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[damienthepious]

lizur kissnn. chewsday. more sage!damien!!!!!! the boy is still in the water.... 😔

the water that fills me (chapter 2)

[read on ao3]

[bananayuyu]

Lust is in the Air

Pairing: Hongjoong x f reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 6.4k

Summary: Your best friend drags you along to a family wedding, wanting to add some fun to your all too serious life. Turns out her uncle is the one who really provides the distraction.

Warnings: smut, MDNI, age gap (Hongjoong is 40 reader is 23), some talk during sex about the age gap so really don't read this if you don't like that, some dom/sub dynamics, throat fucking, degradation and praise, bratty y/n, use of pet names (baby, doll), ass eating, anal, unprotected sex

A/n: Sometimes I see a random video of him and I'm reminded all over again how hot I think a very mature Hongjoong would be. Especially if he was mocking me and making me feel pathetic. Yeah this was pure horny, quite filthy for me. This isn't as proofread as my normal stuff so apologies for any mistakes

Read it on ao3

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Well, maybe it was a good idea. You had been staying in every weekend since the breakup, and maybe being forced out of the house would be good for you. Force you to interact with a few people, to actually put some effort into your appearance. Maybe put on a little makeup, or actually brush your hair.

"Please don't say no," Beatrice says through the phone. "My family would love it if you came, and I'd love it if you came. And we haven't had a chance to spend a weekend like this in forever. There will be free food and free booze!"

"I know you're worried about me, Bea," you respond, sighing.

"I'm not inviting you out of pity," she says.

"I know, I know. Just, give me some time to think it over. I've got an assignment I need to finish for one of my classes, I think it's due this Sunday night. So if I can't finish it this week I'll need to do it this weekend," you reply.

"Okay, just text me. I'm not gonna invite anyone else as my plus one, if you don't end up coming. So no rush, take your time," she says.

"Thank you. You know I appreciate you so much," you say, sighing into the cushion of your couch.

"You know I feel the same," she says, sighing too. You'd both been through breakups recently. It seemed like your hardships always occurred on nearly the same timeline, making you both able to rely on each other for understanding. And she knew getting you out of the house, especially for a weekend wedding, would be good for you. Her cousin's family was rich and hadn't held back in their planning, booking the fanciest hotel in town for everyone. They were paying for everything; the food and drinks of course, and everyone's hotel expenses. You'd knew you'd go. You'd try to finish the assignment beforehand. But even if you didn't, you'd still go.

Driving up to the front of the hotel together felt surreal. Beatrice had asked to take your car, as it wasn't the bright purple color that her's was. This place was fancy, and though neither of your cars were deluxe, at least your's was black.

"Miss McArthur?" the valet asked once you rolled your window down.

"Yeah, that's me," Beatrice said from the passenger seat, reaching over you to hand him her ID. "This is my plus one, y/n. She should be on the list."

After a brief look at his clipboard the man gave you both a satisfied nod. "Do you ladies have any bags we can carry up for you?" he asked.

"Yes, in the trunk," Beatrice answered for you, which you were grateful for. You'd never interacted with a valet before, never been in such a fancy situation in your life. You stumbled out of the car a bit awkwardly, your jean shorts and t-shirt looking ridiculous next to the suit and tie of the man in front of you. He held out his hand to you and for a moment you paused, wondering if he was offering to take your hand. But then you realized he was actually offering to take your keys. Duh.

"Thank you," you said quickly, heading around the car to meet Bea as you walked behind the man carrying your bags.

On the sixth floor you entered your shared room, a spacious and beautifully decorated space with a huge window covering the far wall. It was a sliding glass door, that led out to a balcony overlooking the river below. In the afternoon sun the water glittered, but you knew the view at night would be the real show, absolutely magical.

"Everyone is meeting in the restaurant at 7," Bea tells you, glancing at her family's group chat.

"Well then I've got a little over two hours to make myself look at least a little bit nice. Like maybe I actually belong here," you laugh, opening your bag to grab the casual dress you'd packed.

"Oh dinner tonight won't be fancy, wear whatever," Bea replies, kicking off her sandals.

"Okay but, with your cousins family not fancy would still probably be a little fancy, right?" you ask.

"You don't need to worry about fitting in, dude. No one will care," Bea replies.

"I just don't want to look like an idiot," you say, eyeing her.

"Y/n, you really need to stop worrying. This weekend is about us having fun. I'm not even that close with my cousin Amana, to be honest. We'll probably barely interact with her family. But we get to attend this fancy wedding, all expenses paid. Just wear whatever you feel like, do whatever you want to. Just promise me you'll have some fun," she says.

"Okay, fine," you respond, rolling your eyes jokingly. "I guess I'll try to enjoy this super nice luxury hotel for the weekend."

Bea laughs in relief, at hearing you joke around. It was what you both needed more of; you both had serious work and school lives already to contend with. And seriously disappointing dating lives, too.

As seven approaches you both make your way to the elevator, pausing at you exit the door to inspect the slight amount of makeup you'd put on. You hadn't worn any in weeks and it made you feel really pretty, along with the flowly sundress and sandals you'd decided to wear. You weren't always one for such feminine clothing but today it felt right, and you both bounced down the hall, spirits high. Bea led the way through the lobby to a long hallway, past what looked like a bar and some other room that had a bouncer, to the large restaurant at the end. Immediately you saw the long tables lined up, clearly set up for the wedding party. This wasn't the dress rehearsal, just the welcome dinner. It was only Friday, and the wedding wasn't until Sunday. Immediately you spotted the wine and appetizers filling the table, scanning the tables to try to find your seats.

"I can't find us Bea," you laugh, awkwardly walking past family members you'd never met before.

"Y/n, you're at our table," you hear a familiar female voice say, and turn to see Bea's mom.

"Oh, hi! Thank you!" you say as you walk over to her, giving her a quick hug.

"So glad you could join us sweetie," she says, gesturing to your seats. "See, you and Beatrice are near the end there, across from Nathan. Oh and have you met Beatrice's uncle Hongjoong before?" she asks, gesturing down the table.

You look down to see Beatrice sitting, pulling her chair under her and smiling wide. Across from her, in a casual but fitted grey t-shirt, a man smiles back, handing her a glass of wine he's just poured. He is striking, with jet black hair and tattoos, piercings donning his right ear. His jaw is sharp, his teeth perfect when he smiles. He looks maybe 27, 28. He's wearing an expensive watch, or at least a watch that looks expensive to your eyes, and a small simple chain necklace. His hair is cropped short at the sides; he looks so put together, so professional. So mature. So fucking attractive.

"That's Bea's uncle?" you ask her. It's not just his age that makes you ask. It's the fact that he's basically your dream come true. You see the muscles in his arm flex as he pours Nathan a glass too, and it makes your eyes cross for a moment.

"Well technically I think he's a second cousin, once removed, or something like that. He's a part of Wooyoung's family." Wooyoung was her husband, Bea's dad. You'd met her parents, and her brother Nathan, but never anyone else in her extended family. And you struggled to recall ever hearing about a Hongjoong before. You stared at him a moment before he moved his eyes over to you, catching you off guard. His look was mischievous, like he wants to play or mess with you. It made it hard to believe this was someone Bea called 'uncle.'

"Do you want to sit?" Bea's mom asked you.

"Yeah, sorry," you smiled at her, making you way down.

"Y/n! This is my uncle Hongjoong, and Hongjoong, this is y/n," Beatrice says as you pull out your seat next to her.

"Very nice to meet you," he says with an outstretched hand, his handshake strong and confident in a way that makes your body tingle.

"You as well," you reply, with a bashful smile. Immediately Bea asks you a question and you respond on auto-pilot, not even really hearing. Because your head is swimming in water just from being in this man's presence, and you can't focus. You don't even notice the glass of wine he'd poured you until he sets it down by your appetizer plate, gently bumping the stem on the rim of the plate to make a gentle clink. The sound makes your eyes snap up, and for some reason he looks amused.

"Oh, thank you," you say to him, bowing your head slightly. That mischievous smirk is back on his face when you lock eyes again, like he's trying to tell you something, but you can't be sure what it is. You certainly hope he's thinking what you're thinking. God, he's fucking stunning.

Those are the only words you speak to each other for the entirety of dinner. With so many people in attendance the restaurant is loud, louder still as everyone becomes tipsy, and then outright drunk on the unlimited wine.

"Hey, my parents want me a Nathan to go take pictures with them on the golf course nearby. They booked a photo shoot or something," Bea tells you, rolling her eyes slightly. "I'm not sure when we'll be back but feel free to like, go to the hot tub or do whatever around the hotel," she says.

"Okay, sounds good. Thank you, seriously," you say as you hug her. "I hope it's fun."

"Oh, I'm sure it will be," she laughs. "My parents and their family photos," she shakes her head, making you giggle, as she slowly makes her way to meet her brother at the front door of the restaurant.

You take stock of yourself for a moment, making sure you have your phone and your wallet in your purse, making sure your room key is still in your wallet. You take the last swig of your second glass of wine, patting yourself on the back for not overdoing it this first night when basically everyone around you did. You start sipping on your nearly empty glass of water too, knowing you don't want to wake up hungover tomorrow. The table is basically empty, with everyone slowly clearing out or making their last requests at the bar. You decide you'll go explore in a moment, go scope out the pool and hot tub situation, and maybe see if you can figure out what room is behind that bouncer. But just as you start standing up, Hongjoong approaches the table.

"I got some more waters for the table, but it looks like they've all left," he chuckles, his arms full.

"They went to do a family photo, Bea said," you reply, stuck for a moment awkwardly between sitting and standing. Hongjoong nods, like he already knew.

"Oh, were you about to leave too? Don't let me keep you," he says, the glint back in his eye again.

"I was thinking I'd go take a look at the pool and hot tub, maybe explore a bit," you say. It sort of takes you by surprise that you're sharing this with a total stranger, given your usual instinct to not share anything with people you don't know. You easily could have excused yourself, and been exploring the hotel alone. But deep down you know why you're sharing it. You hope he picks up on that reason, too.

"That's a great idea," he says, gently setting the waters down. "Mind if I join you? I was thinking of exploring the hotel some myself."

Bingo. You smile, eyes fluttering at him for a second. You truly don't even mean to do it, but the way he looks at you has you feeling shameless.

"Sure, I wouldn't mind," you reply, stepping out from your chair and gently pushing it into the table.

"Want to take a water with you?" he asks, holding one out.

"I don't think we can just take the glass with us," you reply, narrowing your eyes at him.

"Oh, who cares," he says glancing over his shoulder, seeing all of the wait staff occupied at the bar with everyone's last minute orders. "I'll carry it out, if you're that worried," he says, cocking his head slightly to the side and eyeing you with what must be mock pity.

"Fine," you roll your eyes at him, trying to fight the smile forming on your face from betraying how much his tone and facial expression are affecting you. You turn around and start strolling out of the restaurant, not even waiting for him. Once you're exiting he's already caught up, two water glasses in hand. You turn to your right, heading for the lobby.

"Wrong way, y/n," Hongjoong says lowly from behind you, making you stop in your tracks. "The pool is out those doors at the end of the hall."

"The sign in the lobby says the door to the pool is by the front desk," you reply, looking over your shoulder at him. The hallway is dimly lit, and the shadows on his face make his jaw look even sharper.

"Well that door also leads to the pool," he says, gesturing to the end of the hall. You just stare at him a moment, not sure why you feel the instinct to argue. "You don't believe me?" he asks, chuckling and looking you dead in the eye, before obviously snaking his gaze down the entirety of your body. Now that he's standing you see the fitted black pants and black dress shoes he's wearing, making his outfit look even more professional. His thighs look strong, and his stance is one of confidence, his entire demeanor cool and collected. You want to come up with a witty retort but can't think of anything, so you just start walking the way he's said to, again passing him by without slowing down to meet him. You open the doors gently but don't stop to hold them for him, brattiness taking ahold of you. Maybe it's the fancy hotel, or the wine, but you feel like a princess who deserves whatever she wants. And right now that's to piss Hongjoong off a bit, and see the pool.

"I thought nice girls hold doors open for the elderly," he says once he's exited too, sidling up to you. You stand by the long edge of the pool, taking in the lights below the surface that dance through the water. You turn to him and roll your eyes, taking the water glass he offers you immediately. "So, what do you do?" he asks.

"I'm still in school, I'm in my senior year," you say, turning back to the water. "And I work part time as an administrative assistant in the Dean's office, to help cover some of my tuition."

"College senior," he says, like he's mulling it over. "So that makes you how old?"

"Guess," you say, turning to him again, this time with your whole body.

"22," he replies. His voice low, like he's hesitant to say it.

"Close, 23," you say, not lowering your voice to meet his.

"And how old do you think I am?" he asks you, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Mmm, like, 38?" you joke, squinting your eyes as you look intently at his face. The feeling of wanting to piss him off still hadn't left you.

"How astute," he replies, nodding. "People usually think I'm younger."

"You're actually 38?" you ask, bewildered.

"Actually, 40," Hongjoong replies, making your eyebrows shoot up.

"You're lying," you say, rolling your eyes and shaking your head at him.

"Wow, second time tonight you've thought that. I don't know what I've done to make you think so poorly of me," he replies, that mischievous look again painting his face.

"Oh, shut up," you say, rolling your eyes harder this time, wanting to reach out and playfully punch him. Or maybe not so playfully. He's looking more and more perfect by the second, and his attitude, the way he's just so confident and calm, is making you hot and bothered. You know it maybe it's wrong, but now that you know his real age you find this whole scenario even hotter. If you were honest with yourself you'd always dreamed of fucking an older man, but the few you'd gone on dates with or had the chance to talk to had always been so immature, insecure, and underwhelming. Just like all the other guys you'd dated. It was a massive disappointment to learn that age didn't often give people that self-assured demeanor that you so desired. But clearly it did sometimes; the proof was standing in front of you.

"That wasn't very nice," Hongjoong replies, fixing you with a look of disapproval that makes your thighs clench involuntarily, as the two of you stare each other down merely feet apart. You hold his gaze as long as you can before you look down at your feet, his stoic demeanor feeling like a brick wall you can't break through.

"You're very pretty, y/n," he says, stepping forward to lift your face up to his.

"Really?" you ask him, eyes wide. Playing it just the way he likes.

"I know you know how pretty you are, you've been giving me those eyes all night," he says, looking like he disapproves. "You're a bit of brat, too, aren't you?" he asks, his hand moving to the side of your cheek.

"No comment," you giggle, and he grabs your hand, bringing it to his upper arm. You grab onto his bicep as he moves his hand to your waist pulling you two closer.

"Dance with me," he says, pulling you slightly into his chest.

"There isn't any music playing," you say, laughing. And it's the way that he doesn't just automatically laugh at your little comments that really gets you going.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you didn't like me very much," he says seriously, pulling you in and starting to rock you back and forth. You dance together for a few minutes, no words being exchanged as your bodies get used to the proximity, as your mind begins to swim again, even more so now that his hands are on you. You want him to kiss you, do anything, now, but he keeps his hands where they are, still leading you around in slow circles. Fuck it, you think. You lift your hands to his face and pull him in, your lips meeting in a perfect kiss, his hand on your waist moving up your back as he holds you to him, leaning you back as he deepens it. You hold steadily onto his bicep for balance, your breathing fast as you stick your tongue in his mouth, not hiding your desperation. You don't care to, not when you've spent two months without this feeling, tortured over the idea that no one at your school would ever consider you an option after your last relationship ended the way it did.

And just when it seems like you're the only desperate one, Hongjoong moves his hands down, running them up your thighs and under your dress to find your panties. He finds none, much to his surprise, which makes his dick harden even further. He gropes your ass, deepening the kiss more, making you arch your back in neediness. And then he snakes his hand around, slowly moving to your core, before suddenly running a finger over your slit, making you gasp. You've forgotten where you are, totally engrossed in the feelings he's giving you. You buck your hips against his hand, moaning pathetically into his mouth, your legs feeling like they might give out on you. He starts circling your entrance, finally pushing one finger in maybe an inch, when you finally remember where you are.

"Wait, fuck, not out here," you say, pulling back from him. He pulls his hand away immediately, his fingers glistening in the lights of the night.

"You don't want everyone to see?" he asks, a smirk on his face.

"Not when the people paying for me to be here could see," you say. Your lips look swollen and wet from the kiss, and it makes him want to grab you again.

"You're the one who kissed me," he says, his voice low. And you know there's more he's implying, that you weren't just the one who kissed him but that you had rocked against his hand, had wanted his touch. That you'd kissed him desperately, making him unable to stop himself. The implication is inappropriate, the accusation he's laid on you not fair in the slightest. He has no way of knowing what you were trying to make him do, or what you wanted to happen. You hadn't said a word. And yet, he's totally right, making it hard for you to respond.

"That's-," you sigh, your pussy still throbbing from your proximity.

"My room is on the 7th floor," he says.

"Okay," you reply. It's all you can say. You stand completely still, stuck to the spot, waiting for him to move. Instead he puts his wet fingers in his mouth, sucking off your slick in one smooth motion, humming in satisfaction. Your mouth gapes at his lewdness, struck now by just how visible you both obviously are.

"Let's go," he says, motioning his head towards the door.

Your legs move automatically, your mind playing over and over the visual of him licking his fingers, the look of utter bliss on his face. As you walk the hallway he comes behind you, putting a hand on the small of your back, making your body melt into him slightly. It feels good but you gently remove his hand, not wanting anyone to see. You pray that neither Bea nor any of her family are in the lobby when you enter, and thankfully, your prayers are answered. Nor does anyone join you two on the elevator, which makes you willing to stand closer to Hongjoong than you would any other stranger. But still, you don't touch him. As you both exit you walk behind him, almost enough space between you that you could believably look like two total strangers, walking to separate rooms. Until he unlocks his door, holding it open as you slip inside, like you're really not supposed to be in here.

As soon as he closes the door he's pulled you to him, his back slamming into the wall as you nearly crash together, the air between you thick with lust.

"I'm almost twice as old as you, y/n," he whispers in your ear, feeling your pussy clench against his thigh that you're straddling, your mouth on his neck. "You like that," he states, not even asking you anymore. "You like that I'm way too old for you. Too old to be touching you like this."

It's wrong, so wrong and you know it, but the further he pushes it the more you're surrendering to what's happening, to what your body truly craves.

"You've never been fucked right by those stupid boys at your college, have you? You need me to fuck you right, to show you how good you can feel. That's why you were bratty with me, you wanted me to be riled up. Want me to fuck you hard, like I'm mad. Like I'm punishing you," he growls, his breathing heavy as you bite down on his neck, sending sparks of pain and pleasure through his head. "Fuck, you really want me mad, don't you?" he asks and you whine in response, your whole body tingly with anticipation.

"Get on your knees," he says, pulling you back from him, your hair already a mess from his hands, the straps of your dress falling down your shoulders and nearly making your tits spill out. "Open your mouth," he commands, and you follow immediately, your wide eyes looking up at him in desire, his thumb running over your bottom lip. "I like when you do what I say," he says, pinching your cheek and making you blush, the praise making your insides turn to jelly. He unzips his pants smoothly, undoing the button and swiftly pulling out his hard cock, the tip a slight shade of red and already leaking slightly.

"Look what you did to me," he says, palming himself, your tongue nearly falling out of your mouth as you salivate over his beautiful cock. "I thought for a moment I'd have to come up here and deal with this all on my own, after you eye-fucked me all dinner," he continues, slowly stroking his length, moving closer to your open and waiting lips. "I should have known you weren't wearing any panties from the way you were acting," he says, gently running his tip along your outstretched tongue, spreading your spit around your face with it and making a mess of you. "No bra, no panties. You wanted to be fucked tonight." Slowly he enters your mouth, gently holding your head as he pushes further in, gently tapping the back of your throat and making you gag. You moan, your pussy clenching around nothing, wanting him to fill all of your holes at once. "That feels good, doesn't it. Gagging on my cock," he smirks, your eyes fluttering closed as he pushes in again, this time a little harder. "Eyes on me baby, don't look away," he says, slowly beginning to fuck your throat, gently enough not to choke you but deep enough to make you repeatedly gag, your spit covering his cock and running down your chin, your face a complete mess. "Fuck, your mouth feels good," he groans, his face scrunching up in pleasure for a moment, before he looks down to meet your eyes again, which are now glued to him, glued to every change in his expression, every flick of his tongue across his bottom lip. "I'm gonna go harder baby, I know you can take it," he warns you before picking up his pace, his cock nearly bottoming out in your mouth as he holds your head in place, repeatedly fucking into your throat. You're automatically swallowing around him, your body's reflexive actions taking over. "Fuck, so good," Hongjoong sighs, your head feeling light from the lack of oxygen and your body swimming in pleasure. You could let him use your throat all night if he wanted to, especially if he keeps talking to you like that. Like you're dumb and you don't even know what you want. Like he has to tell you or you'll never figure it out.

Finally you choke hard, your body instinctively pulling you back, and he pulls out of your mouth letting you catch you breath, stroking a hand through your hair. You run a hand across your mouth, trying in vain to clean yourself up a bit, wiping the saliva on your dress and staring up at him open mouthed, your entire body covered in a sheen of sweat.

"Hey, don't ruin this," he says pulling at your dress, moving behind you to help take it off. He slowly undoes the zipper, gently pulling the straps down and off your arms before helping you stand to step out of it. Completely bare, you stand in front of him, his hand coming up to spank you, grabbing your ass hungrily in his hand. You yelp at the impact, like you weren't expecting it. Like you hadn't been sticking your ass out ever so slightly, arching your back to add to the affect. "Don't write checks you can't cash, doll," he says, making you giggle and turn your head to face him, a look of utter delight on your face. "It really makes you happy when I scold you, doesn't it," he says, staring you down.

"Why are you so clothed?" you ask, finding your words.

"You want to see me naked?" he teases.

"Just seems like you're hiding something. Maybe under all that nice clothing you're really not that built," you laugh, knowing it would strike a nerve. It wasn't hard to tell that he cared about his figure.

