#can’t believe he cut his hair…. a tragedy

[girlsdads]

[berryyuni]

look who's all flustered now - sjy

✿ for once you're not the one that's kicking their feet, giggling and blushing.

pairing - bf!jake x gn!reader genre - est. relationship, fluff wc - 505 warning - pet names

౨ৎ reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated !! <3 ✧˖° ... (library)

“your hair grows back pretty fast,” you pointed out, running your fingers through jake’s hair as he lay with his head on your chest, scrolling through tiktoks on his phone. “it hasn’t been that long since you last cut it.”

“right? it already feels long again.” he responded, “bet you’re happy about that, huh?” he looked up at you, raising an eyebrow.

you scoffed playfully and rolled your eyes, “i have no idea what you’re talking about. i think you look good regardless of what hairstyle you have.”

“says the person that literally cried when they found out i cut my hair,” jake reminded, chuckling, “whatever you say, baby.”

“i was just… surprised that’s all,” you said, making up an excuse - which jake didn’t believe at all - “long hair is a pretty good look on you,” you shrugged, “but you’re handsome to me no matter what.” you mumbled the last part, averting your gaze elsewhere.

jake’s grin widened as he propped himself up from your chest to get a better look at you, “what did you say?”

“that long hair is a good look on you?” you recalled, trying to play dumb.

“no, what you said after that,” he pressed, “said something about me being handsome to you?”

“hm? no, i think you’re just hearing things, jake.” you feigned innocence. you began to sit up from your previous position.

before you could say or do anything else, you felt yourself being pushed back down onto the mattress. next thing you knew, you were face to face with jake - him hovering over you. you felt your cheeks heat up due to the sudden closeness. “w-what are you doing?” suddenly feeling shy, you did everything you could to look anywhere but at jake.

“can’t even look at me now, baby?” he teased, his gaze slightly shifting down to your lips then back to your eyes. 

in an instant, all the shyness you were feeling was long gone. instead, you found yourself getting lost in jake’s eyes - something you’ve always loved about him. the way they sparkle, the way they scrunch up when he smiles, you loved everything about them. wrapping your arms around his neck you say, “you have really pretty eyes, jake,” you cup his face, stroking your thumb against his cheek. his face immediately flushed under your touch. “you’re a pretty boy, my pretty boy.” you smiled.

jake’s boldness was gone in a heartbeat - in fact, you saw the exact moment it left his body. now it was his turn to be flustered. “i-“ he started, but quickly closed his mouth. 

oh, the effect you had on him.

now it was your turn to have some fun. "you were saying, jaeyun?"

"nothing," he mumbled before leaning down to bury his face into your neck. "nevermind."

"cute," you murmured, your fingers finding their way back into jake's hair. you can feel him relax once again. "i win." you said in a teasing tone only to feel jake chuckle against your skin.

©berryyuni 2024. all work is written by me. do not copy, translate or repost

taglist (open): @suneng @j-jinxee @miniature-tragedy @ikeuzsn @laylasbunbunny

[grxndprix]

𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐢𝐚.

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 — 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦! 𝘮𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘮𝘪 𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘰 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮! 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘵𝘸 — 𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘦/𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵, 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯, 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘢, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵

It’s an odd thing, she realized. Practically lunacy. Rapt, her hand traced the outline of her collarbone, eyes following the motion in the mirror. Maybe she hoped for a lag in the reflection. This was a trick mirror, it had to be. 

The muted olive walls of the bathroom closed in on her. Dim lighting, an orange-ish tint to the bulbs. Far too saturated, suffocating, she was choking herself out as thoughts swarmed around her mind. Lips parting in a quiet denial of the situation, she almost missed how her whole body was trembling.

[name] ran fingers through her hair in an effort to ground herself. Purple bruises and red bitemarks littered across her neck and collar, she flinched at the memory that came with them. She didn’t wear concealer, so she wouldn’t have any in her purse. Imperfections of her face bubbled up, but it wasn’t enough to rip her attention away from the marks.

Jujutsu High was supposed to be a safe haven. It was supposed to be somewhere she could focus on strengthening her skills, somewhere she could escape her ignorant and awful family — But tragedy tends to follow those who combat it the most. 

A shaky breath, and [name] crumbled to the floor in a heap. She could hardly breathe, scratching at her skin, rubbing furiously at her body as her cries echoed in cracked whispers, “God, please get it off— Get his touch off— I-I can’t—” She hiccupped, tears rapid in their descent down her face. 

Her knees ached from the coldness of the tiled floor, bathtub in her peripheral suddenly looking more like a coffin than anything else. She wondered, for a moment, — If she filled the tub with water and let the crystal substance fill her lungs, would she feel clean?

Bring her to the forest, dump her body on the grass. Nature will be gentler than any man. 

Megumi Fushiguro wasn’t a bad man. That’s what [name] believed. She saw his stoicism as gentleness to the world. She saw his silence as peace. And, of course, she saw his potential as a sorcerer. She was the one who brought it to his attention, just before Gojo even got the idea to talk to him.

The girl had approached him just before he was to close his room’s door for the night. 

[name] smiled softly, eyes not meeting his as she tried to step out of her comfort zone. “I just think you have a lot of amazing things you’d be able to do! You can bring out your potential, I just— I think you can pull it out of yourself, hon’, I really do…” She dared a glance up into his eyes, suppressing a wince when he had been looking at her the whole time. “If that makes sense, of course! Sorry, I don’t know why I—”

She was cut off by a quiet laugh. It wasn’t harsh or biting, not even mocking — It was a genuine, soft laugh. Finally turning to look at him properly, her heart almost fluttered. He was smiling, eyes crinkling upward at the notion. Despite her hesitation, he looked so… happy. He was shining, honestly. 

“ Thanks, [name]. I, ah, needed that.” He ran a hand through his fluffy raven locks, gunmetal hues resting on her face. Unmoving. His cheeks were dusted a light pink. She internally breathed a sigh of relief, laughing with him. Her own smile was made even brighter than before, cheeks starting to hurt. 

Megumi almost brought his hand up to affectionately ruffle her hair, but stopped himself. He could hold on for a bit longer, he could— He observed the crinkle in her eyes, the bags under them, the moles, the light in her pupils, and suddenly, he recognized life as short. 

[name] had to depart, she decided with a glance at her phone. She didn’t want to ruin the moment, but she’d promised Itadori a hangout. She was about to wave goodbye, the words settling on her tongue— If not for his hand shooting up, grabbing her wrist before she could even try to pull back. 

The countdown started. Megumi liked to believe he was great at keeping all of his true thoughts and feeling under wraps. 

[name] didn’t flinch. Why would she? She’d gotten comfortable with Megumi, there was no reason for her to— 

Oh.

His eyes had darkened. She didn’t think it had been possible, really, but all the memories of her family had come rushing back. A tidal wave of sin, the sudden recession of an ocean. She looked at their intertwined hands, then back up at his face. Something in the air had shifted. 

The girl gave a cautious tug at her wrist, eyes no longer possessing the strength of contact with his. “Ah, I gotta go hon’—, Promised Yuuji I’d hang out with him.” She experimentally tugged again, but to no avail. Her lips turned the slightest bit downward.

Perhaps the scariest part was Megumi’s silence. The way his eyes fell dull, completely unlike the smile on his face just moments before. Was his previous grin sardonic? Did she not catch the undertone? His grip on [name]’s wrist only tightened a considerable amount, brows creasing together in a look that mirrored— What, betrayal? Annoyance? Was she being annoying for trying to leave?

“...Megumi?” Cautious. She realized her tone was cautious. What changed? Just a few minutes ago she felt completely comfortable with him, she was at peace and felt that he was someone she could trust, but now—

She didn’t get the chance to respond. The quiet of the hallway sank in quickly as he yanked her feeble frame inside. A yelp, but it reached no one as the door slammed shut. 

[name] turned to Megumi, eyes wide and pupils just shaking with fear. Silence, as it was, spoke fucking volumes. She hadn’t noticed it before, the way his gunmetal blue eyes dragged along her body, sizing her up like lamb to the slaughter. 

He took a step forward, dorm floor creaking with the notion. She took one back. It took a second, but her flight instinct kicked in. Turning on her heel, [name] went for a mad dash for the backdoor. It led to his balcony, so maybe if she jumped and ran for Yuuji, or Gojo Sensei, or Nobara— 

A single hand caught on her hair and pulled. A wounded whimper left the girl’s throat, body crashing right back into the ravenette’s. She struggled as much as possible, but it didn’t do much when he just got her right up against the nearest wall. 

Those gunmetal eyes carried the embers of hell, she thought. Despite her weak whines and cries, the devil’s whispers painted fluttering kisses to cloud any sane thought she hoped had burrowed into Megumi’s mind.

He pinned her wrists above her head, frame completely devouring hers as he dove in for a kiss. She squirmed under him, trying to turn her head, but one of his hands only held her chin in place. This was her worst nightmare turned ten times more malicious. 

His hands roamed her body with the desire of Eros, the pursuit of Persephone from Hades, the longing of Pothos — A man possessed by tragedy. She had to be his lyre, the instrument he used and used and used and used—

[name] cried out as his teeth sank into the soft of her neck. His tongue seemed to lap up the blood easily, as if an apology for his unbridled animosity. He treated her like glass he knew could be repaired. Delicate, but made for shattering.

Megumi seemed to hardly use any strength to rip the front of her shirt open with one hand, leaning down to pepper his kisses down her chest. The tattered remains of her shirt and bra fell to the floor, leaving the upper part of her body completely vulnerable and to his mercy. Teeth on skin, marking, sucking — He was making sure no inch of her didn’t carry him.

A breath, and [name] almost thought he’d come to his senses with the way his ministrations paused. However, she was proven wrong when he moved to remove her bottoms too. His free hand reached down and began to rub circles on her, now, exposed clit. She writhed as much as she could, breathless pleas falling from her lips as his long fingers worked their way inside of her, eliciting even more pained cries.

The boy didn’t offer a response, much too lost in everything about the moment. She was under him, whimpering because of him, this wet because of him— What else could he ever ask for?

In one swift movement, Megumi lifted her thighs to rest around his waist. He had pulled his sweatpants down enough to rub his erection against her bare pussy. She winced at the movement, head thrown back against the wall as his grip tightened around her wrists. A quietly strained groan left his throat, the first noise he’d made this whole time. 

[name] bit her tongue so as to not offer any other response that may satisfy, resorting to quietly struggling against him again. He, of course, did not budge one bit. The horror she felt before only increased when the head of his cock started to push into her. A strangled cry, eyes squeezing shut as he sunk deeper and deeper into her warmth.

He groaned quietly again, just letting his hips rest against hers for a moment. It didn’t last very long though, as he slowly started to roll his thrusts into her, face buried in her neck as she kept her head held high against the wall.

The thrusts started off fairly slow, but he really just— couldn’t get enough. Megumi hissed a quiet ‘fuck…’, pace increasing a great amount. She tried to hold back, but her back had already arched the tiniest bit, canines digging into her lip.

The brutality of how he fucked her just got worse and worse, and soon enough the whole dorm was full of both of their strained moans, skin slapping against skin, thumps against the wall. She couldn’t take it anymore, tears streaming down her face for a while now as she begged him to just stop, stop, stop—

But it doesn’t take a genius to see how he was far too deep in to tap out now. Megumi’s groans and soft whines echoed against the wall, and he couldn’t care less that Yuuji could easily hear them from the next room over. If anything, that was good — Maybe Yuuji’d take the hint after hearing her moan his name instead. 

[name]’s breath quickened, climax approaching, but the sick feeling of being taken advantage of like this, the dirtiness that came with an orgasm from such a sick person— She couldn’t do this. She didn’t want to, she never wanted to. 

Pitch black hair bounced with each pronounced thrust, but his pace grew sloppy. [name]’s breath hitched at the slow realization. It felt like the world had come crumbling down in an instant, and her fear grew impossibly larger. 

“M-Megumi— Not in– Not inside, please—” She stammered, but it really only came out as a whine or whimper than a command. 

Like always, he didn’t offer a response. He just kept fucking into her at that same brutal pace, before his hips stuttered along with her pleas — And before she knew it, he was shooting ropes of white into her tight walls. 

Breathing heavily, Megumi’s hips stayed against hers again, just relishing in the heat pulsing between the two of them. After a few moments of panting and an intimacy she wanted to rip from her body, he let her thighs uncoil from around his waist.

The boy pulled out, juices running down both of their thighs as he tucked himself away. [name] slumped against the wall, in a pool of her own ripped up clothes, completely open and vulnerable to the man who had taken advantage of her. She tucked her knees into her chest, eyes blank and empty as she tried to catch her breath.

Megumi ran a hand through his hair, light sweat catching onto his skin. He clicked his tongue gently, seeming to weigh his options before pulling her up into his arms. She flinched violently, and that only got another click of his tongue. He brought her into the washroom, running a warm bath and shutting the door for the sake of privacy. Ironic, isn’t it?

Which… leads to…

Right now. 

[name] ran a hand down her face, breaths significantly slower but still short. She was completely out of touch right now, eyes swirling with fatigue, blankness, and something akin to horror.

Standing up, she found it in herself to at least wash the parts she felt most dirty, but as she pulled on the spare clothes Megumi had given her, it didn’t make her feel any better. She took a heavy breath, giving it a once-over in the mirror. The oversized shirt hung low enough on her neck to expose all the marks and bruises littered all over the skin, and he hadn’t supplied her with a bra either. No matter what, she was exposed to him.

She blinked the fatigue in her eyes away for the sake of trying to figure out an action plan. If she can exit his dorm right now, get to one of the higher ups and report this, hell, even Yuuji— 

Yeah. She can do that. She rubbed her eyes, lashes damp with still fresh tears. She can do this. Her hand went to the door knob—

But the door swung open itself, Megumi stepping in and shutting the door behind him. He thought himself to be good at keeping his true thoughts and feelings under wraps at all times, he really did — And yet, as he pushed the terrified girl up against the sink, teeth sinking into her neck once more, he knew it was bullshit.

Rome wasn’t built in a day, but it sure as hell burned in one.

𝘱𝘭𝘴𝘴𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 𝘪𝘮 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘶𝘦𝘭 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥𝘥𝘥 𝘰𝘬 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘹 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘶 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 ☆

[delphi-shield]

push and pull // leon s. kennedy & jill valentine

Leon x Reader x Jill Smut wc: 2,860 mdni - 18+ read on ao3

the plumber at my house reading this over my shoulder: 😲 this has been in my drafts for like two months, i finally ripped the bandaid off and touched it up. i cant believe people want the jill/leon ship name to be jilleon when 'breakfast sandwich' is right there. ohh nooo i had to cut the scene where they high-five after you cum...... guess i'll have to write more jill and leon......what a tragedy.....

summary: Jill said she'd be home two hours ago. She's stood you up for dinner again. You're so upset, Leon's got to fuck you about it to make you feel better.

content: fem!reader, all porn no plot, piv (reader receiving), some praise from leon & some degradation from jill, spit, crying, hair-pulling, masturbation, blowjob, dom!jill, use of strap-on, established poly relationship, sorry yeah there's more religious imagery, stealing the jill & leon dynamic from this post, fucking your relationship problems away does not work and you should not attempt. very loosely proofread.

Jill's late.

She promised. You cooked, you cleaned, and she promised she would be here. Bought a special candle and everything, three wick, fresh linen scent. Not your kind of thing, but you know she likes those clean, bright smells.

The first half hour, you’d clung to the idea that her physical therapy appointment was just running late. Forty-five minutes in, three unanswered texts, your hope diminishes. An hour, and Leon’s helping you put the food up and clean the dishes.

Leon’s not exactly happy with Jill. This isn’t the first time she’s done this to you. He hates to see you pout. Even more than that, he hates to see the way you’re trying not to cry in front of him. He does everything he can think of to make you feel better. Watch one of your godawful shows with you, play with your hair for you, give you a nice bath if you wanted - none of his offers made much of a difference. He knows better than to take it personally. He’s not Jill. He can’t fix what she broke.

He can fuck you about it, though. That always seems to take your mind off things, at least for a little while. 

He let you use him however you like, dealer’s choice. You wanted him in the dining room chair, wanted to ride him slow, grind down on that fat cock till you unwound and your pretty tears weren’t because your girlfriend stood you up, and that’s what you’d get. Not his first choice, but he’s not the one who looks so pretty with those big, wet eyes.

