. “I’m gonna get her back eventually. And once I do, you better learn your place, and quickly.” I was pretty pissed off by then, so all of my rational mind turned off as I stepped closer to him, making sure he heard what I was about to say.

“I’ve seen her reject your advances at least twice, so I’m sure it has happened more times. I think you’re the one who needs to learn your place, Barber.” My lip curled, I gave him a once over. “A real man knows how to take a no. Don’t push her boundaries and we won’t have a problem.”

I noticed something was wrong the second the look of defiance disappeared from Andy’s face, quickly replaced by a smirk. My heart started pounding as I turned around to find her standing right behind me, and suddenly I felt incredibly shy.

“Leave,” she ordered, eyes glued to mine and everyone scrambled to get away, Andy included. I’d somehow understood the order wasn’t directed to me, so I didn’t move an inch, instead frozen in place as she circled my body, taking me in.

I could feel her analyzing every inch of me.

“You know, Ransom…” She started, at last coming to a stop in front of me again. “I can read right through you.” My blood ran cold as my cock hardened in my slacks. I had no idea what she was referring to, but she didn’t leave me wondering much longer.

“You make it seem like you’re this dominant, Alpha male…” She tilted her head, her smirk drawing me in. “You don’t fool me.” Her words sent a thrill up my spine, the room suddenly feeling overwhelmingly hot, too hot to stand there in a full suit.

Especially when she took a step closer and rested her hands against my torso. “I bet you’d love to get on your knees and crawl towards me,” she whispered right on my ear, “until you could bury your face in my pussy. And you’d do it in front of the entire office, anytime I asked you to. Wouldn’t you?”

It was clear that I had a choice to make. I could either cling to my pride and lose the opportunity she was granting me, or I could fall head first into whatever the hell it was that she was offering me.

One thing I was certain: I’d do anything to have her. So I nodded.

The smirk that appeared on her lips had me shuddering, especially when she reached out to fix my tie and patted my cheek. “Well, puppy… You can have it all,” she reassured me. “All you have to do… is beg.”

I stopped leaning forward at the last word that came out of her lips, breath caught on my throat at the realization of what it was exactly that she expected of me. “I promise you…” She concluded, looking up at me from under her eyelashes, the perfect picture of manicured coyness. “I will make your wildest dreams come true. It’s up to you.”

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