"Go sit on your hands on the bed," he retorts, his eyes narrowing, as he starts taking off his watch, undoing the clasp on his chain. He sets both down on the table gently, pulling his shirt over his head next, revealing that most of his abdomen is also covered in tattoos, his broad shoulders and broad chest. Slowly he sits on the side of the bed to untie his shoes, periodically looking up at you to make sure you haven't moved, moving almost comically slow. You wriggle in anticipation, watching him slowly reveal himself, his muscular thighs finally on display to you as he pulls down his pants and boxers, his cock hard and a deeper shade of red now, still glistening from your spit.

"Lay on your stomach," he says, moving over you when you oblige, raking the hair out of your face so he can see you. "This is what you get for sticking your ass out," he says, swiftly moving down to lick over your hole, making you gasp at the coldness of his tongue. Immediately the feeling runs to your clit, your entire crotch alive with pleasure, your back arching instinctively to meet his movements. He spreads your cheeks to get better access, moving his tongue in quick circles around your tight entrance, your body slowly relaxing from the pleasure he's providing.

And suddenly he's off of you, reaching into his bedside drawer and pulling out a bottle, swiftly lubing the fingers of his right hand and moving them to your waiting hole, gently pushing one in. You groan, the tight muscles stretching already, your body arching even further to give him the perfect angle as he gently starts pumping in and out of you.

"You like getting your ass eaten, I knew you would. So dirty," he says, making you whine in agreement, your brows scrunched together in pleasure. Soon he adds another finger, the stretch again making you groan, your body instinctively tightening up at the intrusion. "I know you can take it," he says, not even attempting to comfort you. "Don't brats like getting their asses fucked?" he asks, his words making your clit ache, your body finally releasing again as he works you open with two fingers, taking the opportunity to quickly add another. "I knew it," he says, satisfied with how quickly he's stretched you open, how pliant your body is in his hands, how he's getting exactly what he wants from you. Still fucking you with his fingers, he opens the lube bottle again with his other hand, generously dousing his achingly hard cock. Gently he pulls his fingers out of you, frozen for a moment staring at the way your hole has opened up, nearly drooling from the visual.

"Spread you legs," he says, pushing your knees apart himself, pulling you ass up towards him, just where he wants you. Lining himself up, he slowly pushes in, the stretch even more severe this time, making you whine in pain, your breaths short and stifled with your head now shoved into his pillows. "What, you can't take it? Is it too big?" he asks, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "My little brat can't take my cock in her ass?"

Tears start forming in your eyes from how turned on you are, the pain a secondary feeling as it all starts to feel just right, as it starts morphing into only pleasure as your muscles finally relent. You feel like you're being split open, like you're opened up more than ever before, like he's gutting you from the inside. Finally he bottoms out, reaching into you further than you thought you could feel, your clit throbbing painfully with need.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groans from above you, brushing a hand along your cheek in an almost sweet gesture, seeing the single tear stain on your cheek. He waits a moment, waiting to feel if your body is ready, and suddenly your hips are moving into his like your body is begging him to move. He slowly pulls out, almost all the way, then thrusts back in, making you gasp at the intense pleasure, your breath nearly getting caught in your throat. Grabbing your hips he starts forcefully thrusting, chasing his own pleasure as he's sucked into your ass, the tight muscles threatening to make him come in an instant. Desperate for some relief you move your hand to your clit, desperately trying to circle it as he rocks you hard with the force of his thrusts. His eyes are glued to your ass, glued to the way his cock looks buried inside you, and your face, the way your mouth hangs permanently open as you moan in earnest, clearly not controlling a single sound that is coming out. The raw sounds make him fuck into you even harder, the way you sound so pathetically fucked out, like you can't believe this feels so good. Eventually his eyes roam down again and spot your hand, swatting it away in an instant, his anger boiling up again.

"Is my cock not enough?" he scolds, his voice gravelly from breathing so raggedly, the air in the room stiflingly hot. In this position it's hard, but quickly he finds a good angle and lands a sharp smack on your clit, the pain lancing through your core like lightning, and suddenly your whole body is shaking, your nerves completely on fire. "Even with my cock buried in your ass you want to piss me off, don't you?" His voice is raised, nearly to the point of losing control, but still very calculated. He lands another sharp slap on your clit, this time not as hard, but in an instant your orgasm washes over you, your whole body shaking hard as you squeeze down around his cock making it hard for him to keep moving.

"Fuck, baby, shit," Hongjoong curses, his climax hitting him by surprise, his cock milked by your tight walls squeezing down on him, your body taught with just how hard you came. His orgasm crashes over him fast and hard, his body going limp just after yours does, as you both collapse in a pile on the bed, his cum coating the walls of your ass in silky wetness. Your legs are still shaking, tucked up underneath you, his cock still buried deep inside. The position is awkward but you don't even feel it, the pleasure still rippling through you as you breath hard into the soft pillow. Hongjoong crashes onto your back, his arms instinctively wrapping around you, his chest and stomach rapidly rising and falling from his heavy breathing. His skin feels sticky and hot against yours, his hot breath fanning over your cheek as he plants a kiss there, intently watching your face as you come down.

"I'm gonna pull out now, okay?" he asks, eliciting a hum of agreement from you. Slowly he pulls backwards, his cum spilling out of you the moment he's pulled out entirely, spilling down your ass cheek onto the bedsheets. Hongjoong makes his way to the bathroom, quickly cleaning himself up before grabbing a washcloth for you, dousing it in luke warm water. Coming back to the bed he gently moves you onto your back, to the side of the pool of cum. He gently wipes you down, making you moan when he brushes over your clit, making himself chuckle.

Glancing over at the clock beside his bed you see it's nearly 11pm, your mind spinning. Quickly you move to the ground to rummage through your purse, glancing at your phone to see a text from Beatrice reading 'I'm back now, don't stay out too late miss.'

Be back soon, you write back.

"I should be going," you say, trying to stand up, your wobbly legs making it difficult. Hongjoong is at your side in a moment, stabilizing you, helping you to sit down on the bed while he grabs your dress off the floor. You hastily pull it over your head, running your fingers through your hair and feeling the knots that have formed. Quickly you zip the back of your dress, shove your phone in your purse and stand to slip on your sandals, not wanting to keep her waiting. The sudden quietness of Hongjoong also has you feeling slightly on edge, and really your head is just spinning, from every unexpected thing that happened.

"I'm not still mad, you know," he says gently, grabbing your hand as you move to breeze past him.

"Yeah?" you ask, looking at him with confusion.

"You don't need to still be acting like a kid who is in trouble," he says, kissing your hand. "That was just, that. You can talk to me like anyone else, now."

You eye him, swallowing thickly. What does one even say, now? Could he tell how inexperienced you were with hookups?

"I'm not sure what's going on in that pretty head of yours. I hope it's happy thoughts."

You nod, a smirk playing on your lips. You're speechless, unable to think a complete thought. It all just plays in your head, his tongue on your ass, his fingers stretching you out, his cock pounding into you so hard. And the smack on your clit, the way it made you come so fast, the ghost of the feeling still present in your core.

"Not those thoughts. You're gonna jump me again," he laughs, and finally you smack him, punching his arm soon afterwards. Pushing past him you walk fast, opening his door and spinning around, your eyes piercing as you meet his.

"What, you can't take my teasing?" he asks, but suddenly his door swings shut, your face gone in a flash.

As you saunter down the hall to the elevator you feel fucking amazing, swinging your purse over your shoulder and flipping your hair to the side, your sleepy eyes boring holes into the metal doors.

Well, she did tell you to have some fun. You just hoped Beatrice wouldn't be too mad you fucked her uncle.

[polyamships]

[Image description in ALT. Prompts in plain text under the cut.]

Polyamships is hosting #MultiamoryMarch2025

Multiamory March is a month-long event held each year, starting on March 1st and ending on March 31st, with a prompt for each day.

🎉🎉2025 marks the 5th year since #MultiamoryMarch came to our blog 🎉🎉

Once again we gather to celebrate polyamory in all its forms: OT3s, OT4s, OT8s, V-relationships, QPRs, sedoretus, and any configuration you can think of. In the spirit of this month, we invite you to create works in any medium using the prompts above if you need a little inspiration.

This year we have an additional 10 alt visual prompts for you to choose! Check out the links under the cut.

Remember our prompts are there to inspire you, not restrict you. You can also create freely or even use one of our prompts from past years we’d still love to see fanworks for if they inspire you better. If you use a prompt, please make sure to let us know which prompt you’re creating for somewhere on your post.

At us @polyamships and use the tags #MultiamoryMarch and #MultiamoryMarch2025 in the first five tags so we can hopefully see it. If you don’t see us reblog your post within a few days feel free to send us an ask to let us know, or submit it via the submit link here in case we’ve missed your post or the tags/notifications are being weird.

All ratings are welcome but anything nsfw/triggery should be warned for and behind a read more, as should very long tumblr fic.

We also have an AO3 collection for the event that can be found here and the collection name is ‘multiamory_march_works’.

We can’t wait to see what you create for the month, and please do spread the word about the event. ❤️♾️

Over the next month or two, we will also be doing a number of posts with expanded ideas for each prompt for anyone who needs a little more inspiration than just the one or two word style.

Under the cut you can find the prompts in written form:

Official Multiamory March 2025 prompts

First kiss(es)

Hurt/Comfort

First date as a polycule

N+1 things

Cuddles

Team as polycule

Secret relationship

Friends to lovers

Queerplatonic relationships

Meet the family

Pining

Explaining/mapping the polycule

The polycule taking care of a child or pet

Confessions

and they were roommates

Outsider POV

Soulmates AU

"Don't look at me. This was not my idea."

Chatfic/the polycule groupchat

Time travel

Dreams

Space

Complicated relationships

Trans characters

Touch

Scars

Kink negotiation

Magic

Vampire AU

Role reversal

Morning routine

Alt visual prompts

Always room for one more [LINK]

Home [LINK]

HALSEY - NOW OR NEVER MV [LINK]

Dancing [LINK]

Matching [LINK]

Mythology [LINK]

BTS - BLOOD SWEAT & TEARS MV [LINK]

Family feud [LINK]

Royalty [LINK]

KARD - HOLA HOLA MV [LINK]

[potatoplace]

Mastermind - Part 2

The Betrayal

Dark!Feysand x Reader

Part 1 | Part 3 | AO3 link

Mastermind Masterlist | Poly!ACOTAR x Reader Masterlist

Story Summary: Your friend of a few months, Feyre, invited you out for a celebratory drink over your new job, and of course her husband Rhys joins you. The night doesn't go quite as planned, and you end up back at their place with very few wits about you.

Warnings: non-con, abduction, being kept prisoner, smut, drug use (pot)

Words: ~5k

Author's Note: it's here! Feyre... you live in my head rent free so often... also this is just like a purely self indulgent fic at this point, I think it'll be a mini-series. Please read the warnings!

18+ only pls

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

You woke up with a headache and a confusing ache between your legs.

Your bed was comfier than usual, and so, so warm. Almost like you had a heated blanket going. You mouth cracked open into a yawn, and you stretched your limbs as far as you could-

Which wasn't far.

Both your legs and arms bumped into something solid and warm, surrounding you on both sides.

Your eyes flew open, very, very confused when you saw your friend Feyre laying to your right, and her husband Rhys on your left and-

You're naked.

Completely bare between the two of them, with absolutely no memory of how you got there. Your face flushed with heat.

God, what have I done?

Your tried to wiggle your way out from between the two of them, but one of Rhys's arms merely locked tighter around you, pulling you further against him.

He's naked. You could feel him hardening against you already as he stirred slightly, burying his face in your hair.

You struggled slightly, trying to move away from him, he's your friend's husband for crying out loud.

"What's wrong, sweetness?" Feyre's sleep heavy voice asked from your right. Her hand moved up your thigh and over your stomach, coming to rest between your breasts.

You pushed her hand off of you. "I'm so confused right now, Fey, why are Rhys and I naked? I should go," you said, moving to sit up, but Feyre's hand shot out to keep you down, and between her and Rhys you were powerless to move.

"You're never going to leave us again, darling," Feyre said, wiggling closer to you and pressing her body against yours- she was naked as well.

What the fuck did I do last night?

"Feyre, let me up," you demanded, doing your best to get her hand off of you, but in your struggle you must have woken Rhys up.

"Is there a problem, ladies?" His sultry voice sent shivers down your spine. Your always found it attractive, but now? Trapped between him and your best friend? You wanted nothing more than to bolt out of their apartment and back to yours and never come back out.

"Rhysie, she's trying to leave," Feyre said poutily, hand rubbing circles onto your stomach.

"And why would our sweet little kitten want to leave, hmm?" He asked, lips finding your neck and pressing soft kisses along the expanse of it. "You were so happy last night, sweet thing, what changed?"

You shook your head- this was wrong, all of this was wrong. And Rhys's lips had brought to your attention something wrapped around your neck snugly.

"This isn't right, I can't even remember what happened last night," you said, tears leaking from your eyes now, and you brought a hand up to your throat, fingering the fabric on your neck. Is it leather? Is it-

"You put a collar on me?" You asked, disbelief in your voice as your fingers attempted to tear the item from your body.

"I figured you might freak out, sweetness," Feyre tutted from beside you, a hand raising your grasp both of yours. "You're ours now, Y/N, you just need a little help realizing that. That's what the cute little collar is for, just to keep you from running away like the silly little kitten I think you might be." Feyre's voice was soft but condescending as she explained it to you, but you were still so lost.

"I don't understand, Fey," you cried, attempting to pull your body out of their embraces. "We're friends, you're married. This isn't okay."

Rhys shushed you, running his hands over your hair. "We might be married, but you're the secret missing piece we've been looking for, kitten. From the moment Feyre introduced me to you, I knew what she meant when she said she had to have you. Neither of us can resist how absolutely sweet and lovely you are." You went to open your mouth to protest, but Feyre's mouth covered yours in a heated kiss. "You'll realize just how much you can't resist us either, soon," Rhys added when he felt you involuntarily relax into Feyre's dominating hold over you.

"As for the not remembering last night..." Feyre started when she finally pulled away from claiming your mouth. "I think I know the perfect way to fix that," she said with a smirk, already moving down below the blankets and between your thighs.

"Feyre stop," you pleaded. "I don't want this, I want to go home," you cried, fat tears rolling down your cheeks.

"Really?" Feyre asked with a smirk, dragging a finger through your folds and collecting the wetness that had pooled there. "Because this sweet little pussy says otherwise."

Tears fell from your eyes faster, shame welling within you as Feyre sucked her finger clean, closing her eyes as she did so. Feyre lowered her mouth to your sex in the next moment, not wasting any time in working you up to your breaking point.

You were still so sensitive from whatever they had done to you last night, and with Feyre’s tongue working your clit like magic you could hardly keep yourself still, even as Rhys pinned down your torso. One of his hands was fondling your breast and keeping you in the bed while the other ran through your hair and kept your face tilted towards Feyre.

You could see her face well again, now that the blanket had slid further down the bed while you twitched and writhed in their hold and against the pleasure Feyre was giving you. Her eyes were locked on your face, taking in every detail as you got closer and closer to the brink with every delicious swipe of her tongue.

To you it was wrong, all wrong. You didn’t want to be reacting, to even be warming their bed at all, yet you were trapped here as the couple worked you into your first orgasm of the morning against your will.

The strangled moan that left your throat was enough to have Feyre smirking up at you from between your thighs.

“See? You love us, and what we can give you. And we love you, Y/N.”

“No you don’t, Feyre, this isn’t love,” you cried softly, too tired and ashamed to put up much of fight anymore.

“It is, darling. We love you,” Rhys reiterated, peppering your neck and face with kisses as if to prove his point. “Now, will you let us feed you? I imagine you’re hungry after all the work we did last night,” he said with a dirty grin, two fingers pinching your right nipple.

Feyre began to move back up the bed and you took the opportunity to roll to your right into the spot that she had occupied while the three of you slept. Feyre sighed.

“Rhys, you can go take a shower and then start breakfast, okay? I’ll get this one into the shower after a little more… persuasion,” Feyre said in a disappointed tone.

Rhys chuckled, but got up from the bed anyway and walked into the bathroom. “Tell me pancakes or waffles after I come back out, darling.”

Feyre’s hands were pulling your back against her front snugly, allowing no room for you to escape the soft press of her body. Once you’d calmed a bit, she let one of her hands snake down between your thighs, gathering a bit of wetness from your center and then rubbing quick circles on your clit.

So sensitive. Her deft fingers brought you to completion twice in the time it took Rhys to finish showering and enter the room for his clothing.

You were a whimpering mess by the time he rounded to the side of the bed you were facing, leaning into Feyre’s embrace as she forced you closer and closer to a third orgasm in such rapid succession.

“I see, you’re just more comfortable with Feyre, hmm?” Rhys asked as he pulled your lower lip between his thumb and forefinger. “I guess I’ll just have to spend every waking second of the next week getting you used to me,” Rhys said with a smile before heading to leave the room.

“Pancakes,” Feyre told him, right as her fingers brought you to your fourth orgasm of the morning.

“Got it, darling. Make sure to actually get her in the shower, okay?”

Feyre’s merely lowered her lips to the left side of your neck, sucking a pair of dark, claiming marks over the spaces that Rhys had left unmarked.

Your breathy, contented sigh shocked you so thoroughly you jerked from Feyre’s hold finally and landed on the carpeting.

“Oh, sweetness, still afraid of liking us?” Feyre asked amusedly, bringing herself to the edge of the bed. “Don’t worry, you’ll get over that in a couple of days, I think. Unless you decide to be a brat and fight your fate which, I might add, is useless. Rhys and I love you, Y/N.”

You shook your head at her words. “This is wrong, Feyre, you know it’s wrong. You can’t just keep me here,” you said indignantly, getting up from the floor on shaky legs and attempting to cover yourself with your arms.

“Why not?”

You scoffed. “Because, Feyre, I am a human being and not a pet. I have a life and people that care about me, you can’t just abduct me and get away with it!”

“People that care about you? You have me, Y/N. Your family is mostly dead and the ones that are alive, you don’t talk to! And you even told me that I’m the first friend you made in Velaris, you belong with me. You have belonged to me ever since I first saw you in that coffee shop.”

“What about my job? I have a job, Feyre, they will be worried when I don’t actually start in a few days,” you told her desperately, hoping for any shred of the kindness you’d thought your friend had possessed before today to shine through.

“At the marketing firm? Rhys owns it, sweetie, his cousin Mor manages it. She already knows that you won’t be starting, you have a much better life set up for you now.”

You stared at her in shock. Had everything about your life recently been one big set up?

"What did you do Feyre?" You asked her, despair lacing your tone. If she was telling the truth, then there was no way out of this for you. And-

Oh my god. Your apartment here. Feyre had recommended it.

"I didn't do anything, Y/N. I suggested the job at the marketing firm because you were working yourself to the bone at that coffee shop, dear. I couldn't stand to see you suffer," Feyre explained, prowling across the room to stand in front of you. You were backed against the corner of the room now, with nowhere to go. "And I suggested the apartment here because we have good security, and I've seen the way your regulars would look at you, like they were just waiting to snatch you when the opportunity presented itself." One of Feyre's hands comes up to cup your face, following you as you turned away, still finding its mark. She turned your face back to look at her, and her eyes held such a fiercely protective look, you almost couldn't get your next words out.

"How are you any better than them?" You asked quietly, instantly taking note of how her eyes darkened with anger. "You snatched me away, Feyre, not any of those men. So how are you-"

Feyre surged forward, cutting your words off by slotting her mouth over yours. The kiss was harsh, claiming as she pulled your naked body against hers even as you struggled and tried to pull away.

"I love you, Y/N. And I would never, ever hurt you..." Feyre trailed off as her fingers played with your hair once you'd stopped fighting her. You opened your mouth to refute that claim, but she started speaking before you could. "I am not hurting you, sweetness. You simply don't know what is best for you right now, and sometimes we just need to be shown the right path." You went to argue again- "Now, if you don't shower with me, you won't be given any clothes to wear for the next week," Feyre said with finality.

Fight her, continue to feel disgusting in the off chance that she doesn't still force you to shower, and have no clothes for a whole seven days, or don't fight her, deal with it this once, and have clothes.

You didn't fight as Feyre steered you by the shoulders into their grand bathroom, stopping by the large triple sink counter. She carefully removed the collar from your neck with some type of key, then led you straight into the massive shower that had four huge, separate shower heads- one on each of the three walls, and one overhead.

You turned around right as Feyre started the shower, turning on just the three wall spouts. Water hit you from three sides, and Feyre came at you from the remaining one.

"Do you remember anything from last night?" Feyre asked softly as she ran her hands over your body, passing over your nipples far more times than you felt was necessary. You shook your head. All that you could vaguely remember was getting to the bar Feyre had suggested. “That’s too bad, sweetness. You were very eager last night,” she said with a smile, and your cheeks flushed. “Don’t worry, at some point you’ll be able to admit to yourself how much you want us. For now we’ll just keep reminding you how much we want you.”

Feyre gently tipped your head back to wet your hair, taking her time to get it soaked in the warm spray. Her nails scratched lightly along your scalp, and you nearly sighed at the soft gesture.

This is not the same friend you’ve known all these months, you reminded yourself.

Before today, you would have never guessed you would be taking a shower with Feyre. A small part of you had maybe dreamed about it, but never would you have thought it would become a reality. Especially with the added element of you being forced.

Still, you couldn’t help but relax into Feyre’s gentle grasp and she shampooed your hair, then rinsed the lather from it, being careful to not get any suds in your eyes. The shampoo smelled just like the one you used before all of this happened. Strange. When Feyre began putting a thick conditioner in your hair, you realized it.

They don’t just smell like the products you use at home, they are the products you use at home.

Your accusatory glare hit Feyre once she was done rubbing the conditioner in.

“What?” Feyre asked innocently as she wet her own hair.

“Why do you know what products I use?”

Feyre smiled. “I pay attention, dear. I wanted to make the transition as comfortable as possible for you, so I got everything I could think of that you use regularly. Now, will you help me wash my hair?”

You didn’t move.

“Pleaaase, Y/N?” Feyre asked again, a pouty look on her face now, one that you were rarely able to resist.

“Fine. Which bottles?” You conceded, grabbing the shampoo bottle she pointed to and squeezing some out into the palm of your hand. You lathered it up, then set to working it through Feyre’s thick, golden brown hair. When you rinsed her hair, you wanted to let soap run into her eyes, but couldn’t let yourself for some reason. You repeated the process of working the conditioner through Feyre’s hair, and once you were done she turned around to fade you again.