The only downside is that you can't hear Jill's key turning in the door when Leon's got his cock stuffed so deep in your pussy you can feel him in your ribs, when you’re too busy rocking yourself to a gradual, slow-built end. You'd missed your ringtone too - and Leon's for that matter. You weren't intentionally being petty, but intentions never did soothe Jill's moods.

"Nice," she drawls, dropping her bag with a thud. "Real nice."

Your head falls back just enough to get a look at her, pouting in the doorway. Maybe it's supposed to be intimidating. Really, she just looks like a dejected cat, all puffed up for attention. The hand splayed on Leon’s chest flops back uselessly, reaching for her.

“Jill -”

Leon’s hips jut up, reminding you he's here, reminding you who's inside you. Whatever you were going to say melts away into a whine so pathetic even you want to roll your eyes.

"Got started without you," Leon says, callous on your behalf. His hand cups the back of your neck, pulling you back to him. It doesn’t take much prompting for you to curl back into his chest, walls fluttering around his cock, gripping him like your life depends on it. "Saved you some dinner. It’s in the fridge."

How can he be so casual? Feels like you’ve got lava running through your blood. His hands settle on your hips again, push-pulling you back and forth to get you to grind again. You oblige, faster than before, mouthing open kisses against his neck. They ought to canonize him for his patience, crown him Patron Saint of Not Plowing You Into The Carpet.

Jill doesn't say a word. She marches off to the bedroom, leaving her boots behind as she goes. Her cardigan gets flung over the couch - poor thing. It didn't do anything wrong.

She’ll come out when she’s ready, you tell yourself. Ignoring the ingrained need to manage Jill’s emotions for her is hard, but not quite as hard as Leon’s dick. Makes it a little easier to forget. You press your moans into Leon’s skin, let him have them for safekeeping.

Her footsteps pound back into the room. You don't know what she's done that's so funny, but Leon shakes with a laugh. You move to look, and his palm pressing against your cheek stops you. Something clatters onto the dining room table, a heavy thunk and buckles. He presses a light kiss to the crown of your head, strokes your hair.

"Go ahead and finish up, baby. Doin' so good. All yours."

It's all the permission you really need. It doesn’t take long - you’re good for him, after all. So good, you don't even need his help. You just need him to hold you up when that slow heat finally expands, spreads like fire through your limbs and leaves you making a mess of his lap, baptizing his cock with your release and moaning hymns for him.

You slump against him, eyes heavy and limbs loose. Your head nestles against his chest, his heart hammering like crazy. Poor guy. So patient. So sweet. You want to offer to take care of that for him - he's still inside you, sitting so still and so good, the stretch all you need. It feels like a bomb went off in your skull, though, scattered all your thoughts around the apartment. You need a moment before you can be considerate, before you can formulate any kind of offer. You reach up, pat his cheek gently to tell him how good he made you feel, lazily kiss at the hollow of his throat.

Jill's got plenty of words, though. She's not the one who just fell apart.

"You so needy you can't wait forty-five minutes?"

"Closer to an hour," Leon counters, and for the first time you hear the strain in his voice. "More like two, actually."

Jill’s irritation boils over. "Shut up. Why don't you go jerk off in the corner?"

After all, he's supposed to be on her side. He's the one who knows what this life is like, the one who knows what their work entails and the stress of it all.

He's also the one who texts when he's running late. He's the one still on active deployment, the one who hadn't been dodging home like the plague. He got over himself a year ago, figured ways to deal with his emotions that didn’t include running as fast as he could, drinking until they drowned, or working himself to the bone.

Jill’s still working on that part. Again - saint-like patience.

“Maybe I will,” he says, casual as he can. He jostles you in his arms. He’d say it’s to keep you awake, but it’s mostly to keep his dick hard. You pulse around him, groan into his t-shirt and drool a little dark patch onto his shirt.

You’re all soft and pliable when her hands slide up your sides, fingers curling in the spaces between your ribs. You lean back to her, longing for the softness of her tits under your head, and you glide back through the air unsupported, like you’ve faded through the ghost of her. Your head lolls back, pretty, pathetic pout on your swollen lips.

“Gonna be good?” She asks, staring down her nose at you, eyes half lidded. You nod your head. Her eyes narrow. “Words.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Shifting you off of Leon's lap is a group effort, one that Leon doesn't particularly care to be too enthusiastic about. His poor dick is lonely, and fucking his fist is a poor substitute for the sticky warmth of your cunt. Jill cradles you in here arms - the first hint of tenderness you've had from her all night - and settles you on the floor in front of the couch. She kicks your legs into position, sways back to appraise your form, and gives you a long-suffering sigh that's a far cry from approval.

"Whatever," she mutters under her breath. "It'll do. Don't move."

She shuffles off to the side. You hear the rustle of fabric. You turn your head to look, and -

"I said don't fuckin' move."

Your head snaps to the front again, hands fisted against the tops of your thighs. No arguing with that tone. Your back is ramrod straight. There's movement to your right, and Leon finally comes into view, settling against the far side of the couch. He's at least kind enough to give you a show, stroking his cock for you in long, slow strokes, massaging his palm over that shiny red tip and sliding his own fluid down to squeeze at the base. Makes your mouth water just looking at him.

Not that you have to wait long for a treat. Jill finishes her prep work, drags herself back over to the couch and drops down in front of you, strap-on making you go crosseyed.

“Go on,” she sighs, waving her hand lazily. Like she’s doing you a favor.

And she is. It’s a privilege to suck her strap.

You rock onto your knees and take too much of her at once, gag yourself right off the bat in your eagerness. They both groan, Jill in exasperation, Leon because holy fuck, if he hears you make that noise again he's going to blow his load immediately. His hand shucks his t-shirt up. He's not trying to stain this shirt with cum. Not his cum, anyway.

"Your mouth is so perfect for this," Jill says, leaning forward and fisting a hand in your hair, "and you're still so bad at it. Do I have to show you how to do everything?"

You nod uselessly, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Jill rolls her eyes, smothers the hint of a smile that threatens to twist her lips up. She guides your head back to the head of her silicone cock and sets an easy pace for you. Lets you take it nice and slow, get accustomed to the weight of her cock on your tongue as if you haven't done this a hundred times - as if she knows you went too hard right off the bat just to get her to guide you like this.

"There you go," she drones, the praise feeling like anything but. You bob your head freely, her hand in your hair just a suggestion now. "Finally figured it out. Not as dumb you look."

You push further, tucking your thumb tight in your fist and gagging only a little when the head of her cock prods at the back of your throat. Leon's hips buck into his fist, quick and rhythmless, swearing under his breath. His leg kicks out, nudges Jill's calf and you swear she's going to snap at him.

Your eyes cut from Jill to Leon, a tear rolling down your cheek, and that’s the final push that has him cumming all over his stomach, head tipped back into the arm of the couch, pretty moans so loud, so perfect that it makes you feel your heartbeat in your pussy.

You don’t have time to savor the way that he looks, paint him in your mind and hang it up on the walls around your skull like a pin-up. Jill lifts you off her cock, stuffing her hands under your armpits like you’re a stray kitten. You would be, for her, if she asked. Let her slip a pretty collar around your neck, hope you’re lucky enough that it’s got a bell.

She doesn’t wait for Leon to recover, just manhandles the pair of you so your back is pressed to his chest, his cum smearing against your skin. Leon’s got that loose limbed laziness that comes with a release that built-up.

“Hold her,” Jill growls. “Stop fucking around.”

Leon's hands curled around the back of your thighs, spreading you wide for Jill. A warm chuckle rumbles through his chest and pours into you. His head ducks down, mouth by your ear.

“She's mad ‘cause I had you first.”

You turn your head, stifle your giggles in his shoulder. The silicone head of Jill's cock slides through your sopping folds, nudging at your clit. Her hips rock agonizingly slow. It’s tough to tell whether she’s teasing you or herself at this point, but your sensitive body twitches and jerks with every pass of her spit-slick cock.

“Gonna make a mess?” Her hand grips your jaw tight, pulling your face from Leon's shoulder. It’s less a question and more a demand. You nod as best you can in her grip, remember too late to try and bumble out words. She taps your cheek twice, hard enough to sting, hard enough to make those pretty eyes water again.

Jill doesn’t wait for you to say it. She enters you in a quick, jerky thrust, no hint of warning, your breath stuttering and back tensing. She rabbits her dick into you, your moans falling as staccato as her pace. Her head bows to spit a fat glob of spit onto your clit. Her fingers rub you frantically, a pace so at odds with the slow push and grind of her hips that it makes you burn. You try to squirm back, the way your blood starts to singe a little too quick for your liking, but there's nowhere to go when you're pressed so tight against Leon's broad chest.

His hand slithers up and over the point of your hip, pressing down firmly just below your navel. Betrayal. You thought he was on your side. Your whining sharpens into a moan that has to have rattled the windows. Jill huffs a laugh, low and cruel. She pulls back just far enough to leave you wanting - and when you claw at her shoulders to drag her back home she's already moving, hard and slow, the light dancing in front of your eyes, her hips driving the breath out of your lungs, your chest caving in. It feels like you've imploded, blood on fire, singeing your bones and leaving the ash to remember it by.

She’s not done. You promised her a mess. Your voice is splintered, her hips still driving into you. You don’t feel yourself gushing around her until it’s already happening. You sniffle, your moans choppy and your tears falling quick, humiliation warming the embers in your stomach. Her pace slows and finally stills, finally lets you find yourself in the pile of ashes.

"Already?" Jill mocks, hands rubbing your quivering thighs soft and sweet despite the way she sneers.

You want to scoff, but you haven’t got the breath. Already, she says, like she hadn’t just ripped that orgasm out of you fast enough that you’ve got cartoon tweety-birds spinning around your head.

“My turn,” Leon pipes up.

“Fuck off. You’re not even hard. I'm just getting started.”

“Shoulda thought about that before you made her cum.”

God, they’re like lions fighting over a piece of meat. You push yourself up on shaky arms, give Jill your best gazelle-trying-not-to-get-eaten pout.

“M’tired,” you slur, your brains thoroughly fucked out. You form a T with your hands, calling for a time-out. “Need a break.”

Jill looks like she wants to bite anyway. But you were good, used your good girl hand signal and everything. She sighs, her shoulders slumping, and loosens the straps around her hips.

“C’mere, pumpkin.” Leon gathers you into his arms easily. “Gonna get you all cleaned up. Tuck your ass in.”

You ache when he moves you, in places you weren’t quite sure could ache. It’ll be worse later. Always is. They always have to fuck you at some weird angle. Can’t ever let your muscles get used to it, like you’re some kind of glorified exercise equipment. At least they wipe you down after they use you. Very polite of them.

Leon hands you your water bottle and settles in behind you, slotting up against your back. He’s got the both of you cleaned off even though he seems just as tired as you, bless him. Say a prayer to the patron saint of the bedroom.

Jill found dinner, apparently. You hear the microwave beeping distantly and share an amused look with Leon. Sure enough, she’s got a bowl of food in her hand when she settles at the end of the bed, legs crossed.

The silence lays somewhere in-between battlefields, landmines hidden all around your bedroom. Everything you want to ask is too loaded, too heavy. You’re not even sure you have the energy to stay up for a serious conversation, much less an argument. Jill looks so soft right now, the bags under her eyes seeming lighter in the warm lamplight of your bedroom. You don’t want to see her eyes sharpen. You don’t want to hear her teeth click together when she bites back her words. You search for some other topic, something that will make the tension evident in her shoulders melt away.

"We should do one of those clone-a-willy kits," you murmur, eyes shut, head tipped into the pillow. You open your eyes just enough to gauge her reaction. Warmth blooms in your chest when you see her eyes crinkle and her smile lines deepen.

"Why?" Jill laughs.

"You don't wanna fuck me with Leon’s dick?"

It’s the first time you’ve heard Jill laugh like that in a while. Pride spreads in your tired little grin. Leon's cock gives a tired twitch against your thigh. He groans, pressing his forehead to your shoulder blade.

“You two are gonna fuckin’ kill me.”

[dinarosie]

Unfair Comparisons (part 3)

Here are descriptions of two boys from HP books. It’s hard to believe, but Harry Potter fans claim that boy number one had a very tragic and difficult childhood, suffering abuse, violence, and neglect from his family. These hardships caused him to experience a tough and insecure adolescence, eventually leading him to join the Death Eaters under pressure. On the other hand, fans claim the boy number two is a racist and a professional killer, who in his youth tried to join the Death Eaters in order to freely torment Muggles with dark magic.

1- Regulus Black:

Beneath this was a collection of yellow newspaper cuttings, all stuck together to make a ragged collage. Hermione crossed the room to examine them. ‘They’re all about Voldemort,’ she said. ‘Regulus seems to have been a fan for a few years before he joined the Death Eaters ...“

He was younger than me, said Sirius, ‘and a much better son, as I was constantly reminded.’ ‘But he died,’ said Harry. ‘Yeah,’ said Sirius. ‘Stupid idiot … he joined the Death Eaters.“

2- Severus snape:

Suddenly Harry’s mind was teeming with memories that were not his — a hook-nosed man was shouting at a cowering woman, while a small dark-haired boy cried in a corner. …

Two girls were swinging backward and forward, and a skinny boy was watching them from behind a clump of bushes. His black hair was overlong and his clothes were so mismatched that it looked deliberate: too short jeans, a shabby, overlarge coat that might have belonged to a grown man, an odd smocklike shirt.

"Oh yes, they’re arguing", said Snape. He picked up a fistful of leaves and began tearing them apart, apparently unaware of what he was doing. "But it won’t be that long and I’ll be gone". "Doesn’t your dad like magic?" "He doesn’t like anything, much", said Snape. 

One of the boys sharing the compartment, who had shown no interest at all in Lily or Snape until that point, looked around at the word, and Harry, whose attention had been focused entirely on the two beside the window, saw his father: slight, black-haired like Snape, but with that indefinable air of having been well-cared-for, even adored, that Snape so conspicuously lacked.

J.K. Rowling: Well, that is Snape's tragedy. Given his time over again he would not have become a Death Eater, but like many insecure, vulnerable people (like Wormtail) he craved membership of something big and powerful, something impressive.

I love both Regulus and Severus, and I believe they were both brave boys who made mistakes and tried to make up for them by risking their lives. But there’s something in the fanbase that bothers me regarding these two characters. It’s that Snape’s story is erased from him and given to Regulus Black. I haven't found any evidence of Regulus being tortured or forced to join the Death Eaters, as described in the books. He willingly joined Voldemort because he was fan of voldemort. Moreover, according to Sirius, Regulus was well-liked within his family, and his parents not only didn’t mistreat him, but they actually loved him more than Sirius.

I’m tired of constantly seeing people say that Regulus was a saint while Snape was a sadistic murderer. I can’t believe people can read these lines from the books and still claim that Regulus was tortured with the Cruciatus Curse and abused by his family in childhood, which forced him to join the Death Eaters due to his traumatic upbringing. But Snape? Oh, apparently, he was born to be a racist, torturer, sadist, and murderer from day one.

Aren’t you tired of these ridiculous double standards? Aren’t you fed up with constantly insisting that fanfictions and TikTok videos are canon?

[gofishygo]

yandere ghost headcannons please!

okok to be honest I rarely imagine ghost to be a yandere,, his past was so hard and he most likely has the same fear of repeating the same mistakes of his father !! (plus I want him 2 get the love he deserves) BUT WHEN I CAN IMAGINE HIM AS A YANDERE … chomp munch crunch very very good food 

yan!simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader hcs !!

notes: mentions of trauma (ghost), descriptions of violence, obsession, gn! reader, mostly unedited (bear with me ill actually proofread one day maybe) (684 words)

I do feel like a lot of ghost's more yandere mannerisms would be due to his childhood. He'd never had the chance to be truly innocent, from his abusive father to the cartel that had mercilessly killed the rest of his family, the countless teammates that he had lost, there was always some form of blood on his hands. Years of distrust festered into seething, buried hatred for the amount of ugliness in this world. Burying himself in the only good he could trust in; the suffocating cigarette stained air of Captain Price, the familiar tone of the rugged Scottish accent that came from Soap, Gaz's charming smile.

