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soapoet · 1 year ago

Text

describing the dynamic...

...a requested continuation of this post.

like & rb if it resonates ♡

01.

Shufflemancy: First day of my life by Bright Eyes

This feels like home. It is familiar and it is sweet. The two of you create an air of comfort, which draws in various orphans of the storm. Like a safe haven amidst stormy seas. A lighthouse. This has the blueprint of starting a found family. Your union echos with lots of laughter, the kind that brings tears and stomachaches. The joy here is tangible and it is imprinted in everything. Your dynamic is like an evolved version of puppy love. It's nervous, but adoring. Giddy and rosy. It feels like best friends falling in love. They know you and you know them at a deep level. The foundation upon which this relationship stands could withstand hurricanes, though there isn't much to worry about. Most issues that crop up seem a little silly, and you may laugh about them afterwards. Personal doubts and misunderstandings are the worst that can happen here, which are mostly due to the doglike loyalty and care you have for one another. Ever seen the face of a pooch when they've done something they shouldn't have? They appear so sheepish even though their mistake or mischief really isn't all that bad or serious. We often laugh at our beloved pets when they appear so apologetic because it is so often wildly out of proportion for their actual crime. The same applies to this relationship. Doubts may occasionally become bigger in your heads and cause a similar out of proportion shame or guilt or concern about how the other will react. Many inside jokes may stem from these situations, actually. Despite the occasional and shortlived whirlwind of doubt and concern about the status of the relationship, your communication is very good and open and clear. You might both simply have a hard time expressing yourselves when it comes to negative feelings and experiences, likely stemming from your upbringing. Which brings me to the point of healing. A key feature of this relationship is just that. Healing. The two of you treat each other the way you wish you had been treated growing up. As though you are raising each other's wounded inner child in a much better, loving, and attentive environment. There is a lot of validation and tenderness present. The reciprocation is beautifully balanced. When one is feeling low, the other takes on a guardian role, comforting and supporting them in various ways. Need a doctor's appointment but you're too anxious to call? Your partner gotchu. Next time they're ill you'll be making them soup and wrapping them up in a blanket. The give and take feels natural, like neither of you need to think twice about it, and best of all: nobody's keeping score.

02.

Shufflemancy: High heels by Mando Diao

Once this one gets going, it's long distance, not a sprint. Considering the delays this relationship experiences before it begins, however, the steady movement doesn't feel slow at all. And although this relationship is very spontaneous and fun, there is a balancing act at play wherein plans for the future are made early on. They want to make sure you're both on the same page and have an idea of where the relationship is headed right from the start to avoid conflicting ideas later. There are some traditional elements to this relationship because they lead a busy life professionally. Plans may be made to have you stay at home once things get serious, though they are very supportive of any business ideas you come up with or already have when you enter into the relationship. This person values ambition and drive, probably just as much as you do, and is very supportive of any endeavours you decide to pursue, and is likely to help fund or network to boost your success.

Expect frequent date nights. This person enjoys romance and works hard to keep the spark alive, so long as they don't feel smothered. When given the space and time they love to shower you with gifts and make you feel special. Travelling also figures strongly, and you may cross many destinations off your bucket list with this person. They favour quality over quantity, though, and may make it a point to spend big bucks on a resort for an extended period of time to really make the most of the destination and the time you get to spend together. It's possible the two of you eventually purchase a second home somewhere you like to visit. The two of you enjoy a rich social life as well, and may frequently entertain people in your home or at different venues. Your energy is contagious and other people are naturally drawn to the two of you because of the fun and welcoming energy created by your union. I'm not seeing much in terms of issues, mostly because the element of fun is so strong here. It feels very balanced because each of you gets to be in your favoured energy and feel appreciated for what you bring to the relationship. Very strong mutual respect. Each of you seem to succeed in life and your careers and projects better because the other is by your side. Reaching higher and farther because of the support of the other. This has an air of'us against the world', as though you are building an empire together. Your success is very new-money and modern. Flashy and extravagant, but still down-to-earth and humble in a way in which you really count your blessings and have much gratitude for what you have together and where you came from. The two of you may help or give back to your community, or donate to charity. It's possible they pay off your family's mortgage or do some other big financial gesture towards your family after the two of you commit. There is a lot of passion in this relationship. Very flirty, and there is a strong sexual attraction. The two of you make each other laugh a lot and may pull pranks on each other. Check out Destene and Brandon on youtube, because their dynamic mirrors this group a lot!

03.

Shufflemancy: Mary on a cross by Ghost

This is the one that will feel like things are too good to be true. You will want for nothing. The dynamic here is almost that of a knight and the one they have sworn to protect, or the royal and the peasant they chose for love. There is much adoration here, and it feels old-timey in a way. If you have been kissing frogs before, this one will really surprise you. They enjoy traditional courting and may look down upon the modern era of dating and the attitudes surrounding it, and don't like most of the people making them offers. They also appear to compensate for time spent apart through lavish gifts, and making sure you have everything that you need. There are a lot of calls and messages being sent back and forth, especially during their time away. They're very supportive of your studies or the projects you're working on, and will do everything in their power to create a good environment for you to do what you need to do. There is a strong possibility of them asking you to accompany them on their business travels, in an effort to help the two of you spend more quality time together. You have an energy that differs so much from what they have to deal with in their professional life, and they derive a big boost of motivation and confidence from it. It is almost as though they see you as their lucky charm.

The primary cause of friction appears to come from outside the relationship. You may frequently receive strange looks when you're together, or the way you differ somehow causes tension amongst your partner's peers. They, however, are incredibly proud of you and encourage you to speak your mind and stay true to yourself. They think you're perfect and don't want you to change, especially not through pressure from the kinds of people they find shallow or even fake. There could be instances where people try to steal your partner, but they fail horribly because of your partner's devotion to you. This can also go the other way, wherein people begin to pursue you in an attempt to steal you away from your partner, as if to spite them. You may receive invitations, offers, and gifts from people, especially ones you meet through your partner. This reveals a jealous streak in your partner which is very prevalent, but not in a toxic or controlling way. Because they have such social grace and know how to play the game, they never target you with their jealousy and dismay, but those who try to get in between. They are protective of what's theirs, but are very graceful and strategic in their methodology of solving problems. This also lends itself well to any wrinkles that need ironing in the relationship, because they don't appear to get angry and have a mentality that it's not you vs. them, but the two of you vs. the problem.

This dynamic may sometimes lead to waking up alone, but there is sure to be a lovely note left behind, or they may send flowers. They like to let you sleep in, and find you to be at your most beautiful when you're asleep because of the serene look on your face. You really help them feel at peace, which is something quite difficult for them to achieve on their own. They have trouble relaxing or doing things without it somehow boosting their qualifications or adding to their resume. You help them pick out books to read just because, watch movies regardless of their acclaim and accolades, go thrifting for the fun of it or visit the sweet little side street boutiques and unknown cafés. They really just feel like they have access to more oxygen when you're around, as though they've spent their whole life holding their breath and they can breathe easily and deeply around you.

04.

Shufflemancy: Me the machine by Imogen Heap

There is a whole lot going on here mentally. The two of you spend a lot of time talking, for hours upon hours. "Is that the sun?" can become a frequent phrase used when time slips through your fingers as you talk the night away to watch the sunrise. The two of you love to debate, especially in regards to matters you agree on, because it seems you reach the same conclusion from different angles and enjoy discussing each other's detours. They love picking your brain and value your opinions. There is a bit of a hopeless romantic in them, which may catch you off guard every time due to their cerebral nature. They might leave you notes or share songs to express their feelings. To them you are an equal, a missing puzzle piece that helps them see the bigger picture. You two are like the seeker and the explorer. They like holding hands and being close to you, but seem a little hesitant, even months into the relationship. You are certainly the more open and affectionate one, whilst they tend to be a little shy. Their awkwardness is quite charming, though, because they do try their best to show their love and support. Support plays a big role here, too, as they have a lot to teach you in various areas of life and you will grow quite a bit during this relationship. They are an excellent mentor and encourage you to chase your dreams, but are also good at holding you accountable. They can be a little blunt and clumsy with their words, but they mean well and wish for you to be the best that you can be and never sell yourself short. They really won't let anybody talk down on you, least of all you yourself. They have very high standards so any self-loating on your part feels insulting to them. They wouldn't date you if they didn't think you were incredible.

They enjoy your company and express genuine interest in your thoughts and ideas. You share many interests and engaging in them together is a big part of this relationship. You two are stronger together and can face many hardships with greater ease due to how you complete one another. Not in that you aren't whole on your own, but that your individual strengths and weaknesses balance each other out. Where you lack, they're abundant, and vice versa. It really makes for a dynamic duo, albeit one that may from the outside appear mismatched or peculiar. That does not stop you, though, and they especially have very little care for what other people think. The two of you may collaborate on various projects, or work together towards both joint and separate goals. Your minds and talents blend beautifully together, and your relationship is potent with inspiration and motivation. Tackling difficult tasks and the daily grind appears easier when you can delegate things depending on your individual strengths. The source of strife mostly stems from misunderstandings. Both of you value communication, but on occasion words are left unsaid or too much is said without prior thought and one of you gets hurt. This does not seem to ever be on purpose, just accidental slip-ups and thoughtlessness.

05.

Shufflemancy: Boys do cry by Marius Bear

Which one of you brought the gasoline? The dynamic here is hot and heavy. Passionate, as though desperation and need is causing you to crawl into each other's skin and wear each other's hearts. It can get a little crazy, fast paced and wild, in most things that you do. And you may get into quite a bit of trouble together, too. When Billie Eilish said 'I'm the powder, you're the fuse; let's add some friction' the two of you were taking notes. There is a lot of push and pull, and the relationship contains a lot of drama. Though I don't feel like that is wholly unwelcome, strangely enough. It seems beneficial for the two of you to keep each other on your toes, like you both crave some explosive feelings to feel fulfilled. This relationship really isn't for the faint of heart. But whilst others watch in horror, you make each other feel alive in this almost feral dance. They are very protective of you, and you of them. It's like you give each other scary dog privilege because nobody else can swoop in to steal a heart while the other stands on watch. You're both a little possessive, but it boils down to the deep connection you have feeling so intertwined with the very cores of your beings that losing the other would feel like losing yourself. Definitely worth checking yourselves for co-dependency to be sure it does not go overboard, but so long as you keep your individuality intact, this one is one hell of a ride. A ride or die, in fact. You are truly partners in crime and feel dangerously powerful together, like you could take over the world and overcome anything.

I won't sugar coat this: there is a lot of turmoil that the both of you conjure up. Most of the issues in this dynamic stem from the heightened emotions you are both capable of, and if either of you start wielding them as weapons it will cause even more explosive emotions. I will say, though, that this only gets physical in the make up part of the show, as the actual strife is emotional and verbal in nature. Because you care a lot for each other, neither would dare lay a hand on the other. The thought of you getting hurt by them or anyone or anything else would upset them greatly, and it's the same in reverse. You mirror each other a lot, and have much to learn from each other. Much of it will feel heavy and burdensome since you will be facing your own demons within the other person, and that's never easy. Fortunately there is a lot of gentle care here, too. Since you both feel things so strongly and have similar experiences in life, it is much easier for you to sympathise with each other and support each other. This is one of those relationships where you truly do not need to hide or be on your best behaviour, because you have both weathered storms and do not easily flinch when the thunder and lightning begin to roar, and you both provide each other shelter when needed.

06.

Shufflemancy: Light by Sleeping at last

I remember seeing a writing prompt once upon a time with the premise of seeing in greyscale until you lock eyes with your soulmate, and this has that exact energy. It really seems as though this person lead a very monotonous life until you barged in, inviting the sunshine into their life. Because in many ways they view you as the light of their life, they are very protective of you. You bring them much joy, laughter, and relaxation, all things they do very little of, at least successfully, and find themselves more able to partake in the joys of life in your presence. You are a breath of fresh air, as though someone finally opened up a window inside a stuffy office. They see stars in your eyes and they want nothing more than to preserve them, and make them shine even brighter. There is a little bit of a saviour complex here. Anything you struggle with they don an armour for to protect and to serve. Because you nurture their soul and heal their wounds with your tender love and care and expand their horizons with your sense of wonder, they feel compelled to take care of you. It feels almost familial, but not in a weird way. It is as if they want to keep your childlike wonder alive and well, and right any wrongs that come your way. They take a load off your shoulders frequently, and may especially take on all your mundane tasks and paperwork. They love your playful energy and can see that the stuffy stressors of life cage that bird in, and they want to see you soar. This is a very healing connection for both of you. You balance each other out whilst being a mentor for each other, teaching each other your strengths so that you two can feel whole and capable all in your own right. You are both willing to bend, to try new things, allow the other to show you new worlds and explore possibilities. Very likely to lead to marriage, and it would be a very happy and functional one because of the growth you inspire in one another both as individuals and together as one. It's like your relationship begins as a little sapling, slow, but once it has been given the space to grow it grows big and strong and will withstand any storm and leave behind a legacy, like your future children putting up a swing for their children on the tree you two once sowed.

#pac reading #energy reading #pick a card #intuitive reading #love reading #love pac #pick a card reading #pick a pile #pick a picture #tarot reading #soapy.post #thank you to the lovely anon that suggested this ♡

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i-like-media · 11 months ago

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I imagine Donna to still eventually ask what the doctor has been up to. Maybe she does so while they're stuck doing a chore together like the laundry or dishes. And the doctor will try to avoid it like he always does, but caves under Donna's stare. He'd still keep it vague, speaking more about the companions the toymaker spoke of and cautiously daring to honour their memory like that while keeping himself away from the hurtful bits. He even jokes a bit about who he ended up becoming. He'd admit he had an obsession with bowties and had sonic sunglasses once, and Donna would laugh and say she'd LOVE to see that.

Then, after a pause, Donna asks if he's ever stumbled upon her with a different face, and with a hushed breath he admits he hasn't.

She grows a bit silent, grieving a thought she wished were reality. And then the doctor pipes up again.

"This isn't actually the first familiar face I've gotten...-WELL not another one of my OWN faces, but certainly something familiar."

Intrigued, Donna stops what she's doing and listens to him explain further.

"When I first got it I couldn't place where I'd gotten it from. I just, knew it was familiar...... -I didn't linger on it as long as I should've and I moved on rather quickly."

"Why?" Donna asked, a bit bewildered at the thought of it.

"I was careless and angry and sort of... Scottish.-ANYways one day me and Clara were dragged to this viking village that had gotten itself into trouble, and we helped them. But this village girl had, uhm... Well she didn't make it. I was so angry -I remember that anger really well. And Clara kept on asking if there was something I could do..."

"Well, was there?" By now both of them weren't doing their chores anymore and all they could hear was the singing of a couple of starlings outside.

"...Yes, but it would've broken some rules."

Donna already knew what exactly he meant by that. She would figure that's the end of it, yet the doctor kept on talking.

"But then as I was rotting in my defeat, I remembered this important day I shouldn't ever have forgotten. The day we were in Pompeii... And only then did I realise that face, MY face, was a reminder of something very important you told me. To just, save someone."

"...So you mean, your face..." The doctor nodded, and Donna couldn't help but finally release the breath she'd been holding with a smile.

"I did save her and she ended up living a long, long, longlonglonglonglong life... But even after hundreds of years, when I doubted myself and needed it most, Donna Noble... Your impact on the world and my life, persisted."

And I imagine the doctor to give her a big, proud smile, before Donna pulls him in for a big hug he wasn't expecting to receive. Because maybe, just maybe, that was exactly what she needed to hear that day.

Then once they return to their chores, I imagine Donna to think about it a bit longer and make a comment. "Well you better never take on my face!" And the doctor would dissolve into a pouty ramble about how he has no control over it while also being a bit disappointed she's said no.

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transmascsteveharrington · 1 year ago

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Steve knows it's not polite to stare. He knows to quickly avert his gaze in the locker rooms and how to glance at pretty girls long enough for them to notice but not too long to make him seem like a creep. Still, despite telling himself not to stare over and over again it is impossible not to stare at Eddie Munson.

Steve had been unable to look away when Eddie had first moved to Hawkins, permanent frown on his face and his hair buzzed short. Steve had desperately longed to touch it. Wondered if it was soft or spiky, if Eddie had chosen the haircut himself, or if his parents had made the choice, just like Steve's made choices for him all the time.

The staring problem got worse with Eddie letting his hair grow out. And the whole getting up on tables in the cafeteria thing. At least nobody was thinking it was weird for Steve to be staring up at Eddie while Eddie was going on about forced conformity and sticking it to the man.

Tommy would mumble something about being a show-off and freak under his breath and Steve would laugh along, forcing himself to tear his eyes away. He knew better though. Knew it wasn't really Eddie, just the kind of performance he liked to give to keep up the act of the untouchable freak. Steve knew the feeling all too well of looking in the mirror not recognizing the person you were seeing. Steve would see a person with a heavy crown, Eddie one with a jester's hat. But it's not like anyone ever truly bothered to look, to actually see more than the parts both of them were playing.

There is a bottle pressed to Steve's throat but even if there wasn't he would be unable not to look at Eddie. He's known that Eddie has brown eyes, but he's never seen them this up close, has never gotten lost in the dark swirls of brown, has never allowed himself to think how truly beautiful they are. Eddie is glaring at Steve so much fear and apprehension in his eyes. It makes Steve want to say, I won't hurt you, I promise. I know you. I'm just like you.

He doubts Eddie would appreciate or believe the sentiment, a king and a jester have nothing in common and Steve is under no illusion that while he was watching Eddie, seeing Eddie, that Eddie was looking back at him and seeing past the blinding lights of the jewels the elite of Hawkings High had bestowed upon Steve. So instead Steve swears onto Dustin's mom and the bottle moves away from his neck and Eddie out of his sight.

The first time Steve can't bare to look at Eddie is in the hospital. He still sits in the tiny room, holding Eddie's hand in his as if he had the right, unable to look at the unconscious, unmoving, pale face. The doctors said Eddie was going to be alright, but Steve had looked enough at a half-dead Eddie when carrying his torn-apart body out of the upside down. It had been enough for a lifetime.

It's once Eddie has woken up that Steve truly can't keep his eyes away. Stares unapologetically, always finds Eddie's eyes in a crowded room, looks and looks as if taking Eddie in was more vital for Steve's survival than taking oxygen.

Eddie knows obviously, can always feel Steve's eyes prickling in his neck. He brings it up eventually. They've spend the evening smoking weed at Steve's pool the summer heat keeping the night mild. They trade the wet end of the joint between them as if it were kisses. And maybe Steve wishes they were when their knees knock together.