“Time to rinse yours, cutie,” Feyre said, already tipping your head back into the water to rid your hair of conditioner. Again, her nails scraped along your scalp gently, just enough to get your body to relax more. When she finished, she grabbed a cloth and loaded it with body wash, one that smelled of lilacs and pears- very Feyre. Feyre soaped up your body slowly, lingering in the sensitive areas as long as she could before you started to fight her hold again. She helped you rinse off, then extended the cloth to you. “Do me?”

You shook your head. No. “I already washed your hair, Feyre, just let me get out please.”

Feyre sighed, and started washing her body. “You can’t get out yet, you still need to wash your face. I’d suggest it after last night,” Feyre said with a wink, and your stomach churned.

You don’t really want to know what that comment was about. But you wash and exfoliate your face nonetheless, using the identical products to those you had before, finishing just as Feyre was done washing her own face.

She turned the water off, and grabbed two fluffy towels off of the rack for the both of you. She wrapped one around herself, then patted you dry, taking her time to get every inch of skin and dry your hair as much as she could before she dried herself off.

Feyre went to the sink closest to the shower, and you spotted all of your skincare and hair care products lined up attractively behind the middle sink. Feyre was already doing her routine as you examined the bottles and jars, picking out what you wanted to use.

At least they’re giving you something normal.

Once the two of you had finished, Feyre locked the collar back onto your neck, then pulled you back into their bedroom, the massive bed lurking in your vision no matter where you turned. Feyre grabbed two sets of clothing, pulling on her own outfit. First was a lacy black set of lingerie that looked flawless on her, then a pair of black leggings, a rich brown sweater, and slippers.

She then forced you to let her dress you, slipping a pair of blush pink panties up your legs to settle snugly on your hips, and a matching colored bralette over your breasts, which she had for once refrained from squeezing. Your arms were lifted above your head to let a soft pink, long sleeved peasant dress fall over your body, and you were instructed to sit to allow Feyre to put white knee high socks onto your legs and slip your feet into cute pink slipper booties. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror as Feyre dragged you out of the bedroom. You look cute, if you had to describe the outfit. It’s similar enough to the style you wear on your off time, though everything seems to be made of higher quality materials than what you were able to afford.

The door to the bedroom led to a short hallway, which Feyre led you to the open end of, coming out in the living room. The two of you walked to dining table, near the far end of the open concept room. There was already a good amount of food on the table, and Rhys was just walking away from the stove with a large plate of pancakes in hand, a large smile spreading across his face when he spotted the both of you.

“And I was just thinking I might have to come and get you girls,” he said with a grin. “Come and sit down, breakfast is ready.”

Rhys pulled out a chair for you, pushing you in once you’d sat down and repeated the gesture with Feyre, who was sitting to your left. Rhys then took the seat to your right at the head of the table and began piling food onto your plate. A couple of sausages, pieces of bacon, chunks of cut up melon, and of course pancakes.

You didn’t think you could eat.

If you had woken up in a separate bed this morning, all of this would feel normal enough. Feyre and Rhys had let you stay over once before, and the following morning had a breakfast similar to this.

But everything had changed, you weren’t here because your friends were kind and invited you, you were here because they had trapped you here. You had a collar wrapped around your neck, that alone would be reason enough for you to want to leave.

“Eat up, darling,” Rhys said as he moved on to plating his own food.

You stayed still, staring down at the food that had your stomach turning.

Feyre’s elbow nudged you gently, and you instinctively looked to your left.

“Go ahead and eat, Y/N,” Feyre said gently. When you still didn’t move, she sighed. “Not eating won’t do anything for you, sweetness. Have just one of everything, please,” she begged, using her soft eyes that were so hard to resist.

So, even with your stomach protesting, you lifted a bite of pancake to your mouth, chewing and swallowing but tasting nothing. Maybe if you play along for a little bit, they’ll let their guard down and you can escape.

Feyre and Rhys chatted about their jobs as the three of you ate- Feyre about her studio, and Rhys about the various businesses under the Night Corporation umbrella. You choked down each bite of food, doing your best to keep attention off of you.

A phone ringing cut through their chatter, and Feyre sighed as she picked it up.

“What?” She asked, annoyance clear in her tone. “Can’t you deal with it? I have something important today,” Feyre said, shooting a smile your way. The person on the other end replied with something that made Feyre groan. “Fine, I’ll be there in a half hour.”

Feyre dropped her phone onto the table and ran her hands over her eyes. “Well, I have to go into the studio, apparently the art class has taken a drastic turn that only I can fix,” Feyre whined. “Will you be okay here with just Rhys, sweetness?”

You raised a brow at her. “As though I have a choice?”

Rhys chuckled at your words. “That’s true, Fey, she’s stuck with me for the day. I’ll take good care of her, don’t worry.” Dread pooled in your stomach at his words. You don’t want to know what type of ‘care’ he has in mind.

Feyre was still staring at you, like she wanted to say something, then looked away when she stood up. “I shouldn’t be gone more than an hour, but I’ll text you to let you know if there’s anything that will hold me up,” she remarked as she placed a kiss on Rhys’s cheek, and one on yours as well. “Love you guys!” Feyre said as she was walking out of the door, purse in hand.

“Love you darling!”

In the silence that followed the door slamming shut, the dread in your stomach grew.

“So, would you like a little tour?” Rhys asked, already stacking your breakfast plates together.

You stared at him. “A tour?”

Rhys smiled. “Yes, darling, a tour. You need to know your way around now that you’re living here. And don’t say no, this is mandatory,” he added when you shook your head.

He placed the dishes in the sink before smoking back to the table, pull in out your chair and extending a hand to help you stand. You ignore it, standing on your own, which made Rhys sigh.

“Right this way, darling,” Rhys said, pulling you by the hand back towards the hallway containing their bedroom. You dug your feet into the ground, unwilling to enter the bedroom with him. Rhys stopped walking and turned to face you. “What’s the problem, doll?”

“I am not going to take this sham of a ‘tour’ if it just means that you’re going to rape me.”

Rhys’s eyes softened at your words, and he pulled you into a hug even as your tried to resist his hold. “Oh, darling. You won’t have to worry about that. I won’t fuck you until you are begging for my cock.”

“Like that will ever happen,” you spat, finally wrenching yourself free of his grasp.

“Oh, it will,” Rhys said assuredly, smirking down at you. “Now, will you let me give you the tour?”

You sighed, but did feel mildly better knowing that he supposedly wouldn’t be forcing himself on you. “Fine."

He continued to lead you back down the hallway their their bedroom resided, but stopped at the doorway opposite it. He swung it open, and gestured for you to walk inside. When you did, your jaw dropped.

It’s as though they had gone into your mind and plucked your perfect bedroom out of it just to recreate it here. The walls were in a soft, dusty pink color with a pale cream ceiling. There was fluffy pink carpet on the floor, looking so soft and squishy you wanted to be barefoot on it. At the far end of the room was a large canopy bed, decorated in hues of pink and purple, with a mound of pillows against the wall. There was a dresser and large closet off to the left, and on the right there was a small sitting area gathered around a table with a tv on it, your favorite consoles already lined up and plugged in, along with stacks and stacks of your favorite games. There was even a cute pink mini fridge and little snack shelf, all filled with your favorites.

“Do you like it?” Rhys asked hesitantly from his place in the doorway.

“Do I-?” You stopped to laugh. “Do I like it? It’s like the two of your read my mind. How?”

Rhys’s cheeks colored slightly as he met your eyes. “Feyre had the idea to look through your Pinterest, and you had a board dedicated to your dream room, so she worked tirelessly to get this ready for you.”

The thought and effort would have been sweet- were they not keeping you here against your will.

You just sighed and shook your head. “Is there more to the tour?”

Rhys nodded and grabbed you by the hand once more. He showed you around to the various guest rooms, the guest bathroom, then to Feyre’s home studio and his office, and finally you were back to the living room. The two of you were stood in front of the couches, looking out at their pool and massive patio.

“Do you want to play a game together?” Rhys asked, gesturing to the double TV and console set up in front of you. “We can play whatever you want, you can even play alone,” he offered.

Strangely, this request put you at ease even more than him saying he wouldn’t fuck you. Almost like it confirmed that the Rhys you had known was still in there, just… different. Darker.

“I don’t know…”

“We could smoke a joint,” Rhys said in a sing-songy voice, having grabbed one out of a box on the coffee table. “Or two. Or three. Just something to help you get your mind of things, maybe?”

The offer was tempting. You could pretend like you were just hanging out at your friends’ house and playing a video game with him.

“Sure, why not?”

The feeling of smoke filling your lungs calmed you down, settling you into a sleepy state where you weren’t thinking about the situation and how fucked up it is, just the passing flow of the river of your thoughts. You and Rhys shared two joints together on the patio, passing it between puffs.

“You know that Feyre cares about you, right?” Rhys asked as he took the second lit joint from you. You exhaled the smoke from your mouth, watching as it was whipped away by the wind.

“I don’t know that I would call this,” you gestured around you and at the collar, “caring about me.”

Rhys sighed. “But it is, Y/N. I know we went about it in a twisted way, but Feyre and I truly want you to be happy and safe. And before you ask, no, I won’t let you go. Just give us some time, you’ll come see how nice your life can be here and how much we care about you.”

You took the joint back from him with a pout, annoyed with him now. Sure, they care about me enough to steal me away and lock me up, but not enough to let me make the choice myself.

“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

Rhys laughed sadly. “No, you don’t. But giving us a chance will make this much more enjoyable for you.”

You took another long drag before passing the joint back to Rhys’s waiting fingers.

“Will you… would you convince Feyre to not… touch me until I’m begging?” You asked hopefully, knowing that that day would never come now.

Rhys eyed you carefully. “I can talk to her about that, if it would make you feel more at ease around us darling."

A weight was lifted off your chest at his confirmation that he would wrangle Feyre in. He let you take the last drag before putting the joint out, and followed you back into the living room.

“Do you have Minecraft?” You asked hopefully, wanting to dick around and maybe build a cute house.

“Of course, darling,” Rhys said, booting up the TVs and consoles, passing a pink controller to you.

Within a couple of minutes, the two of you were as focused on the blocky game as you could be, your minds covered in a weed soaked haze.

Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff (let me know if you want to stay on the taglist for the mini series!)

[merlinmicrofic]

Hello friends!

I apologize for the delay, and would like to invite you all to belatedly celebrate one year of Merlin Micro Fic with me! By now the AO3 Collection boast over 170 fills, with the ones only posted to Tumblr probably meaning we've cracked the 200-fills-mark. I'm so grateful and in awe of the enthusiasm for this on-going event, from those who show up every months, to those who step by every once in a while! <3

Unfortunately, life has really taken a busy turn for me these last couple of months. As already considered a while ago, it's really not feasible for me to keep making a Masterlist every month if I want to keep this event going, as it were.

I will continue tagging fills with the rounds, though, so in theory at least all fills for a round can always be found that way. And of course, the prompting structure will remain; it is now just a little easier to sneak in a late fill here and there.

On the note of late fills: the anniversary prompt round will be an amnesty one, for all 36 prompts of the last year! You can find the list below - feel free to combine, to submit second fills for prompts you'd already filled, or to fill ones you didn't get around to before!

This round will run for 6 weeks, until the end of February. For one, it gives everyone a little additional time, for the other, it'll finally fix the way rounds run from middle to middle of the months! :D

As always:

For info on how this works, please check this post.

Please remember - when posting to tumblr, please name ship/characters/gen relationship, the prompt(s) you're filling, the wordcount and, if needed, rating + warnings (so, for example: "Fill for @merlinmicrofic prompt 'Feast', Leon/Merlin, Explicit, Graphic Violence") at the top of your post!

Prompts can be interpreted loosely, although if you pick the dialogue prompt, the line should make an appearance!

Remember, your fic has to be 500 words or shorter! For an additional challenge, make it an exact drabble (100 words to the point!) When you post to tumblr, we'll check wordcounts with wordcount.com

Places/ways you can post: only to tumblr, to our AO3 collection, or to both. Whichever way you choose, do make sure to make a tumblr post of some kind and tag this blog directly, so that we can reblog it, and log it for the masterlist!

Reminder that prompts can be submitted through the ask box (see here for more info), and one of the monthly prompts will be picked from those by random choice!

If you have any more questions that aren't answered by the posts linked in our pinned post, please don't hesitate to reach out.

Most importantly, have fun! <3

And now, for the prompts:

Awake

"Your Turn"

Masquerade

Hunger/Hungry

"Then Go"

Throne

Vulnerable/Vulnerability

"Trust Me"

Tower

Tradition

"I'll be there."

Enough

Crowd

"It's You."

Rooftop

Pride

"Be Careful"

Underwater

Desperate Measures

"You Wouldn't"

Home

Sunlight

"Tell me."

Shipwreck

Nightfall

"I Promised"

Starting Over

Harvest

"Almost."

Library

Silhouette

"And the truth?"

Frozen

Feast

"Try Again."

New Year

[misc-obeyme]

unchained - chapter eleven

masterpost read the chapter on ao3

recommended music: All My Days by Alexi Murdoch word count: 2873

GN!MC x Arsenios [demon OC] a/n: The date chapter! We learn some things about Arrie in this chapter, too. I'm going to be posting a special smut scene that comes directly after this chapter in a couple of days and then chapter twelve will be next Wednesday as usual. Chapter twelve is the only chapter that Arrie isn't actually in, so please bear with me. It was needed for plot reasons! Warnings: none, this is the fluffiest and cheesiest chapter~

Arsenios watched the way your eyes lit up as you took in the view of the Devildom Botanical Garden. It was meticulously maintained - a stunning outdoor space overflowing with the most unique and beautiful flora the Devildom had to offer. Trees and flowers, even a lovely stream and a small waterfall, paths lined with twinkling lights like stars.

When Arsenios realized you had never gone on a real date with him, he had thought deeply about where to bring you. In the end, he had settled on the Devildom Botanical Garden. It was a peaceful place full of beauty and he thought you might appreciate seeing so much of the Devildom's nature in one place.

Arsenios couldn't deny that it was one of his favorite spots, too, and he wanted to share it with you.

You walked beside him on the garden path, stopping to read the various plaques detailing which flowers and trees were growing nearby.

Arsenios watched you fondly, the desire to reach out and take your hand making his fingertips tingle.

Every time you looked at him, every time you smiled, his chest twisted.

He wanted to be with you, to spend this time with you, to stay by your side. He wanted to kiss you again.

And yet, he could feel his own fear bubbling just below the surface of that heady crush.

Deep down, Arsenios knew he should leave you alone. He knew he shouldn't have invited you out this evening. He knew he should stop texting you. He should stop singing the song that filled his heart whenever he thought of you. Even though everything you did made him feel light, he was still tethered down by the anchor of danger and fear.

These thoughts were running through his head when you turned around and smiled at him, banishing everything but your face from his mind. He couldn't help but smile back at you.

Arsenios had been lingering behind you, arguing with himself about how close he should get. He stopped thinking about it when you fell into step beside him and took his hand yourself.

"You like flowers, don't you?" you asked.

Arsenios shrugged a little. "There are a lot of beautiful ones in the Devildom."

"I saw the fresh bouquets you had in your apartment," you said. "Though I thought one of them looked like peonies… do you have those in the Devildom?"

"No," he said. "There's a flower market near my place that sometimes sells human world flowers. They're expensive, so I only buy some if they have peonies."

You squeezed his hand briefly as the two of you continued to stroll through the garden. "You spent a lot of time in the human world, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Arsenios said. He ran his free hand through his hair. "Actually, it was humans who taught me the most about music."

"Really?" you asked, looking over at him. "But don't you have your own music in the Devildom?"

"Of course," Arsenios said. "But Devildom music has always been heavily influenced by human world music. And it's because of demons like me - making pacts in the human world and carrying some of the culture back with us. I learned to play different instruments from humans. I encountered different genres at human performances. I wouldn't be half the musician I am now if I didn't spend that time learning from humans, demonic power or no."

You seemed enraptured by what he was telling you. "Did you… did you ever feel bad about eating human souls?"

Arsenios stopped walking and turned to face you, dropping your hand in the process. He put his fingertips on your cheek. "If I said I didn't, would you be afraid?"

You snorted. "Not this again," you said. "It's just like that night when Caligo showed up. You think if you're just scary enough that you'll scare me away."

"Maybe there's a reason for that," he said.

"Tell me the truth," you said. "Tell me about all the terrible things you've done. I'll judge for myself if it's enough for me to walk away."

"Humans taught me so much," Arsenios said, keeping his eyes locked on yours. "They shared their culture with me. And I stole their souls. I ate some of them, yes. And others I sold. Many of them died early because of their pact with me. I didn't feel bad. I'm a demon. It's what we do. I made deals with countless humans, knowing it would kill them in the end, and then taking their souls for myself."

You reached up and took his hand away from your face, pulling it down and turning it to make his tattoo visible. "I know you don't want to talk about whatever happened to you. But is there anything else you can tell me? I feel like even if you talk for hours, I'll never know everything. Tell me something important."

Arsenios flexed his fingers against your hand. "Caligo has my grimoire."

It was the first time Arsenios ever said this out loud to someone else. Each word felt like a knot in his throat. An implication of something so much deeper, something that shattered him into a million tiny pieces.

You gasped a little and grabbed at his hand. "What! But that's so much stronger than a pact. Did you really trust him enough to give it to him?"

Arsenios sighed and closed his eyes, unable to look at you any longer. "It wasn't supposed to happen. I didn't mean to get close to him. We were working together and it was supposed to be strictly business."

"But?" you asked tentatively.

Arsenios opened his eyes again, forced himself to look at you. "But I'm an idiot, that's all."

You shook your head. "I don't understand. What do you mean, you were working together?"

"Caligo was doing something he shouldn't have been doing," Arsenios said. "When I made a pact with a human, he would use the pact mark it left on me to trace where their candle was located. He manipulated the candle and that ended their lives much faster. I was able to gather twice as many souls as I would have on my own. And I gave some of them to him. That was our deal."

"But he betrayed you…" you trailed off, obviously confused about this part of the story.

But Arsenios couldn't tell it to you. Not in full. "Yeah. By then I was in too deep. It wasn't… it was bad from the start. It never should have happened. I never should have agreed to even work with him."

Arsenios abruptly pulled his hand out of yours. "I'm sorry, MC. I didn't mean to bring everything down by talking about this. I brought you here because I wanted you to see how beautiful the Devildom can be."

"Don't apologize," you said. "I was the one who asked."

You took Arsenios's hand again and he let you. You resumed walking together, now in a slightly awkward silence.

The path wound around beds of flowers and stunning trees. At a point where the path crossed with another, there was a large wooden trellis that stretched over the crossroads. It was covered in vines and twinkling with lanterns, the Devildom stars mirroring the blinking lights above.

Arsenios stopped. He held both of your hands and looked into your eyes.

"I'm a demon," he said. "Unlike the brothers you spend so much time with, I've always been a demon. My reason for existing was to tempt humans. A lot of them have suffered because of me. But I've also learned from humans. I've shared love and friendship with them. They taught me their music. It's a duality I'm always going to carry inside me. I understand if you can't accept this about me. I'll understand if you decide to walk away."

Arsenios waited as you studied him. His stomach was twisted around itself. Not just thinking of Caligo and the betrayal, but knowing that he was giving you more than enough reason to cut him out of your life. Your song filled him, it sang through his limbs and vibrated through his veins. It would hurt to lose it, but he would rather feel that emptiness now than struggle with it later.

You sighed. "I don't care what you've done in the past," you said. "So you're a demon. You're also the one who sang me to sleep. You're the one who makes a point of trying a little angel's pastries. You play the piano like you're pouring out all of your love with every note. You love flowers and macarons. I don't care what you've done or what you've had to do. I like you."

Arsenios squeezed your hands. He felt the relief flood through him, his body relaxing, letting go of the tension he'd held since the two of you started talking.

Arsenios let go of your hands and cupped your cheeks. "MC, can I-"

"You don't have to ask," you interrupted.

Arsenios kissed you. All the bright flowers around the two of you seemed to disappear as Arsenios felt himself full of nothing but you. Your song filled his mind, his heart.

One hand moved to cradle the back of your head as you took a step closer to him, your bodies pressed against each other. His other arm encircled your waist, your own arms on his shoulders, the heat of your lips against his as they opened eagerly.

It was just as intense as the first kiss you'd shared in his apartment, perhaps even more so. Arsenios let it consume him and for a blissful moment, he imagined that this was all there was. That things could be this simple. He let your song block out everything except your touch.

-

You could have gone straight home. In fact, Arsenios had been prepared to escort you back to the House of Lamentation himself when the two of you left the garden. But you tugged on his hand, pulling him in a different direction.

"I'm not ready to go back yet," you said. "There's a new food stall down this street I've been wanting to try. Will you come with me?"

Arsenios couldn't have said no even if he wanted to. But he didn't want to. He wanted to stay by your side for as long as you'd let him.

"Lead the way," he said.

You started off down the street, guiding him along by the hand. He kept pace with you, staying beside you even as he followed you.

Arsenios watched your face, your expression focused as you looked for the food stall you had in mind. The lights of the city brightened your eyes and he couldn't stop thinking about the way you felt in his arms when he kissed you among the flowers.

He was reluctant to look away from you, but you had arrived at your destination.

It was a new crepe stall. Your excitement was evident from the way you grinned at him. You pointed out the items you wanted to try, telling him what you had heard about each one.

In the end, you both ordered the same thing. The way you talked about the stall's signature offering made him want to try it. They were crepes made with matcha from the human world covered in bloodberries and shadow oranges. It was a unique combination of flavors.

The two of you settled down on a bench to eat and you leaned into Arsenios as you took your first bite.

He had to hold in a laugh at the way your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

"Mm," you hummed. "This is delicious."

Arsenios smiled. "I didn't realize you could be so expressive about sweets. Have you ever made that face when you tried something Barbatos made? You'll give the guy ideas."

You rolled your eyes again, but this time in mock exasperation. You nudged Arsenios playfully. "Just try it!"

Arsenios did as he was told. It was quite good. He tried to school his expression.

You grinned at him. "See? It's good, right? And anyway, don't put Barbatos on your level. He would never get ideas like that."