So when he first meets you, so much more docile and harmless and friendly, never faced with the adversities that Simon had seen in the world, he silently slips your name into his head, keeping that precious string of words in the darkest- yet safest- parts of his brain. You were the light in his eyes that he had lost at an age so young, your presence arranging the constant static and ringing in his ears into a pleasant hum.

You never judge him when he flinches at the hiss of a snake, never belittle him for constantly wearing that cloth mask that concealed half of his face. He avoids it at first, how he relaxes whenever he sees you in the room, how he smiles beneath that mask when you wave at him.

He truly wants to believe it’s just some childish crush, a form of love that could only be protected for a matter of months.. That you were some odd fantasy he had developed due to the plethoras of trauma he had faced. 

But once you have him wrapped around your finger, once you somehow manage to break down the walls that he'd been suffocating in; he'll do anything for you. Cut out his tongue just to see you smile. Tear out his voice box just to your sweet rambles. 

he’s part of the sas; a man who was trained to kill without mercy, shown the tragedies of the world since he was a child. he has no issue dealing with anyone he thinks is bad for you. hell, ghost would protect you from just about anything- he’d do anything, lose anything, to protect you from the world he lived in. the violence he saw.

He thinks he knows what's best for you. Despises those jaded and ungrateful friends you have, how they never even reciprocated any of the care and support you gave. And that boyfriend you had- his sleazy grin and grubby hands all over you- christ, he swears he'll carve out that man's organs once he gets the opportunity.

and that’s when he decides he can’t let you keep mixing with those vermin, endangering yourself without even noticing. of course he believes you deserve far better than him- an eden so much different from the bloodshed and tragedy of this world, where everything was just as wonderful and lovely as you were. But he was the best option to keep you safe, to keep you happy. And he didn’t care how far he had to go due to it- he'd risk his career, his life, everything for you.

The method didn’t matter. Whether he convinced you with smooth words and empty promises or ripped out his intestines to chain you to his side, he was going to make sure that you were safe. That you were his.

So you wake up one day, wrists and ankles bound suffocatingly with rope, the coarse hairs stinging at you skin as you struggle to free yourself from the bedpost you were tied to. You can feel your heart twist in horror as you hear that familiar rough cockney accent. 

“sorry if I tied those ropes too tight,” it smells like ivory, blood. the brown eyes the ones that you had made a home in for the past year you spent with each other stared down at you. That wasn’t simon. That wasn’t simon. That was ghost. “just needed you keep you safe, love.”

[ornii]

Mad Max: Coins of Rage!

This was a request from @ab1nsur

I decided to throw a little spin on it. Hopefully it’s still passable as decent.

It hasn’t been long since you’ve been working at the arcade. The job was open and since it’s Halloween, kids are enjoying more festivities, so they had to hire more support than usual. Look no further to you, Dustin’s older cousin who he tries to ignore due to your playful teasing. It was your average Thursday afternoon, sitting at the desk you propped yourself up, reading the latest comic book. Your eyes focus on the Issue 7 of the Uncanny X-Men comic, watching the always beautiful Jean Grey. What took you off the comic was a brush of Red hair walking past you. The Most off putting part was the length, boys this young shouldn’t have hair that long.

Slowly lowering your comic book right below your eyelids you peer over to the fairly calming ruckus, while it was full of kids laughing and having fun. There was a certain, natural calmness about it, since it hasn’t been calm in Hawkins for a while. Your eyes dart around and spot the red hair, right at the dig dug machine. That hair was attached to a redhead, no surprise there, but it was, a girl.

Sneakers, Jeans, and a Red Track jacket, she definitely wasn’t the definition of a “Girl” that everyone else thinks. Your eyes focus on the screen in front of her to see her score going higher and higher, until she loses, but broke the high school. From the small reflection in the glass you could see a smile, but it slowly faded as she got her stuff and left. You shrugged it off, letting it go for the time being.

It wasn’t until the next Day that you got an earful of the truth, working another shift; reading another comic, this time the Silver Hawks. But your enjoyment was suddenly cut off by the inappropriate cough of someone you knew to get your attention. You slowly lower your comic and see a trio of Boys at your counter, you knew them too well. Dustin, Will, and Your Cousin Lucas.

“(Y/n), this is an emergency.” Dustin says, placing his hands on the desk, you squint at him to inquire more.

“Okay? What’s the issue?” You ask.

“We need to find Mad Max.” Lucas said, you stared at him for what seemed to be forever.

“…Who?” You ask, and the boys drag you over to the Dig Dug game, and see that the top score was replaced by a Title: Mad Max. Their high score got blown out of the water by this Mad Max.

“I can’t believe someone got higher than me.” Dustin says, and you shook your head “A real tragedy.”

“You know who Mad Max? He has to be cheating.” Will said, Lucas nods, “Nobody gets that high without breaking the system.”

“I don’t think she was breaking the system.” You said, which was a major fuck up.

“She?” The boys say together, and you sigh.

“Yeah, she.” In less than a minute you were accosted by the boys asking questions about this Mad Max Girl.

“There’s no way! What does she look like?”

“Is she Elizabeth Taylor hot?!”

“Is she totally rad?”

You shut them down by being louder than you wanted. “Hey!” You said, “im not letting you wackos stalk a girl, you want your score back at the top? Beat hers.” You said and walk back to your counter, the trio were obviously miffed by it but didn’t push any further. You thought that this was finally the end of the Mad Max Saga, returning back to your comic and enjoying your reading. Subsequently, the boys couldn’t surpass Mad Max, losing their quarters in the war.

They didn’t return the next day, probably reeling from their defeat from Mad Max, and it was Friday, so it was even more odd they didn’t show up. She did of course, Mad Max, you’re inside one of the old machines, cleaning our cobwebs and changing fuses. Pulling your head from inside the back of the machine you see from the window Mad Max exit a fine car, argue with some blonde guy and he speeds off. She flips him off and storms inside. Guess things aren’t always so good for Mad Max. Her first stop was Dig Dug, guess to best her own score. You finish emptying the machine and decide it’s probably best to warn her. You casually approach, hands in your pocket as you approach, She vaguely sees your reflection in the mirror.

“I didn’t do anything.” She said in a huff.

“I know you didn’t, just wanted to ask you.. are you Mad Max?” You said, you already knew the answer, but she didn’t know how much you did. “Who’s asking?” She replies.

“Just asking.” You reply, and she keeps playing, her silence basically answering your question. “Look I just.. want to apologize for my cousin and his weird ass friends.” You said, she Turns to you.

“Cousin?” She said, “Yeah, Lucas, really annoying, Dustin and Will are okay..” my bad for them being creeps.

“They were pretty weird as school.” She said, which made your eyebrows rise. “They did it at school too?” You groan, “my reputation is gonna be in shambles.” You said, obviously being sarcastic which got a dry chuckle from max. She’s already back at her game and you decide to place a sack of quarters at the center of the console. She looks at it, and then back to you.

“As an apology for my cousin and friends, they’re mad you beat their High Score or whatever.” You explain.

“So, why are you sticking up for some creeps?” She said, and you shrugged. “Lucas is family, he’s got Dustin, Mike and Will. They’ve been friends since they were born, far as I’m concerned they’re family too.” You said, Max looks at you and for a moment you saw a hint of sadness, but she quickly buries it down and shrugs and takes the quarters. “If they have any more high scores you let me know.” She said with sarcasm. You give a small smirk and nod.

“Yeah, I’ll be Seeing You, Max.”

[arliedraws]

Good Godfather Sirius Black Fest 2024

Day 6 Prompt: "Dating Advice"

Summary: Sirius gets home from a terrible date and reflects on it with ten-year-old Harry who has recently moved in with him. When Sirius makes an offhand comment about parenthood, it prompts both of them to reconsider their own self-talk. (Tonks is in it for about five minutes,fyi)

Pure godfather&godson bonding/family fluff. Sequel(ish) to “The Neighbor.”

@goodgodfathersiriusblack

AO3

----

“You’re back!”

The green-haired teenager sprang from the sofa, blinking sleep furiously from her eyes. Pins on her leather jacket clinked together as she skidded into the kitchen. With an oof, she slid too far in ripped black nylons, and Sirius caught her elbow before she rammed into the cabinet.

“Well?” she said, unfazed by her own clumsiness.

Sirius pulled a face at her.

“I told you not to date women,” she said, grinning.

“Last week you told me not to date men.”

“Yeah, I stand by that too.”

Sirius fished in his pocket for the bag of coins. The bag was considerably lighter than it’d been a few hours earlier before he’d exchanged wizarding gold for quid—a few hours of his life and cash he’d never get back. He withdrew a few Galleons and dropped them into her outstretched hand.

“Don’t you want me to find love?” he said.

Tonks looked sharply at him. “Love?” she said as if the word were new. The taste of it seemed to disgust her.“You’re looking for love?”

“I—” Sirius paused. “Er—aren’t I?”

“Are you?”

Sirius stared at her.

Was it love he wanted? Or was it lovemaking? He thought about the woman who had stolen several precious hours of his life—she was a complete imbecile but she wore tight jeans and a very low-cut top. Maybe it was just a rough go of it against a brick wall behind a pub that he wanted.

“I don’t know,” he said at last. “Have you ever been in love?”

“No,” she said, snorting. “Why would I do that? Have you?”

“In a way,” said Sirius. Then he frowned at her. “You do believe in love, don’t you?”

“Oh,” Tonks said. She nodded. “Yeah, ’course I do. I love my parents and friends, but I’ve never been in love. That sort of romantic stuff seems a bit…I dunno. Expensive.”

Sirius laughed despite himself and tossed the whole coin purse at her. Tonks, surprised, caught it.

“Harry’s alive, right?” said Sirius.

“Yeah,” said Tonks. She looked nervously at the coin purse as if she thought it might be a trick. “Sleeping, I expect. What’s this for?”

“Bit of a bonus. Did he eat?”

“Yeah. I’m a poor cook, though. Nearly burnt down the kitchen.”

“Ah, so that’s why it smells like charred corpse.”

“Of course you’d say that. You sound like Mad-Eye Moody.”

Sirius shoved aside memories of burned bodies as he inspected the huge black mark on the wall near the stove. Part of the drywall had crumbled onto the floor. Tonks blushed and pulled out her wand.

“Reparo!” she said. “Sorry. Forgot to do that before you got back.”

“What did you two eat, then? Charcoal?”

“Harry made us sandwiches.”

“You can’t make a sandwich?”

Tonks had moved towards the door and starting lacing up a chunky black boot, hooking each lace carefully before tying it off. “Didn’t want to risk it. Besides, Harry’s pretty good at the food thing, and I thought, well, if he wants to eat something halfway decent, let him do it. Anyway,” she said, pulling on the other boot, “we talked about going to the Puddlemere United match next weekend if you’ll let us. I’ve got an extra ticket for him if you’re all right with that.”

Sirius opened his mouth to say that he didn’t know if it was a good idea. Thinking better of it, he turned away and pretended to look at the calendar on the wall, knowing that he ought to say yes. What could happen at a Quidditch match in the middle of the day? Unfortunately, he could come up with myriad tragedies in his imagination, all of them ending with Harry’s funeral. But Tonks is an Auror trainee—she’s not stupid! Still, it churned his stomach to think about letting Tonks bring him to somewhere so crowded and so public…

“We’ll see,” he said finally.

“Well,” he heard her say, “send an owl by Thursday. I’m off.”

Sirius said farewell, and she left. Faintly, there was the pop! of Apparition from just outside the door. Pointing his wand over his shoulder, he hit the lock with a charm and it slid into place. The wards he and Dumbledore built around the house rendered a physical lock unnecessary, but locking a door never hurt.

The round clock that the former owner of the house had left behind was ticking slower than Sirius thought it should, but perhaps it was because he had simply grown used to hours that felt too long. The evening that he finally gave up on might have really lasted several days instead of three hours.

For the dozenth time, he wondered what possessed him to say yes to her. Sirius and Harry had been waiting in line at the cinema when the woman and her friend tapped him on the shoulder. Distracted by the way a long lock of her hair rested on her breast, Sirius accidentally said yes to her invitation to dinner much to his and Harry’s horror. For days, he agonized over the idea, but it was Harry who suggested he keep his word. After all, Harry had said, it might be rude to stand her up.

She was a Muggle woman whose name kept slipping out of his mind throughout their date. She was very dull. Loud, but very dull. All she wanted to talk about was how impressed she was that he was parenting his godson all on his own and how brave it was for him to take on such a burden. It might not have been so annoying if she had let him talk about Harry and explain that it wasn’t very hard to look after such a good kid, but she had no interest in that bit. In fact, she rolled her eyes and told him he ought to see how unique it was that a man could be so sensitive and so thoughtful.

Sirius went up staircase after several minutes of self-pity alone in the kitchen. The light was on in Harry’s room when he reached the top stair, so he knocked gently and poked his head in.

Harry was asleep. His glasses hung from his nose, a book about broomsticks was open on his lap, and he was propped up against several pillows, his head lolling over his chest. He was snoring. Sirius grinned and tiptoed inside. Gently, he reached for the precariously hanging spectacles when Harry’s eyes flew open.

“Sorry!” Harry blurted.

Sirius swallowed that familiar lump of fury at the Dursleys. Harry hated when Sirius told him he didn’t have to apologize, though Harry would never say so outright, so Sirius held back from saying that Harry had nothing to be sorry about.

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” Sirius whispered. “Just taking off your glasses.”

Harry shoved them back over his nose. “When did you get back? Is Tonks still here?”

“Just now, and no, she left. Heard about the fire.”

“I didn’t know you could start a fire like that with just water.”

“It’s hard, but Tonks is a wonder,” said Sirius. “You can sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow morning.”

“How was your…date?”

The slur of sleep was quickly leaving Harry’s voice, and Sirius sighed inwardly. How good a parent could he be if he woke up his kid at midnight? But he couldn’t resist indulging Harry’s smirk.

Sirius flopped on his back onto the bed, groaning.

“Last week, you said you never wanted to go on another date. Why’d you tell her yes, then?”

“Cheeky boy,” said Sirius, popping his head up to glare at him. “You’re the one who said it would be rude not to show up.”

“Yeah,” admitted Harry. “But you shouldn’t’ve said yes in the first place. Why did you?”

Sirius squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his head, letting it bounce against the mattress. “Oh, Harry. Because I’m a bloody idiot. And she took me by surprise.”

“What d’you mean?”

“Well, you saw her. She had this sort of shape—” Sirius mimed with his hands “—and it seemed like a good idea for a second.”

“What’s that got to do with it?”

Sirius waved his hand dismissively. “Everything…nothing… Hard to explain. Look, Harry, never go for someone just because they look like this—” again, he mimed his date’s ample figure “—or because they’ve got an appendage like this—” he spread his hands wide. “It might seem like you’ve won the jackpot, but it’ll cost you a dozen galleons, several hours of your life you’ll never get back, and a wicked headache.”

“I don’t think I’m very interested in all that,” said Harry. “Er—dating.”

“Good. Save your gold. We’ll be bachelors together, old chum.” Sirius patted Harry’s leg. He lurched forward until he had propped himself on his elbows, eyeing the bedroom that was half-lit by the solitary lamp on the bedside table. “Think we should get a few decorations in here, Harry. Bit sparse, don’t you think?”

“So wait, what happened?” said Harry. “Was it like last time?

“The one with that bloke from the department store? No, it was different. Worse.”

Sirius didn’t need to look at Harry to know the boy had probably reddened at the memory. Though Sirius hadn’t regaled anything inappropriate regarding his evening with the young man named Matthew, he knew Harry was still unused to the idea that two men could date each other. Admittedly, it was rather new to Sirius too. Before Azkaban, he had never considered the possibility he could meet another man at a restaurant, share wine and talk about romantic things… And frankly, it still wasn’t easy. There were plenty of questioning, disgusted looks shot at them that Sirius pretended not to notice. What did worry Sirius, however, was that the Muggles were battling a strange disease spread through sexual encounters, and it was slaughtering entire communities. In the end, Sirius’s date confessed that he was too nervous to take things further and wished Sirius good luck in the future. It had been difficult to explain to Harry.

Harry’s understanding of men like Sirius came from his aunt and uncle’s declarations that anyone who engaged in such depraved activities ought to be beaten by police and locked away for sexual deviancy. Patiently, Sirius had guided Harry through his conflicted thoughts.