"You need to stop looking at me like that," Eddie says as he exhales smoke.

"Like what?"

"Like it means something, like you want me to get ideas," Eddie huffs a laugh, failing at covering up the slither of want that wraps around his words like vines. Steve takes the joint and stubs it out on the terrace floor.

"What if it does mean something?" He asks braver than he feels. "What if I want you to get ideas?"

Eddie's eyes widen in surprise for a moment before he searches Steve's face trying to find out if Steve is being serious. There is something thrilling about Eddie looking at him like that, a little in disbelief, a little in awe, and a little bit smitten.

Eddie keeps quiet for a moment longer and continues to look at Steve. Properly looks at Steve, lets go of all he's been told and focuses on all that he knows. Steve looks at Eddie as always, seeing Eddie. Eddie looks back at Steve and for the first time truly sees Steve. He lets out a little gasp as Steve keeps holding his gaze.

I know you, Steve wants to say. I've been watching you and looking at you and been seeing you and I know you and I love you.

"Then prove it," Eddie whispers as if he knows exactly what Steve is thinking.

Proof that you know and love me. It's all the encouragement Steve needs to lean in and close the distance between them. They kiss with their eyes closed. They both know there will be a lifetime of looking at each other and seeing each other.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #stranger things #stranger things fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington fic #eddie munson fic #my writing #you can get the writer out of tma you can't get tma out of the writer

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chigirisprincess · 1 year ago

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Covered in the Colour of You ࿐

— Armin Arlert

⊹ Details. 18+ minors dni, cisfem reader (use of girl as reference to the reader), reader's hair gets combed through, reader wears a nightgown, post-canon exploration of characters and setting, reader is mentally ill (so is Armin), hunger as a metaphor for desire, love as consumption, love confessions, first times (Armin is a virgin, Reader is not), first kisses, sex on a table, some foreplay, unprotected sex, creampies, ambiguous ending, angst, hurt/some comfort, childhood friends to lovers. ⊹ Run time. 10k ⊹ Note. I don't know how we got here but I'm glad we did. This was meant to be a cute comfort fic to deal with the ending of Attack on Titan but it became so much more, I hope you enjoy.

❝A surprise visit from your childhood friend, Armin Arlert forces you to confront the feelings you've been harbouring for over a decade..❞

The Jägerist’s cries are deafening, they bounce off the clay brick walls of the surrounding houses and slither through your shuttered window panes. Every Tuesday and Thursday, the newly minted Paradis military regiment convenes in the small town square within the rebuilt city of Shiganshina. It took them just under a month to replace the fallen with green boys and girls who were just buzzing at the idea of honouring Eren Jäger and avenging his death. Once Paradis managed to secure the resources– if there were any left– you were certain that the military would erect a bronze statue of Paradis’ “saviour”. For now, they’d bother napping babies and the elderly folk who milled about the area to soak in some of the sun’s sweet warmth.

Today they seemed to be reminding those who’d spare an ear to listen, that traitors would soon shore and with them came treasonous falsehoods. If not for Queen Historia who still harbours some morsel of affection for her old comrades, they’d be as good as dead the moment their ship docked. Word spread quickly, how you weren’t sure, but like wildfire the claim that Armin Arlert had been the one to kill Eren Jäger scorched the plains and further sowed the seeds of instability amongst the population.

The irony of such a ludicrous statement was not lost on you. Armin Arlert couldn’t kill Eren Jäger, they were best friends and all of Shiganshina knew there could not be one without the other. You had known the two almost as long as they had known each other. Shiganshina wasn’t so big in those days, Grisha Jäger was the only doctor and Armin’s father was something of a handyman. They were who you called upon when something was amiss and you’d thank them with a warm meal or something sweet. That was what you did in those days, you showed kindness wherever you could. They were so simple, those days when the walls kept secrets and our minds were shrouded with ignorant bliss. Some mornings when you woke before the sun had yet risen, you wished Paradis could have remained tucked safely beneath the blanket King Fritz had pulled over the island.

What little sense of communal affection remained dwindled with calls to action that erupted from the square.

This morning, the sense of longing that had settled between your lungs weighed heavily as you listened to the shouting. You wished the clock would turn back and the next time you woke, you’d be ten years old and the house you lived in would be your home. It was sort of a sick joke, to be given the keys to the house built upon the rubble of your family's home. Floch handed you the keys as if he had done you this great personal service when it had been Eren, Armin, Mikasa, and their friends who had dug through the wreckage to salvage the home they too had lost. Vagrancy was tiring and what little money you had to your name after years of working for meagre wages that just barely covered your expenses, maybe you should have been grateful to at least collect a few pieces of your life before even if they jagged and misshapen. Something was better than nothing, wasn’t it?

It had to be.

There needed to be some reason for you to keep going. Lately, there didn’t seem to be any. Everything felt wrong. The once-cobbled streets were made of smooth even stone that allowed you to bounce around the city with ease, it reminded you of the capital. As a child, you often felt jealous that Wall Sina was home to such niceties while you were made to trip over protruding stones and wade through mud puddles in the wet months. Now though, you’d give anything for a semblance of a distant past that would make Shiganshina home once more. But as you lingered around your old haunts, searching for familiar faces and memories that would ease the pain in your chest, all you’d find was something new and foreign that left you feeling disappointed.

Turning over onto your side you curled inwards, a soft sigh passing your lips as you willed your mind to banish the longing that gnawed at you. The cool breeze that glides through your window leaves goosebumps on the bits of flesh that aren’t being swaddled by your thin white blanket. All the battle cries seemed to have simmered down as the sun inched closer toward the middle of the sky. You might be able to catch the morning market before they pack up their wares for the day if you leave now. Your icebox was pathetically empty, with only a head of rapidly wilting lettuce and milk to occupy the space. Sitting upward with a yawn, you cast a glance toward your dresser. Your clothes hang sloppily over the side of the open drawers. You should probably tidy things up before the hour grows too late.

The sleek, mousy brown floorboards that make up the second story of your house do not creak as you pad across the room—your chest aches, though you’ve grown desensitised to the familiar feeling. Your house used to creak and groan when the wind blew too roughly, and the walls were thin enough that you’d wake to the sound of your mother humming as she prepared breakfast for your family. You tried not to dwell too hard, if anything you should have been relieved. An unexpected storm wouldn’t dare to blow the roof off your house now.

Plucking the soft, brown wool knit cardigan off the lip of your cracked door you slipped the fabric over your body. Your delicate muslin nightgown did little to keep the morning chill away. It did even less to preserve any ounce of modesty. Your bare feet slapped against the stairs as you headed downward, and a soft knock sounded at your door. Pulling your cardigan closer to your body you sighed. It must have been Mrs. Bergmann from next door coming to check on you, make sure you left your house this week, let in some fresh air– function as any other human would, that sort of stuff. She had been widowed long ago, her only son had been one of the many scouts to give his life for a free Paradis. There wasn’t much for her to do aside from checking in on her neighbours. She was a wife, a mother– it was in her nature to nurture all the little lost souls she came across.

“I’m coming Mrs. Bergmann,” You called, your voice echoing around the empty space that would have been your living room, “You don’t need to call in Werner to bust down the door just yet!”

Forcing a smile to your lips, you prepared yourself to open the door. Mrs. Bergmann was well-meaning on the best of days, if a little nosey on the worst. It was better to have someone than no one at all, you remind yourself, pushing back the urge to blanche and roll your eyes at the urgency of her knocking. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you hope your hair wasn’t too gnarly after all the tossing and turning you did last night. The door opens with a soft click as you twist the knob open.

Shock blows through you as you blink at the person on the other side. Your eyes frantically open and close, trying to make sense of who stood before you but as your synapses fired off round after round, searching for something, they found nothing.

“Armin?” You timidly ask, your throat twists up and grows dry.

The syllables on your tongue felt wrong. Maybe, the muscles had just forgotten how his name tasted. As a child, his name rolled off your tongue sweetly and constantly. Back then, there had been too many emotions packed inside your small body, you could never make sense of them, all you knew was that they all led back to the man in front of you. Your cheeks warmed at the reminder of the crush you used to harbour, of how you’d write your name and his, silently calling yourself Mrs. Arlert as if she hadn’t already existed in the form of his mother.

Armin’s cheeks grow round with the shy smile he wears, “Hi,” he says. The remnants of his boyhood live in the soft curve of his jaw and the cherub-like softness of his rosy complexion.

“Hi,” you breathlessly whispered as you searched for any other lingering signs of familiarity.

“May I come in?” he asks, his nervous hands smooth imaginary wrinkles in his sage green tie. The breath is selfishly stolen from your lungs by the greedy, monster who lived inside of you. They swallowed back the traces of your youth, you hoped it was enough to placate them because as long as your breath was hitched, no words could come forth.

Armin’s blue eyes curiously peered back at you from beneath his pale blonde lashes. He was still quite pretty, but the edge of maturity that marred his features made your heart flutter in a way it never had. The desperate longing that clawed at your rib cage slowed, pawing instead as its interests morphed into something more amorous. You would have beaten it down if you could, shame prickles your skin as you clear your throat.

“Of course,” you stutter, opening the door to make room for him to enter, “You’ll have to excuse my appearance, I wasn’t expecting any guests this morning.”

His smile is polite, “What about Mrs. Bergmann?” He inquires, his eyes darting around to drink in the interior of your house. It looked just like the one he was raised in but it had been twelve years since he stepped foot in one. The scouts lived in barracks that were carved out of long-since abandoned castles, “You seemed to be expecting her.”

“Ah, not exactly,” you muttered, offering him a seat at your dining table, “She’s just the only visitor I have as of late … So, what brings you by?”

Armin declines the seat, instead pulling out the chair opposite of him for you. You thank him with a small bow of your head. His knuckles brush against your shoulders as he slides his fingertips along the edge of your chair before swinging around to the other side. In a world of boys, Armin Arlert was a gentleman, as he always had been, even at the age of ten when boys took to tugging girls' pigtails for attention. His grandfather would be proud of the young man he’s become. You think Mr. Arlert would have been proud even if all Armin did was survive.

The warm yellow sunlight filters through the windows and turns Armin’s hair a shade of bleach blonde. His skin is tanned, his cheeks rosy. He looks healthy, he’s a bit taller too. His hair was different too now that you took a moment to look at it, only slightly so. The shaved undercut reminded you of the short, stoic captain whose charge Armin was in for years.

Insecurity stirred in your belly. You thought of what you might look like to him being so dishevelled in nothing but a nightgown and cardigan. Unkempt, that is how you must have appeared to him. The bike in your stomach burns at the back of your throat as you cross your legs and tuck as much of your body beneath the table as you can.

“I just wanted to see you,” he says, resting his linked hands on the table, “It’s been a while since we last spoke.”

It’s been over four years, the bitter overly insecure voice in your head hisses, “It has, but you’ve been busy, saving the world and all,” you say instead, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear, “Honestly I must confess, I'm a bit surprised, I thought you and the other ambassadors would be meeting with the Queen.”

What you truly mean to say dangles in the air. Armin can feel it, he shifts in his seat— why wasn’t he with someone more important? How did he manage to sneak past the Jägerists predatory gaze? He shouldn’t have been here. The anguish that wrought the shores of Paradis couldn’t be fixed with a measly conversation but surely, it was a start so, why was he here with you?

“She met our boat at the harbour to ensure our safe passage into the city,” he explains, picking at his fingers, “We’re still trying to coordinate with the army but they’ve agreed to allow free reign of Shiganshina so long as we remain unarmed.”

“It would be rather counterintuitive for peace ambassadors to bear arms.”

Armin lets out a small chuckle, smiling a bit to himself.

“But, they’ve already proved their incompetence in thinking trained soldiers need weapons to fight,” you muttered, casting your eyes away from him, “I … My apologies, I shouldn't speak ill of your comrades.”

“They’ve dissolved the Scout Regiment, I’m no longer a soldier and they are not my comrades,” Armin swiftly replies.

He fiddles with his tie again, flattening out the fabric with scar-riddled hands. The last time you saw him, his skin was surprisingly unmarred. Old scars you could have sworn imprinted his skin ceased to exist, something to do with his newfound titan ability, that’s what Eren said when he rolled up his sleeves to expose his own blemish-free body. It seemed unnatural then, for the pieces of personal history to be erased but Armin felt alien enough without you reminding him of how much he had changed.

“Yes, but-”

“How are you doing?” He interrupts, and an apologetic look swims within the depths of his baby blue eyes. His time in the military was a touchy subject, which was to be expected but it didn’t wash away the burn of curiosity that ribbed at your bones, “When I last wrote to Mikasa, she said she hadn’t seen you in some time in spite of being neighbours.”

Pursing your lips, you sigh, “I’m doing well Armin,” it’s a bald-faced lie but the two of you have become so estranged, Armin couldn’t know you the way he once did, not when so much time has washed the imprints you’ve pressed upon each other as it brought in the tide, “How are you?”

“That’s not an answer,” Armin frowns, the dip of his lips making his cheeks round in a way that reminds you that he is only twenty-two, “I haven’t seen you in four years, I … I want to know what your life is like.”

Reaching over the table, Armin takes your hand in his. If he notices the irritated and oozing flesh around your cuticles, he keeps it well hidden. Smoothing his thumb over your knuckles, Armin settles his eyes on yours, taking in the two little lines that have been carved into your skin from how often you furrow your brows. There was no “correct” way to tell someone that you spent most of your afternoons curled up in bed, lying listlessly as you listened to the sounds of the bustling street below. Armin had a penchant for worrying, he’d worry about your well-being when there were far more important issues for him to focus on.

“It’s not so different from before.”

Armin was unconvinced. Eight years ago, after the Scout Regiment took control of the central government, a bit of money was sent your way in addition to your rebuilt childhood home. Though they wouldn’t say it, you believed that Eren, Armin, and Mikasa felt guilty for abandoning you the moment they turned twelve thus becoming eligible to enrol in the Cadet Corps. You had no interest in joining the Scouts, Military Police, or the Garrison but Eren was determined and wherever Eren went so too did Mikasa and Armin. With no family and no friends, you had to fend for yourself. It wasn’t so bad. A woman, you could hardly remember her name now, paid you to care for her youngest child while she and her husband worked, and their older children attended school. She gave you room and board, fed you three square meals, and gave you “hand-me-downs” to wear.

In the chaos of Trost being breeched you became separated and weeks later learned that the family perished. You used what little money you managed to save to pay for board in an inn near Jinae where you worked as a stable hand until your childhood friends and their comrades came bearing gifts. You’d need to find work soon. Now that you were of age, you were sure to find a cushy job as a barmaid at the local tavern.

“You think it is?” You asked, biting on your bottom lip.

Armin nods. His grip tightens and he mutters a low, “Sorry” when you wince from how he accidentally squishes your fingers beneath his.

Shrugging your shoulders you think back to the before much like you did most days, “Paradis is being run by lunatics who worship a dead man,” you blanche, your chest preemptively tightening from your nerves, “That’s not so different to before when this shitty little island was run by lunatics who worshipped the walls.”

Except now, people actually paid mind to the chirping loons. They had access to weapons that could wipe out what was left of humanity and certainly were unafraid to use them. Crossing them would be a very stupid and very dangerous mistake. Bravery was what this island prided itself on, now the most one could muster was a contempt-filled glower that was sent in passing.

“That’s not …” Armin’s voice trailed off. There was that look of guilt again.

“I know.”

Lacing your fingers between his, you squeeze Armin’s hand.

“It’s not your fault, Armin,” you assure, your mouth twisting up into a strange smile. The muscles in your face seemed to ache as though you were contorting your expression, “You know that, right?”

He nods his head, and strands of his pale blonde hair fall against his forehead as he does, “I know,” he whispers with conviction though his hand trembles in yours. You remain unconvinced, guilt rolls off his shoulders in sickening waves.

“It’s not Eren’s fault either.”

You’re unsure why you say it. It was Eren’s fault. It was his name and his image that they fought for. Whatever politics happened behind closed doors did not matter, not when he died knowing that those men and women idolised him and would wage wars in his name. One spoiled fruit rotted away the entire crop and now Paradis was ready to cosign its doom, picking on the weakened and the damned as if this island had not once been just the same.

“Thank you,” Armin mouths, his voice barely audible as he clears his throat and replaces his expression with a friendly smile.

“I guess the trains are different,” you blurt, looking for a way to steer the sinking ship that was this conversation, “I’ll never get used to them, they’re so loud and dark inside.”

“Glad to know our hard work is being appreciated.”

You lift the corners of your lips to smile at him, “It is, the horses are very grateful to no longer be worked to the bone by merchants transporting goods from Maria to Sheena,” you say, nearly forgetting that there no longer was an interior or exterior to name, “Life here is still simple, Armin, there isn’t much to update you on.”

“Still-”

“We can’t all be heroes,” you jest, nudging his foot beneath the table, “So, tell me what is life like for you?”

Armin withdraws his hands from yours, “It’s all I talk about, I don’t want to talk about it with you,” he explains, swallowing thickly, “Is that okay?”

“Of course it is.”

Rising from your seat you round the corner of the small table to press the palm of your hand between his shoulder blades. The gesture is meant to be comforting but you feel awkward, like you shouldn’t be touching him like this though your body craved the knowledge of what his skin would like against yours. The tips of your fingers graze the edge of his crisp collar, you hastily jerk back, eyes narrowing to inspect the fabric for any unwanted crinkles you may have caused.

“I’ve been such a bad host,” you mutter, “My mother would be so disappointed that I haven’t asked you if you’d like anything to drink.”

“Tea if you have any, please.”

You nod again, you still have some dried chamomile that Mrs.Bergmann gave to you when you confessed to her that you struggled to sleep some days. The tea didn’t help but it was the thought that counted. Goosebumps trailed up the length of your bare legs and you cursed yourself for not excusing yourself to dress before you sat down with Armin. The early spring air wouldn’t warm until the late afternoon most days.

Armin’s gaze is heavy. He watches you flutter about your kitchen with keen intent. His eyes slither up your body in a methodical manner. You’re unsure if he’s leering the way men unabashedly do when they’re three pints in or if he’s searching for any indication that something might be amiss. You hope it’s the latter. It should be the latter, you didn’t feel uncomfortable and Armin wasn’t one to steal eyefuls of others.

“Do you still like it with milk and honey?” you ask, though you’ve already reached into the icebox in search of the milk you knew was in there. Hopefully, it hasn't yet spoiled.