Arsenios nearly choked. "He's not as prim and proper as you think he is," he said when he was able to speak again. "And what do you mean by my level?"

You finished another bite of crepes before replying. "You haven't been able to keep your eyes off of me since we left the garden," you said. Your voice was teasing, but there was a blush on your cheeks.

Arsenios felt a fluttering in his stomach. He almost laughed. It was such a sweet, tender feeling that he hadn't experienced in so many years, he didn't think he still could. And yet here you were, setting off butterflies he thought were long dead.

"Can you blame me?" Arsenios asked.

"Yeah," you said between mouthfuls. "I can. Quit staring!"

Arsenios finally laughed, unable to hold it back this time. He took your empty plate and left you sitting on the bench while he threw away the trash in a nearby can.

Then he came back and offered you his hand. "I think I could use a little tea after something so sweet. I have just the thing at home, if you don't mind staying with me a little longer."

You looked at his hand, then up into his eyes. He had to control his breathing, to prevent himself from sucking in a breath at the tumble of feelings he saw there. He waited.

You took his hand and let him pull you to your feet. He kept your fingers clasped in his as he walked home with you.

-

Arsenios moved behind the island counter of his kitchen, ready to start making you some tea. He was thinking about the last time you were here - the first time he had felt your lips against his.

You didn't sit at the counter like you had then. Instead, you leaned against it idly, your gaze on the back windows.

As Arsenios looked around for some mugs, he saw you moving out of the corner of his eye. He stopped what he was doing to watch you.

You crossed the room toward the piano, moving past it and stopping with your gaze fixed on the corner of the room.

"Is this a cat tower?" you asked.

There was in fact a dark grey cat tower in the corner you were looking at. Arsenios knew you hadn't seen it the last time you were here.

You didn't wait for his response, instead getting closer and peeking inside one of the cubbies. You let out a soft gasp and put your hands to your mouth.

Arsenios shook his head and went over to join you. Inside the compartment, a sleek black cat was curled up in an unusual position, her soft body moving slowly up and down in her slumber.

"Don't worry," Arsenios said. "She's a heavy sleeper. We won't disturb her."

"What's her name?" you asked.

"Flower of the Abyss," Arsenios said.

You frowned over at him.

He shrugged. "It's my favorite flower. I just call her Abby. Now, come on, did you want tea or not?"

Arsenios started to move back toward the kitchen, but you caught his hand.

"Did you really bring me home to serve me tea?" you asked.

Arsenios experienced a splitting of himself in that moment. As he looked into your eyes, all he wanted to do was kiss you, touch you - he wanted to make you his. And yet, something held him back. There was something else, small but strong, deep inside, that yelled at him to stop.

You didn't wait for him to resolve this inner conflict and he hoped you weren't even aware of it. You stepped closer to him, put your other hand on his chest.

"Arrie," you said.

And that was all it took. Hearing you say his nickname like that, so confidently and yet so gently all at once, completely crumbled the last of his resolve.

Arsenios wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close before kissing you. He felt you return the embrace as you opened your mouth for him, easily granting access.

If your previous kisses had been hot and heavy, this was a volcano. An explosion of feeling, a bursting of pent up energy, aflame like magma. Arsenios's skin was on fire, every piece of him singing for you. His song was like the high pitch of several violins, strings straining against the bows, mingling with the restless sound of your desire.

Arsenios pulled back from you and it was like moving a mountain. "MC," he said, his voice low and husky.

His hand was on your cheek, his thumb running along your bottom lip. He couldn't help touching you. He couldn't stop, even when he was trying to.

Arsenios caught the sight of his own tattoo and his hands throbbed. He tried not react, but he was sure you could see something in his eyes.

You didn't say anything. All you did was wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into another kiss.

masterpost | chapter ten | chapter eleven and a half

taglist: back to normal as I've been told how to tag so everybody actually gets tagged! so here I go: @avalordream @lonely-north-star @expressionless-fr @featheredcrowbones @pumpkinsareamazing

@szired @bagofwetmice

as always, please comment or dm me if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[actual-changeling]

Hi, you can call me Alex or whatever variation of my username you'd like. <3

I'm in my early twenties, use mainly they/them pronouns, and there is a lot wrong with my brain (both affectionately and in a decidedly not fun way). I have memory issues, so I can and will forget things, including replying to messages. You are ALWAYS invited to send me a reminder—please, please do, I will not be offended, pinky promise.

This blog is 90% fandom, 5% personal shit and 5% misc posts that I like. My DMs are open, so feel free to message me and interact however you like! Asks are tentatively being opened again. If there's something you want me to see, I don't mind getting tagged in posts either.

Please don't be an asshole. I'm incredibly bad at judging my own tone, so if I come across as overly intense or upset, chances are I am actually not—I'm just passionate about the things I enjoy.

Agatha all along is the lesbian dream plus Scully has also taken over my brain and body, and I don't think they will leave me alone ever again.

I will be tagging spoilers for any newly released shows and episodes. If there is something you would like me to tag spoilers for, just shoot me an ask or dm!

Currently following and tagging for:

Agatha All Along: alex watches agatha all along

The X Files: alex watches x files

Doctor Who: alex watches doctor who, dw spoilers

(PJO The Series: pjo spoilers) show is on hiatus

The Magnus Protocols: alex listens to tmagp, tmagp spoilers

I write fanfiction both here on tumblr and on ao3 under actualchangeling. Requests or ideas are fine, though I cannot make any promises.

Wanna chat with other people about good omens? I have a discord you can join, mostly angelfish focused but we talk about all our beloved idiots.

My other misc current active special interests are Doctor Who and Good Omens, but I dabble in a lot of other fandoms, too. Among those are Marvel/Iron Man, Lucifer, TLOU, The Magnus Archives, Welcome to Night Vale, Prospect (2018), and many more.

My tag system for original posts applies to all fandoms I am currently actively engaging with and follows the same patterns. I tag spoilers when I remember to for about a week, so consider this blog to be very much NOT spoiler free.

alex talks x -> meta, analysis, interpretation, or opinion posts

alex writes x -> either self-promotion or tumblr specific ficlets, without any fandom addition it's original writing of some kind

Any personal posts that are not fandom related are tagged as following; feel free to block them if you're just here for the fandom madness!! I really do not mind.

alex yells at the void -> misc personal stuff

alex gets personal -> potentially triggering discussions of my trauma or mental health, vent posts

Last but not least, the tag for my queue is I’ll follow queue anywhere you go. It's a TLOU reference for those who are curious.

[sickficideas]

Hiya! May I request sick Chuuya and the flags take care of him?

ANON !!! I FINALLY GOT A GOOD BIT INTO STORMBRINGER...i got WAYYY too attached oh my god i love them all so much. i hope you like this fic i had fun writing it!!!

just a dream || chuuya + the flags sickfic (+ skk)

ao3! 5k words, sickfic, stormbringer light novel spoilers - please refer to the link for additional tags!

"I'm comin' in. Hide your girlfriends."

Chuuya groans, holding a pillow over his head. It's far too early in the morning for this. The morning light hasn't even fully flooded his room yet. He’s not entirely sure how Albatross got into his apartment to begin with, but either way, he wasn’t invited.

"Or boyfriends! I don't discriminate. You know, me and D-"

"Stop! Stop, I don't wanna know," Chuuya exclaims, loud enough to drown out the rest of Albatross's sentence in case he decided to keep going. He had plans with Albatross this morning, he thinks. Something work-related that he can't quite place right now. But they were supposed to meet at work.

Chuuya got up at some point in the middle of the night to throw up. He hardly remembers it at all, but he just barely made it to the toilet. He remembers making a few texts about not being able to come into work this morning, and one of those texts apparently went to Albatross.

"Wake up! A hangover never stopped any of us," Albatross exclaims proudly, his voice suddenly sounding much closer. Chuuya's arms are weak, he doesn't have the energy to hold the pillow over his head, and he doesn't care enough to use his ability. Albatross takes the pillow and uncovers him, and clicks his tongue at the sight. "Oh, shit, kid. You really did it this time, huh?"

"I'm not hungover," Chuuya groans, reaching an arm back out for the pillow. Albatross hands it back, but only lets him tuck it against his chest. Chuuya holds it close to him with a weak groan.

"Could'a fooled me," Albatross jokes.

"I'm serious," Chuuya grumbles, letting his eyes travel up to Albatross's face. "It's - a cold, or something."

Albatross still looks suspicious, landing a hand on his hip. He leans forward and reaches for Chuuya's forehead with his free hand.

"Sheesh, kid. You're really runnin' a fever there," he says with a click of his tongue. He pushes his sunglasses up to the top of his head, giving Chuuya a rare glimpse at his eyes. He really wishes he’s put them back on. He doesn’t like how concerned he looks. "How long you been feelin' sick for, huh?"

"Just…just since last night," Chuuya murmurs, dropping his gaze. He doesn't see the point in lying to him. He doesn't even really remember feeling sick the night before, it really only hit him that time he woke up.

"You stayin' home today?" Albatross asks.

"Uh-huh," Chuuya murmurs. He only looks at him for a second but he can't handle the worry on his face. It doesn't look right. He's never seen him make that face. "Told everyone I needed to already."

"Good. Cause it'd be crap to work when you don't feel good," Albatross says, sounding relieved. "I'll call Doc for ya. I'm sure -"

"No, please - please don't," Chuuya murmurs. "Don't tell anyone."

Albatross tilts his head.

"I just…it's not a big deal. I'll be fine tomorrow," Chuuya huffs, turning his face into his pillow. He hopes Albatross will just leave Chuuya to sleep this off, but he's not sure he'll get too lucky this time. His body betrays him and forces out a few coughs that are muffled by the pillow. He can’t tell if that’s part of his illness or if he’s just starting to feel nauseous again.

"Alright, alright. I've gotta call someone if you don't get better, though, got it?" Albatross tells him. “Lemme get you some water. You gotta stay hydrated, kid.”

Albatross disappears from Chuuya’s bedroom, and Chuuya groans into his pillow before he turns his body around, facing away from the door.

He hears Albatross talking to himself in Chuuya’s kitchen, which isn’t unusual at all for him - the guy has a hard time keeping things to himself, no matter the content. Chuuya thinks he hears his name at some point, but now that he’s starting to wake up some more, he’s starting to feel nauseous again.

The saliva starts to pool in his mouth and he groans at the feeling, starting to panic just a bit. He doesn’t want Albatross to see him throw up. He doesn’t want anyone to see him sick at all, it’s humiliating enough as it is, but this would just make things so much worse.

He's swallowing saliva, something he can’t do much longer because he feels his stomach pushing up and trying to get something up his esophagus. He knows he's going to throw up, but he can't move. He's so sore and achy. He tries to force himself to sit up, but he can hardly keep himself propped up with his weak and shaky arms.

Chuuya's stomach lurches without time for him to better prepare and he feels something splash into the back of his throat. He gags, hard, all the muscles in his abdomen contracting to bring something up, a thin stream of pale, digested contents from his stomach. He groans, his free arm wrapped tight around his middle, eyes screwed shut. It hurts.

“Shit, Chuuya…” he hears from behind him. His stomach twists and he starts to breathe heavy, hoping that getting more air in will somehow quell his nausea, but it only makes it worst. He’s just a billion times more anxious now with someone watching him and now he can’t get anything else up. He wants to cry, but he can’t imagine doing that while he’s already puking.

"Just get it up, kid. Sheets are super easy to clean," he feels the mattress shift as Albatross climbs on next to him with a gentle hand on his back. "Don't breathe so hard. Breathe gentle and it'll come up."

He tries, he really does, taking deep, calculated breaths through his mouth, trying to not focus on the fact that he’s not alone right now. Just a few breaths later, a wave of Chuuya's partially undigested dinner comes pouring out of his mouth. Chuuya coughs and gags through it, eyes screwed shut.

“There ya go,” Albatross says.

He leans over the puddle that’s started to pool in his sheets, hoping that anything else will make an appearance quickly so he doesn’t have to struggle much longer. He burps a few times in some effort to get more up, and one particularly wet belch brings up another wave of pale vomit, followed by a pained whimper.

From there, his stomach calms down just a bit. He still feels nauseous, but not enough to puke again, at least for the time being. He doesn’t remember it hurting this much last night, but maybe he’s already sore from that incident.

He groans, wishing he could just melt into the mattress and disappear. He really doesn’t feel good. He’s glad his fevered middle-of-the-night brain made the right call and decided to not come to work.

"You're gonna have to let me call somebody to bring you some meds," Albatross says as he slides the soiled sheet off of Chuuya’s bed, clearing him to lie back down. "I don't have nothin’ and I doubt you do either."

"Fine," he murmurs quietly, curling in on himself and taking that same pillow from before to hold against his aching stomach. The pressure does help a little bit.

“You got extra comforters anywhere?” Albatross asks, and Chuuya barely manages to lift up an arm to point toward a closet at the corner of the room, where Albatross wastes no time in finding something to cover Chuuya with. He feels a shiver take over his body even after Albatross lays the comforter over him. The last thing he needs is to deal with the chills.

Evidently, though, throwing up tired him out so much that he starts to fall asleep before he can further agonize about his situation.

…

"Special delivery!" Chuuya hears. He doesn’t pay much attention to who it could be at first, but it’s not Albatross. It’s further away, far from his bedroom door. He groans, wishing he had stayed asleep. 

It's Pianoman's voice, he thinks. He starts to tense up at the realization that someone else is here now, and his stomach starts to cramp again. He's gotten used to Albatross seeing him ill, but now he's going to have to be okay with others, too.

He decides his best course of action is to pretend to be asleep, not that it will be too difficult. He’s starting to realize he feels worse than before. His stomach hurts from the nausea but the soreness too, and his head swims and spins at the slightest movement.

He hears their footsteps come closer. There’s a third set, too, so it’s not just Pianoman. He curls up tighter in the center of his bed with a pained groan, tucking his face back under a pillow. Go home, he wants to tell them. He’s fine. He just needs to sleep it off. He doesn’t want anyone’s help.

"I think he's asleep. I'll give it to him when he wakes up," Albatross says quietly right outside the bedroom door, and Chuuya sighs in relief, thinking he’s avoided a crisis for now.

He wonders what time it is. It seems Albatross has pulled down the blinds, so any sunlight to tell him the time of day is blocked out. He’s tempted to get up and see, or at least reach over to grab his cell phone, but he really doesn’t even have the energy to do that.

He lies still for a few moments, but with the way his stomach is turning, he’s not sure if he’ll be able to fall asleep any time soon. He’s hungry, but too nauseous to even think about food. That’s the worst kind of feeling.

"Hey. I know you're awake, Chuuya," Pianoman says, his voice suddenly beyond Chuuya’s bedroom door. His voice is gentle, not accusatory, so Chuuya doesn’t feel as anxious - but he still doesn’t want anyone to see him. "I think it'd be better if you took this medicine sooner rather than later with how you're feeling."

Chuuya doesn’t move. Maybe he can trick Pianoman, but he quickly realizes that’s a foolish thought. He couldn’t ever trick Pianoman.

He hears a plastic bag rustle, and Pianoman sits on Chuuya’s king mattress. “I have some nausea medicine for you too. Albatross told me your stomach’s been bothering you.”

Chuuya doesn’t like that Pianoman knows about that, but at this point, he would rather get his nausea under control than worry about his image. He begrudgingly turns over so that Pianoman knows he’s not hiding anymore. When their eyes meet, he watches Pianoman’s brow furrow.

“I know I look like shit,” Chuuya mumbles, surprised at how hoarse his voice sounds. He hasn’t been coughing all that much.

“I wonder how you caught this,” Pianoman says, taking three medicine bottles out and setting them down on Chuuya’s nightstand, along with two cups of water that he apparently brought with him. “Two of these are liquid, sorry. But they tend to work better, I’ve noticed.”

Chuuya doesn’t care much, as long as they’ll help. He forces himself up, and Pianoman reaches out an arm to help him - the touch makes Chuuya freeze up. “Relax. I’m just trying to help.”

Chuuya groans and lets him. Pianoman props up a few of his pillows at the headrest and helps Chuuya lean against that, that way he’s sitting up but still comfortable, and he’s grateful for Pianoman’s thoughtfulness, but he keeps his eyes low. He’s hoping that avoiding eye contact will make him forget about this faster.

“I feel like this one always gives me awful nightmares,” Pianoman says with a huff as he hands Chuuya a cup of medicine, which he takes like a shot with no issue. The taste is artificial fruit and bitter, but if he imagines it’s more like alcohol, it’s not as unbearable. "Do you get nightmares?"

"No," Chuuya murmurs. "I don't dream at all."

"I thought I heard you say that before. Might be a good thing, then. A lot of people get bad nightmares when they have fevers like you do, even without medicine," Pianoman says. "Lippmann does."

That seems like an intimate detail to know about someone, especially to share with others, but he doesn't say anything.

“We’ve all seen each other sick. You don’t need to hide from us,” Pianoman assures him. Chuuya realizes that’s the point he was trying to make, but he still can’t meet his gaze. He just takes the next cup of medicine and downs it, but this time, his stomach twists. This one tastes much worse. He thinks this one might make him vomit even if he wasn’t ill. He presses a hand up to his mouth and Pianoman is quick enough to recognize the situation - he’s holding a trash bin under Chuuya’s chin, allowing him to choke up the medicine he just swallowed, that never had a chance of staying down at all.

His stomach still tries to get more up, even though he’s sure that the only thing left in his system was the medicine he just swallowed. The way his abdominal muscles squeeze together against his sore stomach hurts so much he can hardly take it. He’s ashamed. He’s dealt with injuries far worse than a little stomachache, but this hurts so bad that tears prick at his eyes.

"It's okay. I know it hurts," he tells him gently, tucking Chuuya’s hair behind his ears as it threatens to get caught in the saliva that’s starting to form strings from his mouth. "You don't have to hold back your tears for any of us, Chuuya."

“But, I…” he starts, cut off by a pained groan. He spits up the salvia that’s gathered in his mouth.

“I know. Your whole body’s sensitive right now ‘cause of that fever you’re running. And throwing up with nothing in your stomach hurts. Trust me, I know,” Pianoman tells him. “I don’t blame you at all.”

Chuuya lets his tears fall, and he whimpers from the pain he’s in.

He seems to only get worse from there. He doesn’t have enough energy to hold himself up properly anymore, even with the propped-up pillows, so once he thinks he’s done gagging, Pianoman helps him lie back down. He can’t stop his tears, they darken spots on his pillow. He feels so sick. He wishes he could just fall asleep again. He doesn’t want anyone to see him.

He quickly finds out Lippman was the third person who entered his apartment, and the concern taking over his face as soon as he sees Chuuya from the doorway is too much for him to handle. He can’t imagine how awful he must look, especially now that he’s been crying. He’s so pathetic.

“Albatross, that’s far too wet to put on his forehead. You need to wring some of that water out,” he hears Lippmann say after Chuuya stuffs his face back into a pillow to avoid being seen. “Here, let me see it.”

“Always stealin’ my thunder, huh, Lippmann…” Albatross says, clicking his tongue.

“This isn’t thunder. This is a monsoon,” he says, supposedly waving the soaked cloth around.

Soon enough, he feels a hand gently turn his head so he’s looking at the ceiling, and Lippmann lays a cool, folded washcloth over Chuuya’s forehead. It feels incredible. For just a second, he feels like he’s cured, but of course, it’s never that easy. He lets his eyes fall shut and tries to take the opportunity to relax.

Lippmann smooths down Chuuya's hair, something he would normally be greatly opposed to but it feels nice. Lippmann's hands are always ice cold. He thinks Lippmann is sitting beside him on the bed, which for some reason, he’s not opposed to. He’s trying to relax. Every breath makes him more sore. He groans from the pain and turns his head to the side, only to be turned back up by Lippmann.

"I called Doc. He should be on his way soon," Pianoman says as he enters the room. Chuuya didn’t even realize he was gone. "Definitely wouldn't hurt to get some IV fluids in you. I'm sure you're dehydrated."

"Poor thing," Lippman says with a sigh, a hand of his on Chuuya’s clammy cheek. "Let me see a thermometer, Piano. He feels much warmer."

“I couldn’t find one earlier,” Pianoman says. “I told Albatross to go look at his place. Let me go make sure he still remembers what I asked him to do.”

Pianoman disappears again too, but Lippmann stays, still smoothing down Chuuya’s hair. He tries to shift himself onto his side to get more comfortable, and he realizes just how much sweat is covering his body. The hair framing his face feels like it’s stuck to his skin.

Chuuya hears his phone buzz in the nightstand. It’s a buzz different from the normal notifications, because it’s Dazai. That son of a bitch gets his own special one.

“Lippmann?” Chuuya croaks, his eyes barely about to make it up to his face. “Can you…can you hand me my phone?”

“Of course. In the nightstand here?” Lippmann confirms and Chuuya manages a nod. He gently hands him the phone.

Chuuya’s eyes take a few seconds longer than normal to adjust to its brightness, and Lippmann briefly leans over to turn it down for him while he’s still getting used to it. He groans when he sees the message on the screen, and he replies almost right away without thinking much of it.

He sees Dazai open the message, but to his surprise, he doesn’t get a reply. He groans. Why on earth would Dazai message him anyway? Why does it matter to him where he is?

“Is this the Boss’s kid you’re texting?” Lippmann asks, his head tilted. Lippmann knows that Dazai isn’t actually Mori’s son, but that's what the Flags call Dazai.

Chuuya just groans and nods. He closes his phone for a moment. Half of him just wants to block Dazai’s number, even though in his defense, he’s just asking a rather innocent question.

“I saw him very early this morning on my way to meet with the Boss. He asked me where you were. That was before Albatross called us,” Lippmann says. “It doesn’t hurt to tell him. Maybe that way he won’t bother you, if that’s what you want.”

Chuuya huffs. He’s not sure how he feels about Lippmann’s claim that Dazai would ask where he is. Would he even really care? Chuuya doesn’t think so, but it’s strange that Dazai would ask Lippmann that, and even directly text Chuuya on top of it.

He groans again, long and annoyed, before he opens his phone to send another message.

He lets his phone slip from his hands, and Lippmann takes it and puts it back in the drawer for him - and it’s not long until he hears the others come back too.

Chuuya really doesn’t feel well.