“Your aunt and uncle also hate magic,” he had said. “But do you think magic is bad? Punishable?”

“Oh,” said Harry after a moment. “Right.”

So when Sirius blurted yes to the woman at the cinema, Harry was confused again. After the woman and her friend had gone, Sirius quickly explained that to him, it didn’t really matter to him a person’s gender.

“Then what was wrong with her?” Harry asked, rubbing his eyes before he set aside the book.

Sirius shrugged. “Didn’t do it for me. I wanted to talk about things she wasn’t particularly interested in.”

“Like what?”

“Er—well, reckon she got a bit tired of me talking about you.”

“What? You talked about me? Why would you do that?”

“It’s just what parents do,” said Sirius, dismissively. Then he heard it. His soul might have detached from his body, then, as his own words echoed back between his ears. He realized what had come out of his mouth, what it must have sounded like. His stomach clenched with guilt, and he looked very quickly at Harry. “Er—I—”

Harry tried to hide it but Sirius could see the sudden swell of emotion gleaming in those big, green eyes before they fixed upon the floor. Sirius sat upright, grimacing.

“I didn’t mean—Harry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

Harry frowned. “You didn’t?”

“I’m not your dad. I know that. I swear, I’m not trying to take his place. It just slipped out.”

“Oh,” said Harry.

Sirius’s heart thudded. Was that…disappointment he heard in his voice? Harry had curled his hands into fists over the coverlet, knuckles white as if he were trying his hardest to keep his face impassive.

“Harry?” said Sirius after a long silence. “Harry, are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“Harry…” Sirius started slowly, peering into the boy’s face. “Did you like that I called myself your parent?”

“No, I’m being stupid,” said Harry in disgust. Ashamed, he pulled the book back into his lap and pretended to read, though his eyes were staring at one spot on the page.

Sirius reached for Harry’s chin and tilted it up with a finger. Harry resisted looking at him, but after a tense moment, he dragged his gaze to Sirius miserably.

“You’re not my dad,” said Harry, more to himself than Sirius.

“I’m not trying to be, and I could never take James’ place.”

“Yeah, I know. Look, it’s fine. I’m not asking you to be him.”

“But can I tell you something?” said Sirius, lightly.

“Sirius, it’s fine—”

“—I liked calling myself your parent.”

Harry shook his head. “No, you’re just saying that.”

“I don’t just say anything, Harry. What I said slipped out because it’s what I feel. The first thing I set out to do when I was released from Azkaban was to find you. When Dumbledore told me I couldn’t take you away from your aunt and uncle, I moved in next door because I couldn’t stand the thought of not knowing you. Even if you couldn’t know who I was for your own protection, I chose to live in that awful neighborhood to be close to you.”

“I’m sorry you had to—”

“Don’t be sorry,” said Sirius, trying to quell his annoyance. “Harry, don’t you understand? When you were born, my entire life changed. I helped your parents with everything—I put you to sleep, I carried you around while you screamed, I changed your rancid little nappies. I saw you take your first steps and say your first words. I know I’m not your father, but you’ve got to believe me when I say that I think of you as my kid. Can you accept that?”

To his relief, Harry nodded.

“Good,” said Sirius. He squeezed his face, squishing the crimson cheeks. “And if you call yourself stupid again, I’ll put a tickling hex on you until you admit you’re the most brilliant person in the world.”

“But I’m not—”

Sirius reached into his pocket. “Where’d my wand go?”

“Okay!” Harry blurted. “Okay, I won’t call myself stupid!”

“Then say it!” said Sirius, pretending to search in his jacket. “Say you’re the most brilliant person in the world.”

“All right—I’m brilliant!”

“That’s not what I told you to say, Potter. I’m sure I left my wand here somewhere— Ah! Here it is!”

Harry groaned. “Fine—fine. I’m the most brilliant person.”

“What’s the incantation? Rictus—”

“I’m the most brilliant person in the world!” Harry cried, scrambling from the aim of the wand. “I’m the most brilliant person in the world!”

Sirius grinned and caught him by the leg, yanking him back as Harry laughed and tried to get away.

“Say it again, you clever little genius,” demanded Sirius.

“Sirius!”

“Say it!”

“No!”

“Say it!” Sirius jabbed him in the side, and Harry curled up, howling with laughter, wriggling desperately to get out of his grasp.

“I’m the most brilliant person in the world!”

“Again!”

“No!” Harry said. This time, he managed to escape and fell off the other side of the bed. Sirius looked over the edge at the boy sprawled on the floor and made a swipe to grab him again, but Harry artfully flung himself out of the way.

Sirius groaned and turned onto his back again. “Dismal effort. But I suppose that’ll have to do for now. Maybe I’ll make you do lines tomorrow.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.” Sirius glanced at the clock and shot up. “Oh, Merlin’s balls, is that the time?” It was absurdly late, and here he was, calling himself a parent and chasing Harry around the room when they both should’ve been asleep. “Harry, you’ve got to get to bed!”

“Why?”

“Because it’s late! You can’t be running around all night like a Niffler.”

“A what?”

Sirius leapt from the bed and in a swift movement, scooped Harry by the legs, hauled him over his shoulder, and then dumped him on the bed. Before Harry could scuttle away, Sirius drew the coverlet up to his chin and pretended to sing, poorly, a very quick lullaby as Harry chuckled.

“Are you asleep now?” said Sirius when he’d finished.

“Oh yeah,” said Harry, rolling his eyes.

“See?” said Sirius, tucking the covers under Harry’s legs. “I might be a bad parent, but I can force you to go to sleep, can’t I?”

The joke, however, fell flat. To his surprise, the smile slipped from Harry’s face, and for a moment, it looked like Harry wanted to say something. His brows crumpled, and his mouth opened but nothing emerged.

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t say that.”

“Say what?”

“That you’re a bad parent. You’re the—” But then Harry closed his mouth.

“It’s okay,” said Sirius, pressing a hand against Harry’s chest. He rubbed for a moment, nodding slowly, feeling a quickening pulse beneath his palm. “I understand.”

“No,” said Harry, firmly, as though frustrated with himself. “You’ve got to hear it—”

“It’s all right, Harry.”

Irritated, Harry threw up his hands and said, “No it’s not. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me! You shouldn’t—you shouldn’t make jokes like that. Don’t—don’t say things like you’re bad at the parent stuff.”

“Yeah, fine, all right.”

“Say it,” said Harry.

“Say what?”

“Say you’re good at parent stuff.”

“You can’t turn that back on me.”

“Yeah, I can.”

“Did you just roll your eyes at me, Potter?”

“Just say it, Sirius!”

“Fine!” said Sirius, sighing. “Fine—I’m—” it was actually bizarre to put into words, and he felt uneasy about it. He drew in a long, deep breath. “I’m good at parent stuff.” Feeling flushed in the face, he smiled humorlessly. “Satisfied?”

“No,” said Harry. “Maybe I’ll make you do lines tomorrow.”

“Oh, the horror.” Sirius pretended to faint backwards on the bed, still feeling the sour taste of Harry’s words in his mouth, wishing what Harry insisted about him was true. The bed shifted as Harry crawled out from his covers and flopped next to him.

“I think I’m done dating for a bit,” murmured Sirius, carding his fingers through Harry’s hair. “At least until you’re at school.”

“Why?”

“Too risky. Next time Tonks’ll burn down the house.”

Harry’s eyes closed. “Sirius…” he started quietly. “Can I give you some dating advice?”

Sirius grinned. “Yeah, what is it?”

“Pick someone uglier next time.”

[moonlit-midnight]

A Dance Towards the Light

Characters: Malleus Draconia.

Genre: AU, Romantic Fluff, Married life.

Summary: Wherein Malleus’s love for you was like dancing towards the light.

Warnings:

GN!Reader, is half fae half human but not mentioned.

Malleus is sunshine boy. Reader is the brooding/angsty partner, but no mention of angst.

—

Such a peculiar pair of lovers you were, you and Malleus Draconia, an ill-fated match made in heaven.

People mocked you that you wanted a tragedy, always taunting you that you will love him, and love him, and love him until it it kills you and destroys your heart beyond repair.

But they were entirely wrong.

With Malleus, you’ve fallen right into the love you’ve found.

His love was far from tragic. His love was beautiful beyond words, more beautiful than epic romance books and paperback fairytales.

When things ended for you, he was a fresh new start. He was the sun that rose in your life again.

He was everything you dreamed of.

He holds your hands during long walks until the sun sets.

He sits with you on a rooftop at one in the morning, and talks about how strange life is.

He dances with you when the sky is pouring rain.

He sends you lavender-scented love letters when he misses you during the days he can’t spend time with you.

He impresses you with his own composed songs, and serenades you with them late at night.

He writes stories about you, for you are his muse and writing is his favorite form of art.

He celebrates your happiness, respects your boundaries, and loves you greatly in the way you want to be loved.

People labeled your romance as straight out boring, utterly dull, and not worthy to gush about.

But what do they know? They only get a glimpse of the surface, but the depths of your bond was hidden from the prying eyes of repulsive onlookers.

A quiet, gentle, slow burn love was all you dreamed of, and those little moments were all you could ask for.

★ —

It was early Sunday morning when you woke up, sprawled on the wooden floorboards of the solarium.

The solarium was a dreamscape created by Malleus, a secret place where only the two of you had access to. It was a quiet place for you to rest in when the world gets too loud.

Slats of sunlight spilled dazzlingly through the cracks of the ceiling.

The room was drunk on the pleasant scent of lily of the valley, lilac and gardenia, pleasant enough to send a sense of tranquility through your body.

Blinking away the drowsiness, you rolled at your husband’s side, taking your time to marvel at his captivating beauty.

Malleus’s profile appeared so serene in the sunshine, his glorious black hair catching the bright rays, making him look like he was wearing a crown of daylight stars.

“The only thing I’ve been dreaming of is eternal happiness with you. It doesn’t have to be fancy or perfect.” Gazing at him, you hummed to the song that you sang to him on your wedding day. “The only thing I want is you. Don’t worry, l believe. Always, l believe. I won’t forget this moment. In my arms, l believe your smile will never lose its light.”

“Cause your love is so sweet, you are my everything. I’m not just saying this because I’m happy.” A soft sigh escaped your lips as you carried on. “I will never change, I won’t change. I’ll only have eyes for you.”

“You’re the light of my life, you’re the one in my life. Even if I lose everything, I will never regret it.” Malleus cut you off in a voice so entrancing. “And keep loving you with the everlasting love in my heart.”

“Why do you always interrupt me when it comes to that part?” you chortled, quirking a brow at your husband who just woke up.

Or maybe he was awake all along.

“Because that’s my favorite part.” Malleus replied delightfully, his smile caught in the sunlight, an alluring smile that puts you in a dreamy state.

You blushed in return with a bashful smile adorning your face.

“Did you stay up all night writing a book about me again?” you asked when your eyes landed on the pens and the crumpled papers scattered on the floor.

“You know that that’s one of my ways to get rid of the tiredness of my day, right darling?” Malleus raised his hand, blue ink-stained fingers tracing your face with utmost gentleness. “And who else am I going to write about? You’re my one and only muse.”

“What’s the story about this time?” Taking his hand in yours, you kissed the inked smudged spots.

“I wrote about how loving you is truly a magnificent and splendid adventure.”

A shy flutter touched your heart. Even after all those years, your husband still managed to steal your breath away like the first time you met him.

“My dearest king, am I truly worthy of the love you write about?”

You never doubted him, but a little reassurance wouldn’t hurt sometimes.

“Of course.” Malleus pressed a lingering kiss on your forehead, a kiss filled with a love so deep and sincere. “You’re my wonderfully chaotic partner. A beautiful perfectly put together mess. You’re always worth it to me.”

No doubt, even if you were a walking catastrophe, he would still choose you.

Even if the flowers wilt and the roses wither away, his love for you would keep on blooming.

Even if the stars burn out, he would be the light that never fades and he would still love you the same.

You’ve never heard a declaration of love so honest and so sweet, a love that has found a home within your heart and soul.

[bengiyo]

Absolute Zero Ep 1 Stray Thoughts

I’ve been waiting for this for so long. I have listened to the moody playlists and gotten into my headspace for this. Time for Sad Gay Boy hours!!

2008? Peak sad boy era for me!

Incredible selection of films in this rental store. Railway Man, Star Trek: First Contact, The Patriot, The Chronicles of Narnia, The Perks of Being a Wallflower, and LOVE OF SIAM.

We just started and our boy is already sad. We are so fucking back.

“If math doesn’t define zero, then I’ll be the answer.”

He rented Kill Bill and two other films. He is definitely a boy.

Looks like one of our future people is already here.

A grave for his parents? Is he Catholic? I’m home.

You can’t be in a Studio Wabi Sabi joint if you can’t cry.

I’m gonna need a Thai-speaking fan (maybe @lurkingteapot or @recentadultburnout) to give insight about the book he’s reading at 8:00

I’m so into the mysterious vibes of this foreboding conversation.

Meeting a boy because of selected seats at a movie theater because you both went alone? Honestly, the dream.

Boy Sompob singing over two boys having a meet cute? Now this is BL.

They’re here to see the same romcom again!!

New Siwaj has a type. These boys kinda resemble Tee and Fuse.

The boys have hair on their legs.

Suansoon understands the fundamentally communal nature of watching a film in a theater of other people even if you go alone. I am already in love.

Ongsa is definitely flirting, but now why is he crying?

Ongsa is classy for bringing a blanket to sit on for the outdoor film.

THEY ARE WATCHING THE LOVE OF SIAM AT THIS OUTDOOR THEATER!!!

Now they’re bonding over sad wishes to a meteor. Incredible.

I can’t believe the cut to the future at “Will you be my boyfriend?”

Welcome back, Nat!!!

OMG the meteor shower yes was so fucking cute I’m going to melt.

These two grew up to have a big TV that doesn’t look sloppy on the wall. I’m so proud of them.

Aw, the video store owner passed away, and they’re asked to take all the DVDs.

They have a projector in their bedroom because of course they do. Obsessed with them.

Oh, and there’s the tragedy.

Next week, the time travel perspective begins.

Friends, mutuals, and beloved BL fans, abandon all hope of me being normal about this show. We have sad gay cinephiles who found each other at a movie theater and then stayed together for ten years. If you write about this show or make anything please tag me. I want to discuss every aspect of this show. This was gorgeous and felt so intentional.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️

➰️➰️➰️➰️➰️➰️➰️➰️➰️➰️➰️➰️➰️➰️➰️➰️

57 for 🩸:

---

Like he can’t accept blaming Eddie. Eddie thinks over the course of their time knowing each other. Buck very rarely blames Eddie for anything. He’s frank with him when it was needed and deserved. Tells him when he’s wrong. But Buck has always, always believed only the best in Eddie. The physical counterpoint to Eddie’s self-loathing. 

Eddie can’t let him do that anymore. Not if this is going to work. 

He reaches to cup a hand over Buck’s cheek.

“You don’t need to fix this for me,” he tells Buck. “I… You’ve helped so much. Always. You’ve always been a miracle to me. But right now, I don’t need you to fix it.”

Buck’s bottom lip trembles. More tears run down his cheeks. Some land on the ridge of Eddie’s finger, slide down to occupy the space between face and palm. 

“I just need you to love me despite all of it, okay?” It almost sounds like a plea from Eddie’s mouth. “I know it’s not ideal, but please keep loving me, anyway.”

Buck’s eyes widen. He takes a sharp little breath. 

“Eddie,” he practically whimpers. “Oh, god. I’m so sorry. Of course… Of course I…”

He is cut off by a sort of choked sound. 

“Hey,” Eddie soothes. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” Buck insists. “I’m so sorry, Eddie. I love you so much. There is nothing that could ever change that. It-it’s not despite anything.” 

Eddie takes a deep inhale. See, he knew that. Really, he did. But for some reason, he also badly needed to hear it. 

“Then don’t die on me,” Eddie begs. “Or for me. Please, please let us try to be something more than a tragedy, Buck.”

“I want that,” Buck promises. “Eddie, I want that so badly. I want us."

“Then just stay with me, okay? Don’t go running off on sacrificial suicide missions.”

Buck nods. “I won’t. I’m here. I’m sorry.”

Eddie awkwardly crouches, leaning forward to kiss him. Soft and quick. 

“I love you so much,” Eddie tells him. “I don’t want to live without you ever again.”