You flinched when you rose to your full height. Armin had materialised behind you. The jug nearly drops from your hand but Armin is quick to wrap his fingers around the handle, overtop of your hand. He guides the jug to the counter and reaches an arm around you to take the teapot off the heat before it can release a shrill squeal.

Pressing your hand to your chest, you murmur a breathless, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Armin chirps.

His eyes bore into yours, he’s inspecting you once more. Whatever he’s in search of, you’re certain he isn’t going to find it. The girl that he once knew was not the same woman that stood before him, nor was he the same boy even if his eyes twinkled just the same. That was growing up. Your stomach grumbled, licking its chops as the wanting returned. Your eyes trickled down Armin’s face until they settled on his cupid's bow. His lips were full and a dusted pink colour. They were nice, you remember wondering what they’d feel like against yours if it’d hurt to kiss him after he’d bitten his lips raw with stress.

The sharp edge of the counter digs into the plush flesh of your hips as you press your body against it. Hunger is as frightening as it is all consuming. You are hungry. Are you hungry for him? You’ve craved and yearned for places and their people, but never their bodies. The one time you allowed a man in your bed it’d been out of curiosity and some twisted need to feel something, anything other than the dull twinge of melancholy that sprouted from the roots it planted in your heart.

Armin placed his hand on your chest where your heart was. The heat of his palm melted through the thin fabric of your nightgown, causing you to instinctively shiver, “Your heart is racing,” he comments, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, “I didn’t startle you, did I?”

“No.”

“How is Annie?” You nervously ask, searching for a way to stifle the deluded desire that coursed through your veins, “Last I heard from Hitch, she had been freed from her crystal and joined you. That must have been exciting, being able to speak to her after so many years.”

His face crinkles up into a confused expression, “Annie is fine, they’re all fine. Connie and Jean are excited to see their mothers,” he replies slightly, cocking his head to the side, “Why do you ask?”

You shrug your shoulders. Armin doesn’t remove his hand. Your heart skips a beat, you’re sure he feels it.

“Was just curious I guess, since I heard you had feelings for her.”

“Annie and I are friends, nothing more,” his nose crinkles, he seems to want to ask where you hear such a ludicrous rumour but doesn’t. When he wasn’t with the scouts, he was with her crystal, talking as if one day she might answer back.

“Oh.”

“Are you seeing anyone?” Armin counters, his long pale lashes fluttering against his cheek as he blinks, “You’ve always been … quite the catch.”

His voice trails off, he regrets his wording. He didn’t want to liken you to fish or cattle but of all the vast information stored in his brain, there seemed to be nothing on complimenting women. Not that he’s done much of that in his lifetime. There’s never been a need to. Armin wants to compliment you, to tell you how he really feels but it gets clogged in his throat as he struggles to get a read on you.

Shaking your head, you avert your gaze.

It’s not for a lack of trying or wanting. None of the relationships you pursued ever felt right. Their hands didn’t fit within yours the way they were supposed to. Your body was hallowed out in the middle but they couldn’t fill you up. It wasn’t their fault. You’d accept that you were broken, someone who simply wasn’t meant to be loved. It was easy. Until now, when the one person your heart still clung to stood here and dangled himself like a carrot.

“Good, you’re too good for anyone on this island,” his proclamation makes your skin itch. Even if what he said were true, you would have to settle for someone on this island eventually, lest you spend the rest of your life as alone as you are now, “You deserve someone who’s good enough for you.”

You nearly laugh, though he makes this statement with such earnestness that you’re almost inclined to believe him. Almost.

“Who then?”

Looking into his eyes made your lungs ache. There was nowhere to escape with how he pinned you in place with his gaze.

“Who’s good enough for me?” You ask, your nails digging into the wood counter as you curl your fists around the lip of it, “You?”

Armin rolls his eyes and the sight alone shocks you, “No, I could never be good enough for you,” a laugh springs forth, crackling past your lips before you’re able to stop it, “Is something funny?”

His cheeks turn red with embarrassment but there's nowhere for him to hide either.

“No … Yes, actually,” you sigh, expelling all the air from your lungs as you muster up the resolve to be truthful, “I have loved for as long as I can remember and I have wanted you even before I even knew what love truly was.”

Your fingers coil around his wrist, intent on wrenching his hand away from your chest but the look in his eyes stops you. Sadness and self-loathing meet in the bright blue pools of his irises. You were born six months before he was but he’s always seemed years ahead of you. There was a certain kind of wisdom that surrounded him, you weren’t sure why. Now though, whatever maturity that shrouded Armin vanished and all that lay beneath was a newborn fawn that teetered on legs far too long for him.

Your nails dig into the cuff of his jacket, crinkling the pristine fabric, “There is not a day that goes by where I haven’t thought of you.”

“I’m no good for you either,” he says with a wet laugh. His eyes shone with welled up tears that had no business blurring his gaze.

“Because you’ve killed people?” You ask, your brows furrowing as you frown, “There are many people who have done worse for less. At least you had a reason.”

“I could never be the man that you need me to be.”

“Not even for an afternoon?” You had always known his future held more than your own, even before he became humanity's saviour. He’d make his peace with Paradis and leave, maybe he’d come back years from now, or maybe he’d plant his roots elsewhere.

His hand trembles as he shakes his head, “No.”

Pressing his forehead against yours, he releases a shaky exhale. You bite back the urge to ask him once more why he was here. You were never that close as children, you were close in a way that all of Shiganshina was but never anything more than, at least nothing that would have meant this unannounced visit was appropriate.

“Why?”

“You should live a quiet life,” Armin whispers, his lips nearly grazing yours as they move to form each syllable, “A happy life, after all you’ve been through, you deserve it.”

Your eyes flutter shut, “And you don’t?” It’s a stupid question, really, if he believed he did this conversation wouldn’t be happening, “You’ve been through far more than I, you’ve lost so much more.”

“I have even more to atone for.”

His bottom lip quivers as he presses the weight of his body into you. He’s heavier than you could have imagined, and his body is harder too. Somewhere between now and then his lithe frame melded into lean muscle and it serves as another reminder of how much time has passed, how little you two knew of each other now. Trailing your fingertips over his shoulder, you slide your arm around him, pulling him into an embrace. Armin shudders in your hold, a meek whimper slipping past his lips as he crushes his body into yours. Your nails press into the sliver of skin that peeks over the lip of his collar.

It's the nape of his neck.

When titans were simply the monsters that hid beneath your bed and plagued your dreams, it was common knowledge that the way to snuff them out was through the nape. It felt oddly vulnerable for your hand to roam over the smooth expanse of skin, though even as a titan shifter it was no weak spot, it may well have been with the way his body shook in your arms.

“That doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to live or to love,” you whisper against the shell of his ear, “You get to love now, you get to be loved. Armin, you’re allowed to have things and to want things even after all that has happened.”

Armin sniffles, pressing his nose in your hair. The scent of the lavender soap you’ve used for as long as you could remember still clings to your hair. You wonder if he remembers if that is why he burrows his face deeper until the tip of his nose and his lips brush against the skin of your neck.

Wanting was hard.

So little felt tangible and on the off chance it was, it remained just out of reach. Like a tease, that brushed your fingertips as you outstretched your arm before pulling away or a glimpse of the sun before an array of clouds moved in from across the sky. You couldn’t remember the last time you wanted something. Whatever it was you felt for Armin simmered lowly on a back burner until now, longing did not serve survival. Still, you wanted him but not in the way magpies coveted shiny trinkets but in the way the stars longed for the moon. It was a constant, all consuming yearning that made your stomach twist inward at the strange sensation.

“I don’t even …” Armin trails off, his voice wet with emotion, “I can’t remember the last time I allowed myself to desire something.”

Leaning back, Armin allows enough space for him to look at your face. His cheeks are pink, blotchy, and shiny with half dried tears that pooled atop the apples of his cheeks. Cupping your face with the palm of your hand, he smiles sadly at you.

“But, all I have wanted for years was to know what it is like to kiss you.”

Your body burns, not with embarrassment but something else.

“Is that all?” You ask.

The corners of Armin’s mouth twitch upward, “Maybe not but I let go of those dreams long ago.”

“You kept this one, why?”

“Wishful thinking, maybe or … ?” Armin says, scrunching his brows together as he trails off, “You’ve always been here, you’ve been a constant in this ever changing world so I suppose I hoped there’d be a day where I could …”

“Kiss me?”

Armin bashfully nods, biting his lip a bit.

The shiny metal kettle of water grows cold in the length of time you and Armin spend silently staring at each other. He assesses you, slowly, looking for any signs that your affection for him remained buried in the past. You spoke in the past tense, and your words were too easily misconstrued. Your hands slip to cup the underside of his jaw. All this waiting, all this thinking was maddening when you knew exactly what you wanted. His face replaced those of all the men you kissed, his body manifested in the throngs of taverns like an apparition to taunt you. You wanted to kiss him more than you wanted anything else in this world.

His skin was warm to the touch, you’re sure yours is too. You feel warm like you’ve been dipped in melted candle wax. A bit of stubble tickles the palm of your hands and it makes you giggle. His hair is so fair, you didn’t even notice. Armin’s shoulders tense as you lean in, insecurity claws at your throat but you’ve already taken the leap. You were too far gone now to change your mind. Gently grazing your lips across his, you give Armin a chance to back away but he only leans in closer, his calloused thumbs bite into the soft edge of your jawline as he instinctively squeezes you.

Armin’s lips are slightly chapped and scabbed over in a way that tells you he still nervously chews them when he’s worried. He’s inexperienced, that you were expecting, not that you were particularly tactful with how you clumsily melded your mouth against his. Though, he didn’t seem to mind as he eagerly attempted to mimic each movement. The thread of want that coiled around your stomach roared, begging for your attention as pulled away.

The small noise of disappointment that gathers in the back of Armin’s throat does not fall deaf upon your ears. But, you feel ravenous. If you didn’t slither away now, you’d consume him, bones and all, before he’d even had the chance to register that you sunk your teeth into his sternum. You feel ravenous. It makes your skin itch. Your fingers twitched, they desperately wished to burrow themselves into his flesh to feel how his heart thrummed for you.

Through lidded eyes, Armin peers at you, “Just like I thought,” he says, his cheeks somehow deepening in colour.

“What do you mean?”

“One kiss and I’m gone,” he explains but that doesn’t smooth the confused furrow from between your brows, “I want more, I don’t know how I’m meant to live on knowing what it’s like to kiss and never being able to again.”

Your nose scrunches as you frown, “Say who?”

“Pardon?”

“Who said that I’d never kiss you again?” You ask, smoothing your thumb along the length of his stubbly jaw, “Because, I never said that.”

“I just thought-”

Looping your arms around his neck you sigh, “Stop thinking so much,” you whine, allowing yourself to relish in the knowledge that he too wanted more, “Sometimes things are far simpler than you make them out to be.”

Armin bashfully dips his chin for a moment, his heat filled gaze cast away which offers you some reprieve. Only for a short moment, though. He faces you once more in an instant. You can see it swimming in the pools of his irises, the want, the hunger. It’s something you never imagined to be reflected back to you, least of all from Armin. It thrills you all the same, your skin prickling with electricity that crackles to life when he reaches for your hips.

It’s gentlemanly, how he rests his hands respectively over your body with a feather light touch that may flee should you move too quickly. You want more though, you wish he’d take claim to you the way you the way your cunt ached for.

“Are they?”

You nod, fearing your voice would somehow betray you.

He too nods, far more thoughtful than you were, “You know, I loved you too, never had any doubts of what it was,” he muses, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows, “It never faded either even when I lost and confused about what came next.”

His admission makes you bristle, your ears perking up in search of any misspoken syllables that may have deluded you. There were none. There was no mistaking what Armin had confessed. It doesn’t feel real. You’d pinch yourself if Armin’s watchful gaze was pointed anywhere but you. That alone was proof enough that this was very real, Armin just confessed his love for you.

“And you?” Armin asks.

“Huh?”

Your heart pounds, screaming over the sound of Armin’s voice. You suck in a shaky breath and will your heart to calm down. In all your years of wanting, of yearning, you never imagined what it would be like to have your feelings reciprocated. You assumed neither of you would live long enough for anything to come to fruition. But you could hope now, right?

“Did your feelings for me ever fade?”

“No … no, never,” admitting out loud that you pined after a boy for nearly two decades would have made you feel pathetic if it wasn’t Armin who pulled the truth from where it coiled around your ribs, “Even if I wanted them too, they never would. You’re it for me, you’re the only person I was made to love.”

You didn’t fancy yourself a dreamer. At least, not after everything was said and done. There wasn’t much to dream up, but if you were to dream or indulge you’d tell him that there could never be anyone else because your souls were tied together. It was a terribly selfish thought but it was true enough that you felt inexplicably tied to Armin. Even if this day passed and you never saw him again, your heart would remain his until you both returned to earth.

Armin kisses you before you’re able to backpedal on any of your words, almost shyly, but still eager enough that his need rolls off his body in waves and crashes into you. His nails press through the thin material of your nightgown to nip at your hips. You’re reminded of just how strong he has become in all your years apart when you feel his muscles ripple through his forearms.

“Armin,” you sharply whisper between the desperate press of his mouth to yours, “I want you.”

It’s an unfinished thought. There are too many words that could come next and not enough actions to convey what it is you want. Threading your fingers through carefully styled hair, you tug at the strands. Armin keens into your mouth, one of his hands shooting out to grasp the edge of the counter you were pressed against. Having braced himself, he’s careful not to put too much of his weight onto you as his body melts into yours.

“I’m right here,” he says, with a slight laugh.

Resting your forehead against his, you sigh, “I want you,” you repeat, untangling your fingers from his hair to fiddle with the top button of his shirt. You flick it open, slowly testing the waters. There’s a sparse patch of flaxen hair that leads your gaze past his collarbones, “I want to be close to you, close with you…”

Your whisper, wanton words did little to clarify what you meant, Armin’s confused stare was fixed on your swollen, kiss bitten lips. Popping open another button, you glare at his tie. It constricts the fabric of his shirt from spilling open any further. Pulling the tongue of the tie out from where it’s neatly tucked in his waistband, you tug on it until you’re nose to nose. You swallow thickly, your gaze trailing down the expanse of his neck. The muscles strained beneath the skin as he nervously clenched his jaw.

“Oh … Oh.”

The red in his cheeks deepened. He looked a bit like a tomato but it was rather endearing.

“...Yeah?”

He nods a bit too quickly, “Yeah,” he agrees, biting his bottom lip, “I want this, I want this with you.”

Tentatively, Armin rests his hands on your shoulder and thumbs at the worn wool of your well loved cardigan. The fabric is slowly peeling away from your body, slipping down your biceps to pool in the crook of your elbows. Your heart flutters, it’s a strange sensation and for a moment you wonder if it’s healthy. It can’t be, not with how your stomach lurches alongside your heart. Unfurling your fists from his tie, you straighten your arms and allow your cardigan to unceremoniously fall to the floor.

“Are you sure?” You ask, your fingers skimming the delicate neckline of your nightgown. You weren’t yet so overcome with lust that you forgot yourself or Armin’s apparent lack of experience.

His hands replace yours, “Yes,” his skin is clammy but so is yours, the sheen of nervous sweat that gathers along your jugular feels disgusting when laid overtop of goosebumps but you can’t will either away, “You’re special to me … there isn’t anyone else I would want to do this with.”

“You’re not just saying this because you want to die with no regrets?”

You cringe at the crippling edge of insecurity that creeps over you, mentally slapping your hand in shame. Bad! You silently scold. You wouldn’t blame him if he did. In spite of all that happened, the future was never promised, you both knew that much. There was no shame in wanting to taste all life had to offer just in case. It was human nature.

“I’m going to live a very long life,” Armin says with a confident smile. Such sureness would usually make you roll your eyes in annoyance but Armin doesn’t say it to be boastful– even if he had, he’d have earned it– he says it matter of fact, he will live a long life in spite of everything, “And so are you, there’s no need to think in half measures filled with worries because we’re going to live long beautiful lives filled with everything we could ever want.”

It’s a pretty picture he paints but you can’t help but whisper, “We are?”

Smoothing his calloused thumbs along the column of your throat, Armin exhales, “Yes, we are,” you almost believe him, his optimism was just that convincing, “I’ll make sure of it.”

Armin tugs on the loop that keeps your nightgown tied closed, not minding that the two of you still stand in your kitchenette and it’s his first time. He gently guides the thin cotton fabric open to expose your chest but doesn’t move to pull the cloth from your body. In turn, you push his jacket off his shoulders and toss it to the floor with your cardigan. He unbuttons his shirt, letting it fall open to reveal his lithe abdomen.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, walking backwards at your behest, “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

His brows shoot into his hairline when he bumps into the edge of your table, “I never pegged you to be such a flatterer, Mister Arlert,” you tease, pushing his chest until he takes the hint to hop onto the tabletop, “You tell all the girls that?”

It’s easy to wear a smile and play the part of a bashful lovestruck young lady. It’s only half a performance. There were parts of you that have long since been buried amongst the past lives you lived. They seemed to come back to you with each puff of breath that passed your lips. You slip in and out of you were and you could become. It’s frightening and thrilling. You like the rush you get when he smiles back at you. It’s megawatt bright and wide enough to take up most of his face. You wonder if he feels it too, the pieces that come together like a puzzle. He must, that’s why he smiles and allows himself to indulge in the perilous depths of wanting that lap at your bellies.

“No,” he playfully rolls his eyes, his fingers splaying out as he presses his palms flat against the table, “Only you. It’s only ever been you.”

Your stomach somersaults, you could get used to the feeling, the flirting, being desired earnestly.

You’ve been desired before but those men didn’t desire you, but rather the idea of you, your house, even your cunt, but never really you. They never filled you with empty promises, their intentions quite clear from the first shared mug of ale. It never bothered you before but now it does. You wish you didn’t fall for their promise of something good when the real thing was so much better now that you had it in your grasp.

The tip of his shoe just barely grazes the floor as he swings his leg back and forth, stepping into the space between his spread legs, you graze your fingertip along the length of his thigh. The metal of his belt glints in the warm morning light. You should probably bring him upstairs, to your bedroom. You worry if you do, you’ll lose the nerves that have steeled over to service the aching monster in your belly. Tomorrow he might think you crass, perhaps he would even sooner when the haze of desire faded and he was left with the weight of his indulgence.

“May I?