He can’t rely much on his senses at the moment. He feels himself cough every now and then, but it almost feels numb, like his body forces him to do it. The last thing he can clearly hear from any of them is his temperature - a hundred and three point one, only because Lippmann makes it a point to make sure Chuuya can hear him. Chuuya never measured his fever to begin with, but he know it wasn’t that high. That’s not good.

It feels as if he only shuts his eyes for a moment, but when he opens them again, Doc has entered his field of vision. It looks like he’s talking to someone else, but he can't hear anything.

He feels someone tugging on his arm, and another smoothing down his hair. He’s not entirely sure what’s going on. He feels his chest tighten up and he wants to get away. His body tenses up and he’s waiting for Doc to leave an opening for Chuuya to get away, but he doesn’t. He turns his head and makes eye contact with Chuuya, and smiles. Doc kind of has a creepy smile, and it’s difficult to tell if it’s genuine most of the time, but Chuuya finds this one reassuring. He relaxes.

No one here is going to hurt him. He’s safe with them.

…

When Chuuya wakes up again, he feels like a new person.

His ears feel clear. He can hear the mattress when he shifts his weight, something he would never imagine being grateful to hear. He hears someone else breathing, and somehow, he has the energy to push himself up.

Doc is leaned against the wall in a chair from Chuuya’s kitchen. Reading from some impossibly large textbook that Chuuya almost thinks must be too heavy for his frail arms, he doesn’t notice Chuuya’s movements, or he at least doesn’t acknowledge them.

Chuuya sneaks a hand into the drawer beside his nightstand to fish out his phone to check the time, and he sees a message from Dazai.

Chuuya wasn't expecting a sort-of-nice message from him. He almost thinks for a moment this isn’t really Dazai, but he’s distracted by movement from Doc.

“Heheh…good morning, Chuuya,” he says, lowering the textbook down to the floor. Chuuya knows it’s not really morning, now, his phone said something close to seven in the evening, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Doc was being serious. He doesn’t strike him as the kind of guy to have a good sleep schedule.

Doc stands up and drags the chair behind him over to Chuuya’s bedside, and Chuuya moves closer to the edge, assuming Doc’s intention is to check him over. Chuuya doesn’t want to make him stand, he knows he can’t do that for very long. Chuuya’s eyes follow Doc’s IV line up to a pole that’s standing beside Chuuya’s bed, with an extra bag of fluids on a line extending down to Chuuya’s forearm.

“We’re matching,” Doc says with his usual off-putting smile, meeting Chuuya’s gaze. Chuuya’s never asked him why he always has that thing, but maybe he’s more content with not knowing.

“Guess that thing’s kinda handy,” Chuuya says as he lays back. His voice is still pretty hoarse. He tries to clear it, and Doc offers him a glass of water that’s been on his nightstand. He starts to wonder where the others have run off to, and the door opens, revealing the missing Flag.

"You look a little better now," Iceman says to him as he walks over. Doc doesn’t turn his head, so Chuuya assumes he’s known that Iceman has been here. "Compared to what I saw when I got here."

"Where is everyone?" Chuuya asks before Doc slides a thermometer under his tongue.

"Passed out in your living room,” Iceman says bluntly.

“Albatross sent us all a photo of Lippmann and Pianoman sleeping together, heh,” Doc recalls with an amused grin before he takes the thermometer back.

“In my apartment? Ew,” Chuuya groans. “What’s it say?”

Doc had already laid the thermometer down on the table, and he leans over to refer back to it to answer Chuuya’s question. “One hundred point seven. Much better than earlier.”

Chuuya’s relieved to hear that. He was really worrying this was something he was going to be suffering from all weak, but Doc seems to have worked his magic on him. Chuuya wished he had given in to calling him over sooner.

“We already notified everyone who needed to know that you’ll be off tomorrow, too.” Iceman tells him, wandering over to the window to open up the blinds and let some of the evening light in. Another one had already been opened up.

“Tomorrow? No way, I’ll be fine by then,” Chuuya grumbles, looking over to Doc for backup.

“I don’t recommend it. Unless you’re fond of fainting on the job,” Doc says, shrugging his shoulders.

“Just one extra day to get your energy back. You’ll live,” Iceman says. “You should take any days off you can get, Chuuya. Take it from us.”

Maybe if they’re all here, it won’t be so bad.

“I’m putting an injection into your fluid line here…might make you tired…” Doc says, pushing a syringe full of a clear substance into the line, and Chuuya feels the effects almost right away.

“Just don’t go anywhere…” Chuuya murmurs as his eyes start to fall shut. His mouth betrayed him by admitting thoughts he didn’t want to share with the room, but he sees faint smiles from both of them before he loses his battle with the drowsiness.

…

"You finally up?"

Chuuya wasn't expecting to hear Dazai's voice.

He forces himself to sit up, and he's in a different bedroom. He’s done so far too quickly, it seems, because his head swims and tilts his world sideways so much that he nearly faints, but he forces himself to stay upright on the bed.

Dazai is standing right at the end of it. He looks perplexed, and Chuuya can’t figure out why, but Chuuya’s even more confused. Dazai looks different. His eyes don't look so dark. He looks taller, somehow. He’s not wearing his usual getup. He’s wearing a bolo tie. Why the hell is he wearing a bolo tie?

"Where's…" Chuuya murmurs. He can’t quite remember what he was going to say.

"Where's who? It's just me here," Dazai says, the confusion in his eyes only deepening as he makes his way over to the side of the bed.

Chuuya's stomach drops. He doesn't understand what's going on.

"Hey, hey. What are you so worked up about?" Dazai asks him, and the tiny hint of concern in his nonchalant attitude is freaking him out. Dazai hadn’t texted him that he was coming over. Why is he here? Why would he show up?

"I was just…I just, um…" Chuuya starts mumbling as he scrambles to get to the edge of the bed he’s on, "they were all here. You were at…they…"

"Bad dream?" Dazai says, a hesitant hand reaching out towards Chuuya’s. That’s not like him. Why is he so confused?

"What…?" Chuuya starts, just then registering Dazai’s words. That's not possible. Chuuya doesn't dream. He's never had a dream. Chuuya swings his legs over the edge of the bed and stands up despite his head’s protests, and he’s relieved to see Doc’s face, back where he was, leaned against the wall.

But he hears blood dripping.

And when he lowers his gaze, just a bit, it seems his brain omitted the fact that the lower half of Doc’s body is missing. There’s nothing below his torso, nothing but a growing pool of blood.

Chuuya screams.

…

"You blacked out on me again," Dazai says. His voice is gentle, as Chuuya wakes up again, once again in a different room. It feels more familiar this time. He’s in a living room, and he thinks it’s his. “Your fever’s worse. I took you out here, it’s kinda warm in your bedroom.”

"Sorry," he mumbles. He can't muster up energy for much else. His body aches. He looks for any signs of the Flags. The IV pole. Lippmann’s hand on his forehead. The medication Pianoman brought home for him. None of it is there.

Was any of that real? Was he hallucinating? It’s happened before, when he gets high fevers, but this one felt so real. It was almost like he just experienced it, in real life, and then suddenly he fell asleep for several years - and now he’s back in the present.

Was it a dream?

"I wanna go ride," Chuuya murmurs. Dazai’s hand is on his cheek. He pulls it away and sits back on the coffee table, that same look of confusion taking over his face again.

"Your bike?" Dazai asks.

"Uh-huh," he says.

"No-can-do, buddy. You can barely stand up," Dazai reminds him with a half-smile, hints of concern still visible.

Chuuya’s head turns in his direction. His chest feels tight. "'S not my bike."

Dazai still looks confused. "Yeah?"

"'S Albatross's bike," Chuuya barely manages. He still feels his cold hand in his. He knows they’re all dead, it’s beyond him why he thought just a few moments ago that they were all still in his apartment. It takes everything in Chuuya to keep himself together.

"I know, Chuuya." Dazai murmurs, his expression falling. “What’s up with you today?”

Chuuya’s eyes start to flood with tears, only furthering Dazai’s concern. He kneels beside the couch and Chuuya tries to sit himself up, only melting into Dazai’s arms in his attempt to get up. Everything hurts. He doesn’t know why he’s so overcome with emotion. Maybe he’s just sensitive right now because of his apparent illness, but the feelings he holds are real.

Dazai’s trying to comfort him, but Chuuya can’t hear his words. He holds him close. It’s incredibly rare for him to be so sympathetic. He must know something isn’t quite right with Chuuya right now.

If it really was a dream, he wants nothing more than to go back.

…

“We can go visit their graves when you feel better. If you want to,” Dazai offers, sort of out of nowhere. Chuuya’s been silently curled up in his bed for a few hours. Dazai offering him water and bites of food he can hardly stomach every now and then, making sure he takes medication.

“It’s raining,” Chuuya murmurs. He’s mindlessly scrolling through old messages from his friends, on a cellphone he hasn’t touched since they were killed. His heart hurts. He doesn’t have the will to get up.

“Hopefully it stops once you’re up for it,” Dazai says, reaching forward to brush some of Chuuya’s unruly bangs from his eyes.

Chuuya sees a rare photo in their message thread. A picture of Lippmann and Pianoman sleeping together on his old couch from an apartment he used to live in, followed by them in the same position, but this time, in selfie form courtesy of Albatross. It’s a photo that feels familiar, but he can’t remember why. Maybe they were drunk. Maybe he never came across this photo until now. But for some reason, it’s comforting to see.

“Yeah,” Chuuya mumbles, his eyes floating up to Dazai. “Let’s go.”

“Alright. Just let me know whenever you’re up for it,” Dazai tells him.

Chuuya’s still staring at the photo.

[laceyamethyst]

HELLO i am crash-landing in your inbox to declare that have ✨ BIG FEELINGS ✨ about the 2nd chapter of “he built a fire” and that i might leave an uber long comment on ao3 about all the big and small bits i absolutely loved if that’s ok, but if you’d rather i sent them here please let me know!! i stayed up last night to read it instead of going to bed early for work (and read it again anyway over breakfast, i am late, whoops 😬)

i just wanted to share/ask before i forgot

- i was kinda bummed you unalived i mean fired Brian off camera so easily, i wanted him to try reprimanding Oscar for his hilarious, politely sassy - but very public - comments during the Qatar GP and for Lando to come swooping to his defence 🫣 idea? maybe a leftover Brian Lackey? we all know Lando would throw hands the first chance he gets to defend Oscar

- also, imagine the Mexican GP in this universe - more importantly, the 5 F2 rookies driving in FP1 and your lore about how F2 drivers all look up to Oscar? Fred would be normal about it but imagine just 4 wide-eyed eager puppies following Oscar around and Lando just going full caveman banging pots and pans hollering in the town square declaring “THAT ONE MINE NO TOUCHY” in the background while Oscar’s just ☺️ ‘it’s really great to have them here’

- i was done with those two points but then i remembered Oscar inviting Lewis to an RC-car race after his win in Suzuka and I just 🤯 ??? Lewis IRL is so hugely supportive of the LGBTQI+, I just can’t help imagine how he’d fit in the Mission universe (accidental reluctant relationship guru? ‘don’t make the same mistakes i did?’)

thank you for your consideration i will now go back to floating on cloud nine after chapter two 💗 have a spectacular week, you deserve it after making mine so awesome ❤️

oh my goodness, this was just... the nicest most wholesome wonderful thing to wake up to?!? thank you SO much, you have no idea how happy it makes me that you enjoyed the fic 🥺

firstly, i would absolutely love to hear any and all thoughts you have about that chapter because it fills me with so much joy to see which parts of my fics readers like most (and it also helps me decide what plot points to focus on next)! so please feel free to comment away on here or on ao3, and never ever worry about it being too long

and secondly, serious question: are you in my brain?! because, listen:

let me tell you how i had a whole dramatic ass scene planned involving a very public takedown of brian courtesy of one (1) lando norris, but i had to cut it out bc the chapter length was getting out of hand 😭. i adore your idea of oscar's qatar comments getting him in trouble and lando jumping to his defense (on live TV, perhaps? ahem)

oh please the rookies hero-worshipping oscar at the mexican gp and lando having absolutely None of it? that image is sending me

ok yeah you absolutely are in my brain because how did you know i had a whole scene planned where lewis talked to oscar after the race (bc he of course crashed into him in monza), firstly to apologize but when he realizes osc and lando just fought he was going to be all 'don't you dare let racing tear you apart you will regret it forever *cough* i still love nico *cough*.' but yes i love lewis and im trying to work him into a future mission fic!

i'm sorry for this very long and unhinged response, i'm truly vibing with these ideas and am super appreciative of you taking the time to share them with me 🧡

[thatsmutaccount]

Hello there, and welcome, to a ~world of pure smut~!

Let me introduce myself: I'm an author on ao3 known as ThatSmutAccount, same as here, and, as you can imagine, I mainly write r18 stories where male adults do the dirty with each others.

The stories that I write are originals, so no fandom things for now, and also a lot of stuff may be considered comships or darkship, so a bit problematic for most. I will not get too much into detail but I invite you to read the tags on my works on ao3 or the first chapters of my longs, were I discuss what I do and don't write.

English is not my first language so excuse me for any kind of mistake.

I decided to be active here because I wanted to be more in contact with the people that read my stories and to make them more interactive, with things like polls or accepting requests (because apparently you can't do it on ao3 and there are a lot of people who likes to ruin the fun of others now, so I don't want to take any risks).

This first post has the task to introduce me and my works and what I write, I will repost my old chapters in the next days, and once done we will see.

Again: the content present on this account is for adults only! My stories are all smut and depict explicit sexual relationships between adult men. Please be careful and, if you are a minor, please go away, thank you!!!

Down here I will leave you with a brief list of my main stories and what they are all about:

"Rex new, exciting, happy life (as the town favorite cockslut)"; is my first and main story, a long/One-shot collection that focus a lot on the theme of like "free use" and "dom/sub dynamics"; its main character, Rex Brynn, is a young man that went from being a total jerk to a sorta "good guy" that now helps the other men in the city with their day to day problems. This story also has Rex having affairs with other members of his family, so if this bothers you don't read,

SUMMARY: We follow the life of Rex Brynn as he has evolved from a homophobic, misogynistic asshole with no friends and a bad relationship with his family to becoming the new cockslut for the whole town, and we also take a look at some of his day-to-day adventures as he goes in search of any male being willing to give him what he so desperately craves.

"Logan the himbo: college life"; my second story, a one-shot collection that deals with the himbo archetype; the main character is Logan Park, a himbo through and through, big of heart and dumb of ass that just naturally ends up in sexual situations with other men, both as a top and as a bottom. This story has its own vibe, where it tries to be both sexy and funny, so it may take a bit for me to update it because I'm trying to nail the right amonut of smut and silly, but if you want a feel good story this one is for you

SUMMARY: Logan covers all the points that can define him as a himbo: good looks; beefy; heart of gold; and a stupidity bordering on the incredible. Taking these things into account, then, it is not surprising that Logan has his fair share of admirers, some of whom are more interested in his certain specific ... "attributes" than anything else. The problem is that Logan is also naive and confident enough in his fellow men that by now everyone knows that all it takes is the right words to get this giant teddy bear to do what is asked of him. At least Logan seems happy.

"When the cat's away, the mice will play", a collection of missing moments or "what if?"s linked with Rex's story, that basically explores the relationships between the other characters that aren't Rex with each others and the sex they have together; if you like the secondary characters and want to known more about them this story is for you. Important: this story is Requests driven, forn now they are suspended but soon I will open them again, so keep an eye out 👀

SUMMARY: The place to find requests about all the characters in Rex's life and their relationships with each other without having our favorite cockslut in the way. If you want to make inquiries or there are characters you would like to know more about comment and you will be given. Leave kudos, comments and pass the word around, it is time to explore properly the world around Rex.

"All my bullies' stories" is a collection I'm planning on doing, for now only the first story "All my bullies' dads" is out, but I'm working on the next ones; it's a story were a nerd, Alex, who is bullied is actually screwing all the dads of his bullies' without them knowing, or it's more accurate to say that the bullies' dads basically saw him, saw his shaft and went "I want you carnally" and throw themselves at him without Alex understanding what is going on. Next chapters will go deeper down this line and I will talk about them soon.

SUMMARY (for now only of the first story): Or, alternatively, stressed fathers going through a different kind of midlife crisis with the help of a pathetic nerdy boyfailure. Featuring: five oblivious bullies; five family fathers more adventurous and depraved than you'd think; and a shy nerd with a dick that shouldn't be that big. Coming soon to a theater near you.

So yeah, this are my stories. If you find them and you liked what you read don't have any problem leaving kudos and/or comments, and also of you want you can try to contact me here, I'm always happy talking with people that like my stuff ☺️

I'm leaving the link to my main ao3 profile page so don't have any problem visiting it.

That being said, stay safe and be happy, see ya, dudes!!!!

[chordsykat]

I'm not defending the anonymous person, but maybe it would be easier to take the criticism that they didn't get their fanart done because your art is good and worth getting. The comics you draw are pretty close in feel to the show and it's alot like having an expanded universe, so people want to get art from you just like they'd want their character to show up in the cartoon. That's my two cents.

I almost didin't answer this one because I'm getting fucking tired of concerns about my character over my decision to draw some fucking free fan art every now and again, but two things up front:

I think it gives a good foundation to address a broader topic.

I appreciate your asking it with your account attached. Thank you for that, and I invite you to DM me if my response is something you feel you want further discussion on.

That said, and please don't take this as a personal attack: I disagree with your assessment on how I should take the wants and desires of my fellow fans (and again, I reiterate -- I am a fan like everyone else, here) with every fibre of my being. I've been an artist, writer, animator and developer with enough published and public work to my name to garner my fair share of fan interaction through the years, and "taking criticism" as you are writing about here, is different from being expected to cater to every request from every person every time without fail. Especially when I'm not the actual creator of the source-content and when it comes to the things I share on this blog and the Dethkomic blog, I am sincerely, honestly, truly, just some fucking guy at the end of the day.

I've said it before as a joke, for all the questions I get, but maybe I should also make it perfectly clear in a more serious tone:

I am not Brendon Small.

I'm really not. And if I was, in what universe would it be okay for folks to come on my blog and get mad that they didn't get a chance to have an idea heard because I simply didn't have time to take every request I got? How does the idea that I'm the one producing your favorite show somehow correlate to a built-in expectation that I should cater to the wants, desires, and wishes of everyone who enjoys the thing I'm making?

See how ridiculous that sounds? You can't stick a "well, you're practically making official content" label on me and then feel okay about holding me to a higher standard than you would the people making the actual show. Or, Jesus Christ, I hope you don't think holding the creators of your media (who are people, by the way) to such standards is okay.

For a while now, this has gone beyond the ask that went down, yesterday, which, in retrospect, I probably never should have even answered. I get a lot of troll messages on here, and I usually just trash them. But if you want to know what Dethkomic's greatest hits of troll commentary looks like, the breakdown is something like this:

"I think you should write (some character, some fan creation, some wholly different story) along with/instead of the thing you are writing about."

"I don't think you should have fan-characters at the center of the story like you do."

"I think (canon character) actually acts this way and I don't like it when you write them the way you do."

"(this character) is my baby and I hate (this character) for looking at them."

All of it, and I mean all of it, is usually presented in the same way. That Dethkomic is a work the troll enjoys reading, but... (insert grievance here). To anyone who has sent an ask like this, please consider the alternative: Write your own story. Because this is the one I'm choosing to tell. Dethkomic is fanfiction and won't be affecting the canon any more than anything you come up with will.

So, back to your original point, OP -- if I draw art of your character, or put them in my comics, or give a kudo on AO3, or nod in approval to a character you come up with, or reblog art you did, it does not canonize those things any more than me writing and sharing my own works does. It's fan content. It's all fan content. I'm glad you like my stuff and I'm flattered to hear you feel like it's semi-official, but it is you putting it in that space. I don't suddenly get a production team, thousands of artists, and a big payday from the networks because you think my stuff is good enough to warrant it, so please don't expect me to suddenly be okay with handing public relations the same way I would if I suddenly had all of that.

And this is the last statement I'm going to be making on yesterday's situation. I think too, I'll be taking a little hiatus from Tumblr until the next 'komic update on Tuesday.

Sorry for being quiet in the coming days, but I'm presently exhausted.

[minecraftgender]

Hiiiii I'm Ryley but you can also call me Noct or Mr. Gender. I'm 25, t4t gay, transmasc, and a polyfragmented system with adhd and probably autism. If someone wants it to be known that they're posting they'll (probably) tag the post with [name]posting. (i.e. robinposting or jaseposting) If you want my NSFW blog, ask off anon please. COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN!! :D I also have a Community™️ for my fanfic series Heroverse! Here's an invite link if you're interested! More general info under the cut!

I don't tend to tag stuff bc I have the worst adhd ever, sorry about that. I do tag my stories so I can find them and have [name]core tags for posts I think are about my blorbos. If I think something could be upsetting I try to preemptively tag it but again, I am gods most forgetful soldier. I have a DNI but I just block at my own discretion, so don't bother reading it. If i don't want you here I'll block you. I also try to keep this blog as discourse/politics free as I can because I have irl outlets for that stuff and I'm just here for a good time.

I'm into a lot of stuff but my main interests rn are Subnautica, Splatoon, Prototype, Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss, Supernatural, and sometimes JJBA. I have a half-dead jojo blog that gets posts occasionally.

If you like fanfiction, I have an AO3 where I upload semi-regularly. My main story and focus right now is So Much For Stardust, a continuation of You Don't Have To Be A Hero. I also wrote a really absurd spn/jjba/skyrim crossover that I plan to rewrite... eventually. I ALSO have some Splatoon fics but no big story for those, since that world is really complex and mostly shared with my boyfriend. I'm happy to chat about my agents though, so feel free to ask questions! I also have AUs of Subnautica, feel free to ask about those too! Here is my OC blog for stuff about my OCs.

I have playlists for a few things: Heroverse, Alyou (Robin × Al-an), Alex Mercer, Marinacht (Marina x Acht), and I'll Follow You (the spn/jjba/skyrim fic). Here's my main playlist and AL-AN'S (one of our fictives) personal one!

[deevotee]

You can call me Devo!

I try not engage in discourse of any kind usually, though I may rant or ramble about things that bother me from time to time. This blog is 18+ and will have NSFW posts mixed in with the SFW ones.