---

51 for 🧟‍♂️:

---

 “That’s true. But you come with stellar references, and at least in my opinion, you’re nice to have around.”

Maddie smiles a little coyly. “Nice to have around, huh?”

Chim nods. “I think so.”

He feels a little foolish. Does he sound as dumb as he feels? Does he look as dumb as he feels?

“Well,” Maddie shrugs. “Hopefully you won’t get sick of me, then.”

Which he thinks is her way of saying she intends on sticking around. 

Chim can’t think of a smooth way to tell her that the idea of getting sick of her sounds more or less impossible. 

▪️▪️▪️

“It’s been three days,” Hen scolds him, later. 

They’re working in the gardens. Chim has dirt underneath his fingernails. His hair is sticking to the sweat on his forehead. 

“I know!” He replies. “I’m pathetic!”

“You’re not pathetic,” Hen sighs. “You just… I mean, I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“What does that mean?” Chim demands. 

“I mean, you get really excited about beautiful, not-entirely-emotionally-available women, Chim.”

Wow. 

“Do you remember Tatiana?” Hen asks. 

“Of course I remember Tatiana,” Chim scowls. “Maddie is not Tatiana.”

“I don’t think she is,” Hen says. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“What are you saying?” Chim asks.

“I’m saying, think before you fall.” Hen practically pleads. “I know you. I know your big heart. Maddie seems lovely, but she’s seen some shit. I can tell. She might not be up for whatever picture-perfect romance you have in your head.”

Chim knows what Hen means by shit. Maddie… Well, from some of what he’s heard from Buck, she’s had a rough go of it. He doesn’t know any of the details. It’s not his business. But haven’t they all survived a lot, to be here right now?

“There is nothing picture perfect about my friend’s sister in the apocalypse, Hen.” 

“You know what I mean,” Hen sighs. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

---

48 for ➰️:

@steadfastsaturnsrings

---

Buck shakes his head. “Wasn’t yesterday October 6th?” 

Eddie frowns. “No.”

Buck doesn’t know if Eddie is lying to him or suspecting he’s lost his mind. 

“I swear… Eddie, we did yesterday already. I remember waking up and… And I felt panicky…”

“No,” Eddie says. “No, yesterday we woke up early to go to the state park. Remember?”

Yes. Yes, Buck remembers. But that feels… That feels so long ago. 

“Something is wrong,” Buck says. “Something weird is happening.”

“Maybe you had a nightmare?” Eddie suggests.

“No,” Buck shakes his head again. “That’s not it.”

“Well… I don’t know what to tell you, Buck. It’s October 6th. It’s the last day of our vacation.”

Eddie seems to believe what he’s saying. Buck grabs his phone off the nightstand. It confirms October 6th as today’s date. Okay, fine. Buck will accept it. But that doesn’t mean something weird isn’t happening. 

“I feel like I’ve lived this day before, Eddie,” Buck says quietly.

Eddie grabs his hand. “But you haven’t.”

Buck sighs. “Maybe you don’t remember. But I do.”

Eddie stares at him for a moment. 

“Do I need to be worried about you?” He asks finally. 

No? Yes? Maybe? Buck isn’t sure. But if this is happening to Buck, and Eddie doesn’t remember, there’s no point trying to get him on board. At least not until he has more information.

“I’ll figure it out,” Buck tells him. “Don’t worry about me.”

[kraekat29]

Suburban Legends- Chapter Three

The next morning JJ and Ruby met John B and Sarah at the condo, cranky and sore in way too many places from sleeping on the dock.

Sarah sat beside Ruby as she was in the tub, gently scrubbing her back and getting all the dirt off of her.

“Why didn’t you come here last night? You know we would’ve taken care of you guys..” Sarah asked and she sighed, “you and JB deserve some privacy Sar..” Ruby said quietly.

“You’re my best friend and sister in law Rubes.. you and JJ are staying here until we find something okay?” Sarah said and Ruby nodded, sinking further into the hot water.

“cute bump” Sarah teased and Ruby laughed, looking down at her stomach, she had to of been at least two months along.

“my days of crop tops are soon to be over” Ruby said in mock sadness, “such a tragedy” Sarah said, playing along.

After she was all clean Sarah helped Ruby out of the tub and leant her an outfit to wear, going into the living room to give her some privacy.

Ruby got dressed and went over to the window, scrubbing her wet hair with the towel as she looked out.

Her eyes softened as she saw JJ alone on the dock and drinking a beer, looking out at the water in front of him.

Ruby made her way outside and sat beside him, looking over and admiring him for a moment, her heart skipping a beat.

“Are you okay..?” She asked quietly, watching as he sniffed then looked down into his beer can, the muscle in his jaw ticking slightly.

JJ didn’t answer, keeping his gaze locked down onto his beer can, Ruby sighed and scooted closer to him, her hand gently ghosting across his jawline as she coaxed him to look at her.

“I failed you Rubes.. look at us. We’re homeless, we have no money or food.. for godsake you’re pregnant and I can’t even take care of you!” JJ exclaimed and stood up, beginning to pace.

Ruby turned and watched him for a moment before taking a deep breath herself and standing up, hugging him tightly from behind.

“you didn’t fail me J.. we’re just in a rough patch.. tomorrow we’ll sell the gold and everything will be okay.. I promise..” She murmured and leaned up on her tip toes, kissing in between his shoulders.

JJ shakily exhaled from his nose, tears stinging his eyes, “things were supposed to be better than this Rue..” he whispered.

“And they will be.. I know right now it doesn’t feel that way but i promise you everything will be okay..” She whispered back, squeezing him tighter.

JJ closed his eyes and leaned back into Ruby’s embrace, trying to believe what she said.

But how could they? This situation wasn’t even permanent either as Rose was cutting Sarah off at midnight for ‘killing’ Ward.

A tear rolled down his cheek as he allowed himself to be held.

There had to be an upside..

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Endure X: Jealousy

Series Synopsis: You and Eren Jaeger have been best friends since the age of two, but the two of you are destined for an inevitable tragedy. The world you have been born into is cruel; it is one where friends are traitors and enemies are allies, one where you find yourself doubting everything you've ever known. In this life, mistakes are fatal, and you must be careful, lest you make one too many.

Chapter Synopsis: As you progress in your training, you find yourself beginning to fall for someone. Eren is jealous, and Tullia, Mikasa, and Sasha are forced to intervene.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Female Reader, Armin Arlert x Female Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.1k

Content Warnings: swearing, canon-typical violence, sexual abuse (non-explicit), major character death, angst, original characters included

“Wanna spar?” You had been exchanging intense eye contact with Tullia, trying to convince her to be your sparring partner, since you were not particularly looking forward to having to fight people. You knew that with her, you could easily slack off. Because of this, you had not seen Reiner Braun approaching you until he tapped your shoulder and asked to spar with you.

“Oh, Reiner! Um, well, I guess so,” you said, not wanting to be rude. You gave Tullia an apologetic look, but she just shrugged and went to find Jean, who also did not have a partner yet. He seemed surprised that she had asked him, but, with a side look at you, accepted.

Ever since that day in the bathroom, you and him had been friends of a sort. Neither of you would ever willingly sit with the other at lunch or anything, but there was a kind of mutual respect that had formed between you. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

“Are you any good at hand-to-hand combat?” Reiner said, giving you the wooden knife and getting into position. You laughed and shook your head.

“No, I’ve never really had the chance to learn or anything. So no need to go all out against me,” you said, pointing the wooden knife at him mock-threateningly. He put his hands up innocently.

“Alright, alright. I’ll let you charge first, too. Just to be more fair, yeah?” he said. You gave him a small smile.

“Very sweet of you, Reiner, thanks,” you said, preparing to charge at him. He gave you a grin and ran his hand through his hair.

“Yeah, I’m a real — oof!” he cut off as you rammed into his stomach, knocking him to the ground. You gave him a wide-eyed look.

“I can’t believe that worked!” you said, reaching out your hand to help him up. He took your hand, but instead of using it to stand, yanked your into the dirt beside him before rolling over and pinning you.

“Never expect a fight to be over just because your opponent’s on the ground,” he instructed, sitting with his knees on either side of your waist and using one hand to hold both of your wrists together above your head. With his other hand, he plucked the wooden knife from your grasp and pressed it against your throat. You tried to escape his grip, thrashing as hard as you could, but it was futile. He had caught you, and you were helpless. Struggling just made him clamp down harder, so with a defeated sigh, you went limp.

“Fine, you win,” you said, closing your eyes and waiting for him to get off. When he didn’t, you opened your eyes to glare at him. He only smirked.

“Come on, you can’t give up that easily! Fight back!” he encouraged you.

“Tried that already. Did not work,” you informed him. He leaned down until the tips of your noses were almost brushing.

“Try harder,” he whispered, digging the edge of the blade into the delicate skin of your neck.

“Reiner, please get off. I cannot, physically cannot, fight back. Isn’t it smart to know when to accept your losses?” you said, looking into his wolfish amber eyes, filled with some unidentifiable emotion. He shrugged from atop you.

“Maybe, but I’ve never been one to know when I’ve lost. I just keep pushing forwards until the day that I can say, without a doubt, that I’ve won,” he said.

“Well, you’ve won, so you don’t need to keep pushing forwards,” you said, trying to squirm out of his hold. He did not budge.

“Is that really all you’ve got?” he said.

“Yes? I’ve been telling you that for the past five minutes,” you said, rolling your eyes. Somehow, he leaned in even farther, until he was so close that if either of you shifted even a little, your lips would brush. It was dangerous. It was wrong. It sent a thrill through you, a rush of heat, a shiver of anticipation.

“You’ve got more. I know you do,” he said.

“Yeah?” you said breathily, feeling dizzy from his proximity to you. Before he could respond, he was thrown off of you. Mikasa looked like some sort of avenging angel, her eyes dark with rage and a fierce scowl on her kind features. You could not help the disappointment coursing through your veins, though you did not know why you would be disappointed. You had wanted Reiner off of you, hadn’t you?

“Sorry I wasn’t faster, Y/N. I got distracted,” she said, helping you stand and brushing you off before checking you over for injuries.

“It’s alright, Mikasa, I was fine,” you said.

“Really?” she said dubiously.

“Yeah, it’s all good. Reiner was just teaching me about combat,” you said. She raised one perfect eyebrow.

“Is that so? Please, do tell me what teaching he was accomplishing by trying to kiss you,” she said.

“He was not doing anything of the sort! He was just telling me I should keep fighting and stuff. You know, basic encouragement,” you said, your face burning as you avoided Reiner’s gaze.

“Basic encouragement. Well, pinning your opponent to the ground and then proceeding to nearly kiss them isn’t a method I’ve ever heard of, but whatever works, I guess,” she said with a derisive snort.

“Stop, Mikasa, you’re being embarrassing,” you said, going over to pull Reiner to his feet. This time, he took your hand without ulterior motives, merely getting up beside you. Mikasa shot him a nasty glare, and he immediately let go. You found yourself wishing he had kept holding it.

“Mikasa! There you are! I was wondering where you went!” Sasha said, appearing and skidding to a stop beside the taller girl, whose face softened as she blushed.

“Hey, Sasha. Just had to deal with some issues,” Mikasa said, giving you and Reiner one last glance. Sasha noticed you and waved brightly, unaware of the tension between the three of you at the current moment.

“Y/N! Reiner! How are you guys?” she said.

“Doing good, Sasha. What about you?” you said.

“Spending time with Mikasa, so overall I can’t complain! Mika’s my new best friend, aren’t you?” she said, throwing her arm around Mikasa, who cleared her throat and crossed her arms.

“Yes. We are best friends,” she said. Sasha beamed.

“Aww, Mikasa, I thought we were best friends,” you said with a frown.

“I can have multiple. Now, I’ll leave you two to it, but Reiner, if I see you continuing to bother her, I’m going to beat you so hard, you’ll wish you were dead. But I won’t grant you that mercy. Instead, I’ll give you just enough time to heal before repeating the process, so that you are stuck in a constant limbo of agony and suffering until the end of your days. Don’t try and think about going unconscious, either. I’ll bring smelling salts with me,” Mikasa said.

“Noted,” Reiner squeaked out. You patted him on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Reiner, I won’t let her do that,” you said.

“Promise?” he said. It was strange to see the older boy so scared, but such was the effect Mikasa had on people. Ever since that day, so long ago, when she had killed the final kidnapper, something in her had snapped. She was no shy wallflower. She was quiet, true, but deadly, an ambush predator, as much a tiger as the stuffed animal she still kept with her.

“As long as you don’t actually bother me, yeah. But I, uh, didn’t mind earlier,” you said, biting your lip nervously. Reiner let out a low chuckle.

“Is that so?” he said.

“Maybe,” you said. He twirled the knife in his hand in a move dripping with casual arrogance and grace.

“Well,” he said, stalking towards you with a feral grin, “All you had to do was say something.”

As you and Reiner continued to spar, mostly ending up with you under him and him reprimanding you for something or another, you became aware of the prickling, uncomfortable sensation of a pair of eyes watching you.

Reiner began to lecture you about distractions, and ironically, as he did so, you became distracted, trying to find who was staring at you. It was not Mikasa, surprisingly. She was watching Sasha explain something. Tullia and Jean were busy “sparring,” although it mostly looked like shy, awkward flirting to you.

“Wow, Eren, you’re good at this!” Marco said as he was tossed into the ground. Despite the rough way Eren had literally just thrown him, he was still positive, springing to his feet to congratulate his partner, who was not even looking at him.

Your eyes met Eren’s, and you were surprised at the sharp rage in them as he glared at you. It was like he was cutting into you with his gaze. The contrast between this and the soft way he had looked at you on that roof in Trost was immense. You wondered what you had done wrong, but before you could think to ask, Reiner gently grabbed your jaw and turned your head to look back at him.

“Hey, I was just telling you not to be distracted, silly. Focus on me,” he said. That strange feeling in your stomach formed again, and you nodded submissively.

“Right, sorry,” you said, though you could not help but sneak one last glance at Eren. He noticed and scowled before turning away. You frowned in confusion and hurt before returning to Reiner, who had given you the knife again and was readying himself for you to charge at him.

“He didn’t bother you the rest of training, right?” Mikasa said, immediately swooping upon you as soon as sparring was over.

“He was fine. Hey, Eren, you good? You looked pretty mad earlier,” you said as you and Mikasa walked over to where he was putting away his knife. He gave you a tight smile.

“Perfectly okay. Are you guys ready for lunch?” he said, grabbing your hand and holding it in a near death-grip. You gave him a startled look at the display before brushing it off. If holding your hand made him feel better, well, you were hardly going to stop him.

“I am!” Sasha said.

“Where do you keep coming from?” you said. This was the second time she had seemingly manifested from thin air. She gave you a bright smile and wink.

“I’ve been here the whole time! Mikasa is so tall you can’t see me behind her,” she explained. You looked at Mikasa, who was, indeed, tall, and decided Sasha was probably right.

“That makes sense. Hey, speaking of Mikasa, we should have a girls’ night! The two of you, Tullia, and I. It would be so fun!” you said.

“Can I come?” Eren said.

“Eren, normally a girls’ night means only girls are attending,” Mikasa reminded him.

“You can have a boys’ night with Armin, Reiner, and Bertholdt,” you suggested. Eren thought about this for a second.

“Yeah, maybe, I guess,” he said, “But you guys will probably have more fun.”

“True!” Sasha chirped, “Guess you were born the wrong gender!”

“Better luck next time,” you said, patting him on the head with your free hand. He pouted but did not argue, perhaps knowing there was no point. You and Mikasa used to have frequent girls’ nights back in Shiganshina, sometimes even in his own house. He hadn’t been allowed to attend then, and he certainly wouldn’t be allowed now.

Though the Mess Hall was as packed as usual, everyone mostly stuck to their tables, which meant your usual seats were free. You sat as you normally did: Eren at the end of the table, you on his left, Mikasa across from you, Armin across from Eren, and...well, Tullia was normally in between Mikasa and Armin, but as of right now, she was nowhere to be found.

“Where’s Tullia?” Armin said, reading your mind.

“I think she took my seat!” Sasha said, pointing over at where Tullia sat next to Connie and across from Jean.

“You can take hers, Sasha, no big deal,” Eren said.

“Great, thanks guys!” Sasha said, squeezing in between Mikasa and Armin.