“Yes, please,” Armin breathes, shuddering a bit when you place your hand on the buckle.

His hips twitch upward, seeking the warm touch of your hand. Daring to cast your gaze downward, you rake your eyes over his growing bulge. His belt clinks open and you suck in a nervous breath. You’re about to ask if you can unbutton his dress pants when he whispers another small plea, his breath heavy.

A few strands of hair slip over the edge of your shoulder, Armin tucks them behind your ear with a pleased smile. His cock springs forth when you pull the waistband of his underwear downward. The wispy trail of hair that disappears beneath his shirt is a shade darker, but just as fine as the hair on his head. Your mouth waters at the sight of his rosy tip, precum oozes when you gently squeeze the base of his cock. Slowly pumping your hand up and down his length, you glance at Armin.

His bottom lip is squished between his teeth, hiding the sweet little sounds that travel up his throat. You strain your ears to listen, your eyes boring into his. He blinks but holds your gaze. He frees his bottom lip and allows his jaw to hang open when he realises that you’re listening to his sounds. Armin doesn’t have to be quiet, he can loudly indulge in his pleasures so he does. Softly moaning your name with a goofy, lovestruck expression on his face even as he jerks his hips up to match your rhythm.

“Does that feel good?” you ask, internally cringing as you wrack your brain for something to say. You wonder if you should stay silent, but words may be more comforting.

Armin’s head bobs as he nods a bit too quickly, “Yes,” he moans as he digs his nails into the splintered wood of your table.

He uses his other hand to curl his fingers around your wrist, the one that wasn’t languidly working his cock. Armin squeezes your wrist too roughly like he forgets himself and his own strength, your brows crinkle in pain but it’s easily masked as a look of concentration. You don’t mind though, the pain reminds you that you’re alive, that this was real and not just the machinations of an overactive imagination. Armin shudders when you use your thumb to spread some of the precum gathered along the head of his cock down the shaft, allowing your hand to slide more smoothly.

Your name is sweet on his tongue, the syllables roll off it in a way that makes you think it belongs there. Like Armin was meant to say your name like this for the rest of eternity.

“I want to touch you too,” he pants, between wanton whimpers. The smooth silver of skin that he clings to isn’t enough, “I want you to feel good too.”

It’s difficult to say no to Armin when he asks so sweetly, “Okay,” you say, bringing your linked hands up to your mouth to press a kiss to the back of his hand, “Lay back for me, okay?”

Armin does as you ask without question like a dutiful dog obeys its owner. You hitch your legs over the edge of the table and settle atop of his thighs. Hiking the hem of your nightgown upward, you guide Armin’s hand between your legs to where your bare, wet pussy clenches in anticipation. Your cunt aches with need and your chest squeezes at the slight brush of his calloused fingers across your folds.

“Touch me here.”

“Like this?” he asks, curling his fingers to rub against your throbbing clit, a shiver rolls through your spine.

Cupping your hand over his, you encourage him to make a few small circles, “Mhm, just like that,” you shudder, your breath halting when the table creaks beneath your shared weight, “It feels good, Armin.”

Seeming satisfied with himself and the way his name melted past your lips, he replicates your movement. You feel feverish with need as the urge to burrow yourself within his sternum consumes you. It melds with the pinpricks of pleasure that dance inside your belly as your muscles tense. It’s a terrible fate– to be ensnared by Armin Arlert. You don’t believe his promises, no matter how saccharine. It’s devilish for him to touch you, you’ve decided. Like with your kisses, how were you meant to go on without Armin ever touching you like this again? But, you’ve learned to manage your expectations. Dreams were called dreams because they were never meant to be anything more than something to wish on as a child. Even if he did still love you, there was too much distance between what became of your life and what became of his.

Pleasure burns your belly. It singes your insecurities but doesn’t snuff them out in their entirety. It’s just enough to chase them away and leave nothing but bliss in their wake. Your head feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton. Your chest heaves with haggard breaths, and your nightgown slips open to reveal the supple skin of your chest and your breasts to Armin. His gaze is respectful as he drinks in the sight. He moans to himself and marvels, it’s quite endearing. You like it, you don’t feel dirty or ashamed for your wanton ways, how could you when Armin drinks you in like you’re a perfectly crafted mountainside that has been crafted just for his admiration?

“Armin,” you sigh, “I need you inside of me.”

Wrapping your fingers around his cock, you slide the head between your dripping folds. Armin’s body wracks and his shoulders shake as he quivers with need. He moans your name once more, and you commit the sound to memory, for those cold and lonely nights that never seem to end. Your shoulders tense when you press the tip to your hole. It’s been a while, the stretch burns a bit. But, it’s nice. Your eyes roll back into your head and you curse under your breath.

Armin slopes his hand around the nape of your neck, “Can I kiss you?” he all but moans, “I want to kiss you again.”

His rosy cheeks grow round when he offers you a bashful smile. You kiss him, your tongue and teeth clicking against one another as you sloppily move your mouth alongside his. You’ve never been much of a multitasker. It’s hard to focus on much else aside from the mind numbing pleasure that distracts you. He hasn’t stopped rolling your clit between his fingers and as he swallows up your moans with desperate, fevered kisses, you wonder if he’s enjoying how much of a mess he’s made of you.

Your heart throbs in a funny sort of manner when you sink all the way down the length of his cock. The feeling of fullness spreads to the tips of your fingers all the way down to your toes. You hate how complete you feel, the fact that a small part of you wishes you could bottle the utter feeling of contentedness that warms you. The hunger and longing that lives inside of you never felt satiated, not once in the decade since it burrowed behind your lungs. Now though, they purr happily like a fat cat who’s had its fair share of the cream.

The taste of salt dabbles on your tongue, “Why are you crying?” Armin asks, his voice laced with concern, “Is something wrong, does it hurt?”

Swiping your fingers across the top of your cheekbones you confirm that those are your tears and not his. They spill past your lash line and there is nothing you can do to stop them. You don’t feel sad, even with the mess in your head you know that much. You sputter for a moment, desperately searching his face for an answer but nothing comes.

“I’m just so happy,” you say though you’re unsure where those words come from but they flow freely before you can stop them just like your tears, “I like being this close to you, I want to stay this close to you.”

Forever.

That’s the word that should complete your sentence. You keep it clutched to your chest where it’ll remain safe so long as you’re vigilant.

You knock your hips forward to silence whatever endeared sentiment Armin is about to form. His brows press together in concentration. He’s nearing his end, you can feel it in the way he throbs inside of you. Your tears are gently wiped by rough hands, you hardly register them. It’s difficult to focus on much as he plays with your clit and dutifully matches each flick of your hips. He’s a quick learner, he always has been. You wonder if he’s storing your reactions and sounds for later so that if there was a next time, he’d do exactly what you’d like without instruction. The end nears for you too, it lingers amongst the obnoxious groans from your table as you rock your hips. The sounds of skin bare slapping marry your shared, debauched whines. They’ll haunt your walls tomorrow and the next.

They haunt you right now.

You didn’t think you were capable of feeling so serene, but you do. You’re untouchable as you chase your release. It lays in the palm of Armin’s hands. You’ll eat straight from them if you have to. The coil in your stomach tightens for a moment and your breathing becomes staggered. Armin is no better, he sputters small half breaths between needy whines of your name. His forehead rests on your shoulder, and his sweat dabbled hair sticks to you. Strands of your hair cling to the nape of your neck too. The cool breeze that slithers across your house makes your heated skin break out with goosebumps. It doesn’t bother you though, nothing could bother you now.

“I love you,” Armin whispers into your skin as he cums, holding your body close to his.

A few more tears well up as your orgasm washes through you. Your thighs shake and you struggle to bring your arms around his torso. His tight embrace makes up for it as they lay limply by your side. Your flush skin is peppered with affectionate kisses and his nose is nuzzled into the crook of your neck. You feel loved, you haven’t felt it in a while but it felt similar to this. The earnest way he embraces you without a second thought is imbued with love. Lifting your tired arms, you curl them around his body. Your nails dig into the hardened flesh of his back. They leave a few crescent moons to join the myriad of battle scars and freckles that have returned to him.

‘“I love you too.”

You wish you could say it was true for the moment but it’s not. It was true because you did love him, you loved him in a way you weren’t sure you were capable of loving anyone else. If Ymir the Founder had left her people with anyone before erasing herself and her titan kin from existence, you think it might have been eternal love. The kind that wasn’t possible of fading, even when you didn’t understand why.

Hours pass and you find yourself in your bed once more, on the edge of waking and sleep you register the lack of sunlight. You don’t remember exactly how you made your way upstairs but you do remember two strong arms holding you close as you allowed slumber to cradle your tired mind in its embrace. The other side of the bed is still warm, but your blanket is tucked snugly beneath your chin.

There’s a letter on your bedside table and a glass of water. You make out the letters of your name and the promise of return but you choose not to read any further. Laying in silence you wonder if she’s still out there, your creator, the founder. If she was, you hoped she would listen to your pleas. You were strong, but you weren’t strong enough to spend the rest of your life waiting on a lost life whose remains had long since returned to the dirt and earth.

You prayed that the Jägerist’s stupidity would fall deaf to Queen Historia’s ears and that when you awoke next, there’d still be a head of blond hair next to you with long pretty eyelashes and rosy cheeks that told all his secrets.

He was too far entangled in your rib cage. You were far too comfortably curled around his aorta. Armin may be able to withstand it but you weren’t. After all this time, you really hoped you could be happy. Even with all the strangeness that came from estrangement, you felt more alive with Armin than you had in all the years of living in Shiganshina. It was a shell of its former self, with the ghosts of yesterday's past filling all the nooks and crannies. You too easily allowed yourself to become one of them, the ghosts but you didn’t half to be a ghost, you could want things just the same as Armin could.

And you wanted him to come back to you so the two of you could experience that future he was talking about.

Mr. Arlert did not raise a liar or a man who’d break promises. Your chances were good. You could be happy. All the lost parts of you could return and maybe you’d feel whole again, and maybe you’d welcome the warmth of the sun on your skin the same way you welcomed Armin back into your life.

You deserved some ounce of happiness too.

#armin arlert x reader #armin arlert smut #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #aot smut #armin x reader #armin smut #armin x you

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pascaloverx · 4 months ago

Text

Moonlight

Summary: You and Edward Cullen used to have a romantic relationship. But fate seemed not to believe in the possibility of a vampire and a potential she-wolf being together. Years after your separation, you return to Forks. Edward is committed to Bella Swan, and Jacob Black has his own pack. What happens when, upon your return, you begin to transform into a she-wolf and both Edward and Jacob seem eager to revisit the past with you?

Author's Note: The characters in this fanfic do not belong to me but to Stephenie Meyer and the Twilight universe. The story blends events that happened in the Twilight saga movies with invented ones. If you're enjoying the fanfic, please interact. This story will contain inappropriate language, a possible love triangle, scenes of violence, and romance. I would appreciate it if those who enjoy the fanfic could leave a comment and like (kudos). Engagement helps me know that there are still people reading. I hope you enjoy this chapter ❤

SEVEN NINE

EIGHT

Your eyes open slowly as you regain consciousness. You're in a hospital room, the first thing you notice. Your body seems to have no visible marks indicating you were in a car accident. It must have been strange explaining that to the medical staff, you assume. You feel better, though a slight headache still lingers. You notice the scent of several people in the air of your hospital room. You've had multiple visitors, it seems. One peculiar smell catches your attention—the scent of the feminine perfume you smelled on Edward before the accident. You get up, removing some of the wires connected to you. You wanted to be sure of something you suspected. As soon as you leave the hospital room, leaving behind the beeping hospital machines, you find yourself in an almost empty corridor. You walk to the hospital's waiting area, where those waiting to see a patient stay. When you arrive, you see exactly what you expected. Edward, Jacob, and a woman you can only assume is Bella. She is sitting between them, resting her head on Edward's shoulder.

"Y/N…" Jacob is the first to notice your presence. He looks worried as he quickly stands up to help you stay on your feet. You smile faintly at Jacob, relieved that he's there. You can only imagine how hard it would be to see Edward and his love together without Jacob's presence.

"I don't want to be rude, but without beating around the bush, I'd like you all to leave. Thanks for your concern, but none of you need to stay here." You're holding back tears as you say this, looking into the eyes of Edward, Bella, and Jacob.

"I'm not leaving you alone." Both Edward and Jacob say as they look at you, a bit indignant. You smile weakly but with a certain anger inside you.

"It might have seemed like a suggestion, but it was an ultimatum. Leave or I will take both of you out of here myself. I may be hurt, but I have enough strength to deal with both of you. Now, don't keep poor Bella waiting. Go." You say, looking seriously at Edward, and it seems that he and Jacob understand what's bothering you.

"I'll respect your wishes, for now. But I'll be back tomorrow; the doctor said it will probably be your discharge day, and I'll come to get you. My dad would kill me if I didn't take care of a member of my pack." Jacob speaks softly, as if he truly wants to respect your wishes. He kisses your forehead, then gives you a quick hug. Then, he leaves the hospital. Bella follows him. She's kind enough to notice that her presence isn't making things easier.

"I won't leave. I want to explain myself to you, my love." Edward says, looking at you as if you have no reason to be angry with him. You look at him with a certain anger but ignore him. You walk back to the room at a faster pace than recommended, feeling a bit dizzy when you enter. Fortunately, Edward doesn't follow you.

"Why do you make everything so complicated?" you say as you close the door and take a deep breath, initially intending to ask yourself. But you can sense that Edward, using his vampire abilities, has entered your hospital room.

"I wish I could simplify things. Make it clear that I am not the person you think I am being," Edward says, stepping through the window of your room. You continue looking at the door, perhaps out of fear of what you might feel when you turn to look into Cullen's eyes to talk.

"Vampires must have some hearing problem. I was extremely specific when I asked you to leave. Yet, you're still here. Why is it so difficult to listen to me, Mr. Cullen?" you say, somewhat angry and in a bad mood. The formal tone should indicate your lack of interest in having a discussion with Edward at the moment.

"Turning me away won’t work this time. I won’t make the same mistake twice. Yell at me, accuse me of being disloyal, hit me, but don’t try to make me leave," Edward says, as you feel him approaching while you keep your back turned to him. When his hands touch the exposed part of your back, you shiver. It’s impossible to control the immediate reflex of turning around to face him.

"Should I act like you, saying I want to be with you but secretly get involved with Jacob? That would be better, right? Is that what you want?" you say, looking into Edward's eyes. Part of you feels unjust for being so angry with him. After all, he’s betrayed Bella with you at least twice. But what right does he have to toy with you?

"I know I'm doing everything wrong. Hurting you; her, and everyone around us. Breakups are more complicated than they seem. My family still believes that she and I should be together. But I'm trying to show how important you are to me." He holds your face with both hands, making you let out a soft moan from the cold of his hands touching your warm skin.

"Maybe you shouldn’t break up with her. Our relationship might never really work out anyway. An unknown woman tried to kill me after you chose to hide from me that you were at a reconciliation dinner with your ex. Obviously, this is fate’s invisible hand saying enough." You realize what you must do while trying to convince yourself that saying goodbye to your relationship with Edward is the right choice.

"About that woman, you can be sure she'll pay for it. But I don't see how being with Bella would solve any of this mess." Edward moves even closer to you, almost as if he's going to kiss you. You shake your head, pushing the need for more contact with Edward from your mind, but your body still wants him near, that damn it.

"Do you know who that woman is? She seemed to have a personal issue with you…" The way Edward hesitates in telling you right away makes you suspicious.

"Victoria is a malevolent vampire whose boyfriend tried to harm Bella. This was early in my story with Bella. Victoria's boyfriend died because of us. This might have left her with a thirst for revenge." Edward says, and you let out a small laugh. You're in the hospital because Edward played the hero and saved his damsel in distress, which is just perfect.

"Is that why you want me around? So I can be the punching bag instead of your beloved Bella? After all, I heal faster than any human. Makes sense." You say, mocking the situation as if it's all just a joke. The funniest part is that it would indeed be the perfect scenario to ensure Bella doesn't get hurt. Making you, a lovesick fool, pay the price for something that isn't even your fault.

"I know you're hurt, but that accusation is unfounded. I've loved you for over five years. I would give my life, even if it's an immortal one, for you. You may belittle or not recognize that, but accusing me of using you is too much. Even if you don't believe that I'm committed to you, believe in my love." Edward says, pulling your face towards his. Before you can respond, he kisses you. With a deep intensity, as if declaring his feelings through the kiss.But you pull away from him after a few minutes. Your eyes already full of tears as you choke back the sobs that are caught in your throat.

"I can't believe you. Not entirely. I can't imagine for even a second that you've removed Bella from your mind, or your heart. One thing I know is that you love intensely, Edward Cullen. And for once, I need to protect myself. I don't want to be constantly wondering if your relationship with Bella is or will be greater than ours. I don't want to steal what's hers, and as much as it hurts to say this, at the moment, that's what you seem to be to me." You manage to hold back your tears until you admit that you feel Edward belongs to Bella. That seems to break something inside you. Edward also seems to feel the impact of your words.

"It's funny that you feel that way. Since you returned to this town, I feel like I’ve been nothing but yours. My existence seems to make more sense when I’m with you. But I don’t think my words will convince you not to push me out of your life for the thousandth time. And honestly, I think this only proves even more that you're more afraid of being mine than you admit." Edward says and then leaves, this time using the door. It’s almost impossible to say that what he told you didn’t affect you. And after all this, you still had to endure your doctor appearing in your hospital room minutes after Edward’s departure. You would like to be eager to leave the hospital and return to your life, but to be honest, your life is a mess, and even though you don’t want to admit it, you already miss Edward.

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gamergirl-niffler · 11 months ago

Note

Very very urgent emergency request! Just stumbled upon your blog after that fluffy Howl fic of yours; couldn't resist sticking around for more of your fantastic headcanons.

I recently experienced something truly awful a few days ago.. While enjoying a party with my friends, the atmosphere suddenly shifted, and I began feeling unwell. Since then, there's been a blank space in my memory. The following day, upon waking up in our shared apartment, I discovered that I must have experienced a sex*** abuse. I'm currently terrified, in pain, and enduring ongoing bleeding from my private area. Trust has become a challenge, and I'm overwhelmed, wishing I could just disappear. Unsure of what steps to take, I find myself reaching out for comfort of any, any kind.. May I humbly request comfort from Dabi, Bakugo, Enji, Todoroki, and Kaminari, along with their girlfriends, who have navigated similar challenges?