My main fandoms are Kuroshitsuji, Soul Eater, and Merlin for the moment, but there will be other things mixed into this blog! If you want to find the other fandoms I'm in (Yugioh, DC, etc) then please go to my carrd for the rest of the links ^-^

NOTE: I block very freely. I am generally not the type the undo blocks, though may rarely, but I will not answer questions as to why I blocked someone. That is a can of worms that invites drama and I am not here for it. If you send me asks/messages trying to get me to tell you why I blocked someone I will take that to mean that you want to start drama and will block you as well.

I may be slow at responses - I have social anxiety and adhd so I tend to both freak out and forget that I have things to respond to. Again, nothing personal at all! I love getting responses from people still!

I have lots of links so you can find them all here! ◈ AO3: Here

Main ships/content:

My main ships and fav characters for Kuro are Ciel/Finny and Sebastian/Bard but I multiship a lot so expect lots of different stuff

I do ship Cielcest and Midfordcest so sometimes there will be content of them, I try to tag appropriately so people can mute the stuff they don't want to see (I don't ship Sebaciel any more but I'm super supportive of people who do! <3)

My main ship for Soul Eater is SoulMaka, and the main ships for Merlin are Mergwen, Merwaine, Merleon, and Merdred. Again, I multiship a lot though

I like to create a lot of different content, you can find my tags for things I've made below ↓

General Post Tag | Fandom Memes | Headcanons/Rambles Gifs/Photosets | Edits/AMV's | Manga Caps | Videos

Black (Butler) Label Line Stickers

Fanfic's and Drabbles others have written

Kuro + More Resource Drive!

Feel free to tag me in any Finny and Cielinny content you come across! I never get enough of either ♡

[writerben01]

About A03 etiquette

So, I got a comment I thought was rude, and then spent a bit of time explaining why that is. And then it turned into 1000 words, which is long enough that I thought I'd share it for the whole class.

Below in image and transcript for convenience:

Comment:

Honestly, him hearing all that and still thinking he has to impress these garbage people is killing my interest in him as the MC. Combined with the sheer length between chapters and I can already see you dropping this work before he ever actually gets past this pathetic behavior. He has near limitless power but refuses to use it for himself but for 'parents' that treat him like roadkill.

My response:

This is kind of a rude comment. If you do keep reading, please pay more attention to the way you word your comments in the future or I may be forced to remove them. I'm not interested in a character that's been brainwashed his whole life to believe one thing and suddenly doing a 180 when the one person they've been allowed to view as an ally turns against them. I'm not interested in going from zero to complete power fantasy without all the steps in between.

Their response:

Not what I meant and I think you know that. I'm talking about how he's still entirely delusional after being outright told she wanted to kill him, thinking he should have just waited longer instead of that being an actual wake up moment, you kept in delusional. Also, I used zero swear words and said nothing rude, I just pointed out that this style of writing almost always gets dropped before the author actually gives the audience the pay of. You as an author have a limited window to gain and keep reader attention in our online age, you have to balance out the chapters being as satisfying as the wait indicates and I'm not feeling that with your MC. Take the criticism and use it to prove me wrong or just ignore it as 'rude', your choice.

My response

Okay, I'm going to assume good faith on your part so I'll explain further. There are multiple ways to let your thoughts known about a fanfic. There are bookmarks which can contain public reviews, there are posts on your own fanblog/discord/reddit posts that can spark discussion in public forums of your own community. The comment section of AO3 is usually seen as equivalent to fanmail (and that's how I'm treating it). A large part of that is the view that if you don't have anything nice to say about a fanfic, you don't say anything at all.

I would like to ask you to read your original comment again and imagine this from my perspective. I've spent somewhere between 10-20 hours writing this chapter, doing research and taking the effort to publish it online in proper formatting. This is free labour that I'm doing for my own enjoyment and I'm sharing it because I assume there are people like me out there who would find enjoyment in reading it. When I get to post another chapter, I'm excited and the only thing I'm hoping for in exchange is comments that will give me renewed energy and excitement to keep writing.

Do you think your comment achieved that effect?

The content of your comment reads to me as:

you think the way I'm writing my MC isn't interesting

you think I'm updating too slowly

you do not believe I'll keep working on this fanfic

you are frustrated with the choices the MC makes.

Being honest and vulnerable here, this comment hurts me. Criticism can hurt sometimes and that would be a me-problem. But I feel that this passes beyond subjectively hurtful into rudeness. It lacks any gratitude or introduction(That is, writing a letter without 'Dear X' is rude; writing a comment without some 'thanks' is rude too), and it lacks anything positive to counterbalance the criticism which is also considered rude. I don't feel like it invites me to explain and excitingly talk about my choices in writing this chapter, or what I've got in store. It makes me feel like I need to defend myself. And that does not spark joy.

Actually, let me just rewrite the comment into a form that's non-rude for comparison: "Thanks for the update! I mostly enjoyed it (especially the fight against Anko) but, honestly, him hearing all that and still thinking he has to impress these garbage people is making me lose my interest in him as the MC. And I have to admit I'm a little worried about whether this behaviour will be fixed while you're still working and publishing this story. It's so frustrating that he has near limitless power but refuses to use it for himself but for 'parents' that treat him like roadkill. What are your plans to make him take control of his own life?"

I don't mean to harp on, but I was hurt by your first comment, and you seemed hurt from me telling you I experienced it as rude, so I'm hoping this all explains where I'm coming from.

I'm happy to write and share my stories, and I'm happy to hear and respond to questions and criticism. But I do set certain boundaries. If you want me to respond to your comments (and maybe even change the story to accommodate your preferences; I do that for commenters all the time), you can't just leave a comment listing what you disliked and what you're worried about. When you do that, it makes me feel like a content machine getting feedback for the next iteration of content I'm spewing. That's what I mean when I say your comment is rude. You're fully entitled to have your opinions on my writing, but you need to follow basic etiquette if you want me to read and engage with it (and as warned, not having your comment deleted).

I get after all this you may not be interested in the response to your actual criticism, but I do feel like if you've made it this far I at least owe it to speak to your concerns.

Your repeated assertions that these kind of stories get dropped hits a nerve. It makes me feel like I need to somehow prove myself, as if my fanfic history doesn't speak for itself. I finished a 450k story last November after 5 years of consistent work. I have major anxiety about posting stories if I can't guarantee I'll be able to finish them, which is why I go overboard taking measures to facilitate me in that. I'm fully planning to see this story through. If that at any point changes, I'll be able to give a proper notice months in advance, and I'll still feel responsible to write some kind of satisfying ending (even if that has to be in the form of an outline).

As for the MC, I'm characterizing him as someone who is abused and traumatized. His mother tells him she wanted to kill him, and his main response is to find a way to blame himself. The implication I'm going for is that years of emotional abuse have conditioned him into blaming himself. Both because his mother would often put a lot of responsibility on him, and because abused children in general figure out strategies to minimise abuse and then blame themselves when they suffer. They can't control their abuser, but they can control themselves. They have to be perfect, while the mother can be so angry she yells she wanted to kill her own child, and MC is still able to excuse that.

I don't like calling this pathetic, and I'd sooner choose 'damaged' or 'lacking self worth'. And the story I'm interested in telling doesn't have the MC skipping over all of that as if its easy. I want to portray it as hard. He doesn't have a therapist to talk to, and it's not something he likes talking about to anyone else either. Especially since this whole thing has now wrapped around to the other significant event at the end of this chapter. I've just gotten around to him making some significant strides in this in chapter 10.

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Sorry for your loss - Part II "I will try"

Serie Masterlist here || Part I || Read on AO3 

Summary: When your wife Natasha passes away in a car accident, a part of you dies with her. It takes a few months of mourning for your psychiatrist thinks the best alternative is for you to join a grief group. And there you meet Wanda Maximoff, and learn to live again.

Warnings: (+16) mentions of death, panic attacks and anxiety, grief, self sabotage, mentions of abusive family background, mutual attraction pining, explicit consent, therapeutic conversations about death, self-deprecation, healthy methods of coping with grief, possible triggers about anxiety, domestic Wanda, hurtful behaviors.

Tag list: @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia / @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch

//-//

Chapter II - I will try

You hate waking up.

Because your bed is empty on the right side.

Grumbling slightly, you push the covers away from your body and get up, running your hand over your face.

It is therapy day.

After brushing your teeth and putting on a sweatshirt that smells like fabric softener, you walked downstairs.

"Good morning, honey." Your mother greeted you as soon as you entered the kitchen, a cup of coffee in her hands. You mumbled the greeting back, walking over to the cabinets. She let out a disgruntled exclamation when she saw you take out a box of cereal. "As much as I think it's great that you're eating again, why don't you try something healthier today? I'm getting worried about the amount of sugar you're taking in these last few days."

You rolled your eyes, but obeyed as you put the package back in the cupboard. Ever since you regained your appetite, your meals, especially in the morning, consist of sweet things. Bread, cereals, and even chocolate. You were eating again, but the chance of diabetes was very high.

"Do you need a ride?" Your mother asks a moment later, when you are already sitting at the table, pouring yourself some orange juice.

"Agatha thinks I should try the subway."

"And what do you think?"

You laughed humorlessly.

"That's a new one." You retorted without taking your eyes off the newspaper in front of you. "Someone asking what I think."

Your mother sighs.

"Don't be like that." She says and then rises to kiss your forehead, the car keys in her hand. "Call me if you need anything."

You bite your tongue, stopping yourself from whispering the words "I need my wife," because you didn't want to cry over coffee.

After eating, you looked around. You hated empty houses. So you hurried to get your wallet and left after locking the door.

//-//

With headphones, the subway was not so scary.

The music on the latest volume muffled the ambient noises very well. And even with a fast heartbeat, you managed to walk correctly, and keep your breathing under control until you reached the city downtown.

You walked from the station toward the building where the therapy was taking place, humming softly the music you were listening to.

Startled slightly when someone touched your shoulder, you turned, only to see Bucky standing beside you, smiling gently. You took off your headphones, moving away from his touch, he didn't seem to notice.

"I called you a few times, but I don't think you heard me under the headsets." He commented amiably. "I think we came from the same subway."

"Okay." You said simply, not knowing what to add to this conversation. Bucky smiled however, and you started walking side by side.

"You know, if we arrange the time, we could come here together next time" He says and you frown slightly. "I wish I had someone to laugh at my comments about the man in the cowboy hat who hangs out at the Sixth Avenue station." He jokes and you force a smile, trying to think of how to decline the invitation. But then you remember how Agatha insisted that you make new friends, and you are letting the words of agreement escape your mouth. "Really? I'm glad you like the idea then. We can meet in any of the first stations and come the rest of the way together."

"That'll be great." You mutter to the man who smiles contentedly.

When you arrive, Bucky waves to a few people and says he will say hello, so you walk into the gym alone.

You try not to feel so nervous about your first session with a therapy partner.

//-//

Stephen is almost late. He apologizes to everyone even though he didn't, saying that he had a minor conflict in traffic. You were already sitting in the circle, waiting for the meeting to start, when the other people came in and sat down.

Wanda sat in the chair in front of you, and you smiled awkwardly at her, who repeated the gesture before looking away from you to Stephen.

"I hope you all had a good week" Stephen began next. "Today I will be handing out the schedule of duo activities, and I expect all of you to accomplish these goals within six to eight months. Of course, no pressure." He jokes last, making the group laugh. You frown, because you are curious what kind of activities these are. "Jessica, take one and pass it to the side, please.”

Stephen asked handing some papers to one of the girls in the group who was sitting next to him. As each member took one, Stephen again spoke of the importance of communication between pairs, and how he would like to monitor everyone's progress closely. You stopped paying attention when the paper came into your hands, focused on reading the words.

Your hand rises in the air a moment later.

"Y/N, do you have a question?" Stephen asked as he interrupted his own speech when he saw your hand. You had your heart racing when you asked.

"It says drive a car here." You replied looking at him. "I don't... I don't drive."

You know that some members exchanged glances with each other, but you kept staring at Stephen.

"You can leave this activity for last. At the end of the treatment....

"No." You interrupted with a dry laugh, running your hands through your hair. "I'm not driving. I don't..."

"Would you like to share why that is?" Stephen asks tenderly, and you look around. Everyone looks at you curiously, and you feel your face heat up. Then you stare at the paper in front of you. Taking a deep breath, you try not to crumple the paper so hard as you tell it.

"My wife died in a car accident." You narrate, trying not to be bothered by people holding their breath for your confession. It was awkward to talk about it, and it was even more overwhelming to deal with the reactions of others. "I was driving, and... I can't anymore since the accident." You explain. "It's like I'm back in the car again."

You fall silent, unable to hold back your tears. The group says "thank you for sharing" next, startling you slightly. Stephen smiles at you as you look at him.

"Would you like to add anything else?"

"I would like you to tell me that I won't need to do that."

Stephen laughed. And then he denied it with his head.

"It's the opposite of that actually." He says. "I think you do need it. Maybe more than anyone else here."

You sighed, looking down. He spoke again after that, but you paid no further attention.

//-//

You swallowed your nervousness when Stephen called for the pairs to begin the first exercise.

Getting up and walking over to Wanda, you kept your gaze on the floor.

"We're going to try blind trust today." Stephen explained as he opened a small box, and began handing out black blindfolds to the pairs. He handed one to you. "You will blindfold your partner, and lead them around the gym for two minutes. And then switch who is blindfolded and repeat."

You blinked in confusion, taking one last look at the object in your hands.

"Right." You mumble, raising your eyes to the woman in front of you. "May I?"

Wanda hesitates a second, but then she nods. You turn around her, placing the blindfold under her eyes gently, and tying it to the back of her head. Wanda holds her breath momentarily, probably getting used to the lack of visibility.

" Can I hold your hands?" You ask softly as you circle her again, watching her blindfolded face. She looks... cute. The same second the thought hits you, you push it out.

"Yes." Wanda sighs raising her hands at chest height. You smile, interlacing your hands together.

"Well, we were in the circle, right?" You begin. "Come this way so you don't bump into the chairs."

Guiding Wanda through the gym, you stand close and with your hands interlocked so that she doesn't get scared of bumping into something. You catch a quick glance at Bucky, who was guiding his own partner as he passes your side.

Two minutes later, you exchange.

You hold your breath when the blindfold is on your eyes, but Wanda's hand is soft as she guides you around.

When you stumble slightly because you thought she said right instead of left, it's the first time in six months that you really laugh. It's short and quick, but it's a real laugh. Wanda laughs too, squeezing your hand lightly to get you back on the right path.

You feel a little lighter when the activity is over.

"I liked today." You comment with a shy smile after the meeting is over, and you and Wanda walk out of the place together. She smiles in agreement.

"Yeah, me too." She says. "Now we only have another twenty-four activities ahead of us."

You let out a nasal laugh, putting your hands in your pockets.

"About the homework, I can meet you when you have time." You start to say, remembering the information in the booklet, and how you probably had much more free time than a mother, and it would be kinder for you to follow whatever schedule Wanda had. "You can text me anytime you are free."

She looks slightly surprised at your words, and looks down at the floor a moment before speaking again.

"Actually, I'm free now." She says, and it is your turn to be surprised. Seeing your expression, she quickly adds. "But it's okay if you're not, or if you don't want to..."

"No, it's fine." You interrupt with a lopsided smile. "I can. I'd... uh... I would like to too."

Wanda nods frantically, and then you are silent for a moment, before turning shyly toward the street, walking side by side.

"What are we going to do first?" You ask looking forward. Wanda bites her lips, thoughtful.

"Are you hungry?"

Not much, but you don't tell her that. You just shrug, and Wanda smiles, saying that you could try the lesson of sharing a meal together.

This is how you end up in a cafeteria for lunch.

Wanda is sitting on the bench in front of you when she speaks again.

"So...do you want to have a normal conversation or do you want to follow the script of questions?"

You blink in surprise, and give a short laugh.

"Wait, is that for real?" You ask fiddling with your pockets, Wanda looks at you curiously. You take out the pamphlet you got in class, then read the back, and let out a giggle. "I hadn't seen that part. Wow, that would have been so helpful at so many times in my life."

Wanda smiles, watching you read the pamphlet.

"So you're not good at talking to people huh?"

You place the flyer on the table, looking at her.

"Are you?"

"No." She says shrugging. "Socializing has always been much more my brother's thing than mine."

You make a noise with your mouth in agreement, and Wanda's cell phone on the table vibrates. She lowers her gaze to the device, and lets out a light sigh.

"Speaking of him." She mutters as she raises her finger to the screen. She reads the notification, but does not touch the device again.

"I would like to have a brother." You count next, and Wanda looks at you. "I think it would be nice to have someone growing up together with me. Sometimes it's pretty lonely being an only child."

"I'll lend you mine if you want." Wanda teases with a smile, and you laugh lightly, looking away momentarily.

" How many siblings do you have?"

"Two." She counters. "Pietro is my twin. And the youngest is Lorna."

"How are they like?"

Wanda sighs, thoughtfully.

"Pietro is loud and nosy. And Lorna is blunt and judgmental." She says and you nod in understanding, but Wanda adds a second later, smiling, "They're amazing, really. Pietro is...very caring. He looks after the boys for me. And Lorna lives in Sokovia, but she's always calling and asking how we are, as well as visiting whenever she can."

"That seems nice." You reply. The waitress attends you two next, and after ordering, you both wait in silence for a while.

"Why haven't you asked me about my loss yet?" Wanda asks suddenly, and you look away from the wordplay that was drawn on the table to look at her with a frown.

"What do you mean?"

"I shared my loss with the group the week before you joined us." She counters. "You never asked me who I lost."

"Do you want me to ask?"

"I don't know." She replies staring at you as a mixture of confusion and surprise. "It's just... that's usually the first thing people want to know."

You nod looking away.

"Well, I just want you to tell me whatever you want to tell me." You say. "I know very well what that feels like. I don't think I could talk to any of the people I know without them asking me about Nat every time they saw me."

Wanda makes a noise with her mouth of understanding, and you fall silent again. She checks her messages next and makes a slight grimace, you can't hold your curiosity and let the words "everything okay?" escape your lips.

"Yeah, it's just... Monica." She sighs running her hands through her hair. She types something next, and looks up at you. "Monica is my brother's wife, She is... pushy."

"How so?"

"She just...she wants to help. But she wants too much, you know?" Wanda begins. "She has the best of intentions, but she just suffocates me sometimes." She counters by tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, as you look at her intently. "She lost her mother when she was younger. And since... since Vis died she just... she wants me to talk to her about it. But I can't."

You nod in acknowledgement, hesitating between what to say next, because the mention of this Vis guy seems to have left Wanda quite shaken, as she quickly wipes a tear from running down her cheek. She forces a smile, shaking her head.

"Sorry about that. It's not the best thing to cry at our first lunch." She then remarks, and you smile shrugging your shoulders.

"Don't worry, I can cry at the next one and then we'll be even." You retort and Wanda laughs. You like the sound more than you should.

When your food arrives, you and Wanda thank the waitress and talk again the next moment.

"Accordingly to this, what is our first question?" Wanda asks you nodding lightly to the pamphlet you have left on the table. You eat one of your fries as you look at it.

You lower your hand to the paper, and then let out a chuckle as you actually read the questions.

" This is ridiculous." You observe, making Wanda look at you curiously. "All the questions are death related, see: If you died, how would you like people to remember you?" You read. "Or, what song would you like played at your funeral. My god, this is a joke." You grumble as you fold the flyer, and put it back in your pocket while Wanda giggles. You look back at her next. "I am decreeing that we will not talk about death on our outings, Mrs. Maximoff. It's a rule."

Wanda smiles at you, agreeing.

"Wanda." She then adds and you look at her with confusion. "You don't have to call me Mrs. Maximoff. Wanda is fine."

You smile, nodding in agreement.

"So, Wanda, where do you live?" You ask with interest in your voice, biting into your burger next.

"Queens." She replies. "Two blocks past Bucky's apartment, who lives in Brooklyn."

"You are friends then?"

"Yeah, he's the one who introduced me to the group." She explains as you eat together. She chews some of her salad before speaking again. "And you?"

"Staten Island." You retort. "But it's actually my mother's house. My apartment is in the Bronx."

Wanda doesn't pressure you to tell her why you are living with your mother. A part of you thinks she knows why, but you are grateful that she just waits for you to share what you want, just as you do with her.

"What do you work with?" she asks next, and you sigh, biting back a smile.

"Nothing at the moment." You say, and she frowns with confusion. "It's just that I write. I’m actually a writer. With a publisher and everything. But, I'm not writing anything right now."

"I don't think I've ever met a writer before." She comments with a smile. "Do you like it?"

You look away, playing with your fries.

"I used to." You confess, but not wanting to make the conversation sad, you quickly add. "What about you? What do you work with?"

"I own a flower shop." She tells and you let out a low exclamation, finding it amazing. "I haven't been going there much lately, but I like it. It's always been what I've wanted to do since I was little."

"I'd like to visit someday."

Wanda smiles, assenting.

You spend lunch talking about the most diverse subjects. It is the lightest you have felt in a long time. Wanda tells you about her family, you learn that she lives in a big house with her two twin five-year-old sons, Billy and Tommy, and that her father was spending time with her since she lost Vis, who you figure is her husband, because Stephen mentioned that you had things in common, and it's not hard to connect the dots, even if she doesn't talk about it.

She also tells you that Pietro and Monica are helping the flower shop to keep running, and that Wanda's children love to stay at their house because Wanda's niece, Luna, is the same age as the boys.

She tells you some of her tastes, and you do the same. You both smile when you discover that you used to study at the same college, but Wanda graduated a few years before you.

When you leave the restaurant, you are not quite sure how to say goodbye to Wanda, but you don't mind her kissing your cheek and telling you that she enjoyed her lunch. You enjoyed it too, much more than you expected. She nods and turns away, and it takes a moment for you to do the same.

//-//

You decide to fix the broken screen of your cell phone.

It is because you now receive notifications of messages from Wanda, and you want to read them correctly so as not to get confused with the locations of your meetings for group activities.

You also enjoy the company of Bucky Barnes now. The first time you went to therapy together, it's a little awkward because you didn’t quite knew what to say, but he was friendly and kind, and you learned to trust him. Soon it becomes easy to share and laugh at his jokes.