“Whose turn is it to get lunches today?” Mikasa said. You had a system where two of you would get meals for the rest of the table, with a whole schedule set up to ensure that it was fair and everyone had equal turns in the rotation. You did it in such a way in order to cut down on the length of the lines where the food was distributed.

“It was supposed to be Tullia and Eren, but since Tullia isn’t here...Sasha can go or someone can volunteer to take her shift,” Armin said, pulling out the piece of paper that had the master schedule on it.

“I’ll go,” you immediately said. If Sasha went, there was a good chance she’d end up eating everyone else’s lunches on the way back to the table.

“Sounds good. Make sure to get me the soup without carrots, please,” Mikasa said.

“Of course. Can’t have you getting an allergic reaction,” you said with a nod. Mikasa had discovered she was deathly allergic to carrots early on in your training, and ever since then, the cooks had made sure to make two variants of each dish: one with carrots and one without.

“I saw you beating up Marco during sparring. He’s a nice guy, you know. No need to go that hard!” you said with a laugh as you got into line with Eren. He gave you a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I just get carried away a little sometimes,” he said. You smiled and flicked him on the forehead.

“I know. I’ve seen some of the bruises you gave to poor Oskar,” you said, remembering your days back in Shiganshina and how Eren had mercilessly beaten the rude boy.

“Okay, but he deserved it. You’ve gotta admit to that much, at least,” he said, grabbing a couple of trays and beginning to load the bowls of soup onto them. You did the same with a nod.

“Agreed, but we’re not in Shiganshina anymore. You don’t need to hurt anybody. We’re all friends here,” you said.

“I know, I know,” he said.

“Speaking of friends...Reiner!” you said as you passed by where the blond boy was sitting with Bertholdt. He immediately straightened when he saw you, giving you a wide grin.

“Y/N! Long time no see, huh?” he said. You giggled shyly.

“It’s been a bit,” you said.

“And how have you been in the ten minutes since we saw each other last?” he said.

“Prettyyy good,” you said, drawing out the last syllables of each word and batting your eyelashes at him. If possible, his grin grew bigger, and a light blush formed on his cheeks.

“Good to hear. Say, I was wondering if you —”

“Come on, Y/N. The soup’s getting cold,” Eren interjected, glaring at Reiner, who seemed taken aback by his hostility. You were similarly surprised. On the whole, Eren quite liked Reiner, so to see him being rude to the older boy was out of character indeed.

“Yeah, I guess it is. See you later, Reiner!” you said before turning to Eren as soon as you were out of Reiner and Bertholdt’s earshot, “That was silly of you.”

“What was?” he said, giving you a faux-innocent look. You nudged him in the side with your elbow, since both of your hands were full with food for your friends.

“Being snippy with Reiner,” you said.

“I wasn’t being snippy with him. I was just reminding you that we have friends that need their soup,” he said. You shook your head in amusement at his obvious denial.

“Whatever, Eren. You know you’re still my best friend, right? I’m not replacing you with Reiner or anything,” you said. He smiled at this.

“Yeah, I know,” he said as you sat down, passing out food to everyone.

Despite the fact that he claimed he knew that you were best friends above all else, Eren was still overwhelmingly clingy the entire rest of lunch. If his hand was free, it was holding yours. As soon as he was finished inhaling his food, his head was resting on your shoulder, soft hair tickling against your neck as you ate.

“What’s gotten into you?” you said as he began to doze off.

“I’m tired and you're comfortable,” he said.

“Alright, then,” you said dubiously. If you had been a little more observant, you would’ve seen the way the Reiner’s eyes widened upon noticing you, or the smirk Eren flashed towards him at this development, but you were too focused on the story Sasha was regaling you all with to care.

After lunch, you were going to start with the most exciting part of military training, in your opinion at least: horse riding. You would be assigned your horses and, if you became Scouts, would get to keep them for the entirety of your career. If not, they would be sent to the Scouts without you as backups in case something went wrong on an expedition (and it almost always did).

“Do you think we’ll get to name them?” Connie said as you walked towards the stables.

“I hope so! I already have an awesome name picked out!” Tullia said.

“What?” Jean said.

“Jean,” she said seriously. You snickered, both at the name and at the horrified look on the boy’s face.

“You wouldn’t,” Jean said.

“I might,” she said.

“Cheer up, Jean. This is a good thing! She’s saying she likes you so much she wants to name her horse after you!” Marco said halfheartedly, though he was not fooling anyone.

“Don’t worry, Jean, I think that horseface of yours is very handsome,” Tullia said before immediately turning bright red, her jaw dropping and her eyes widening at her audacity. Jean had a similar reaction, though you had a feeling that it was because he did not know how to react to compliments, especially not compliments from the girl he had a crush on.

“CADETS!” Commandant Shadis bellowed. You all paused your banter to salute at him. He nodded at you in approval before turning to his assistant, the woman that had been your examiner during the aptitude testing.

“We will be assigning everyone their horses today! Then you will partner up and help each other adjust to riding,” she said.

Though most of the horses were a plain yet rich chocolate brown color, you and Krista both got white ones, and Tullia got a chestnut. Eren’s horse was a very dark brown, nearly black but not quite, and Armin’s had a wide white blaze on her face.

“Buchwald! I’m naming you Buchwald!” Jean said in delight, patting his horse on the neck. The horse did not seem to mind this name, perhaps recognizing Jean as one of his own species. You would not be surprised.

“Juan,” Tullia decided, smirking and kissing her fiery-colored horse on the muzzle. Jean made a noise that was between a gasp and a shriek of offense at the name, but Tullia raised an eyebrow at him, quieting him immediately.

“What do you think of Tyrant?” Eren asked you.

“That’s a really cool name. I’m naming mine Mage,” you said, stroking the white horse on the face. She began to chew on your hair in content, and you halfheartedly tried to push her away.

“Do you want to be my partner, Y/N?” Reiner said, coming up beside you, holding his horse’s reins in one hand and giving you an expectant look.

“No, we’re going to be partners, right?” Eren said emphatically.

“Uh —”

“She can answer for herself,” Reiner said, cutting you off smoothly.

“She’s my partner already,” Eren said, crossing his arms stubbornly.

“I’m, uh, going to go be with Connie,” you said, leading Mage after you in search of the boy with the close-cropped hair. Though you two were not close, you always enjoyed hanging out with him. His energy and humor were delightful, and it would be a nice break from the drama of Eren and Reiner.

Thankfully, he had not partnered up with anyone yet, and he was more than delighted to pair up with his “wife.” You gave him a leg up before using a tree stump to swing into Mage’s saddle. It was a strange sensation at first, but once you adjusted, you found you rather liked it.

“Yo! Mrs. Springer!” Connie said, halting beside you once you had settled in the saddle.

“Yes, Mr. Springer?” you said. He gave you a wide grin.

“Let’s race!” he said, taking off before you even had the chance to respond. You watched him go in awe.

“So much for being partners with Connie,” you muttered as he vanished into the distance.

“Did he ditch you?” Armin said, a soft, fond smile on his face as took Connie’s spot next to you.

“Yup. Asked me if I wanted to race and then left before I could even respond,” you said with a laugh, “No clue where he is. He could be all the way in Karanes District at this point, honestly.”

“I can be your new partner, if you want,” he suggested.

“Sounds good. No racing?” you said.

“No racing,” he agreed.

You and Armin walked around the perimeter of the field you were practicing in, allowing your horses to stretch their necks down as you talked about random things. You took the time to observe how everyone else was doing.

Connie had returned and was now involving poor Marco in his schemes, galloping around wildly as the freckled boy chased after him. Mikasa and Sasha had had a similar idea to you and Armin, relaxing on horseback as they chatted. Tullia was either making fun of or complimenting Jean, judging by how red his face and ears were. Eren and Reiner were glaring at each other.

“What’s up with those two?” you said, pointing at them. If anybody had a chance of knowing, it was quiet, observant Armin who shared a dorm with them and knew Eren better than anyone, bar you.

“Jealousy, I think,” he said.

“Really? But they’re so close, almost like siblings. You think jealousy could cause them to fight?” you said. Armin shrugged.

“Well, you forget that siblings often fight as it is. And yes, for what it’s worth, I do think jealousy could motivate them to be angry at each other. It’s a strong emotion, and if my hunch is right, they have a valid reason to fight. They’re upset because they both want the same thing, and it’s a pretty damn great thing,” he said.

“What is it?” you said. Armin gave you a secretive smile.

“I can’t tell you that. I’m sure one day, you’ll find out.”

You had not had a girls’ night in a while, so when Mikasa and Sasha entered you and Tullia’s room, wearing their pajamas and with hairbrushes in hand, you felt excitement creeping over you. You had missed this, missed the way it felt to just be with your friends and relax and not have to worry about jealousy or fighting or anything dumb like that.

“I can’t braid your hair anymore, Mikasa,” you said with a frown as you combed your fingers through her short, silky hair.

“Sorry, Y/N,” she said, and you could tell she was genuinely sad.

“You can braid mine!” Sasha volunteered.

“Thanks, Sash!” you said, “Okay, sit in between my legs and turn around.”

“Ooh, I’ll do yours!” Tullia said.

“Yeah, and I can do yours, Tullia, since nobody can do mine,” Mikasa offered.

“YES!” Sasha cheered as you got into position for the braiding train. For a while, you all were silent, focused on your tasks completely, until Tullia broke the silence.

“We should play Truth or Dare,” she said. You took a hair tie and tied off one of the fishtail braids you had done on Sasha before starting the other.

“Sounds fun,” Mikasa said, “Who wants to go first?”

“It was Tullia’s idea,” you said. The girl was currently making some elaborate braided chignon out of your hair, leaving a few delicate pieces out to frame your face.

“Excellent,” Tullia said, and you could almost feel the vicious smirk on her face, “You’ve fallen right into my trap. Y/N, truth or dare?”

“I have a bad feeling about this. Truth,” you said.

“Aww, boo. Okay, do you have a crush on someone?” she said.

“That was lame!” Sasha said.

“Yeah, nothing more creative than that? Petra would be disappointed,” you said.

“Answer the question,” she snapped, pulling on your hair a little too harshly. You yelped.

“Fine! Uh, Reiner’s kind of nice, I guess,” you said. Everyone was silent for a second before they all, in unison, screamed at you.

“REINER?”

“Sina, deafen me, why don’t you? Yes, Reiner. Reiner Braun,” you said, covering your ears, though it was a bit too late for that.

“She’s still in denial, then. I thought after everything that happened after the fall of Wall Maria, she’d figure it out, but here we are,” Mikasa said.

“I almost feel bad. I mean, this is embarrassing on her part!” Sasha said.

“She’s projecting onto Reiner at the moment, but we all know what’s going to end up happening,” Tullia assured everyone.

“Huh? What are you guys talking about?” you said.

“Just how it’s so obvious you and Eren have something going on, you’re just too blind to realize it,” Sasha said casually.

“What? That’s not true! Mikasa, tell her it’s not true!” you said indignantly.

“Oh, it’s so true. It’s been like that for as long as I can remember. You’re best friends with Armin and I. You’re something more than that with Eren, and no, I do not mean mega best friends,” Mikasa said, like the traitor she was. You scowled, though you could not move lest you mess up Tullia’s hard work.

“Y/N, tell me, honestly. That day on the roof...did nothing happen between you two? If not, then we’ll believe you when you say that you and him are just friends. If so, well, there’s your answer,” Tullia said. They all waited expectantly as you cast about for something to say.

The rooftop. You wondered what could’ve happened if the MP hadn’t interrupted you. You had been caught in some kind of daze, drunk on Eren’s presence, on the way he looked at you. You didn’t know if you would’ve been able to stop yourself if you had shifted only another few inches closer.

It had been different than it had with Reiner earlier today. Reiner had been just as close if not closer to you than Eren had been that day, but while kissing Reiner would have been a choice, kissing Eren felt like a compulsion. Eren was magnetic, drawing you in ever closer, like it was some law of nature that you ought to be together.

And this scared you. Eren was your best friend. What kind of monster were you? What kind of person fell in love with their best friend? Was this even love, or was it something else? It felt like love. It looked like love. It must be love, but you didn’t understand it, didn’t understand how it could’ve happened. When had you fallen in love with him? Or had you never fallen in love with him at all? Because this was the truth of the matter: you had been born in love. Loving him was as easy as if you had done it before, like it was some deep-rooted instinct of yours — love Eren Jaeger.

“No. Like he said, we just talked. Nothing happened between us. Nothing at all.”

Whether or not your friends believed you, they did not bring it up again. You all continued to play the game, laughing increasingly harder at the wild things you dared each other to do. Mikasa confessed her crush on Sasha, Tullia somehow managed to sneak into the boys’ barracks and draw a moustache on Bertholdt without getting caught, and you wrote an anonymous love note to the Commandant.

Finally, you all fell asleep. Mikasa and Sasha cuddled together on the bottom bunk, and you and Tullia took the top, a pillow in between you to ensure you didn’t kick each other or anything in your sleep. Your stomach hurt from laughing, and though you were exhausted, you could not sleep.

“You’re still up,” Tullia said after a few minutes.

“Yeah, I am,” you said, wondering why she had said anything.

“I know you were lying earlier,” she said, “I’ve known you long enough to know what your tells are. Your ears turn red when you lie.”

“And they were red?”

“As red as Juan’s coat.”

You rolled over to face the wall, signifying the end of your conversation, though Tullia did not take the hint. You covered your head with your pillow to muffle her words, but it wasn’t enough, because it was no longer just her speaking but your own subconscious as well.

“You can pretend and lie all you want, but in the end, it’s only going to hurt you more. If you lose him without telling him how you really feel, it’s going to kill you inside. And what if he moves on? What if he finds another girl?”

At your silence, she scoffed. You heard the sheets rustle as she turned over, though she managed to get one final thing in before you both drifted off.

“If you really like Reiner, I’ll support you, but I think you need to reflect on which one makes you truly, genuinely happy, because that’s what you deserve and nothing less. Don’t worry about hurting anybody’s feelings — that’s inevitable. Just...make the right choice, okay?”

“Thanks, Tullia,” you said quietly, “I’ll try.”

But you did not try. As your training went on, you avoided the question completely, choosing to remain just friends with both boys and ignoring the heartache you felt when you looked at Eren, because who were you to jeopardize everything you had? So you pined for him from afar, found relief in soft brushes of hands and friendly hugs and legs pressed against one another in the Mess Hall.

As Tullia had warned you, one day you would come to regret this decision. And you were no stranger to regret, but this time hurt the most of all, because it was regret and guilt and grief all wrapped into one horrible, terrible stab in the heart.

taglist (send an ask or dm to be added): @futuristicxie

[sweetchcolate]

I LOVE your posts about Sugar Apple Fairy Tale and just read your fanfic about Rafael visiting a pregnant Ann and loved it! I hope you write more fanfics on Sugar Apple Fairy Tale and can I request you write about Ann and Shall's wedding. IT WOULD FILL ME WISH SO MUCH JOY THAT YOU WOULDN'T BELIEVE!

fandom: sugar apple fairy tale words: 5677 title: wedding prep shenanigans summary: A humorous glimpse into the weeks leading up to Anne and Shall’s wedding as their friends and guests show up one after the other.

also available on ao3!

A/N: Hiya, this ask is from late august/early september, so thank you for waiting all this time!

It's more on the funny/gen side since my last fic (spillover) was 100% pure fluff, but there was no way I could write about Anne and Shall's wedding without involving all the friends the two made over their adventures.

Thank you for waiting! I hope it was worth it!

As a heads-up, there are some spoilers for events in future LN volumes in Keith's section. It starts when he says "Ah, I was thinking out loud…" and ends when you read "It had been a worrisome whirlwind of drama and tragedy."

(And the changes of spelling between Cat and Kat are on purpose, depending on who talks to him. When it's Cat, it's because they're referencing the animal).

Despite the distance separating them, when Alph Hingley, Keith Powell, Hugh Mercury, Bridget Page, Elliot Collins, and the many other friends Anne and Shall made over the years received a notice for the wedding ceremony of a certain sugar master and an obsidian fairy, they all shared the same thought.

It’s about time.

Followed immediately by: wait, if I received an invitation, then who’s planning this?