If this plea is too much, please feel free to disregard it. I deeply appreciate your writings, as they bring immense comfort to many.

Oh, my dear Anon...

I am so sorry to hear that something like this happened to you. I can only imagine what you feel right now.

Please, if you feel like you need to talk to someone, feel free to drop into my messages and let's chat a little!

I hope those headcanon will bring you at least a little bit of comfort.

Mha men & sexually abused s/o

Dabi

- Dabi is burning with anger. Of course he isn't mad at you, he is mad at the person who even dared to violate you this way.

- He should stay with you but he leaves. Of course he couldn't stay. Touya doesn't leave you because of the disgust or hate. No. He is going for a hunt! It doesn't matter if it's one or a few people... All police could find were few bodies burned beyond recognition.

- Touya returns to your shared apartment, sheds his coat and is all yours from now on. He doesn't speak a word about what happened unless you feel the need to talk about it. He won't press but will listen when you need to throw it all out.

- He knows some doctors that aren't sketchy but at the same time they won't call the police or anything like this.

- Even if you are scared, Touya pushes you to get checked. He of course stays with you to provide comfort and show you that you are safe with him. Touya knows you are suffering mentally but he doesn't want the physical suffering to continue if there is a way to stop/heal it.

- Back at home Touya stays near you. He wishes he could be glued to you but he understands you need some space.

- When you tell him you need any kind of closeness - he is there immediately, wrapping you in his embrace, holding you as close as possible.

- It takes you a bit of a time to open up to him. You tell him everything; and he listens to it without a word.

When you start to cry he just squeezes you harder until you calm down. Once this happens, Touya starts to tell you, "I'm sorry, doll. I am sorry I wasn't there to protect you but from now on... I will always be near. No one will ever hurt you again. I love you and I'll make sure to help you however I can."

- And he really does it. Since that unfortunate day, Touya does everything to make you feel safe and to help you heal; both mentally and physically.

He doesn't push your boundaries but helps you carefully move them as you heal and again open yourself up to him.

Touya never healed himself from his past so seeing you getting better even after such a scary situation makes this villain smile.

Bakugo

- He is pissed but he won't show it openly. You went through enough stress already and his anger wouldn't help someone in your position so he stops himself from yelling.

- Bakugo doesn't immediately push you to talk. He is more concerned about your health so his first step is to convince you to visit a proper specialist. He doesn't want you to be in pain or to suffer.

When you finally agree to visit the doctor, you are going there with your blond guard dog because Katsuki isn't leaving your side. He will even fight the doctor if it means staying by your side through the visit.

- Back at home, Bakugo is completely different than normal. He is calm and quiet around you.

- If he decides to give you a kiss, hug or simply get close to you he'll ask for your permission beforehand. Just to be sure you are comfortable with him and his touch.

- If you are on any medications he makes sure you take them, it's for your own good afterall.

- Katsuki makes sure to provide comfort in every way possible. He cooks or orders your favorite comfort food so the two of you can enjoy some tasty food together.

- When you feel comfortable enough to open up about what happened, Katsuki just pulls you into a tight hug. "It's okay now. You're safe and I'll make sure to get the bastard that hurt you. I'll make him pay."

- And he really does. Whenever you are asleep or busy with something, Bakugo is on his phone or computer, working his ass off to find the person that did it. He is going to make sure whoever did this will pay the appropriate price for hurting you.

- Whenever you need it, he is ready to hold you close while gently caressing your hair and back. He will talk even about the most silly thing just to see you smile just a little bit. Staying quiet is also something he is ready to do, spending time in silence isn't a problem for him.

Enji

- Enji isn't home very often so it's easy for you to hide it all and just choke yourself with this traumatizing experience.

- When he is actually back, he quickly notices the changes in your behavior. You were like a candle light; warm and happy and now? You resembled an extinguished candle... Cold and sad looking.

- It annoys him because he is really trying for you but suddenly you are all distanced for no reason! Not only in everyday life but also in bed.

- Enji finally confronts you, demanding answers from you! He is your lover, so how dare you ignore him?! Of course he is not gentle about it.

- As you reach your breaking point and admit to what happened at the party you went to, he is shocked that something like this happened to you.

- He is not a master of comfort so at the beginning he isn't sure what to do but in the end Enji pulls you into a tight hug. "Forgive me for being so harsh on you. I'll do better."

- This is a promise he actually keeps up with! Enji is trying his best to understand your needs and boundaries now.

- He pays more attention to you, building up the trust again to show you that you can still trust him and nothing has changed between the two of you.

- Enji loves to hold you close and just comfort you when you feel bad. He enjoys cuddling your smaller frame, making sure that you feel protected.

- If you think he will leave it just like that and do nothing about it you are really wrong. He is a Number One hero and whoever dares to hurt you, now has to deal with him. Enji uses all of his contacts and influence to find that bastard.

- He makes sure you are feeling safe and loved again.

Shoto

- Poor guy is deeply confused when one day you go completely quiet. He is worried if you made it home after the party.

- After receiving no information from you, Shoto goes to your place to check on you. Just to be sure you are okay.

- The state he found you in was heartbreaking. His beautiful girlfriend, his little ray of sunshine suddenly being in distress and bad mental shape.

- He approaches you carefully, asking questions to find out what happened.

- When you reveal what happened the night before, he is shocked. How could someone even do this to another person?

- Of course Shoto doesn't judge you. It was beyond your control and he understands but he slowly talks you into going to the right authorities.

- Shoto goes with you everywhere to make you feel good and safe. He won't allow anyone to get too close to you.

- Back at home he is mostly quiet, letting you decide if you feel like talking or doing anything together.

- When you tell him yes, Shoto is all over you. He wants you close to show you all the love he has for you.

- His favorite thing to do is to simply hold your hand. It gives him this feeling of intimacy and shows him you still trust him.

- Shoto's second favorite thing is holding you right before falling asleep. You look so cute and despite what happened, he is happy you are with him. "My love. I am so lucky to have you and I promise you that I won't let anyone hurt you ever again."

- Like every hero he won't let it slide. Shoto will make sure that whoever did this pays for your pain.

Kaminari

- When he finds out, he is terrified and blames himself for this. He had to go with you but a sudden shift in schedulge made him go to work while you went to the party.

- He really doesn't know what to do BUT he quickly gathers himself. You need him and he is there to serve.

- Just like others he accompanies you at the doctor and during the talk with authorities.

- Back at home Denki is really careful around you. Always asking if you need anything, making sure you are okay with stuff he does. He never leaves you alone unless you request him to do so.

- He buys your favorite snack and even tries to bake something you like. Even if he isn't the best at it, he'll try his best for you!

- You feel like watching some silly movie or show? He is there with you!

- Or maybe you feel like just laying down and listening to some music? This dude made a playlist from all your favorite songs!

- Denki is ready to do everything to make you comfortable. Your smile is the most beautiful thing in the world and he is going to work hard for it to appear again upon your pretty lips.

- Even if he blames himself for your harm, he'll never tell you about this but instead he will do EVERYTHING he can to make you feel good again. "We'll make it work, yeah? I won't leave your side and we are going to work through it together." He always assures you with a big bright smile.

- Whoever dared to put hands on you can't sleep peacefully. Kaminari, with the help of his friends, will hunt this bastard down and bring him to justice.

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mistydeyes · 1 year ago

Text

fake hypochondriac

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hypochondria

hy·po·chon·dria noun

excessive concern about one's health especially when accompanied by imagined physical ailments

summary: If an apple a day, keeps the doctor away then what keeps a pharmacist away? Whatever it is, Ghost wants to eradicate it. This man's small crush will send him to extremes. A sequel to "a panacea"

pairing: Ghost x pharmacist!Reader

warnings: medical/pharmacy terminology, medical inaccuracies, swearing, depiction of wounds, fluff, and flirting

a/n: by popular vote, ghost's sequel won! don't worry though, price's will be coming real soon ;)

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The unit had been a buzz about your work as a pharmacist officer. From clearing Gaz’s congestion to the ridiculous bandage you gave to Ghost, they simply would not stop talking about you. Soap even tried to convince the doctor that he needed to visit you for a malady of reasons but your colleagues were smarter than that. You had to give it to him, the fake food coloring blood applied to his stitches was a nice touch. It became a running joke in the medical wing. Some of your closest work friends even gushed about how the men would talk about you as if you had discovered the secrets to eternal life.

All joking aside, in all your years here, people had called you pet names and made small attempts at flirting but you always had your main goal on your mind: provide the best care so they can stop bothering me. However, one man caught your eye. No one would ever know that the masked man who wore a star bandaid was the one who stole your heart.

Of course, you’d never want anyone to have to constantly come visit you on the pretense of needing medication but you valued the time spent with him. Somehow he ended up needing every single vaccination. From pneumococcal to typhoid, you wondered if you should tell him that these were all voluntary.

Little did you know, he made every effort to miss the optional clinics and went straight to you upon his return. Your soft touch and even softer laugh were like music to his ears. He didn’t know how many people were graced by your presence like this but he tried to make himself the most memorable one.

His younger self would have laughed at his antics. His mother used to say an apple a day keeps the doctor away. Even though you weren’t a doctor, he would cut down every apple tree and burn every pie if it meant seeing you daily.

One day, Soap gave him an idea. The team was ending another debriefing with Laswell and making conversation as they left the room. “I wish I could visit the lass but all she does is either give me my meds or gives her whatever you call recommendations” Soap groaned as he lugged the large number of building layouts and files in his arms.

“Pharmacological and non-pharm recommendations, Sergeant” Price corrected. “You better learn their terminology, they didn’t go to school and experience those muppets at the local chemist’s for nothing.”

That was it, Ghost would ask you for some silly non-pharm recommendation like Gaz had and keep coming up with new ailments to keep visiting you.

The plan was in place, following the lunch rush he walked to the medical wing and made his way to the pharmacy.

You stood in the back, answering yet another phone call from a doctor. “As I said before, you need to find out what their reaction is to penicillin and other beta-lactams. I don’t care if they say they have a true allergy, you know anaphylaxis is the only indicator. And no, I’m not ordering something off the formulary just because your patient says they were sneezing after a bout of amoxicillin. Just call me back after you spoke to them and if you really need it, then you know where to reach me.” With that, you slammed the phone down and let out a groan. You knew pharmacology was no doctor's favorite subject but this was antibiotics 101.

Your technician came around the corner, “Captain L/N, is everything alright?”

“You know we’ve been working together for what 2 years now? I’m just Y/N especially back here in this phone call hell.” you laughed as you sat down in your chair. “I’m alright, just another medic trying to get me to order something off the formulary for kicks”

“Well Y/N, there is someone here to see you. Just a soldier complaining of a sore throat. He says the doctors won’t prescribe anything because they haven’t observed anything wrong.” Your tech responded before disappearing amongst the shelves to fill some incoming scripts.

You made your way to the front where you were surprised to see Lt. Riley wearing a face mask (although still with the ghost print). Even though he had been coming for months now, live vaccines had to be spaced out by 28 days, you had not seen his face fully. His eyes were trained down and you noted his surprisingly light eyelashes. He still had the ever-present eye black and you wondered how he kept his lashes so pristine. If it was a mascara or a brand of makeup remover you needed to know!

“Simon,” you spoke in a cheerful voice. By now, you were on a first-name basis. It only took one tuberculosis skin test for him to encourage you to call him by his name. To be fair, when you held his arm gently to measure the area he would’ve told you anything.

“You aren’t due for any vaccinations you know. You’ve cleared me out! I’m sure the doctors would think I’m sticking you for my pleasure and your pain.” you joked. You were teasing but you knew there was no way he was here for yet another immunization.

“Not this time, love. I’ve got this tickle in my throat. It hurts when I swallow and I swear Soap saw my tonsils angry and inflamed,” he replied.

“And the doctor didn’t diagnose you with bronchitis or call for your tonsils to be removed?” you questioned. It wasn’t unusual for them to miss anything but you were realistically unable to prescribe anything to him.

“Well let me take a look. If you want to head over to the vaccination area then you can take your mask off. I’m sure you are familiar with where it is.” With that, he nodded and walked toward the designated area. He appreciated your kindness and that you valued his privacy.

You let your technician know where you’d be and they waved you off saying they could handle the onslaught of soldiers if it came to it.

As you entered the corned-off area, you saw Simon there, fiddling with his mask. You didn’t understand why he was so nervous, how could someone so well acquainted with violence be nervous of a flashlight and quick examination?

“Don’t worry, I’ll sure to be quick. I just need you to remove your mask and open up wide,” you explained and fished in your pocket for your pen light. To any recruit, they would’ve made a cheeky comment to your command but Simon obliged to your ask.

As he lowered your mask, you couldn’t help but admire the man in front of you. He was gorgeous. He looked like he was carved from a model like some Greek deity. His face was adorned by various silvery scars that looked painted on a portrait with metallic paint. His jawline was sharp and his lips were blush pink with an even sharper cupid’s bow. You made sure not to ogle for too long and began your assessment.

As you pointed your flashlight, you examined his throat and tonsils, trying to find if the doctor had missed anything. But when you saw no redness and his lymph nodes weren’t swollen, you didn’t know what to say.

“Hm, well good news and I guess bad news but I’m not seeing anything here. I’m not sure what to tell you but I wish I could help” you said in a defeated tone. You looked saddened by your lack of discovery and this made Simon want to scratch his whole plan.

“But,” you began, as he put on his mask, “my grandparents would always say ‘Y/N, all you need is to get some good rest and have a cup of tea with lemon’” you explained, trying your best to impersonate your best old person voice. Simon chuckled at your attempt. God, you really knew how to brighten someone’s day, and who could not love your sweet, grave voice?

“Sorry to take your time, love, but I’ll be sure to let you know,” he said and stood up before giving you a thankful look.

“The pleasure is all mine, Simon. I try to do what I can for one of my favorite patients,” you replied. You were laying on the flirting hard, something you would lie in bed cringing about later.

With that, he walked out of your little bubble and went about his day. You watched his muscular ass figure exit as you too returned to your day.

Although you thought you had cured him with some good advice, you were visited every other day for the next few weeks as he still had the same complaint. You had recommended everything following each checkup. From spoonfuls of honey and thyme lollies to encouraging hot showers and steam therapy, you were out of options. By what seemed like his 10th visit, you were prepared to march him down to radiology and make sure that this wasn’t some terrible looming illness.

“Still having that sore throat, huh?” you questioned as he walked through your doorway. He nodded in agreement and you picked up the landline. “I’m making a quick call, we’ll get this sorted out.”

“Hi, this is Captain. L/N. I have Lt. Riley here and he has been complaining of a sore throat for weeks. Is there any way the lab could run a throat culture as well as some blood work for me?”

And that’s how Simon ended up in the doctor’s office with a cotton swab down his throat and multiple needle pricks to his veins. He should’ve picked something more benign like reoccurring IBS but then again he might have ended up with a finger up his ass instead of the swab.

Two days later, you received a notification that the results were in. To your dismay, the results showed nothing. The swab was negative for every infection and his blood cell counts were all within normal range.

Frustrated, you told your tech you’d be back and walked your way to Cpt. Price’s office.

You knocked on the closed door hoping not to disturb the man. His baritone voice echoed into the hallway as he told you to enter.

“Hi Captain, sorry to bother you,” you said noting the mountain of paperwork on his desk as well as his extinguished pile of cigars. “But I was wondering if you had noticed anyone else in your unit with a sore throat. Lt. Riley has been coming to the pharmacy for a few weeks now and no one can figure it out.”

“Not that I know of. We haven’t run drills either so I know our quiet Ghost isn’t necessarily screaming at the recruits. He hasn’t come to me either with any complaints,” he explained and leaned back in his chair. He knew that Ghost was wasting your resources so he decided to let you in on a secret.

“As their commanding officer, you know I highly value the word of my men. But I do remember during my school days, that boys would tend to lie about an illness just to get sent to the infirmary and eventually home,” he explained. “It’s no secret that some soldiers, even Ghost, show a fondness for you.”

You blushed at his response, you couldn’t imagine that of all people, the stoic Ghost had a schoolboy crush on you. Hell, you hated your school nurse and always dreaded going to the doctor. You went days before telling your mom that you might have broken your finger during recess (you can still remember her rushing to the emergency room the minute she saw your bruised and puffy finger).

“I’ll talk to him the next time he comes in, which I hope he doesn’t,” you said, “thanks for the advice. And don’t forget, I always have a pack of nicotine gum for you if you ever decide to quit.” He chuckled and politely shooed you away. As you shut the door, you shook your head as you heard a lighter flick and smelled the familiar scent of a cigar.

Right on schedule, Simon came strolling into the pharmacy. You had just finished chatting with Soap and chastised him for yet another antibiotic prescription. This time it was for an infected foot wound after forgetting to change his socks and wading in still, grimy water during a mission.

As Soap gave you a cheeky smile saying he’d be back, Ghost tried to suppress his jealousy. Why did Soap have to be blessed with a purulent foot wound instead of him? Maybe he’ll try that one next.

“Ah Simon, I’m heading out to lunch if you’d like to join. I’m presuming it’s still the throat issue so I can check it out after.” You said and reached into the fridge under the counter to grab your food.

You made sure to lock up the pharmacy and lower the protective barriers, you couldn’t let anyone access the “good stuff.” Your tech said their goodbyes as they went to the mess hall for some warm food.

It was the dead of summer but today was surprisingly balmy. You knew there were some tables outside so you pushed the exit door and sat down on one side. He sat opposite you as you opened up your salad and half sandwich.

“So, can I tell your story?” you said before taking a bite. He nodded watching you intently.

“There was a time I broke my finger during recess and didn’t tell my mom for the next 3 days. You should’ve seen her face when I revealed my oozing, bruised ring finger. The thought of missing school and recess was devastating so I hid it like a child.” you explained and held up your left hand showing how your ring finger was slightly askew compared to the others. He laughed heartily, which made you also laugh in return.

After wiping some tears from your eyes you went on, “And that’s why my mom was so shocked when I got my MPharm. She always tells my dad that she doesn’t understand how someone so adverse to doctors went into healthcare.”

“We all have our weird obsessions, plus you are a natural,” he said and was almost at a loss for words as you smiled back at him, the sun hitting perfectly on your face and dancing in your hair.

“Anyways, I told Captain Price that story and he had such a different experience. He said that as a young lad, he and his mates would do anything it would take to get into the infirmary and home. I couldn't believe kids were so smart and had the forethought to plan something like that!”