In the second week with grieving pairs, Stephen brings in question and answer games. You and Wanda do very well, because it is surprisingly easy and comfortable to talk to her. You don't have lunch together, but she invites you to have coffee with her the next day, and it is very nice to see her out of therapy for once.

In the third week, you cook together. Stephen contacts a local restaurant owned by a friend, which is closed for the day, and they lend their kitchen. You and Wanda try to bake some cookies, and as you work together, the job is decent. It is probably because Wanda is a much better cook than you, and you are happy to obey whatever she tells you to do. You have lunch together again, and you find yourself suggesting that you do this whenever possible, and Wanda smiles when she agrees.

In the fourth week, there are obstacle competitions in the group. It's noisy, and it requires physical effort, but it's fun. It's the first month, so Stephen wants to see how everyone is progressing. It's only when he talks to you that you realize all the positive changes that have been happening.

You have been eating properly, and going for walks. Your nightmares have stopped since you started texting with Wanda, because she is usually busy all day and can only text at night. There is still work to be done, because you still can't talk about everything. You are still not sharing as you should, and you haven't gone back to work. But Stephen is proud, and he hands you a little progress brooch.

"I think you guys can start with the activities outside the group." Stephen suggests as soon as you accept the brooch.

"What do you mean? We have lunch together every Wednesday." You count, and Stephen laughs through his nose.

"Yes, and this is excellent." He says. "But it's still after therapy. You and Wanda have been getting along well haven't you?"

You think about the lunches. Yes. It's been amazing. You nod in agreement, and Stephen smiles.

"Why don't you invite her over for something on the other days of the week?" He suggests and you frown thoughtfully. "You could try outings that you both enjoy. Or just get to know each other's family."

"Why would we go and meet each other's family?"

"Friends do that." He says and you sigh, feeling your heart racing slightly. "Take Bucky for example. I suggested that he and Sam move in together and..."

"Wow, I'm not moving in with anyone."

Stephen laughs, touching your shoulder gently.

"I didn't tell you to do that." He says. "It was just an example. What I mean, is that socialization outside of the therapeutic environment is essential. I'd like to see you having fun excluding the activities I put on here, too."

You sigh, agreeing. It's not really a bad thing, you like Wanda. It's just weird to let people into your life again.

When you tell Wanda about Stephen's idea, you get too anxious and fumble with the words. She laughs as she raises her hands to your shoulders, asking you to breathe and repeat. She thinks the idea is very good when she understands.

Then the next week, you go to Central Park. You walk together, drink juice, and talk. You thought you would make things awkward, and not have anything interesting to say to keep Wanda's attention, but she is kind and thoughtful, and pays attention to every word you say, and finds your jokes funny. And the next thing you know, you've been talking and walking for six hours, and she has to run because she has to pick up the boys from music class.

It didn't take long for you to establish a rhythm of outings. At least twice a week outside of the therapy day, you did something together. Be it walks, or trips to the park, or sharing a meal.

You didn't want to admit it, but Wanda became your favorite person very quickly.

//-//

It was February when you met Wanda's family.

Wanda invited you to the birthday party of Luna, Pietro's daughter. It was going to be the first party you had attended since Nat's death, and to say you were feeling anxious was an understatement. But as long as Wanda was by your side in the atmosphere, you thought you would be fine.

Your mother gave you a look of mixed surprise and pride when she saw you leaving the house in an outfit other than a sweatshirt, but she didn't say anything, and you hurried to catch the subway.

It took a while to get there, but when you did, there were already a few people around the house.

You took a deep breath, and walked to the front door that was open. It was a very nice house, and you tried to find Wanda as quickly as possible.

"Hey, you came!" It was Bucky, who saw you arriving from the kitchen. He was wearing a very nice set of jeans, and smiled encouragingly at you. The two people he talked to looked at you curiously, but Bucky hurried to introduce you as "a good friend of his and Wanda's" and you felt your cheeks blush. "This is my husband Sam and this is his sister, Sara."

You smiled politely as you greeted people.

"I'm looking for Wanda." You say to Bucky, and he makes a thoughtful expression for a few seconds.

"Try the garden, I think she was helping Pietro with the snacks." He says as he puts his hand on your shoulder, and turns you in the right direction. "Follow straight this way and you'll get there."

You thanked them and waved to the other two before heading outside.

It took two minutes to find Wanda. She found you actually.

"Hi." She greeted you shyly with a smile as she approached. You mimicked the gesture. "So glad you could make it."

Wanda hugged you quickly, and you were a complete mess. Disguisedly, you smiled awkwardly, telling her you were glad to be here and wished you could meet her brother.

"Pietro is upstairs changing Luna's dress. She spilled juice on the other one." She counters and you mumble in understanding. Wanda's gaze races around and then she lets out a low exclamation. "Come, let me introduce you to Monica."

"Hey, Mon, I want you to meet someone." Wanda says as soon as you two reach a woman at one of the outside tables, wearing a very pretty blue dress. She seemed to hand out some napkins on the table.

"This is your mystery friend I imagine." Says the woman cheerfully, extending her hand to greet you.

"Hi, thank you for having me." You say clumsily as you accept the greeting. Monica doesn't mind your clumsiness one bit, and smiles, and thanks you for the small package you hand her. You were always taught that one should bring a gift if you were going to the party after all.

"It's so nice to finally meet you honey." She says smiling. "Wanda won't stop saying how funny and entertaining you are."

You cast a glance at Wanda, who just has red cheeks as she looks away.

"Here comes Pietro." Monica then exclaims, waving to someone behind you. "Come on babe, it's Wanda's friend."

A tall man approaches you, a little girl on his lap wearing a princess dress.

"Hello." Pietro greeted you politely as he stood at his wife's side. "We finally met you. We were beginning to think Wanda made you up."

You let out a half-hearted laugh, and Wanda grumbles that suddenly everyone has decided to tease her with flushed cheeks.

"Daddy, can I go play now?" The little girl asked. She was adorable, and looked a lot like her parents.

"You'll be careful, right?" Pietro asked her. "No other princess dress for you."

The girl nods and Pietro sets her down after kissing her cheek.

"I need to greet the other guests, but make yourselves at home." Monica then said, touching your shoulder lightly before leaving. You thought she was very gentle.

For the next few minutes you were basically interrogated by Pietro, but in the most polite way he could manage. Wanda stayed by your side though, so you didn't bother to tell him what you did for a living, where you resided, or with whom. He was sensitive enough not to ask about who you lost, and you were very grateful for that.

"What's he doing here?" Wanda exclaimed suddenly, interrupting Pietro's talk about his job as a seller. She had her gaze in the opposite direction from where you were standing, and Pietro sighed.

"Wanda, it was a last-minute invitation." He began, and Wanda turned her head to him quickly, a mixed look of anger and hurt. But then she took a deep breath, and forced a smile, making you frown at the whole scene.

"No, Pietro. It's okay." She says. "Don't worry, it's a party, isn't it? We're here to have fun."

A man with a thinning beard reached you all next, and you were slightly surprised when Wanda grabbed your hand, but you didn't say anything.

"Wow, it's amazing to see you guys again." The man said smiling encouragingly. Pietro rushed over to hug him quickly.

"Good to see you too, Tony!" he greeted smiling, but he also looked slightly tense. You didn't know what the story was there, but clearly Wanda was not very comfortable in the stranger's presence.

"Wanda, look at you, my little sister-in-law!" Tony said excitedly extending his arms. But Wanda didn't move, squeezing your hand lightly. The man didn't seem to mind, moving forward and hugging Wanda anyway. He pulled away quickly however, still smiling, "And who are you?” He asked you next.

"I’m..."

"Leaving." Wanda cuts you off, ducking her head as she pulls you away with her. You hear Pietro sigh lightly, imagining that he would apologize for whatever this was.

As you two walk back into the house, you consider asking, but Wanda is looking around, clearly searching for someone. She lets out a low exclamation when she finds Bucky in the living room.

"Hey, Wanda." He says as soon as he sees her. "You've seen him, right?"

"You knew he was coming?" she asked, letting go of your hand, looking annoyed. You were starting to get very uncomfortable.

"Yes." Bucky confesses looking upset, and Wanda lets out an exclamation of indignation and surprise. "I told Pietro that it wasn't a good idea, but he still needs help with the Vis business..."

"No." Wanda interrupts by closing her eyes momentarily. You blink because she seems on the verge of tears at any moment. "I just..." She starts and takes a deep breath. Bucky steps forward with his hands in the air to touch her, but she forces a smile, denying with her head to signal him not to. "We're not going to make a scene, are we? Nobody's going to want that. I just... I just need a moment."

Wanda walks upstairs next, leaving you and Bucky behind. You really didn't understand what happened, and started to consider going after her, and as if reading your thoughts, Bucky patted you on the shoulder.

"Leave her alone for a few minutes, okay?" he asks. "She just needs to get used to the idea of seeing her late husband's brother again."

You swallowed dryly, nodding in understanding. Bucky smiled weakly at you, nodding for you to join him in the small circle of people he was talking to earlier.

//-//

Every minute without Wanda at your side with a bunch of strangers was like torture. Your heart was racing and you thought you were going to hyperventilate at any moment. Bucky was probably the only thing familiar, so you stood static next to him, trying to disguise yourself as much as possible while listening to people talking.

"Thor, I'm waiting for the invitation to your wedding!" Sam joked in the middle of the wheel, drawing laughter from everyone. The tall, blond man next to him looked mildly embarrassed.

"Tell that to Jane, she's the one who's postponing it." He replies in the same tone. You don't want to hear about engagements and weddings. So you mutter to Bucky that you need to use the bathroom and he points you in the direction.

Pietro's house is easy to get lost into. You are looking for a secluded corner to stay in, and as you pass through the empty hallway, you hear a noise that attracts your attention. It sounds like loud breathing.

Confused, you walk toward the sound, carefully opening the door to what appears to be an office. You find the switch, and your eyes widen in surprise when you find a child. It is a small boy, sitting on the floor with his head between his knees. It takes a second for you to realize by the height of his breathing what is happening.

Closing the door behind you to muffle the sound of the party, you rush to kneel beside the child.

"Hey, kid." You whisper tenderly but he just sobs. "What's your name? Hey? Try to say your name for me okay?"

You bring your hands to his and he raises his head, his face stained with tears as he breathes hard.

"T-Tommy" He gasps and you nod, squeezing his hands lightly.

"Okay, Tommy. I want you to breathe along with me now okay?" You ask as you signal with your hand the movement of your breath. "In and out like I'm doing."

"I-I can't." He cries, but you insist, squeezing his hand lightly.

"Tommy, in and out. This way." You repeat firmly, until he imitates. "All right, kid. Keep going. Breathe."

When Tommy manages to start breathing properly again, you smile at him. "You see, you did very well. Want me to give you a hug?"

He nodded, and you stepped forward, hugging him tightly. He didn't let go for long moments, and you began to think he might have fallen asleep, but he moved again, and you let go.

"I'm sorry." He asked weakly, and you held his hand.

"No, honey. It's okay." You say gently, crossing your legs to sit more comfortably in front of him. "Do you want me to stay here with you?"

He nods, looking at you quickly. You wipe away his tears afterwards.

"I don't know you." He says a moment later, and you smile slightly.

"I don't know you either."

"My name is Tommy." He replies with his hands folded in his lap. "This is my aunt and uncle's house, but I've never seen you at a party before."

"Wow, you are Wanda's son." You realize with surprise. Tommy blinks.

"Who is Wanda? I'm Mommy's son."

You laugh, nodding in agreement.

"Well, Tommy, your mother's name is Wanda." You explain, and he lets out a sigh of understanding. "I'm her friend."

"Okay." He says simply. He sighs lightly then. "I'm hungry."

You look at him curiously.

"Do you want a hot dog?" You ask, and he nods frantically, smiling. "Do you want to go outside and get it, or do you want me to bring it for you here?"

Tommy is thoughtful for a few seconds, and looks at the door for a moment.

"I want to go."

"Okay."

You get up first, and then help him to stand, and keep your hand in his to comfort him.

"Hey, is everything all right?" You ask as soon as you open the door. He has his thumb in his mouth, but nods, his eyes attentive to his surroundings.

Fortunately the kitchen is empty, since the house seemed to get warm enough for everyone to go outside. You sit Tommy down at the kitchen counter and prepare a hot dog for him.

"Do you like ketchup?" you ask and he nods smiling. After handing the hot dog to him, you made one for yourself. You smiled as you both took big bites of your food. "Does your mom let you drink soda?" You ask a moment later, and Tommy looks thoughtful. "Don’t lie."

Tommy grimaces mischievously, and nods his head in denial. You laugh and reach for two glasses, pouring some grape juice for you.

"Thanks." He says thank you as soon as you hand him the cup. You think it's adorable how polite he is at this age.

"There you are, Tommy." Pietro spoke as he appeared in the kitchen. He watched the scene with curiosity. "I've been looking all over for you."

"Sorry, Uncle." Murmured the boy lowering his head. "My head was hurting again."

Pietro sighed and you exchanged a look with him. He nodded in understanding before helping Tommy down from the countertop.

"Billy and Luna are eating candy in the backyard, honey." He says as he bends down to the boy's height. "Go ask Aunt Mon to give you some too."

Tommy seems content to leave after that, but he turns and hugs your legs quickly, muttering a "thanks for the hot dog" before running outside. You place his cup of juice in the sink along with yours before turning to Pietro.

"Where did you find him?" he asks leaning on the counter with his arms crossed. You mimic the position on the opposite side.

"In the office down the hall." You count. "What does he have?"

"We don't know yet." Pietro says. "He won't turn six until November, and the diagnosis can't be made before then." The man explains, running his hand through his hair for a moment. "But I've had anxiety since I was a kid, so his doctor thinks it's the most likely possibility."

You grumble in understanding, biting the inside of your cheek.

"He's been pretty nervous lately." Pietro continues next. You don't want to interrupt him. "I guess that makes sense. I got worse when my mother died, too."

You swallow dryly, really not being intimate enough to know what to say next. But Pietro doesn't mind, he smiles, shaking his head and reaching up to pat you on the arm.

"Sorry, I don't mean to make the subject morbid." He comments humorously. "Thank you so much for helping Tommy. Come have a drink outside."

You laugh half-heartedly, denying with your head.

"Thank you, Pietro." You say. "But I think I'd better go."

Pietro blinks in surprise.

"Are you sure?"

You nod, your gaze quickly going to the stairs before returning to him.

"Yes, I'm... I'm tired." You say. "Crowded environments are quite difficult for me."

Pietro nods in acknowledgement, and then smiles, thanking you again for coming and hugging you quickly.

You smile awkwardly before heading for the exit just as he returns to the garden.

Ignoring the urge to climb up the stairs after Wanda, you leave.

//-//

When you get home, there is a message on the refrigerator door from your mother, telling you that she is going out after work and that you shouldn't wait up for her. You grumble slightly, sending her a message to use protection, before leaving your cell phone on the counter.

After taking a shower and putting on the most comfortable and warmest set of sweatshirts you have, you go back to the living room, looking for some entertainment on the television.

It must be about eight o'clock at night when a knock at the door startles you.

You are surprised to have Wanda at your front door and she hesitates as soon as she sees you.

"Hi." You say.

"Can we talk?"

You make room for her to enter, closing the door afterwards.

Wanda stops in the doorway of the room, holding her purse tightly.

"I'm sorry I left you alone at the party." She begins and you look at her attentively, noticing her nervousness. "It wasn't polite of me."

You blink in confusion, but don't interrupt her. She closes her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before looking back at you.

"It was not the right way to behave and I am sorry. I hope we continue to be grieving partners" She says.

"Wanda, why are you here?" You ask with a frown, trying to understand exactly what you are witnessing. Wanda blinks in confusion.

"To apologize."

"Yeah I'm not buying it." You retort. "I don't care about the whole manners thing, I wouldn't treat you differently just because of the party. What's going on?"

"I don't... I don't know what you're talking about." She says shaking her head slightly, her eyes wide. You look at her in disbelief, she seemed on the verge of an outburst. "I just came to apologize for not being a good hostess, and not even a good friend. And..."

"I don't give a damn if you weren't behaving as you should." You interrupt seriously. "You don't have to pretend to be okay with me. I saw the way you were forcing yourself to smile during the party. What was all that about? Why are you pretending?"

Wanda let out a humorless laugh, holding up her hands, her eyes filled with tears.

"I don't know what..."

"If you're going to lie you can leave." You interrupt seriously pointing to the door. Wanda swallows dryly, looking at you in surprise. "I'm not like those people, Wanda. I don't want to see your version of the perfect housewife, who pretends everything is fine while it's falling apart so others will feel better. Either you tell me the truth, or we' re not going anywhere."

Wanda stares at you for several seconds, then looks away, tears streaming down her face. You sigh, uncrossing your arms to walk toward the door. As you begin to open it, however, Wanda rushes in and pushes the wood with one hand, the noise and movement startling you momentarily.

"Please." She begs throwing herself against you, her arms clutching around you as she buries her head in your chest, her tears wetting your shirt. "I can't lose you too."

You sigh, hugging her back in the same intensity to calm her.

"Breathe, Wanda." You say. "I'm right here."

When she stops crying, she breaks the embrace, and you give her a smile even though she is looking at the floor. You bring your hands to her face to wipe away her tears, moving closer to give her a kiss on her forehead before pulling away.

"Let's have some tea."

As you prepare the drink, Wanda sits down on one of the stools in the kitchen. You join her after lighting the fire.

"Do you want to talk now?" You ask next, swinging your seat slightly. Wanda gives you a weak smile, nodding her head. She sighs before she begins.

"My husband died last year." She counters with a lost look on her face. "That man at the party...his name is Tony. He is my brother-in-law. He... My husband died in an accident. He..." Wanda paused, probably overwhelmed by the memories, you reached out for her hand on the counter, and she sniffled before continuing. "Tony is an alcoholic. He...he needed someone to pick him up. So he called. And Vis... They... They argued outside the bar, and someone thought Vis was a cop. And then someone had a knife and..." Wanda stopped in a sob, releasing her hand to cup her face. You stood up, hugging her by the shoulders, and she buried her face in your neck, crying heavily.

"I'm sorry." You sighed, squeezing her. Wanda cried, hugging your waist. You only let go when the kettle beeped.

She wiped away the remaining tears as you went to turn off the fire.

"Do you want to go on?" You ask as you join her again, holding her hands. Wanda gives you a tired smile, denying it. "Let's drink our tea, then."

//-//

"Can I sleep here?" The question doesn't surprise you. After you had finished drinking tea, and you tried to distract Wanda with some small talk, you stood up to take the mugs to the sink, and her voice invaded your ears with the question.

You bit the inside of your cheek, but when you turned around, you didn't hesitate to agree.

And that's how you ended up in your closet doorway, looking for extra pillows.

Wanda walked around, observing your room with curiosity. You mentally thanked your mom that it had only been two days since her monthly cleaning, and your room was not messy.

"Who is this?" Wanda asks as she holds one of your frames in her hand. You have an extra comforter in your hand as you walk over to her to look at the picture.

"This is Bruce." You say looking at the photograph for a moment. Ignoring the wave of guilt that fills your stomach, you walk over to your bed. "We've studied together most of our lives. And the girl next to him is Carol, she was my maid of honor."

"Are they the friends you don’t talk to anymore?" Wanda asks as she returns the picture to the headboard. You mumble in agreement.

"Done, Wands." You say as you place the comforter on the bed. "You can have my pillow, I'll use the cushions on the sofa anyway."

Wanda frowns in confusion.

"Aren't you going to sleep with me?" She asks and you laugh in surprise, feeling your heart race.

"W-what?"

"I thought..." She starts and seeing your reddened face she looks away, clearing her throat. "I'm not going to make you sleep on the couch."

"It's okay, really." You assure her with a smile. "I'll be downstairs and if you need anything you can wake me up."

"Y/N..."

"Good night." You interrupt with a smile, moving closer to place a quick kiss on her cheek before turning and leaving the room, your heart racing.

You haven't slept in the same bed with another woman in many months. That is absolutely not going to happen tonight.

When Wanda finally lies back against the sheets, she grumbles softly. Your scent is everywhere, and she knows very well what it means when her body shivers and she feels a small warmth at the pit of her stomach. Pushing these thoughts away, she closes her eyes, hoping that the tiredness of the day will be enough to make her sleep.

[randomposterofstuff]

Soldiers by Choice - Chapter IX

Author's Note: Hi, all! So, I'd just like to inform you guys that I made some small tweaks in the previous chapters. But I didn't make any major changes. The details I added and/or changed don't impact the storyline or the plot, so there's no cause for concern on that score. Lol.

I also changed that time-stamp format. For better clarity, the format is this: Current Year (Current Month) [e.g. Year 847 (11th Month)]

Anyway, here's Chapter 9! Hope that you like it!

Tumblr Chapters List can be found here.

Also available on Ao3! Please feel free to leave your comments and thoughts on that site! Check out the "Archive of Our Own" tab on my page to go to the site!

Chapter 9: Letters, Sketches, and Guns

Summary: Levi writes to his mother about the upcoming break. Meanwhile, Hange and Moblit make an usual discovery while they're on another research expedition. At the Cadets Corps Headquarters, Bertolt Hoover is asked for shooting advice.

Year 847 (11th Month)

---

Dear Mother,

I am doing well, and so is Mikasa. I’m also looking forward to seeing you and the old man during the Yuletide break. I’ll be departing for Mitras on the last day of the second week of next month. I'll catch a morning ferry, so you can expect me before noontime on that day.

And speaking of Mikasa, she told me that she won’t be able to come with me when I return to the clan compound. She and her parents have planned to spend the break in Orvud, and she will travel directly to the district to meet them there. She apologizes for being unable to accept your invitation for dinner and hopes to meet you at some other time.

I hope that you two are also doing well. I will see you both in less than a month.

Your son,

Levi

Levi has just finished signing the letter when the door to their office opens.

“Are you ready to go?” Mikasa asks as she enters.

“Just about.” He says while giving the letter a once-over.

“A letter to your mother?”

Levi nods. "Yeah. I'm going to drop this at the post office while we're in town." He replies, giving the letter a once-over.

Mikasa moves to sit on the divan as she waits for him to finish his task. “Did you mention that I couldn’t accept her invitation?”

“I did.” He confirms while taking out an envelope from his drawer.