--

Bridget, with her fiancé Orland and her ex-fiancé Elliot in tow, was the first one to arrive, of course. She greeted Anne with a warm hug, gave a solemn nod to Shall fen Shall and Mythril Lid Pod, and went straight to the crux of things.

“The wedding is only weeks away! Do you have everything planned?”

“Yes.

“Your dress?”

“Almost done. The seamstress wanted to see me one or two more times to make the final adjustments.”

“And Shall’s outfit?”

“All set!”

“What about the reception?”

“Right next to the church. The head priest and the mayor said they’d lend us tables and chairs so we could eat and party outside.”

“And how many people are you expecting? Do you have a guest list?”

Anne handed over the list, which Bridget briefly skimmed through. She nodded in satisfaction.

“Who’s in the charge of the catering? Oh, and what about the sugar confection? Did you order one? Who did you ask?”

“A-about that…”

“She was planning of making her own,” Shall said, his first intervention since Bridget started grilling Anne over the details. He hadn’t looked up once from whatever he was sewing, but it was obvious he’d kept up with the conversation. “She said she didn’t want to trouble anyone.”

“Shall!” Anne cried, betrayed.

Elliot frowned. He threw an arm around Anne’s shoulders, drawing her to him. He ruffled her hair.

“That won’t do, Anne. Do you know how many people would die to make your wedding sugar sculpture? Just think of it: Hingley, Powell, Mercury, Nadir, Valentine, King, Orland, Bridget—"

“Why did you cite me last, Elliot?”

“— and of course, saving the best for last: good old me. The silver sugar viscount and the best sugar masters of this generation at your beck and call. Soooo, who’s going to be the lucky sod?”

“Can’t I pick myself?”

“Ah ah,” Elliot tutted, wagging a finger. “No, no, no. Don’t you know it’s bad luck?”

“You guys should all make a sugar confection, and then we can choose a winner on the wedding day!” Mythril piped up.

“We? I wasn’t aware this was your wedding, Mythril Lid Pod,” Shall added.

“Ugh, you know what I meant!”

“Yes. You meant to stuff yourself full of silver sugar.”

“I’m going to gnaw on your wedding tunic.”

“No you won’t!” Bridget cut in. “Do you know how expensive those clothes are? Oh! I almost forgot! What about cosmetics? And your hair?”

Anne blanched, and that was an answer in and of itself.

“Anne, I can’t believe you! Come on, we’re going to Lewiston right now!”

“B-but the wedding isn’t for another mont—”

Shall, Mythril, Elliot, and Orland watched the blonde woman drag her friend. They were all quiet. Elliot made the prayer sign one would for the deceased.

Orland smacked him. To Shall, he said: “Aren’t you going to help Anne out? She’s your fiancée.”

“And she’s being dragged around by your fiancée,” Shall retorted. The implication was clear: if you’re not going to stop her, don’t expect me to.

“Hm.”

No one pointed out that the obsidian fairy, a one-man army of his own, could easily have prevented the women from leaving if he was so inclined. Keyword being ‘inclined”. No one could convince Shall (or Bridget for that matter) to do anything they didn’t want to unless you were called Anne Halford.

Mythril repeated the gesture Elliot made moments earlier.

--

“Yo.”

“Kat!”

Anne’s face positively lit up, shrieking when the older sugar master lifted her up in a bear hug. The gesture might be uncharacteristic coming from him, but hey, it wasn’t every day that his apprentice-figure was getting married. She deserved the rare show of affection.

“Hiya Anne,” Benjamin said once she was back on the ground. He was as cool and relaxed as ever. “Congratulations on the wedding~”

“Thank you, Benjamin! But it’s still two weeks away.”

“Oh good, we’re early~ The weather was just awful in Snowpoint, I thought we wouldn’t make it.”

“It smells good in here, small stuff,” Kat said. “What’s cooking?”

“An apple pie! I wanted to make a big one for the wedding, so Bridget and I are trying to figure out the right proportions. Want to be our taste-tester?”

“I won’t say no to free food.”

He followed Anne, finding Bridget, Orland, and Elliot huddled around a stove. Or rather, it was more accurate to say Elliot was huddled around the stove. Orland was holding the hearth door open while Bridget put a knife to a delicious-smelling pie. The air was filled with the scent of clove and cinnamon.

“Oooo, Hingley. That’s a nostalgic face if I’ve seen one.”

“Why am I not surprised to find you here, you freeloader.” Kat rolled his eyes. “Langston, Page. Congrats on your engagement again.”

“Thank you,” they answered in unison. Bridget added: “I think the pie is ready. Once it cools, we can eat.”

“Apple pie?” someone shouted from outside. “Wait for me! Don’t you dare eat without the great Mythril Lid Pod!”

It wasn’t long before Mythril showed up, perched on Shall’s shoulders. The two (or rather, the latter) had gone to chop some wood, the supply depleting faster with the addition of Bridget, Orland, and Elliot.

It was also a good way to keep the insatiable Mythril out of the way, lest he try to eat the apple pie dough raw.

“Oh, hi Kat! I thought I recognized your wagon outside! See, Shall fen Shall? I told you it was his!”

“Thank you for your wisdom,” Shall answered, more sarcasm than actual gratitude.

“Rude as ever, huh, Shall,” Kat said, leaning against the counter, arms crossed.

“Done hibernating, mister Cat? Glad you could make it to the wedding.”

“Hey, play nice.”

“No, no, let them, Anne.” Elliot snickered. “It’s free entertainment!”

“At least I’m doing something. You’re just lazing around, Collins.”

“Hey, hey. I’ll have you know I’m here on official Page workshop business.”

“Oh, really? And what is that?”

“We’ve got a wedding sugar confection for a very important client.”

“And where is that sugar confection? I only saw a regular carriage outside, not a crafter’s wagon.”

“Oh, that’s easy. It’s still in my head!”

“You lazy ass—”

While Elliot and Kat bickered, Anne scooted over to Shall, helping him put the wood away.

“It sure has gotten more lively,” she whispered.

“Has it? I tuned them all out since day one.”

Anne shoved him slightly, but the grin on her face betrayed her amusement. “Don’t tell Mythril Lid Pod, or we won’t hear the end of it.”

“Ha. I don’t think we’ll ever have trouble hearing him.”

She held her hands out to take another log. Shall took the opportunity to bring her hand to his mouth, using his body to hide the gesture from their friends. It wasn’t like he had trouble with displays of affections, but Anne and he could do without the teasing.

Especially Collins’s.

“Only two more weeks,” he murmured, voice pitched low, just enough to reach Anne’s ears. She felt every twist of his lips, every syllable pressed in her skin. In the low light, Shall’s eyes gleamed a beautiful dark amethyst.

She blushed, feeling warm, and squeezed his hand back with a shy smile.

“Hey, lovebirds! Get over here before the shrimp eats your share of the pie,” Elliot interrupted with his oh-so-great timing. True to his words, Mythril’s cheeks were full, resembling a squirrel.

Shall and Anne exchanged a look, sharing similar thoughts. Those would be the longest two weeks of their lives.

--

“I wasn’t expecting everyone to be here already… I’m a bit embarrassed.”

“You’re right on time actually, Keith! Bridget came in early because she wanted to help with the wedding prep, and Elliot and Orland tagged along. And Kat left Snowpoint ahead of time because he didn’t want to be stuck if the roads got snowed in.”

“Still, if I had known, I would have pushed for mister Radcliffe to let me out much earlier.” Keith pointed to the back of his wagon with a hopeful smile. “I hope my sculpture will make it up to you. It’s one of the pieces I’m most proud of!”

“I’m looking forward to it! What did you make?”

“That’s a secret. I can’t have you spoiling your own wedding gift.”

Anne pouted. “Everybody’s so cagey! First, it’s Bridget kicking me out of the venue, then Elliot telling me I can’t go home because he and Orland are making my wedding candy on behalf of the Page workshop.”

“What about Shall? And mister Hingley?”

“They’re checking with the innkeeper if we have enough rooms for all the guests.”

So far, all five artisans and three fairies had piled up in Anne’s and Shall’s home, with Anne and Shall sharing the master bedroom, Bridget in the guest room, Elliot and Orland in the other, and Kat and Mythril sleeping downstairs in the living room. However, after the reception, Anne and Shall would want for intimacy on their wedding night, and so their friends needed somewhere else where to sleep.

“The two of them? Will they be alright?” Keith asked, referencing to Kat’s short temper and Shall’s ability to get a rise out just about anyone with pinpoint precision. The two men got along like… well… cat and dog.

“Mythril Lid Pod’s with them, but if I had known everyone would give me the boot, I would have gone with them,” Anne sighed.

“In that case, do you know what to do when something’s bothering you?”

“Run and leave it all behind, right?”

Keith blinked, but a pleased smile appeared on his face. “I’m surprised you remember that. It’s been so long ago.”

“Of course! I was under a lot of stress back then, you know? Your words were a big help, they really cheered me up.”

“Just my words?” he teased.

“You know what I mean!”

He laughed. “I’m glad I could help.”

They lapsed into comfortable silence, watching the flowers sway in the slight spring breeze. All the snow had already melted, and the land was slowly regaining its colors, waking up from a long deep sleep.

“To think you’re getting married…” Keith murmured under his breath.

“Hm?”

“Ah, I was thinking out loud…” He sighed. There was something wistful, but also peaceful about his smile. “Talking about the past got me feeling nostalgic. To think that back then, our biggest worry was whether we’d make silver sugar master.”

True. A lot happened in just a few short years: Anne and Shall’s abduction by his brother Rafael fen Rafael, Shall taking his responsibilities as a potential fairy king and bargaining with the human king to slowly give fairies back their autonomy, Rafael fen Rafael’s return, and Anne and Shall almost dying at his hands and paying the price of surviving such an ordeal with their memories (Anne of her painstakingly hard-earned sugar crafting skills, Shall of his meeting with Anne and all those she brought to his life)…

It had been a worrisome whirlwind of drama and tragedy, but their happy ending was finally within reach.

And not just Anne’s and Shall’s… everyone’s: Bridget and Orland were engaged and most likely the next to get married; Elliot had assumed the reigns of the workshop, taking the strain off Glen’s shoulders; the Page workshop was flourishing ever since the Holy Beginnings exhibit; Kat and Keith kept up their work as sugar masters, refining their skills and gaining in recognition.

Everyone was moving forward towards a bright future.

But a part of Anne missed the old days, a time where life was much simpler.

“This might sound silly, but I hope we all stay in touch. I… I don’t want us to drift apart,” she said, fighting to get the words out of her tightening throat. She was suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of sadness and bittersweetness.

“Of course.” Keith patted her on the back, kind and comforting, and the gesture almost made Anne lose her composure. She sniffed the tears back. “We can meet up for the Royal Fair, for the Holy Beginnings, for Valentine’s day… Your birthday’s on the sixth month, right? So that will be our summer reunion.”

“If we only gathered for my birthday, that’d be unfair.”

“Alright, alright. Let’s come up with our own summer holiday, then. That way, no one’s jealous.”

Anne laughed, shaky. “As long as I don’t have to come up with the name.”

“You can design incredible sugar sculptures to wow royalty, but you’re stumped by names?”

“Hey! I’m a silver sugar master, not a name master!”

He laughed. Keith kept on patting her back until she felt better. She was truly lucky to have such an attentive and thoughtful person as a friend.

“Keith?”

“Hm?”

There was so much she wanted to thank him for, but she doubted she could ever convey the depths of her feelings, so Anne poured all her gratitude, her happiness, and her appreciation into two simple words: “Thank you.”

Keith wrapped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. He whispered, barely a murmur on the wind, “Anytime.”

--

“Anne! Anne! Congratulations on the wedding!”

“Actually, it’s ‘congratulations on the engagement.’”

Noah ignored Valentine’s correction, clinging to Anne. “Can I see your dress?”

“Not today!” Anne laughed at the fairy’s pout. “Don’t worry, you’ll see it in two days.”

“But that’s too faaaaaaaar.”

“Noah.” It was Glen who spoke. The older man was on the edge of his seat, waiting for Anne and Noah to clear the way so he could get off the carriage. “If you’re that excited, why don’t you go check the church? That’s where the ceremony will be held.”

“Oh, in that case, could you tell Bridget, Orland, and Elliot that mister Glen is here?” Anne added.

“Will do!”

And just as quickly as he had latched onto Anne, Noah was off. Nadir and Valentine sputtered, giving Anne their regards before running after the fairy. Noah might be older than them both, but he was as innocent and carefree as a child.

“Mister Glen. You seem to be doing well.”

“I am. I feel much better these days.” Glen stood and Anne hovered nearby just in case, but the older man managed to make his way out of the carriage on his own. He regarded her warmly. “I believe you’ve grown. I don’t remember you being this tall.”

“I think you shrank, mister Glen,” King said. He waved at Anne. “Yo, thanks for the invitation. And congrats!”

“Thank you! I’m glad you could make it!”

“Of course. You’re one of us, even if you don’t work for the workshop officially anymore,” Glen said. “If you had told us earlier, we could have organized you a grand wedding. But what’s done is done. Are you all set?”

“Yes! Bridget was a big help. I thought I had everything handled, but there was so much more left than I expected!”

“The missy planned her own wedding months ahead. She knows her stuff.”

“Before I forget. Here.” Glen handed Anne a leather pouch, heavy and thick. There was a tinkling sound when he moved it, almost like that of coins. “For you.”

“Wait, why are you giving this to me? Are you not staying?”

“Don’t look so alarmed. I wouldn’t miss your wedding like I wouldn’t miss my daughter’s. This is a long overdue payment.”

“For what?”

“For your time as our head artisan.”

Anne blinked. She had assumed that role years ago, her goal to retrieve Shall’s wing, then to fulfill her promise to revive the Page workshop. It had never been about money.

“Mister Glen, I can’t—”

“Can’t accept it? It’s rude to refuse a gift, you know?”

“Just take it, or he’ll just ask Noah to hide it so you can’t return it to us,” King said.

Anne sighed. All her friends said she was stubborn and impossible to sway once her mind was set, but they were as equally headstrong when they wanted to be.

“Thank you, mister Glen. I appreciate it.”

“Treat yourself, Anne.” He patted her shoulder. “It’s good manners to make use of the gifts you’re given. It shows your appreciation more than saying thanks ever will.”

She was working on that, on relying on her friends, on accepting their goodwill and affection (whether through money, gifts, food or kind words) without falling back on old habits of doing everything on her own.

“Then I’ll buy myself some strawberry cakes. I’ve been craving those for a while.”

“That’s the spirit,” he laughed.

--

Anne flopped around like a fish out of water, sleep eluding her. Shall sat up from the bedding they’d laid on the ground, next to the bed — he would have been more than happy sleeping with Anne, but she’d claimed it improper before the ceremony. His guess was that she was still shy with anything beyond hugs and kisses, but also didn’t want to risk Mythril finding them twined together which… fair enough — and leaned in, cheek against his palm.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“I can see that. Too excited for tomorrow?”

“I… I kind of don’t want tomorrow to come.” Anne gasped and put her hands to her mouth, as if she realized how her words could be interpreted only after the fact. “Ah, no! I didn’t mean it like that! I…"

He let her talk. With her tendency to ramble, her true feelings would come spilling out sooner and later. And his patience was rewarded.

“I’m so happy, you know? The past few weeks were so fun, with everyone coming and staying over. I didn’t realize how long it’s been since we were all together. But once the wedding’s over, everyone will leave… we’ll all go back to living our own lives…” She sniffed, voice shaking. “I know it’s silly, but I miss everyone. I miss them even though they haven’t left.”

Shall was reminded of Hugh’s words, many years ago — words he knew true, but words he’d never forgiven the man for since they meant to separate him from Anne. “Humans get used to comfort so quickly, they forget how to go back to their old lives.”

They seemed to sum Anne’s feelings perfectly.

“The Page headquarters are a day of travel away from here, and Lewiston less than half a day. Cat also gave you his shop, but you know him. He’ll show up to check on you once in a while,” he told her, cupping her face. This caused Anne’s unshed tears to bead at the corners of her eyes, and he wiped them away with his thumb. “Those you love and who love you will always be close to you, no matter the distance. But if the feeling gets too unbearable and you want to see them again, then let’s hit the road together.”

Anne’s smile was wobbly, but it was a start. He opened his arms, and she gladly went for a hug, burying her face against his chest as her shoulders shook quietly. He patted her hair, and she relaxed in his embrace after a while. She smelled nice and she was soft to hold.