Ghost knew where this was going. He also received notification that the tests came back clear of any illness. He knew the jig was up but couldn’t run away from the confrontation.

“Now, I’m not debunking your mystery illness, Simon. But I just wanted to talk to you privately and ask if there was anything else that you haven’t told me?” You asked and knew you had got him hook, line, and sinker. His eyes glancing around and his sweaty palms were confirmation of your theory.

He took a few moments to answer and you both sat in silence. You finished the remainder of your food and wiped your hands neatly as he stroke the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“I guess I was just finding an excuse to talk to you,” he began to explain and you could see his extremities begin to grow flush. “I, uh, didn’t know how to so once I ran out of excuses with the shots, I decided to fake a sore throat,” he sheepishly replied.

With his confession, you couldn’t help but laugh. And laugh you did. Hard. It took you a minute before returning your composure.

“You know that the other soldiers can just have a regular conversation with me. I don’t bite and I swear I’ve talked Gaz’s ears off about pollen and flowers. I just feel bad now for making you undergo all those tests,” you said gently placing your hand on top of his.

“I do see what you mean though. If I had a doctor as handsome as you, I would have every illness, injury, and question under the sun.” You couldn’t leave him thinking you didn’t reciprocate your feelings. With that, it was your turn to blush.

“It’s rather childish isn’t it?” He said as he gently caressed your other free hand. “Sorry for wasting your time.”

“How about you make it up to me with dinner? I can show you that there’s more than just textbook knowledge to me” you offered, “I know a surprising amount about languages, I can flirt with you in 10 different ones.”

“It’s a date, gorgeous. I’m all ears for anything you have to say,” he said and you both looked like lovesick teens, “As long as you keep this a secret. You know the doctors would never believe me if I actually got sick.”

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After months of dating, you revealed a secret. “After I spoke to Price, I had a suspicion to check your medical record. You know I could see you never went to the doctor right? You never logged any visits for your alleged sore throat.” You said jokingly and lightly punched his shoulder. “I just can’t believe you roped everyone into it. I can have a normal conversation, babe.”

He laughed at your reveal and kissed the top of your forehead. “I just wanted to make sure your university course load prepared you for anything.”

#task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #modern warfare 2 #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty #mw2 imagine #madebyizzie #mw2 #pharmacist! series #izzie is writing

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emeritus-fuckers · 3 months ago

Note

Hi! Long time enjoyer of the beautiful works you and your friends write! I recently had to have my leg amputated and once I'm fully healed I'll be getting a prosthetic. I was wondering how the Papas and Sister would react to a s/o who had to have their leg amputated and gets a prosthetic once they've healed? Thank you in advance and keep up the great work! 😊🖤

Papas, Sister Imperator and Delta with an amputee darling

Primo (he/him)

Incredibly supportive the entire time.

He even offers to push your wheelchair while you heal after the amputation.

He learns from the doctors and nurses on how to take care of you properly.

Offers you one of his favorite canes for when you have to re-learn how to walk with your new prosthetic.

He is very patient with you. He knows it's stressful for you.

He'll be with you on your every physical therapy. He encourages you to keep trying, as hard as it might be.

He's very proud of you. And you will know it.

Secondo (he/him)

If you think this man doesn't speedrun courses on how to best assist and take care of you, you don't know this man at all.

He's your nurse now. He expertly helps you with physical therapy.

Gets you regular check-ups and personally drives you there.

If you get too tired, he'll carry you. Yes, you have a wheelchair, but aren't his arms just better?

He gets you the most expensive prosthetic he can find.

A few of them, even.

He paints them however you wish. He's a good painter.

Terzo (he/they)

He hasn’t left your side since the beginning of this journey.

They’re well aware that this is a change that will have major effects on you and possibly your mental health. He’s already got the best physical and mental therapists on standby to help with your every need.

They stay by your side until you’re taken for surgery and is the first thing you see upon waking up. Especially since he crawled in the bed with you.

He brought Alpha and Omega with him to help get you back out of the hospital. The ghouls are gentle and they justified Alpha by pointing out heat helps with being sore.

They get you transportation wherever you need to go, but insists on being the only one to push your wheelchair when you aren’t up for walking.

Terzo also took it upon himself to help you fully customize your chair, prosthetic, crutches and whatever other mobility aids you require.

They also ensure you get plenty of time with him, relaxing in his room and being showered in affection and love.

Copia (he/him)

While you are healing he finds the most adorable rat printed bandages to cover the normal medical ones.

He'll look after you, everything you need. He doesn't want you to do anything that would be uncomfortable for you. He doesn't mind he is really happy to be able to do this for you as you bring so much joy to his life.

You end up cuddled on the sofa with Copia playing video games with the rats being as comforting as possible too.

He is your biggest supporter by far, he is always there when you need him.

While you are learning to walk with the prosthetic he'll happily accompany you.

He looked at you sheepishly as a rat's head poked out of your pocket and a few jump up on his shoulder. He explained that they wanted to come too and help, but only if you don't mind.

He also offers to drive you anywhere you want while you are healing. He offers to take you to the beach house. It's perfect for resting and enjoying a good view and there are some really nice walks nearby for when you are feeling up to it. He'll happily push you in a wheelchair around them until that time.

Old Papa Nihil (he/him)

He's very tender and supportive. We all know what old Nihil can be like, but he really steps up to the mark for you.

Even though he is getting older he is still very strong, so he insists on carrying you out to the garden on a nice day. You two sit and enjoy the sun.

He does have some limitations with his age but he makes sure to find the best doctors and nurses he can to look after you.

He goes with you to physical therapy and if you want he'll join in to keep you company.

You often get the giggles at the old man noises that come out of him on some of the exercises.

He keeps you company while you heal and brings you whatever you need.

He is very good at helping you pass the time, he's had practice when his own health has been bad.

Young Papa Nihil (he/him)

He is 100% there for you, even if he is a little unsure how to be.

He goes and finds advice on how to help as he doesn't want to get it wrong.

He is very good at taking your mind off things, he thinks of fun things to do at all stages of your healing. Things that are within your capabilities at that time.

He is so proud of you and how you push through it. He admits, if it was him, he wouldn't handle it so well.

He'll help you learn to walk on the prosthetic. He finds the perfect place for you to get your strenght back once you are up to walking short distances.

The park at dusk, he knows a way to sneak in even though it shuts then. He used to go there to get high but he much prefers walking with you.

No one else is around, and the park is beautiful in the soft orange and pink light. He knows a spot that has a good view of the sunset and you take a break sitting on the bench and watch, his arms wrapped around you keeping out the early evening chill.

Young Sister Imperator (she/her)

She makes sure you have the best available professionals take care of you.

She might not always be available, but she has at least one Ghoulette taking care of you at all times.

The Ghoulette is tasked with documenting everything about your amputation, physical therapy and all the doctor visits.

While she may not have much free time, Imperator does a lot of research on the subject and speaks to all the doctors whenever she can.

She manages to get some time off around the time of the procedure so she can support you.

She keeps you on a very strict schedule when it comes to physical therapy, but you know she means well.

She does a lot of research before you two pick a perfect prosthetic.

Old Sister Imperator (she/her)

She does so much research she could practically be a doctor, a nurse and a physical therapist at this point.

Her Ghoulettes are all expected to go through training to help you as well.

She knows so much she could probably lecture the doctors. If it wasn't for the fact that she researched them, as well. She knows they are the absolute best at what they do.

She makes sure to get time off around the big day, as well as the first two weeks of your physical therapy.

She makes a small joke about how you'll be running around with your prosthetic just as she runs in her favorite red heels.

She will stay by your side whenever it gets rough, letting you talk about everything you feel.

She'll provide you as much comfort as she can.

Delta (they/it)

Delta being the Ministry’s most unfortunate element transition has lots of knowledge on going through amputation.

They answer any and all questions you have before the procedure, promising to help however it can in your recovery.

When you wake up, they’re waiting by your bed with a huge bouquet of flowers and your favourite food. According to them all amazing patients deserve a treat.

When you begin therapy to work up to getting the prosthetic, they do the exercises with you. Kinda taking over the job of the physical therapist since it knows these exercises.

Actually…they kinda replace a lot of professional help. Since they’re a professional through lived experience.

They help you learn to do the bandages properly. When you get your prosthetic they do their best to assist with putting it on, taking it off, cleaning all the different parts, balance and more.

Kinda worked in your favour having a double amputee by your side. It can really help with both your physical and mental health, having someone like them so close to you right now.

Papas I, II and Sister Imperator written by Nosferatu.

Papa III and Delta written by Death.

Papas IV and Nihil written by Nyx.

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bullet-prooflove · 7 months ago

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All About You: Dean Archer x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @mandy426 @helsinkibaby @hufflepuffgirl

Dean doesn’t do this. He doesn’t fuck in storage closets in the hospital where he works. He leaves that to med students who've seen too many reruns of Grey’s Anatomy. However right here, right now he just can’t help himself because it’s been a few days since he last saw his wife and he’s been needing to blow off a little steam.

Your hands are in his scrubs, bypassing his underwear, fingers wrapping around his hard cock. He’s leaking already, moaning into your mouth as your thumb spreads it across the tip of his dick.

Your lips take a detour, kissing a heated trail along his jaw until you find that spot, that deviant space just under the hinge of his jaw that makes him thrust into your hand as he says your name.

“Don’t you dare make me come in my pants...” He mutters, his words cut off as you bite down just a little, making his hips jump.

He feels your smile against his skin before you kiss lower, lips brushing over his neck, his chest, his collarbone before you sink to your knees in front of him, pulling his scrubs down along with you.

“That isn’t what I meant...” He tries to chide you but your lips are already enveloping his cock, your tongue teasing over the head causing his breath to hitch.

Christ you feel good, he’s almost forgotten what it’s like to be loved by you.

His fingers gently pull the hair tie from your hair, allowing it to fall across your features and something just clicks, you’re not the M.E anymore. You’re his wife, the one that he’s barely seen in almost a week.

You take him deeper as his fingers tangle in your hair, his head tipping back against the wall. He won’t last long, not after all this time apart. He can feel that tingle of ecstasy at the base of his spine as your palms come to rest on his hips, pinning them to the wall.

He will never admit it to anyone else but he loves when you force his pleasure, when you coax it out of him. It’s hard for him to get his head out of work, to forget the responsibility that comes with being Head of the E.D. This is the only way to do it sometimes, to remind him he’s Dean, not Doctor Archer.

“Sweetheart.” He warns you as the rapture tears through his synapses like an IED, stealing away every inch of his sanity.

All he can focus on is you in that moment, the hot, tight sensation of your mouth as he spills his release down your throat. He tries to catch his breath as you draw away, your hands lightly guiding his scrubs back up his hips before you tuck him back in.

“You’ve been stressed lately.” You say by way of explanation. “It’s not good for you.”

“You can just say that you missed me .” He says with a knowing look.

“I thought showing you was a better use of our very limited time together.” You tell him as his watch goes off, signifying the end of his break. He sighs as his hands come to rest on your waist drawing you against him. Your perfume floods his nervous system, the sensual scent of rosewater washing through his senses as he breathes you in.

“I wish I could return the favour.” He says regretfully, his fingertips teasing over the elastic of your own scrubs. “Because I really would like to.”

“I know.” You tell him, your palms coming to rest on his chest. “But…”

“Tonight.” He says, his forehead coming to rest upon yours as he clasps your hand to his heart. “I’ll grab takeout on the way home, run a bath, I can use that massage oil that you like…”

“That sounds like heaven.” You say and he can tell from the look in your eyes that he’s not the only one that needs a break. The past week has been gruelling for the both of you. He should have checked in more, he thinks, made himself more available.

“Tonight is gonna be all about you.” He promises as his watch goes off again, signalling he’s needed elsewhere. “I’ll make sure if it.”

#dean archer #dean archer x reader #dean archer x you #steven weber #one chicago #chicago med

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riddlerosehearts · 2 years ago

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list of acd canon sherlock holmes things i absolutely love

(and am going to mostly put under a readmore because i made most of this list while rereading the entire canon so it is very long! listen i just think sherlock holmes is the best character ever and i need to share my love for him--)

immediately upon being introduced to watson he grabs him by the sleeve, starts excitedly showing off his bloodstain testing experiment, and claps his hands “looking as delighted as a child with a new toy”. once he finishes, his eyes glitter and he puts his hand on his heart and bows “as if to some applauding crowd conjured up by his imagination”.

watson: “i object to rows because my nerves are shaken”

holmes: “do you include violin playing in your category of rows?” he asked, anxiously

he’s noted to be extraordinarily knowledgeable and zealous in his studies, and yet on the same page it’s stated that he doesn’t know the earth travels around the sun and once watson tells him about it he immediately decides to forget about it because it’s not relevant to his work. this is where the famous “brain attic” monologue comes in.

watson writes this list about him and then throws it into the fire in despair:

has a habit of laughing in a way that’s described as bursting into an “explosion” or “roar” of laughter

frequently does this at crime scenes:

enlists a gang of street orphans to help him on his cases, pays them for their work, and generally treats them as equals but also playfully talks to them like a general to his soldiers

plays the violin for watson to help him get to sleep

is incredibly knowledgable on anything from different types of tobacco, to the ways one's trade can influence the form of their hands, to medieval pottery and stradivarus violins. and yet, i reiterate, does not know the earth revolves around the sun.

has a tendency of waxing poetic about the meaningless of existence, particularly when he’s bored from not having any cases to work on

once said about a dog “i would rather have toby’s help than that of the whole detective force of london”

used the word “doggy” when speaking to toby

once told watson “i don’t wish to be theatrical” despite all evidence to the contrary

disguises himself as an old man just to play a prank on watson

watson: “i think i had better go”

holmes: “not at all, doctor. stay where you are. i am lost without my boswell.”

is known to wiggle in his chair when he gets excited about a case

discovers that a man has tricked his own stepdaughter into a fake marriage so he can keep her at home and control her life and inheritance. acknowledges that said man hasn’t done anything illegal but still tells him “there never was a man who deserved punishment more” and that he ought to get whipped for what he did, and then goes to actually get his hunting crop, causing the man to run out the door at top speed

let a criminal go free because it turned out the man he murdered was trying to force said criminal’s daughter into an unwanted marriage

was suddenly made to participate in the wedding of someone he was tracking for a case, came home and laughed about it for several minutes, exclaimed “well, really!”, laughed for several more minutes, and only then did he actually tell watson what happened

responds to the king of bohemia insulting irene adler and saying she’s not on his level by saying coldly: “from what i have seen of the lady, she seems indeed to be on a very different level to your majesty”, which is basically him saying “actually she’s way better than you, so fuck off”

refused to shake said king’s hand

built a pillow fort in a client’s house so he could think better

let a poor jewel thief go because he cried, because it was christmas and therefore it was the season of forgiveness, and because the case was really easy anyway so it’s not his fault if the police are too stupid to solve it themselves

always reassures clients that they can trust him and watson and speak freely around them

is willing to waive his fee for clients who can’t afford to pay him, because according to him his profession is its own reward

this entire scene from speckled band when he gets confronted by his client’s abusive stepfather:

this nice little example of the gentleness he often displays with his clients:

the adventure of the copper beeches. just, all of it. a woman he doesn’t know comes to holmes for advice about a potential job she’s interviewed for and they both agree it sounds incredibly sketchy, she says she’s gonna take it anyway because she needs the money, and he’s like “well i wouldn’t want any sister of mine doing something like this but FINE i guess, just please write to us and let us know if you’re okay and if anything bad happens we’ll drop everything and come help you immediately”, and then the job does in fact turn out to be super sketchy and they drop everything and get on a train as soon as she writes to them

sometimes spends several hours out on walks through the park or the town with watson just relaxing and talking with him for the sake of it, despite watson frequently noting that holmes doesn’t have much appreciation for nature

“we have had the good fortune to bring peace to many troubled souls. i trust that we may do the same for you,” he says “in his easy, genial way” to a potential client who’s clearly very upset and sleep-deprived

is completely wrong about a particular case and asks watson to remind him of that case next time he gets overconfident

is noted by watson to be very neat and methodical in his methods and way of dress, while simultaneously being one of the messiest people ever who keeps his tobacco inside a persian slipper and his unopened letters held up by a knife in the center of his mantelpiece, keeps tons of criminal relics which apparently somehow end up in the butter dish sometimes, and keeps countless stacks of papers and documents all over the place

tells watson anecdotes about his past just to avoid cleaning up said documents

deliberately knocks over a table, shattering a glass fruit bowl which then sends oranges rolling all over the room, and then blames it on watson and runs away

says snarky things like “when gregson or lestrade are out of their depth–which, by the way, is their normal state” and “you’ve done very well, watson! it’s too bad you’ve missed everything of importance”

laughs when watson suggests he’s being modest about his abilities

picked up a rose and got all sappy and poetic about it

more specifically, picked up a rose and said that religion can be a science which involves a lot of careful deduction, and that flowers are a source of hope and proof of the goodness of god due to the fact that they aren’t a necessary part of life but are still so beautiful anyway

recovered an incredibly valuable government treaty for a client and had it served to him on a platter at breakfast because, in his own words, he “never can resist a touch of the dramatic”

faked his death and then revealed to watson that he was still alive in a manner that even he admitted was unnecessarily dramatic

had a full-scale wax model of himself created and used it to fool his enemies

made a diagram out of breadcrumbs to explain something to watson

broke into a blackmailer’s house for a case because he believed it to be morally justifiable, and admitted that he always thought he might make a good criminal

held watson’s hand while they were burgling said house together

twice

allowed said blackmailer to be murdered in front of him by one of his victims and then refused to take the case when asked because he just hated the guy that much

“flushed up with pleasure” when watson complimented him

asked watson to sell his medical practice and move back into 221b with him after the death of his wife. and then secretly gave a relative of his a ton of money to buy watson’s medical practice at the highest price watson would ask for, just so they could live together again

was nearly brought to tears by lestrade saying he was proud of him

let a dog lead him around on a case, multiple times in different stories

was very gentle with a client who he knew to be the victim of an abusive marriage and allowed the man who killed her husband to go free out of sympathy for their situation

noticed watson looking sad and touching his war wound and tried to cheer him up by echoing his thoughts and providing a deduction of how he knew what he was thinking

mentioned watson’s sparkling eyes in said deduction

talked about nothing but violins and his favorite violinist for an hour while he and watson had lunch together

likes going to classical music concerts and getting lost in the music

does scrapbooking

chuckles and rubs his hands together when he’s happy

this:

takes getting called "the devil himself" as a compliment

let a killer go because he had only killed in retaliation for the unjust murder of his lover, and holmes felt that he might’ve done the same if someone were to kill the woman he loved

on a completely unrelated note tells a guy who shoots watson “if you had killed watson you would not have got out of this room alive”

also reacted like this when watson got shot:

went undercover to supposedly give a guy secret government intelligence documents, and then gave him a book about bees instead

frequently disguised himself either for cases or just to fool watson and was noted to be a great actor

once disguised himself as an old woman with a parasol

tried the best he could to talk a young woman out of marrying a man who had a history of “collecting” women for sport and destroying their lives, and admitted to watson that he thought of her as he would think of his own daughter

was prone to “imp-like moods”

sent watson a message to come over at once ("if convenient--if inconvenient come all the same") just so he could infodump to him about dogs

wasn’t surprised that a dog died of grief shortly after its owner’s death, because of “the beautiful, faithful nature of dogs”

listened with great sympathy to a depressed woman who wanted to tell him her tragic story, picked up on hints that she was planning to commit suicide, talked her out of it by convincing her that her life does have value and then called her brave for choosing to live

got lost in thought looking out the window at the publicly funded elementary schools and randomly went on about how he believes they and the children who attend them are beacons of a brighter future

made hot cocoa for watson

shook hands with a baby

retired to the countryside to live on a farm and become a beekeeper.