Yesterday, Levi had received a letter from his mother. The Ackerman matriarch had written that she was looking forward to seeing her son during the break and that she would like Mikasa to join them for dinner when they return to Mitras.

Mikasa had been delighted at the invitation but unfortunately had to decline. The week before, she and her parents had written to each other to confirm their plans for the break. They agreed that they'd meet one another at Orvud instead of assembling at their estate in Mitras to save time. Had the invitation been for another occasion and at another time, she would have happily accepted.

She fidgets with the knot of her cravat as she watches him scrawl the name and address on the back of the envelope. “I really am sorry for snubbing her invite.”

“You’re not snubbing her." He comments while placing some wax on the envelope to seal it. "You already made plans with your parents, and you haven't seen them in a long time. I understand.”

The Survey Corps had been working relentlessly to get back on its feet after the breach of Wall Maria during the middle of the year 845 and the failed operation to retake it in 846 – and that meant forsaking their usual leave during the Yuletide season during the said years. But now that things have calmed down a bit and they have a working strategy, everyone in the regiment is looking forward to the break; it's an opportunity to get real rest, revive morale, and reconnect with loved ones.

Levi knows how much Mikasa is looking forward to reuniting with her parents, and no one can blame anyone for wanting to see their families again.

He stamps the wax before looking up to face her. “And my mother will understand too. Don’t worry about it.”

Mikasa relaxes at his assurance. “I promise that I’ll make it up to her. I really do wish to meet her soon.”

Levi smiles a bit. “I’m going to hold you to that.” He then lets a few moments pass to let the wax dry. Once it is, he places it in his satchel.

“Okay, I’m good to go.” He announces as he rises from his desk. “Let’s hope that they have stocks of bleach this time around.”

Mikasa makes an amused sound; she remembers how displeased he was when their local retail goods supplier didn't have any bleach the last time they went on a supply run.

“Don’t worry. If they don’t, we’ll just make my mother’s cleanser again.” She remarks as she stands up and slings her own bag over her shoulder.

He smirks. “What will I ever do without you?”

She mirrors his expression. “Oh, you’d be completely lost.” She quips as they exit the office.

---

Through the glass of his telescope, Moblit observes as a 10-meter Titan wanders aimlessly around the ruins of the Nivas district.

On the floors above and below him, other members of the Research division are likewise peering through the windows of the 30-meter tower to watch the movements of different Titans.

Behind the Executive Officer is his Section Commander who is rummaging through copies of old records of Titan sightings dating back to several decades ago. The Titan-scientist sits on an old desk in the middle of the room and is currently comparing their most recent observations with past accounts made by the Survey Corps soldiers who had preceded them.

Moblit’s eye continues to trail the 10-meter’s movement through his telescope. Holding the telescope stand with one hand while moving the actual scope with the other, he watches as it passes by other Titans until it reaches a gangly-looking 12-meter.

The Executive Officer lets out a surprised sound when he watches the 10-meter place its head on the shoulder of the taller Titan. His astonishment increases when he sees the 12-meter wrapping its arms around the shorter Titan.

“Section Commander!” He calls out, telescope and eye still trained on the two embracing Titans. “You have to see this!”

Some papers rustle and fly off the table as the Titan-scientist immediately goes running to his side.

“See what?!” They squeal as they grab a spare collapsible telescope from the nearby supply bag.

Moblit gives them a few directions to follow his line of sight. “Do you see it now?”

Hange gasps as they take in the sight of the hugging Titans; the two giants continue to embrace while other Titans walk past them. “They’re holding each other!” Their shoulders start to tremble with excitement. “It’s as if they’re comforting each other!”

The Section Commander then holds the telescope to their chest with both arms. “It’s such a beautiful sight, don’t you think, Moblit?!” They exclaim, cheeks flushed. “The Titans are exhibiting empathic human-like behavior!”

Still peering through the telescope, Moblit grabs a pen and paper pad and starts to draw the sight. “Yes, Section Commander.”

Hange laughs gleefully. “Aberrants have exhibited degrees of intelligence before but never emotional capacity!”

They then dash back towards the desk and begin writing. “This is the Research team’s first major breakthrough!”

The pen strokes of the Titan-scientist can barely match the pace of their continuous monologue. “Since the establishment of the Research division, we’ve only observed typical Titan behavior! We’ve seen some minor nuances among Titans, such as delayed reaction time and total lack of response on some occasions. But nothing as remarkable as this!”

Hange flips onto another page to continue writing, their strokes becoming even more frantic. “The display of empathetic behavior connotes the possibility of having other emotions. Is it possible that Titans also feel anger? Do they feel furious whenever one of their own is slain by us? What serves as emotional stimuli for them? What could have caused one Titan to seek comfort from another?”

At this point, the ink of their pen starts to bleed through the paper. “How is it that the other Titan is cognizant of the other’s possible emotional pain? This type of cognizance indicates intelligence that goes beyond mere survival instincts.”

Their voice starts to become more excited and more frustrated at the same time. “While this is a major breakthrough, more studies need to be conducted. This singular instance is not enough to determine the full extent of their emotional and intellectual capacity. If the Survey Corps can definitively determine a consistent behavioral pattern, then such knowledge would be invaluable in the fight against the Titans.”

As the Section Commander continues to speak about how the discovery is a great stride in humanity’s quest to vanquish the Titans, Moblit continues to capture the Titans on paper, shifting his attention from the telescope’s eye and to the sketch pad every now and then.

As he continues to draw, he notes with ongoing astonishment that the taller Titan now appears to be slowly patting the head of the other one.

Once he's done, he stands up and presents his finished sketch. “I’ve sketched the Titans for our records.”

Hange abruptly pauses in their writing and practically snatches the sketch pad from his outstretched hands.

“Moblit…” They say as their goggled eyes scan every inked line and curve of the drawing, “… this is so accurate… and so beautiful!”

He makes a partly exasperated sigh at the adoring way his superior looks at the illustration before picking up the pieces of paper that had fluttered to the floor.

While he re-arranges the pages in chronological order – which proves to be quite challenging since they aren’t numbered, he looks over the Section Commander’s latest writings.

He scans the initial analyses penned in hurried scribbles; as his eyes read the passage about emotional capacity, the image of the 12-meter patting the head of the 10-meter comes to his mind.

Moblit stops reading mid-sentence as an idea occurs to him.

"Section Commander…" He calls out to his superior, who's still gaping at the sketch, “I’d like to relay my take on this recent discovery.”

"Go on," Hange says, even though their eyes are still trained on the drawing.

“As you said, embracing is a display of empathetic behavior.” He begins to explain while compiling the papers on the desk, “And that it also connotes emotional capacity. While I was still sketching, I noticed that the taller Titan kept patting the head of the other one. It makes me think that the two could be familiar with each other.”

At that, the Titan-scientist snaps their head up towards him.

"Are you suggesting that they may be friends?”

He nods. “I am. And if they do have some sort of connection, then it could mean that Titans can form bonds with another.”

Hange gasps as they process the analysis. “That’s definitely an angle worth exploring!” Their eyes bulge as numerous possibilities and implications run through their mind. “We should make that a priority point of examination in our future research excursions!”

Without warning, Hange abruptly moves forward to wrap their arms around him. “Moblit, you are a genius!” They squeal giddily, “Thank you!”

Moblit yelps as he momentarily staggers backward before regaining his balance. “Section Commander, a little warning would be nice!”

The Titan-scientist merely laughs before raising their head to face the Executive Officer.

“But seriously, though. Thank you.” They say in a much calmer tone. “Everyone in the Research team is great, and so is everyone in our main combat Division. But not everyone has the willpower to keep up with me when it comes to studying Titans.”

Hange then gives him a smile, and Moblit notes that it’s not their usual near-manic grin that they make whenever they discuss Titans. “I don’t think I say it enough, but I really do appreciate your patience with me, Moblit. I’m really glad that I have you.”

The Executive Officer’s exasperated demeanor softens at that.

“Of course, Section Commander. I may not share your… enthusiasm,” he says after thinking of an appropriate term to use, “but I do strongly agree with you that having a better understanding of Titans is vital to eliminating them.”

The Titan-Scientist squeezes his shoulders in appreciation. “I’m glad that I can count on you.”

After a moment, their zealousness returns to their features, and they move back to their desk. “Our patience finally paid off!”

Moblit finds himself smiling at that. Every research expedition always entailed the same thing: observing Titans from the tower for several hours every day until the last day allotted for the expedition. Fortunately, each research excursion doesn’t last more than 5 days – even Hange understands that watching Titans for prolonged periods of time is impractical given that the giants don’t usually exhibit significantly odd behavior on most days.

It's tedious most of the time. Yet, everyone in the Research division understands the significance of their work.

Hange starts to jot down more notes. “Mikasa’s plan for us made this possible! Oh, I’ll have to share the good news with her and Levi when we get back! Maybe they can even help me come up with an idea to capture a Titan alive for closer observation!”

The smile on Moblit’s face disappears as his jaw practically drops to the floor. “Section Commander, one crazy idea at a time!”

---

Bullets ring in quick succession as he aims and shoots. He keeps his grip on the rifle steady as he quickly strides sideways, eyes locked on the centers of each target in front of him.

The task becomes harder as each successive target is placed several yards away from the last. But he doesn't falter. The thought of his ailing father helps him time each shot perfectly, ensuring that each bullet is right on the mark.

When he hits the last target, the instructor blows their whistle. He stands in attention when Commander Magath inspects the results of his work.

Once done, the Commander approaches him. Once his superior stops a few feet before him, he raises his right hand, palm facing outward, in salute. At the officer’s nod, he places it down.

“Well done, Hoover.” The Commander announces. “Your marksmanship is extraordinary. You hit every target in the center without fail. If you continue to perform like this, you will be able to serve Marley well in due time. You are closer to absolving yourself of the sins of your ancestors."

His classmates, who had been watching the entire time, erupt in applause. They murmur praises and make comments that they too could do as well as him.

“It will be my honor to serve Marley, Commander Magath, sir!” He proclaims, right hand raised in salute once again.

---

“Bertolt was amazing today!” Reiner exclaims to the vendor as they buy some cream-coated bread. “He got the top marks during our shooting class!”

The woman behind the stall smiles as she gives each boy a large loaf. “Is that so? Well, I’m sure that old Mr. Hoover will be especially proud of you, Bertolt.” She directs her attention to the taller of the two.

Bertolt merely smiles. “I just did what I had to do.” He replies before his eyes take in the array of stalls and booths lining up the sidewalks of Liberio’s streets. “I see that all of you are already preparing for the Yuletide festival, Mrs. Grice.”

“We're really excited about it!” Reiner says as he chews on his bread. “I can’t wait to try all the games and all the food!”

“Our break starts in two days, Reiner.” Bertolt points out, amused. “I think you can wait until then.”

---

An hour after sundown finds the two Warrior candidates parting ways when they leave to go back to their respective homes.

After making a few turns, Bertolt eventually reaches the front door of their humble abode.

“I’m home!” He announces as he unslings his bag.

“Bertolt!” An older man’s voice rings throughout the hall before his elderly father comes out of his room. “I’ve been waiting for you for years!”

Bertolt laughs at the joke. “Oh, come on, Dad. I'm only half an hour late! Reiner and I just wanted to stop by the main plaza to see how the festival preparations were going."

“You’ve been gone for years!” His father keeps saying, as if he didn’t hear him. “Commander Magath told us that they couldn’t disclose the details of your mission no matter how much me, Mrs. Braun, and Mr. Leonhart begged.”

The older man sighs before a weary smile forms on his lips.

“But that doesn’t matter now. What matters is that you’re finally home and that you did your duty to Marley!”

Bertolt could only stare at his father in confusion. And if he wasn’t perplexed already, the weather outside their window rapidly changes: one second, it was fair weather; the next, it was an unforgiving storm, and then it suddenly toned down to a gentle downpour.

---

The moment he opens his eyes, he sees Eren, Jean, and Connie arguing. Behind them are the other cadets of their division.

As he blinks the sleep away, Bertolt wonders why they are all upside-down.

"I'm telling you guys that there's going to be a storm!" Eren says. "I mean, his legs are propped up against the wall!

“Yeah, but they’re crossed!” Jean counters. “I still say that it’s the ‘fair weather’ position. But I’m willing to concede that it might be cloudy today at most.”

Connie re-joins the conversation. "I'm willing to meet you guys halfway by saying that there's going to be a mild drizzle. I mean, his head is turned to the side."

Since he is still gathering his bearings, it took listening to their arguments for Bertolt to realize that he must have ended up in another odd sleeping position again.

“Actually, his head isn’t turned to the side anymore.” Armin chimes in, looking at their fellow cadet with an apologetic smile. “Good morning, Bertolt.”

Bertolt blinks once before the image of his family’s living room is replaced by the men’s barracks of the Southern Division’s Cadet Corps Headquarters.

“Morning, guys.” He finally says.

---

“Alright, Braus!” Commandant Shadis shouts. “Let’s see how you did.”

Sasha stands in attention as the Commandant moves to the front of the shooting range to examine the targets she shot at.

All the cadets watch as their superior walks by each target, jotting down notes on his clipboard to give each hit a corresponding score. Once he passes by the last target, he walks towards Sasha, who stands even straighter.

“You hit each target dead in the center!” The Commandant announces loudly for everyone to hear. “You get full marks! Good work, Braus!”

Sasha puffs her chest proudly as the other cadets behind cheer and clap. “Thank you, Sir!” She raised her right fist to her chest in salute.

Shadis nods in acknowledgment before dismissing her. Once his assistant officers have replaced all the used targets with new ones, he calls the next cadet on his list. “Hoover! You’re next!”

Bertolt moves forward to the racks where fully loaded rifles stand. Grabbing one, he makes his way to the starting line at the farthest left of the shooting range. He then lifts his rifle, eyes trained on the first target.

“On my signal!” The Commandant announces as he raises his whistle to his lips. He lets a few seconds pass before he blows it.

Bertolt immediately fires the moment he hears it. His long legs stride at a quick pace as he locks onto the center of each succeeding target before shooting his mark.

The other cadets watch with wide eyes and even gaping mouths as they watch their tall, dark-haired classmate practically run while simultaneously landing shots onto each target regardless of how far away it is.

When he finishes, Bertolt quietly stands in attention while waiting for the Commandant to inspect his work.

Shadis merely looks at the targets in subdued shock before he snaps out of his stupor.

“Alright, Hoover!” He addresses the cadet. “You finished quickly, but let’s see how accurate your shots were!”

The officer then marches towards the targets to examine the targets, scribbling a score for each hit.

He then returns to the other side of the firing lane, eyes still trained on his clipboard.

“Hoover!” Shadis calls out once he raises his head. "Not only were you able to finish this shooting course faster than anyone I’ve ever seen, but you also managed to hit every target in the center!”

The cadets in the back clap and cheer again, although there are more awed murmurs than earlier.

“Good work!” The Commandant continues. “If you keep this up, you’ll definitely be an asset to humanity!”

On reflex, Bertolt promptly raises his right arm. But as he is about to open his hand, he suddenly realizes his mistake and encloses it into a fist before stiffly placing it over his chest.

Shadis raises a brow slightly at the awkward movement of his arm but doesn’t comment on it.

"It will be an honor to fight for humanity, Sir!" The moment the words leave his mouth, he feels a hollow ache in his chest.

---

“Did you see how fast he was?!” Connie remarks, voice clearly awe-struck. “I’ve never seen anyone shoot and run that quickly before!”

“Bertolt was incredible!” Sasha concurs, plain admiration evident on her face. “I wish I could go as fast as him!”

As the others around him continue to make praises, Reiner frowns at his friend’s near mistake; he had nearly performed the Marleyan salute. Reiner briefly muses that even he had executed the full salute, no one else would have even understood its significance except for him, Bertolt, and Annie. Nonetheless, it was still concerning.

“Hey, Reiner!” Eren calls out to the broad-shouldered blonde. “Did Bertolt go hunting a lot when you guys were kids?”

“Hm?” Reiner hums distractedly before turning to the green-eyed recruit. “Oh, yeah. Bert’s always been a natural with a gun.”

---

“Bertolt, you were amazing!”

The cadet in question looks up when he sees Sasha making her way towards him. Behind her are Eren, Armin, Jean, Marco, and Connie.

“Thanks, Sasha.” Bertolt smiles at the compliment.

“Seriously though, you were really great out there!” Connie adds as they join Bertolt and Reiner at their table.

The morning had turned into noon, and now, they will have lunch outside before the afternoon leg of their training starts.

“Reiner here said that you used to go hunting when you were younger as well.” The Braus girl continues to engage him in conversation, her eyes rapt with curiosity. “Did you always use a gun, or did you use a bow and arrow, too?

"Oh, I just stuck to my guns," Bertolt says with a slight laugh. “Our hometown was always more big on them.”

Sasha grins at the response. “Well, cheers to us hunters for doing well in the shooting course!” She lifts a hand and offers it to him. “Up top!”

The dark-haired cadet briefly hesitates but eventually slaps his palm against hers. “Up top!”

“Say, Bertolt…” Jean starts to say as the other cadet lowers his right arm. “What was up with your arm earlier?”

The question causes Bertolt to silently berate himself for almost performing the wrong salute after nearly a year of being a soldier instead of a Warrior.

“Oh…” He trails off as he thinks of a plausible excuse, “My arm cramped up a bit earlier.” He says, half-embarrassed at how awkward it sounds.

“W-what?” The question comes out as a laugh from Jean.

Reiner gauges the similarly mildly amused reactions of the others. Thankfully, they have no reason to not believe it, and Bertolt’s embarrassed tone only gives the excuse more credibility.

“I keep telling you, Bert.” The broad-shouldered blonde interjects, helping with the ruse, “You should spend more time stretching your arms.”

“Yeah!” Connie re-joins the conversation. “You spend way too much time working on your legs! It’s not like you need to get taller!

Everyone turns to the shaven-headed cadet with incredulous and even more amused-looking looks.

“Connie… stretching your legs won't make you taller," Marco says tentatively.

“I know that! But the straighter you stand, the taller you look!” Connie exclaims, “And Bertolt is tall enough as it is!”

Everyone at the table laughs, including Bertolt, who feels relieved at the re-direction of the conversation.

“Anyway… Sasha, Bertolt…” Armin begins once the laughter toned down. “Eren and I wanted to ask if you guys could give us some shooting pointers during the free period before dinner time.”

“Why would you guys want shooting pointers?” Connie asks, looking surprised and confused. “It’s not like you’re gonna fight Titans with rifles.”

Eren nods his head. “That’s true. But Reiner taught us that a soldier should be prepared for anything.” He explains, looking at their burly classmate with a small grin. “Because you never know what kind of situation you might find yourself in.”

Some weeks ago, while he was practicing offensive hand-to-hand combat techniques with Armin and Reiner under the watchful eye of their Commandant, the brunette cadet made negative comments about undergoing training exercises unrelated to Titan combat.

In response, Reiner had chastised him for his dismissive attitude while lecturing him that a soldier must be well-equipped under any circumstances. And what drove the point home for him was Reiner’s statement that a person who can’t defend themself can’t defend others. It was then that he decided to take those words to heart.

Eren’s obvious determination and quiet enthusiasm coaxes a smile from Reiner. “I’m glad to see that you’re taking my advice seriously.”

“Of course!” Eren grins even more widely, encouraged by the show of approval, “You’re the best cadet here! I’d be an idiot not to listen to you!”

The broad-shouldered cadet lets out a laugh. “Well, it’s definitely good that you’re working hard with that kind of mindset.”

“Well, when you guys put it like that, I want in!” Connie says. “After all, shooting is gonna come in handy when I join the Military Police!”

“Hmmm.” Jean hums contemplatively as he rubs his chin thoughtfully. “I’m already a pretty good shot.” He comments lightly. “But I suppose sharpening my aim couldn’t hurt. Especially if it gives me an edge as an MP.”

Eren rolls his eyes. “You know, Jean, you could just say that you want to join us.”

Jean’s eye twitches slightly in annoyance. “Oh, just let me brag every now and then, Eren.”

“Oh, please. I let you do that every day.”

"Now, hold on." Marco intercedes. "Sasha and Bertolt haven’t even agreed to anything yet.” He points out, noting that their best shooters had yet to get a word in.

“I wouldn’t mind sharing some tips!” Sasha says cheerily. “Plus, I could definitely learn something from Bertolt, too. I could use some advice on how to gain more speed without compromising accuracy!” She adds as she turns to him. “So, how about it, Bertolt?”

Bertolt looks at their eager and expectant faces, and he finds himself unable to turn them down.

“Sure.” Although he offers another smile, it’s strained at the edges.

Thankfully, no one notices except for Reiner.

After a few more minutes, the cooks arrive with their lunch and call for everyone to line up for their meals.

Sasha immediately dashes to the serving table while everyone else moves at a more moderate pace.

“Aren’t you guys coming?” Marco looks at Reiner and Bertolt who remain sitting.

“We’ll wait until the lines shorten," Reiner replies, gesturing to the long queues.

Once they’re alone at the table, Reiner heaves a deep sigh and places a hand on Bertolt’s shoulder. When the latter turns his head, Reiner levels him with a concerned and understanding look.

“I miss our hometown too.” The blonde states, having deduced the reason for his old friend’s near slip-up earlier. “And I know that it’s getting harder; I’m also getting tired.” He admits quietly. “But we can’t stop now. We’ve come this far.”

Mina, Thomas, and some other cadets hear him as they pass by with plates of food but don't think twice about his words.

Yet, Bertolt, knowing what they really mean, takes a deep breath to internally steady himself.

“I know, Reiner.”

---

End Note: Okay, so I'd like to apologize to anyone who was hoping that Mikasa would meet Kuchel in this chapter. I'm sorry for letting you guys down. But I promise that they will meet eventually! Hehe.

So, this chapter has three (3) storylines: the RivaMika storyline, the Hange-researching storyline, and the 104th storyline. I know that it might seem like a lot for just one chapter. But I really wanted to start delving into the other important aspects of the AOT universe to build up what I have in mind for the second part of this series. (But the series is mainly RivaMika-centric. Hahaha.) Again, it's gonna take time for me to really flesh-out my ideas. So, please bear with me and my irregular updates. Hahahuhu.

Please let me know what you think! Also, happy holidays in advance!