#this post is SO ridiculously long i'm sorry. if the readmore doesn't work i will scream #it's also been in my drafts for ages and i wanna post it now that i'm deep in sherlock holmes obsession again #it is mostly for me so i can remind myself how much i love him <3 #sherlock holmes #acd canon #edit: okay not only did the readmore work but there are TWO readmores and i have no damn clue why #i can't seem to get rid of the second one?? idk if it's because the post is so long or what lol but oh well

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harmlessghosty · 10 months ago

Text

Touchstarved love-interests when they first meet a plus-size MC

~ demo spoilers below the cut ~

Kuras carries you out of the Fogfall into Eridia without an issue, bridal style and cautious not to jostle you for fear of making the bleeding much worse. He’s careful placing you onto the operating table, not thinking at all about your weight and how shoddy the equipment in his clinic might be. After all, he’s operated on people as large and larger than Leander, so you’re a drop in the bucket. No judgement at all for your size. In fact, he still finds you fascinating. If you’re entirely out of shape as well, he shows concern for your ability to travel such long distances, but overall, he’s truly just happy to see that you’ve survived. After you leave, he tosses your torn clothing, stopping for a moment to allow himself to think about how wonderful you looked to him.

Leander is immediately smitten. Oh? Someone with curves? With parts that jiggle? How exciting! And you seem just as interested, aren’t you? Why wouldn’t you be, when he’s instantly doting upon you with caresses to your wide hips and nudges to your shoulders in hopes that you might take his hand. To hell with the bandages; he’s interested, but more than that, he’s blinded with a vague sense of lust. After all, his escapades are known throughout Lowtown, though he’s careful to find only the best partners for himself. If he could just get you into that room at the Wet Wick for a moment…but no. He settles for placing his hands on your cheeks, forcing you to look at him with curiosity and bewilderment, and charms you with his smile.

Vere watches from a distance at first. His eyes rake up and down your body from his chained-up perch as he wishes he could draw you closer to get a better look. All he can think is that, from behind, you look quite ravishing. He imagines your ass would look nice without that sweater from that awful doctor’s office covering it. Maybe he could have a peek if he manages to flip it up with a sharp breeze? As he teases you for losing your key, he takes long pauses to better observe your shape and keep you guessing, and he struggles to hold back a grin. It’s been some time since he’s seen someone as curvy and fleshy as you in this shit town. He wonders if you might join at the brothel for a rendezvous and implies that you’re always welcome. Though he’s teasing, he does genuinely hope you accept his offer, just so he can see…

Ais is quick to notice your size and smirks to himself. You’re big everywhere too, aren’t you? And he loves it. Look at that—Someone who can match his size and handle his rougher-than-typical approach to attraction. When he shows himself to you, he takes a good, long look up and down your body, practically drooling at the thought of dragging you behind the columns of the Seaspring and seeing what’s under those clothes. Would you move as smoothly as he thinks you might? Maybe you have a cute voice too along with that size. If you didn’t look so mentally weak, little sparrow, then he might throw you into the Seaspring himself to give you a reason to stay. You know he can lift anything with those muscles, not to mention he would love to swing you around like a rag doll, putting you exactly where he wants you.

Mhin doesn’t even think about your size at first. In fact, they’re so focused on their Soulless target that they hardly notice you exist. The moment you start blabbering though, they roll their eyes. You’re frustrating them, getting in the way. Here they are, trying to do their job, and you’re thinking they’re here to save you? Ridiculous. But…Don’t you look interesting in an outfit that they recognize is from Kuras’ clinic. Something that shows off your body in a way they’re not sure whether they like. Are you trying to attract attention to yourself for some kind of gain, or are you just stupid? Don’t you know that, in a place like Eridia, it’s better to blend in? They think to offer you their cloak, but they need it more, after all. Besides, they certainly don’t mind seeing someone with your pretty shape in their line of sight, not that they’d admit it.

#i’m very shy using the official tags but i really do enjoy what i’ve written here #i too am plus-sized so this is just what i’d really adore their reactions to be #my experiences are not everyone’s so obviously take that into account here #ghostywrites #x reader #plus size #touchstarved game #touchstarved kuras #touchstarved leander #touchstarved vere #touchstarved ais #touchstarved mhin #Ais #Mhin #Leander #Kuras #Vere

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oatmealdaydreams · 1 month ago

Text

Tale of Two Triangles

Let me know if ya wanna be added on or taken off the general taglist! Rated Mature because I got carried away with this one.

Pairings: Axolotl & Pyramid Steve, Bill Cipher & Pyramid Steve, gen

Warnings: Dismemberment, Murder, Accidental Murder, Family Death, Death, Burns, Medical Trauma

Summary: Axolotl, the ancient deity of the multiverse, tells the tale of the last Euclydians.

[Masterlist] | ao3 link

[fic under the cut]

Once upon a time, there were two little triangles: Billy and Steve.

Billy and Steve did not know each other. They lived in different corners of a flat world called Euclydia. They were from two different families.

Billy had a mom named Scalene and a dad named Euclid. They lived in a nice house with nice things. Scalene was an inquisitive mother, and Euclid was a playful father. Billy loved his mom and dad.

In a different part of Euclydia, Steve had an absent dad who he could not remember, and he had a mom named Iso. Iso was a protective mother, and she would not let Steve venture far from home. Steve loved his mom.

Unlike the rest of their peers, the little triangles were special. They were both born with only one eye. Billy’s eye was dark, and Steve’s eye was a bright blue. They saw things beyond their dimension. The stars! The stars twinkled and shone in pretty colors. Steve liked the colors most of all, and he started to wear very colorful things to match the stars. Billy liked how shiny the stars were. They were like gold! He was…yellow. Billy wanted to be gold—whatever that color meant—so he could match the twinkling stars.

Steve told his mom about the stars. She said he was special! However, she warned him not to tell other people. They would be mean to him. He listened and only talked about the twinkling lights to Iso. Iso told him he was a good boy for listening.

“I can’t see them like you do,” she once commented after Steve mentioned seeing stars as pink as her. “I don’t understand it, but I love you. I will listen as long as I love you.”

Billy told his mom and dad about the stars. They said he was very imaginative. There were no such things as ‘stars’ or ‘space’. Billy was sad that they did not believe him. He kept telling them about the stars. They were shiny! They were pretty! He tried telling his peers about the stars. They twinkle! Look, look, look! His peers did not believe him. They said he was lying. There’s no such thing. They could only look left and right. They did not know what ‘up’ was. Billy cried when they made fun of him. His parents were worried.

“Maybe the Eye Doctor can help,” Euclid had suggested, wanting his son to be safe from ridicule.

“Yes,” Scalene agreed, wanting her son to be happy. “Maybe he can help us understand, Billy.”

Billy wanted them to understand, so he went with his parents to the Eye Doctor.

The Eye Doctor gave him a piece of delicious candy after every visit. He gave him special medicine to help him. He said it would help him feel better. Maybe now he can see the stars clearer! Maybe if they were clear enough, he could help his family understand. He could show those mean kids who called him a liar! Billy did his best to take the liquid medicine with his favorite swirly straw. He always ate the candy first, though.

His eye was getting blurrier and blurrier…

Billy did not like the Eye Doctor.

He just wanted them to understand! Why were they trying to take his sight away? That’s not fair! It’s unfair! He just wanted to show them the stars. Then, they’d believe him. Then, the kids would stop being mean. Then, his parents would understand. They all would understand. He’d make them understand.

They just needed to see.

~~~

Steve did not know Billy, and he thought he was alone.

He had his mom to talk to. He knew that, but he wished she could understand what the stars looked like. They were so colorful, just like her! If she saw them, then she could see how much she was like a star. He wanted to make Iso happy. She would laugh at Steve’s jokes, but he could see that she was sad. His dad made her sad. She missed him. Steve did not know him and could not find him, but he could try to make her happy. Just like how she was when he told her jokes! He just needed to find more things that make her feel joy.

Maybe the stars would make her happy! She told him that she wished she could see the stars. She wanted to help her son feel less alone, but he was special. Iso was not special like he was. She did her best and listened to him talk about what he called ‘space’. Oh, Steve could show her what space was! Then his mom could be happy! How could he show her something she did not see? Maybe he could try drawing it with his favorite crayons. Iso always praised him for his artwork, so he bets she would love a picture of space!

He wished he could help her see the stars.

He wanted her to see.

…But if she could not see them, then he would make something that she could see.

Steve was going to show his mom the stars.

~~~

Billy grew distant from his peers. He started dumping his medicine in secret. He told his parents the medicine wasn’t working.

Steve was busy drawing with pink and blue crayons. He looked up at the stars for reference to make sure he got their shapes right. Their shapes shifted a lot, so he had to be quick before they changed. He liked the really bright ones. They had the most color! Steve drew a big pink one in the middle of his paper. It reminded him of his mom. Oh, she was going to love this! He was going to make her happy.

Billy was untethered. He ventured far from home, and his parents did not stop him. He spent more and more time in space with the stars. The stars would understand. He felt alone. No one understood him. He didn’t know Steve, so he thought he was the only one special enough to see all the twinkling wonders. His peers stopped talking to him after he called them bad words. His parents got mad at him for that. They didn’t understand. How could he make them understand? How could he make them see?

Maybe he just needed to change. Their. Perspective.

Billy grabbed a small, blue star from the sky. It was burning hot. He didn’t know what hot was until he grabbed the little star. He was learning so many things! This was better to learn about than the stupid stuff they taught in school.

Flat world.

Flat school.

Flat minds.

He would show them there was more than ‘flat’.

Billy hovered in front of Euclydia, and put the little star in a blank spot to show everyone. They would see now! They would understand now! He wouldn’t be alone anymore!

Stars did not belong in flat worlds. They burn.

His home caught fire and burned like the stars.

~~~

Steve didn’t know what happened.

He was about to give his drawing of the stars to his mom. She was sitting down and resting. He told her he made a present for her. She was excited. Iso was finally going to be happy! Before she could see the stars on flat paper, things got what he learned was ‘hot’.

There was…fire. Fire? What was ‘fire’? Why was it so hot and burning? What was going on?

Iso wouldn’t stop screaming. She tried to usher Steve and her out of the house. Many other Euclydians were doing the same thing. They were all running. They were all screaming. The flat world was disappearing into the blue fires. He didn’t know where they came from. Why was the fire blue? Pink was a better color, anyway.

His peers were burning! They were calling for help, but Steve could not help them. His friends were disappearing. The street was disappearing. Houses were disappearing. His entire home was burning up in blue, blue, blue flames.

He hated the color blue now.

He looked frantically for somewhere safe for his mom and him to go. Iso pulled him around as everything disappeared into what he’d later learn was called ‘ash’ and ‘ember’. The flames soon encircled them. They were tapped. Iso was crying. She was sad. She was supposed to be happy! Steve just wanted to make her happy again.

Where could they go? Maybe they could go to the stars! He looked up and saw the stars were not disappearing. They twinkled like they always had. Steve told his mom he found somewhere to go. Iso said she could not go to the stars. She could not see them. Steve did not believe her. He had to try! He had to make her happy and keep her safe!

Steve pulled Iso. He kept a grip on her hand as he started to hover out of the dying flat world. His mom said she could not go. He had to try. Fire was getting closer. The screams were getting louder. Steve would not let go. Not when Iso was on a short circle of Euclydia, surrounded by blue flames. Not while he watched her catch on fire. Not when she burned away and disappeared. It was so fast that the fire soon took his mom away from him. She was gone.

Her pink hat floated in space next to home. He put it on his top angle like he’d seen her do. He noticed a pink and yellow tie floating around. On the back of it had the name Sceles written on the tag in tiny letters. He wondered who Sceles was, but he put the tie on anyway. It reminded him of Iso and him. Yellow and pink. Mother and son.

Gone.

Everything was gone. His mom was gone. His friends were gone. His home was gone. He was a little burnt and scratched up from all the frightened running he did with all that fire.

Now out of Euclydian, his arms hurt. They kept disappearing in and out, flickering in weird ways. He didn’t understand why. They were glitching. He was glitching. He didn’t know what ‘glitching’ was until now. He was learning a lot. He was surrounded by stars as he cried. Glitching hurt.

The only way to stop the pain was to stop crying.

He forced himself to stop crying.

…He failed.

His arms glitched out for good, and he felt alone.

Steve looked around to see someone else. Who was that? Did another Euclydian survive? Another yellow triangle floated in the distance, wearing a top hat and a bowtie. He had never seen this triangle before. Maybe he was like him! He could help! He wasn’t alone after all!

Hope died as soon as Steve tried to talk to the other triangle.

“Go away!” he yelled, crying, angry, as he cradled something tiny and precious in his hands. “I don’t know you!”

“I’m Steve!” Steve tried, voice creaking from his crying earlier. “I don’t know you either, but…everyone is gone.”

The other triangle glared at him in targeted silence.

“Do you know what happened?” he tried again.

That resulted in a tearful, “No! It doesn’t matter!”

“What do we do now?” Steve’s voice grew quieter.

There were nothing but stars and two little triangles.

The other triangle looked away at that. He cradled whatever he was holding closer to himself with a protective fury. He glanced down at it, and his crying only got worse. His tears were furious with what almost looked like overwhelming guilt.

“I don’t know,” is all he said before looking back at Steve. Anger quickly replaced the sadness like a paper mask that was liable to burn away again. He yelled, “Maybe it was a monster! How do I know you didn’t do it?”

“What?” Steve looked bewildered, not understanding.

He didn’t do anything!

He didn’t…

He…

“I’m not a monster!” he shouted, unintentionally raising his volume.

“Well, a monster definitely did this!”

“It’s not me! Maybe the monster went away. We need to—”

“No! There’s no ‘we’.”

“But—”

“I don’t care! You’d die to the monster.”

And the other triangle put his precious little cargo under his top hat and zipped away from Steve, crying and angry and scared.

Steve was alone now.

There were nothing but stars.

He was all alone.

~~~

They didn’t know how long it was since Billy left Steve alone, but they do know that he was crying when they found him.

The Axolotl was a massive being. They were pink. Their dorsal fin was made of billions and trillions of stars and space and colorful things. Their external fins on their face were strange and spiky and had lots of shapes to them. They could circle just their tail around Steve about one hundred times! They swam through the multiverse, into the void of space, through lingering dimensions and alternate timelines where Billy and Steve were happy or brothers or both, and they found the poor little triangle.

Steve seemed to still be in shock. He just floated there in front of where Euclydia had been, eye wide with tears, sniffling and whimpering quietly to himself. He was sad. He was devastated. He missed his mom. Steve didn’t notice the Axolotl at first. Even though they were a giant deity of many sights and many knowings, he did not see them yet. It wasn’t until they spoke did he realize the Axolotl was there.

“Child,” they started, shushing in a soothing manner as Steve startled. “Easy, little triangle. Are you alright?”

“I—who—”

“Easy, child, easy. I am the Axolotl, but you can just call me Ax if it’s more memorable. I came to help you, little one.”

“I’m…I don’t understand. What’s going on?”

“You just suffered a great trauma, my child. I asked if you were alright, but I feel that might’ve been the wrong question.”

“I’m…no, I’m not. I don’t—there was someone else, but he just…left.”

“Oh, poor little triangle, I’m sorry. I know he left you, I saw.”

“You saw?”

“I see a lot of things, my child.”

“Really? Can you see the stars?”

“Yes, I can.”

Something akin to slight awe blossomed in Steve’s eye. A little hope returned. He…he wasn’t alone! The Axolotl could see it, too!

He still didn’t know what to do. Steve was without a home, or friends, or his mom.

“What do I do now?” he looked up to the Axolotl, and they smiled gently at him.

“I’ll take care of you, little triangle. Come with me, and I’ll help you.”

“Okay,” Steve said, because he had no one else, nowhere else, and the Axolotl was being so kind. “Okay.”

“You will?”

“Oh, yes, my child. Always. All you have to do is come with me, little one.”

“Thank you,” the Axolotl curled the lower part of their tail loosely around the space that Steve floated, keeping him safe, secure, protected. “Now, come, my child. Let me care for you.”

Steve nodded, sniffling, and let the Axolotl guide him away from the ruins of his home.

#edit: ignore the fact that i forgot to put the taglist jsdfkjsfjd #deity guidance au #oatmeal ink pens #gravity falls #weirdness town oregon? uhhh...yeah. i live there #bill cipher #pyramid steve #gravity falls axolotl #my au #angst #euclydia #scalene cipher #euclid cipher #original euclydian characters #original characters #iso (oc)#sceles (oc)

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kahtiihma · 1 year ago

Text

to my friends on the official malevolent discord server

I was recently kicked from the Invictus/Malevolent discord server and had no opportunity to reach out to anyone I was speaking with at the time before my access was removed. If we were talking and you wished to continue (or if you wanted to start a conversation with me and never had the chance), please DM me here on tumblr or contact me on discord (username: kahti). I miss you all, I’m absolutely heartbroken, and this was never how I wanted things to go. I’m hoping this tumblr message will reach at least a few of you so I don’t lose contact with everyone fully.

To everyone in the Invictus server who knew me well, I love you all. I hope you stay well. Please keep posting flowers and my heart goes out to all of you. You made this community fun and rewarding and I’m grateful for having known you. Goodbye 💕

Details will be provided below.

As many may know, I’ve been a part of the Malevolent podcast fan community for over two years and active in the official Invictus discord server run by Harlan since April 2021. I adore the community and the people there have been so lovely. Many friends have come out of that space and for years I have been vocal about how my priority has always been maintaining peace and nurturing relationships.

This is why I find it very difficult to talk about this situation.

On Friday, July 14th, I was private messaged on discord by Jo (Harlan’s wife) saying I would be kicked from the Invictus server and have my Patreon membership revoked. Immediately upon receiving that message the server vanished from my access while I was reeling in confusion. I think there was implication that I was meant to take the message as an opportunity to leave the server on my own accord but I had no access or ability to do so, nor were any of my responses for clarification given any reply.

The reason cited for kicking me was that Harlan and Jo were uncomfortable I showed interest in meeting them at this year’s FanExpo Toronto, an event we have all attended together in the past. As they did last year, they provided a google survey to track interest and attendees which contained an option “are you interested in meeting Jo & Harlan?”. Since this was the method used last year to headcount the number of people interested in a discord server meetup, I selected “yes” despite having no actual intention of interacting with them directly.

Without going into detail, there have been many incidents over this last year behind the scenes that have left me feeling very uncomfortable about the Guthries and I would rather have given them space and hoped they’d respect my space as well. If they had reached out to me and stated they weren’t comfortable with me attending any meetup they were hosting, I would have immediately respected those wishes and avoided being in the same general area at the time. However, this was the first time Jo had spoken to me in nine months and I hadn’t heard from Harlan in four months. At no point during that time was I given any indication that I was doing anything wrong or causing anyone any trouble so it came as a complete shock to be suddenly escalated to outright banned.

I knew they had me blocked since March this year but respected that as their decision even if the reasons were unclear and did my best to avoid interacting with them while still engaging in the space -- something Harlan himself stated he hoped I would continue to do when they removed my moderator status in March, which I took as his consent and blessing to remain in the server. To be told my presence was unwanted totally blindsided me and left me struggling to understand what happened.

I’m not too proud to say I immediately burst into tears in the doctor’s office I was waiting in at the time of being kicked.

I’m not concerned about retaliation. I’m not concerned with anyone taking my side. I wish they had been better at communicating their needs so this entire situation could have been avoided, but it happened and it is what it is. Currently I’m absolutely gutted bc there were so many people I enjoyed speaking with who I now have no access to nor do I have their discord names to dm them and let them know where I went. I hate that it looks like I vanished without saying goodbye.

#malevolent #malevolent podcast #masked #malevolent pod #rusty quill #personal

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spencerreidswhore187 · 1 year ago

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Checkmate (The Final Part)

By @spencerreidswhore187 for @sackofpissandshit (who has been harassing me for this fic all week)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Summary: Spencer finds out that reader is not who he thought they were. (Lots of angst)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Unsub (g!n) Reader

Word Count: 3.1K

TW: Death, kidnapping, mentions of assault, blood, strong-ish language, mentions of suicide, mentions of self-harm, severing of a limb, fire.

A/N: Hi! Thank you to everyone who liked, commented, reblogged and followed Checkmate, it means the world to me. Sorry this has taken me a while to write, a fun fact about me is I currently have a kidney infection - my doctor told me this on the one year anniversary of my last kidney infection. Anyway, enjoy me, an extremely British person trying (and failing) to be American.

P.S. There is a Star Trek reference in this that killed me to write.

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It was a foolish thing to fall in love with hope. Hope was dangerous. Hope was irresistible. Hope would inevitably kill you.

You had hoped you'd survive this but knew it was impossible; as you ran, you felt it die - that spark, your soul. There was no Y/N, not anymore. Only the Phantom Menace remained.

Y/N will not be able to save Spencer, but the Phantom Menace could.

You hated that name (not that it mattered) you had no say in it. You were a ghost Ben had told you, a monster. You needed a name that mirrored that.

You were like a shadow all those years ago. You disguised yourself in the dark, letting gloom envelop you. You felt safe when you became the ghost.

It was like you did not exist. All your problems went away and you allowed yourself to be someone else - something else. You had scaled the coarse brick wall of a manor house dreaming of your future. When you silently slipped through the window, you thought about love.

It was unbecoming to believe a person could ever fall in love with someone like you - a killer, the creature that lurked under children’s beds, haunting their nightmares.

Still, your mind chased the foolish fantasy.

Love was what let you dissociate. Love was what let you drag a blade along a stranger’s neck. And, when you returned like clockwork to the Ivylands without a drop of crimson blood on you, you would walk alone through the woods to the cabin by the lake.

You had been instructed to go there after every mission.

Ben would stroke your hair, calling you beautiful and shower you with praise. Once upon a time, you thought that was what love was...you knew better now. Thanks to Spencer.

Spencer was your everything and you would not let yourself lose him.

That meant killing the gentle thing you’d become. You wished it was harder than it was to do so.

“Left,” you murmured, heading to the cabin was like listening to your old favourite song: it had been so long, yet, you still knew every single word.

You knew this is where Beth had taken Spencer; She hated that place. She wasn’t like you, Ben’s rare, kind words did not fill her with life - they made her sick, they made her angry. You used to wish you were more like her: she was confident and proud, not some kid who did whatever was asked of them. Still, Beth would wipe away your tear after every kill. “Never let him see you hurting,” she would make you promise “because even if Ben tells you he feels bad for what he did, I need you to know that deep down he has a sadistic smile knowing he broke you. Don’t let him break you, Mouse.”

Ben never saw you cry, not until he killed Beth. He laughed at his pretty little murderer as tears streamed down your cheeks. You stopped feeling that day - you became numb. That is, until, him.

Spencer made your heart start beating again.

At last, you stopped running. The cabin was ancient, constructed of rotting moss-stained wood. You had no idea how after all this time, it was still standing.

The porch groaned as you hesitantly approached the door; you gripped the brass handle and twisted it. Your hands were shaking.

It was useless trying to be discrete. Beth knew you were coming, she likely knew you were already here.

The door screeched as it opened, though, you could barely hear it - your heart was pounding in your ears.

Nothing prepared you for the sight of Dr Spencer Reid handcuffed, sitting crossed-legged on the floor, with Beth aiming a gun at him.

Beth had a warm smile plastered on her face as you walked through the threshold, “Hello, Mouse.”

You hated the nostalgia that stupid nickname made you feel. All the others had called you that behind your back, you used to pretend like you didn’t hear. You like it when Beth said it, though.

It made you feel special.

Not anymore.

You raised your gun at her, “Let him go.” You kept your gaze focused on her, not allowing it to slip back to Spencer, who you could see watching you out of your peripheral.

Part of you was shocked that he didn’t grimace at your appearance; blood and mud coated your entire body. But Spencer wasn’t like that, it did not matter who you were or what you looked like, to him you would always be the most beautiful person in the world. Sometimes, when he held you under the covers of your bed, whispering sweet nothings, you would believe him.

“Put the gun down, Y/N,” Beth ordered. She pushed it against Spencer’s temple.

You could hear Spencer’s rapid breathing. You didn’t let it distract you. Instead, you took a step closer to them.

Beth didn’t like that. “Don’t fucking test me, Mouse. I will kill him.”

“No,” your voice was confident, steady, even, the Phantom Menace was talking now, “you won’t.”

You cocked the gun and fired without hesitation.

Beth’s wicked cackle flooded the room as you missed, shattering the window behind her.

Shards of glass scattered across the floor, distracting you. Your idiotic mistake allowed Beth to steal your gun.

You focused on Spencer’s hazel eyes as she roughly pulled your hands behind your back. As you felt the cool metal of handcuffs around your wrists, you mouthed to Spencer: “It’s okay.”

Beth grabbed your hair, using it to pull you to the floor. You didn’t even wince as you fell onto a pile of jagged glass, you watched Spencer rapidly search you for open wounds.

You sat opposite him as Beth sat down at the dining room table. She raised her gun again.

“I have some questions for the two of you,” she taunted. “You are both going to do whatever I say, correct?”

Neither of you answered. This angered Beth; she fired the pistol twice, a few metres from where you lay. “Correct?” She repeated.

Spencer replied instantly, “Yes.”

You refused to look at Beth, “yes,” you muttered.

“Wonderful,” she laughed, “Checkmate.”

—————————————————————————————————---

When the unknown number started calling, Penelope Garcia was already on the phone.

“Pen, Penelope. I need you to calm down okay?” Emily tried to reassure her.

“I don’t - I can’t breathe. Oh my god Luke. Emily! Please, I don’t know what to do. First Spencer and now my newbie? I-”

“He’s alive, Penelope. Y/N didn’t kill him, she missed his heart. Luke is on his way to the hospital, and Rossi and I are on our way back to headquarters.”

“I don’t understand, Emily, you saw Y/N L/N try and stop the bleeding?”

“Yes?”

“Then how do you they shot him?”

“No one else was with them and Spencer is gone. I can’t explain why they did it. We know they poisoned and then tried to save Reid, perhaps they have a saviour complex…what is that ringing?”

Garcia spun around in her chair, reaching for her work phone.

“Some unknown number keeps calling.”

Emily’s voice filtered through the mobile instantly, “answer it. Now,” she ordered.

“…you don’t think it’s-”

“I do.”

Penelope answered immediately, placing her other phone on her desk.

“Is this Agent Penelope Garcia of the BAU?” Asked a distorted voice.

Penelope replied anxiously, “Speaking.”

“I have something you might like to see.” The call disconnected as a hyperlink came through on her computer.

Rossi and Emily entered the room as soon as Garcia clicked on the link.

“What on earth…” She gasped.

A live video appeared on the screen showing Y/N and Reid both handcuffed, sat on a wooden floor.

“Someone tell JJ to look for a log cabin. Immediately.” Instructed Emily.

“Dr Reid,” a voice from offscreen purred, “why don’t you go first? Tell your dear girlfriend about Meave.”

————————————————————————————————————-

Meave. You recognised that name but for the life of you could not figure out why.

“Ignore her,” you pleaded.

Beth scoffed, making a show of cocking the gun, “wrong answer. Try again.”

Spencer inhaled deeply. “Meave died because of me.”

“You can do better than that, Reid.”

“She, um, was my girlfriend. She was being stalked by this girl Diane Turner. It was a murder-suicide.”

“Don’t forget to tell our Y/N when this was,” Beth taunted.

“N-nearly four years ago.”

Right before he met you. The grave you realised. It all made so much sense. She was why Spencer was in the cemetery, Meave was who he was coming to see.

You could tell Beth wanted to make you jealous but you felt nothing at all. Your heart broke a little for Spence, you could see why he lied about being a doctor.

If Beth was irritated by your silence, you couldn’t tell. “Your turn Mouse!” She sang, “If you answer honestly then you can ask me a question.”

You closed your eyes briefly, already knowing what she was going to ask.

“Who’s August?”

“No,” you whispered.

Her hand slapped your cheek with a powerful force. You weren’t surprised, Ben had taught you how to inflict pain oh so well.

“Who. Is. August.” She repeated.

You corrected, “Was. Who was August.” You regretted ever telling Beth about them.

You fidgeted against the restraints. “August was the first person I loved. They were kind and caring and I killed them anyway.” You turned your head towards Beth, “How did you survive?”

“Are you sure that’s what you want to ask? It’s such a boring question.”

“Answer it then.” Beth rolled her eyes.

“The fucking bastard missed my heart when he shot me. Just like I missed SSA Luke Alvez’s. Ben’s assistants through my body into an open grave and left me there, didn’t even bother to check my pulse,” she sniffed, “Your turn again, Reid. What was it that you purchased last week when you pretended to be sick to avoid going to work?”

Spencer turned slightly, staring right at you as he said it.

“An engagement ring.”

“Spence…” You breathed.

Beth was beaming. Spencer looked like he was going to throw up.

“It was a really beautiful ring, Mouse, so simple, so plain. Just like you,” she teased.

“Why are you doing this?”

Beth kissed her teeth, “It’s not your turn, honey. Now, explain why you poisoned your precious boyfriend, or, better yet, pretended to be his wife when you called for an ambulance.”

“I don’t know why,” you lied.

“Yes, you do!” Spencer couldn’t breathe. “It’s because you do whatever your master, Ben, tells you.” Shouted Beth.

“Then it’s a good thing you killed him,” you spat.

You repeated your earlier question. “Why are you doing this.”

Making sure Beth was distracted, you slowly, discretely, reached for the jagged shard of glass on the left of your right hand.

“It’s not fair,” she seethed, “I trusted you and you fell in love with one of them. You hated police officers, remember? They are the reasons we became monsters! If they hadn’t stopped looking for us, we never would have ended up here, in this house, in this cabin. If-if it wasn’t for them, my family would still be alive.”

You grasped the glass shard tightly, blood trickling down your palm.

“If my family has to be dead, then so does yours. There’s only one person you care about…him.” Beth gestured at him with the gun.

“Last question before I kill you both-”

“Y/N,” Spencer edged towards you.

“Enough, pig. Do you love them?” Beth tapped the gun against his head.

Spencer didn’t bother hiding the truth, if you were both going to die, he needed you to know. He looked into your eyes, Spencer would happily drown in the [your eye colour] of your eyes. “I love you,” He vowed.

“Even now? She is a murderer, after all, the very thing you’re hired to destroy.”

“You are the knife I turn inside myself; that is love. That, my dear, is love.” He quoted.

Spencer must have read Kafka’s ‘Letters to Milena’ a thousand times since you met, every time he opened the cover of the novel, he was brought back to the day he met the love of his life.

“You are poetry material, Spence; You are full of cloudy subtleties I am willing to spend a lifetime figuring out. Words burst in your essence and you carry their dust in the pores of your ethereal individuality.” Immediately you were engulfed by pain, you pressed the glass shard against the base of your pinky finger and pushed and pushed. You tried your hardest to keep your breathing steady when finally you severed the finger.

You saw Spencer notice the blood pooling behind you. You subtly shook your head as he opened his mouth to protest. Angling your hand just right, you were able to agonisingly force your hand out of one of the cuffs.

Beth slowly walked towards you, “Well wasn’t that romantic. Oh, wait, I mean pathetic.”

Without hesitation, you tackled her to the ground, reaching for the gun in her hand.

“Y/N!” You heard Spencer cry as Beth’s elbow collided with your chin. You were blinded by pain but that did not matter, you needed that weapon. You notice a small triangle of glass to your right, you reached for it and plunged it into Beth’s side.

Beth screamed, immediately reaching to pull the glass out. This allowed you to capture the gun.

How the tables turn, you thought, as you pressed the barrel against her temple.

“Spencer,” you instructed slowly, “go.”

He stood up and took one step towards you, “Spence, please,” your voice cracked, “I need you to go.”

“I’m not going to leave you Y/N.”

“Please, Spence.”

“Y/N-”

“I love you. Promise me you’ll run as fast as you can. Don’t turn back. I’ll be right behind you.” You both knew it was a lie.

Beth squirmed in your grasp.

“You’ll be right behind me?”

“Scout’s honour.” You did the Vulcan salute for good measure.

You made sure to drink Spencer in one more time, he was so beautiful. You wished you could have told him more.

Spencer turned back around one last time before leaving.

“You lied.” Beth gave a cold, wet laugh - blood dribbled down her chin. “Neither of us is getting out of this alive.”

You stood up, brushing the dirt off you. Your hand was throbbing. “Did Ben seriously not remember you?”

Beth looked at you, face painted with confusion.

“Power of hair dye, I guess.” You shrugged.

Beth remained on the soiled ground as you walked towards the set of drawers. You rummaged through the mess till you found what you were looking for. Tentatively, you pulled one out of the box, dragging it along the side.

“You’re crazy,” Beth breathed.

You held the match near your face, examining the orange flame.

“Checkmate,” you mocked as you let go.

——————————————————————————————————

Spencer ran and ran and ran. If he stopped it became too real. He refused to believe it. He kept running through the woods until he collided with someone else.

“Spencer!” Exclaimed JJ, pulling him in for a hug. Spencer rested his head on her shoulder, he couldn’t help the sobs that escaped him. “It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re okay,” JJ soothed, rubbing his back.

“I have to go back,” Spencer whispered into her shoulder. “I need to help them, they-”

“Spencer,” Tara said slowly, gently, “what do you mean?”

“Spencer pushed away from JJ and started explaining “They’re still…no. No. NO!”

He turned around and watch the melancholy smoke rise, dancing above the horizon. The amber flames taunted him, reaching for the stars in the distance.

Spencer thought he knew heartbreak…it felt nothing like this. Pain didn’t do this feeling justice. He felt like he was dying.

——————————————————————————————————

It had been a week since you died; Spencer had only left the headquarters once.

The team had tried to coax him away from the reports but it was to no avail. Something was wrong, he was sure of it. You couldn’t be dead. You couldn’t.

Emily had shown Spencer the footage from the live stream with Beth in hopes it would give him closure, it just made it worst. He replayed the last five seconds of the clip again and again.

There was something malicious, something cunning, about the way you stared at the camera as you dropped the match.

It was like you knew it was there all along.

“Reid…” Emily tried, but Spencer ignored her. She didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but you.

Your funeral was the day before. No one went but Spence.

He had traced your name in the granite on your gravestone where Y/N Reid was engraved. He knew you hated your last name. He held his treasured copy of Letters to Milena and spoke for the first time in days: “If a million loved you, I am one of them, and if one loved you, it was me, and if no one loved you then know that I am dead.” He left the novel, along with his broken heart and shattered soul, at the grave.

Spencer reached for the fire report once again.

He had memorised every word but still, he would read it again and again until he found whatever it was Spencer was looking for.

He ran a long, thin finger along the printed words.

Two bodies had been found in the ruins of the cabin. Both were too burnt to be identifiable, not that it could have been anyone else other than Beth Gallagher and Y/N L/N. One body had a deep cut on the left side of their stomach and the other was covered in shallow cuts. Other than that, no wounds. No wounds, Spencer repeated to himself, both bodies had all ten fingers and all ten toes.

No..it couldn’t be possible.

But Spencer knew what he saw, the memory was tattooed on his brain. He watched you cut your finger off.

You were alive.

A/N: Thank you for reading! This is the final part of the Checkmate series (sorry for the cliffhanger) I hope you enjoyed it. I did write an epilogue in addition to this part but I'm not sure whether I'm going to post it or not ◡̈

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