“Thank you. I feel much better.”

“You should go to sleep. You have a long day tomorrow.”

“Oh, and you don’t?”

“I don’t need as much sleep as you.”

“I know. It’s so unfair. Do you know how much more work I could get done otherwise?”

“You’d just throw yourself at silver sugar until you passed out from exhaustion. Which you have before.”

“What if it’s just an excuse so you’ll carry me to bed?”

Such underhanded schemes weren’t like Anne, but he humored her just the same. “Just ask me then. No need to go to such extremes.”

“Hey, you guys still awake? Is this a bad time?”

At Mythril’s voice, Anne scooted out of Shall’s laps, putting a respectable distance between them. She ignored the disgruntled expression on his face. “No, we were just talking. Did we wake you?”

“Nah, I wanted to check the moon. It’s overhead, which means it’s now officially your wedding day!” He sauntered over to them and held out two small boxes. “And I wanted to be the first one to give you your gifts!”

Shall and Anne shared a look before taking the gifts. Shall’s was a pendant in the shape a golden full moon, the metal so polished it reflected his face. He glanced over to Anne. She had received the same thing.

“They’re matching necklaces!” Mythril exclaimed, taking his own out. “When we’re apart and you get lonely, just look at it and remember we’re all under the same sky, watching the same moon.”

Huh. Did he listen in on them or was it just an incredible coincidence? Then again, it was possible Mythril had picked up Anne’s underlying fears over the past weeks — he could be surprisingly perceptive.

Anne, whose emotions were already running high, was once again on the verge of tears, but she looked touched, rather than sad.

“Oh, Mythril…”

“H-hey, are you crying? Why are you crying? Do you hate it that much? Don’t cry, Anne, I’ll get you something else! S-shall fen Shall, help! Do something!”

“They’re tears of happiness, dummy.”

“Huh? Don’t be stupid, how can you cry from being happy?”

Anne shook her head with a small laugh, scooping the tiny fairy and bringing him close to her chest. She cupped one hand around his body and gently laid her cheek on the top of his head in the best approximation of a hug she could manage considering their size difference.

“Thank you so much, Mythril Lid Pod. I love it,” she whispered, overflowing with gratefulness.

He clutched at her front, cheeks pink and eyes downcast in embarrassment. “...you’re welcome.”

Anne set him down, wiping her eyes, and stood. “I just keep crying lately. I’m going to freshen up. I’ll be right back.”

Shall nodded. Mythril sat down on Shall’s pillow, playing with his necklace. It was quiet, if not for the occasional sniff coming from the small fairy. Shall didn’t comment on it.

“Hey, Shall fen Shall?” Mythril said after a while.

“Hm?”

Another sniff, longer. “I think I get it. Happy tears.”

Shall snorted softly.

“Hey, Shall fen Shall?”

“What?”

“Can I sleep on your pillow tonight?”

Looked like Anne wasn’t the only one hit with a bout of nostalgia and dreading separation.

It had been a while since they all slept in the same room. It was a necessity at first, born from the fact Anne barely had enough money to afford even a single room in inns. Even after she’d won the thousand cress prize in Philax, she kept her frugal ways.

It was only after the second royal fair, once Anne made sugar master and established her reputation, earning herself a commendable wage, that they started to rent extra beds or, on rare occasions, extra rooms.

And then everything went down the drain when Rafael fen Rafael returned, upheaving their normalcy. Once things had settled down, their new normal was for Mythril to sleep on his own while Shall kept watch over Anne, sitting in a chair or lying in nearby bedding.

This would be the first (and probably the last) time in months they would share a room.

“Fine.”

“Please, please, please! I promise I won’t make a peep! I’ll even— what did you say?”

Shall laid down, covering himself with his blanket. “Go to sleep, Mythril Lid Pod. It’s late.”

When Anne came back, she found Shall and Mythril lying side by side. The smaller fairy was sprawled out like a star, his eyes closed. Not wanting to be left out, she slipped in with them. Shall scooted backwards to give her more space.

“Good night, you two,” Anne said.

“G’night Anne… Shall fen Shhhh…”

It wasn’t long before the two were asleep. Shall adjusted the covers over them and watched over the two people most precious to him.

--

“Don’t!”

“You can’t!”

“Someone, stop him!”

“Easy for you to say!”

“What’s all this ruckus about?” Bridget asked, pulling away from where she was putting the final touches on Anne’s make-up. She frowned at the muffled screaming. The door to the dressing room shook and rattled, as if someone was leaning against it.

“Bridget, you gotta help us!” Elliot shouted from behind. “Lock the door!”

“What’s going on, Elliot?”

“Move aside,” Shall said. His voice might be muffled, but his annoyance was clear.

“I told you man; it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony!”

“That’s ridiculous. I should be able to see my wife whenever I want.”

“You’re not married yet, you dumbass. Show some patience.” It was Kat.

“Actually, they are. They signed the paperwork months ago.”

Mythril gasped, as if realizing he had let slip something he shouldn’t have.

Too late. It was like someone had sucked all the sound out. You could hear people’s breathing with how quiet it was.

“What?” pretty much everyone shouted in unison. Bridget turned to Anne, gaping, whereas Noah tilted his head in confusion, not understanding the fuss.

Anne would have buried her face in her hands if she didn’t risk ruining her make-up. Of course this would get brought up right before the ceremony and in front of all of their friends. Gathering the poofy skirt of her wedding dress, she made her way out of the dressing room, intent to explain the situation.

Instantly, six pairs of hands blocked Shall’s line of sight. The fairy huffed.

“When Shall and I looked for someone who could officiate our marriage, most of the priests we asked refused to.” Many of them had squirmed at the idea of a human and a fairy marrying, the result of decades, if not centuries, of subconsciously ingrained bias. “I told Hugh about this, and he said that as silver sugar viscount, he was authorized to oversee our marriage. So we signed the paperwork with him and Mythril as our witnesses.”

The silent was thick and heavy, everyone processing the information. It was Elliot who broke down first, bursting with laughter.

“That’s— that’s—” He could barely speak with how hard he was laughing. “Oh man, and you guys call me a schemer.”

“It wasn’t like we were trying to hide it!” Anne retorted, cheeks puffing. “It was just a formality.”

“Only you would call being married on paper ‘a formality.’”

“Because it is!”

“Sorry to break it you, kiddo, but that paperwork is as binding as any vow. As far as the kingdom’s concerned, you’ve been husband and wife for months now,” Hugh added with a smirk. He looked all too pleased and amused at Anne’s embarrassment. “Though I suppose if you asked Shall, he’d say it’s been even longer.”

The fairy crossed his arms, but didn’t deny Hugh’s claims. Anne was glad for the heavy layers on her face because she was sure her blush would have been as bright as the sun. She certainly felt as warm.

“You look very pretty, Anne,” Keith said, changing the subject. It triggered a flood of compliments from the other guests, their kind words overlapping.

“Yeah, you look great!”

“Beautiful.”

“Hey, where’s your veil?”

“I got it!”

“You’re all doing this on purpose,” Shall grumbled. He could easily have plowed through the crowd to check on Anne or moved aside the hands blocking his vision, but he had grown tolerant of his friends’ shenanigans.

Anne was filled with a surge of appreciation for her fiancé. He had come so far compared to when they first met.

“If you’re all ready, how about we proceed with the ceremony?” Glen said.

“Go on ahead, everyone. There’s something I want to say to Shall.”

Her friends looked at Anne, then back at Shall, uncertain.

“Shall, are your eyes closed?”

“They are.”

“There you have it. I promise I’ll be quick.”

Satisfied, they all filed down the hallway, headed for the altar, leaving Anne alone with Shall.

Given the opportunity, she took in her fiancé’s (husband’s) appearance. He had always been a beautiful man, with fair smooth skin, glossy dark hair, high cheekbones, and a sharp jaw. His striking features made people’s heads turn.

Some might find his wedding outfit simple — a long dark tunic over breeches, with jewel-patterned embroidery lining his shoulders, his sleeves, and his lapels — but in Anne’s opinion, it only made him more handsome, if that was even possible.

“So you’re allowed to stare all you want, but I can’t look at you?”

“Just a little longer. Once the ceremony starts, you can look.”

Anne grabbed and squeezed his hands, a small compensation for all his patience. His hands slowly traveled up her arms, her shoulders, and curled around her jaw, as if trying to perceive her through touch since his eyes weren’t allowed. Anne felt goosebumps at the feel of Shall’s strong and slender fingers on her bare skin.

“You better not shy away,” he breathed.

“I-I won’t.” Anne felt tongue-tied by their proximity. She felt like she was getting sucked in, but she resisted the urge to move in for a kiss — she wasn’t sure she’d find the strength of will to pull away. “Sorry about earlier. I forgot to tell you about that little tradition.”

“It’s fine. I waited years, I can wait a few more minutes.”

She smiled, even if he couldn’t see it. “Then let’s not waste any more time. I’ll be going first.”

She turned around, but was stopped in her tracks as arms wrapped around her waist, firm and unyielding. There was a puff of hot air on the back of her neck, and Anne’s whole body tensed when she felt a pair of lips on her skin. She squeaked as they moved up to behind her ear. Her legs trembled and her heart was pounding in her temples.

“S-Shall…”

“Tradition says I can’t look, not that I can’t touch or taste.”

Anne’s mouth was dry. She was frozen in surprise and excitement, but just as quickly as he had embraced her, Shall let her go. There was a satisfied and smug look on his face, even with his eyes closed.

“See you soon, my future wife.”

She didn’t need to be told twice, and basically sprinted out of there before Shall got more handsy and frayed her nerves. She met with Glen right outside the doors leading to the altar. He had offered to give her away, as she didn’t have any blood family, and Anne couldn’t think of anyone better suited for the role than a father himself.

“All set?”

She took a deep breath. Her heart was doing flip-flops in her chest and her hands were faintly shaking as she linked arms with Glen. “All set.”

He smiled at her, calm and reassuring. All their friends were seated and chatting with one another, but the second she stepped in, they turned to look at her. Elliot, Nadir and King hooted, Kat, Keith, and Valentine waved, Orland nodded and Bridget smiled at her, and Mythril jumped up and down in joy.

Anne waved as she passed each row of guests. She deliberately avoided looking at Shall, waiting for her at the altar. She knew whatever expression he made would make her weak in the knees.

Glen led her down the aisle, and she swapped his arm for Shall’s. She kept looking at her feet. It would be embarrassing to stumble and fall at this point.

Finally, once they stood in front of Hugh, their officiant, she allowed herself a glance at her fiancé (and on paper husband), immediately regretting and glad for her earlier choice.

She had been right. Shall was looking at her like she was the sun and he a sunflower. His eyes were intense, half-lidded and heady, and his strong features showed a fierce warmth and passion. She felt both like running away and wanting to stay in place to bask in such a rare expression.

“Alright everyone, I’ll be officiating this ceremony. I won’t bore you with a long speech,” Hugh said. The attendees got quiet, expectant. “Anne Halford, will you take Shall fen Shall for a husband?”

“I do.”

“Shall fen Shall, will you take Anne Halford for a wife? Will you love her from now on for better or for worse? In sickness and in health? In silver sugar obsession and in creative drought? In—”

Everyone snickered and even Anne giggled quietly. It was obvious Hugh was doing this to aggravate Shall, who bore the unnecessarily prolonged vows with admirable patience. Anne could tell when he tuned Hugh out, because he rolled his eyes and decided to look at her instead. They shared a smile, expressions soft with love, as they waited for Hugh’s speech to end.

“I do.”

“Good. Any objections from the guests?”

“None! You know there’s none!” Mythril yelled. “Hurry it up!”

“Then by the powers conferred to me as silver sugar viscount, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss—”

Shall didn’t need to be told twice nor was he going to wait a second longer. In one swift move, he’d lifted Anne’s veil and leaned in to kiss his proper wife.

“—the bride. You know, it’s rude to interrupt people when they’re talking.”

Cheers and shouts and clapping and confetti and flower petals burst all around them, swallowing Hugh’s friendly teasing. Not that Anne and Shall paid any mind to anything that wasn’t their spouse. They pulled back from their kiss, grinning, forehead and nose touching. Their happiness was obvious.

And just as all those weeks ago when they received the invitation, everyone shared the same thought.

It’s about time.

[teecupangel]

Another Yew Branch offset Idea - Desmond reborn as Federico/Claudia.

So this would have a similar premise to Little Sparrow. Let’s start with what they both have in common:

Well, Desmond’s going to try and keep the timeline the same as usual… at the start

He’ll soon start to fuck shit up because he comes to love the Auditores like his own family and he can’t… watching Ezio growing up, growing up with Ezio… seeing the smiles and innocence he’d soon lose… he can’t do it. He can’t let Ezio suffer through that tragedy again. He can’t let his family suffer

Soooo… remember how Desmond had to suffer through the pain of replacing Petruccio in Little Sparrow? How he believed he has done something truly horrible and he had taken somebody else’s place? That’s what’s going to happen here. Not only that but he would feel that he’s always less than Federico or Claudia had been.

He’ll definitely be more rebellious in this scenario but his rebellious streak would appear differently depending on who he has been reborn as.

And he'll be a complete mama's boy/girl regardless because Maria Auditore is just awesome (and has a less complicated relationship with Desmond)

What if Desmond has been reborn as Federico?

In this scenario, Desmond would dote on his younger siblings, especially Ezio.

Everyone would see that Ezio is his favorite and Ezio would be proud of it.

Desmond would also feel more ‘at peace’ with dying in Federico’s place in this one.

But, at the same time, his love for this family would be the one to finally get him to break away from what is supposed to happen.

He will definitely break away a bit later, maybe two years before the day the Auditores are meant to be executed.

In this scenario, Desmond would definitely show his displeasure over Giovanni’s loyalty to Lorenzo and it will be a source of conflict between them. Giovanni tells Desmond that he will understand when he grows older why allying with the Medici is the right thing to do for the Assassins. Desmond knows that it makes them complicit and blind to the Medici’s own shortcomings.

This is also a branch where Desmond has a high chance of just going off script and taking down the Templars before they can make trouble. Perhaps not all of them but definitely the ones in Firenze.

Desmond would be going against Giovanni’s orders more often than not because of their conflicting loyalty (Giovanni to Lorenzo and in keeping Firenze safe and stable, Desmond just going for the kills without thinking about what would happen if he kills influential and powerful people)

Whether they end up repairing their relationship as father or son really depends on Giovanni’s priorities because the whole Medici thing is something Desmond isn’t willing to compromise on. Not when it compromises their family.

What if Desmond has been reborn as Claudia?

This one is more complicated.

For one, Desmond wouldn’t necessarily act like how a noblewoman would act.

This includes joining Federico and Ezio with their shenanigans.

There would be rumors of how unwomanly she is and she would be called ‘Messere Claude’ behind her back as some kind of derogatory petname.

This being Desmond, she ignores it.

But her brother won’t and they’ll get into fights because of it.

Desmond will also be close with Petruccio since they’re close in age and she and Petruccio spend a lot of time indoors because Desmond doesn’t have any friends thanks to his ‘peculiarities’.

Desmond also likes to wear Ezio’s clothes and the only thing stopping her from actually cutting her hair is Maria’s love for her hair.

Giovanni wouldn’t train her even though he knows that Desmond is the most skilled of his children. He’s still hoping she would ‘calm down’ and find better hobbies.

Oh and Duccio? He spread a rumor that he had sex with Desmond but Desmond beat the crap out of him so bad the doctors fear he will never have children ever.

Desmond is like… the black sheep of the Florence nobility but she’s also one of the most entertaining topics, that’s for sure. A lot of young men and women definitely have a crush on her.

Desmond’s the reason why the Auditores wouldn’t be captured although they would need to leave Firenze.

Giovanni wanted her, Maria, and Petruccio to go to Spain where they will be safer but Desmond was like “fuck that” and demanded she be an Assassin.

Giovanni, seeing her skills and the look in her eyes that just screams ‘if you say no, I’m going to do something you’re gonna fucking regret’, finally relents.

However…

Giovanni has Ezio and Federico keep an eye on her just to be safe.

In this case, AC2 and Brotherhood’s plot becomes a three-man job for the Auditore children.

And Petruccio takes care of the books back in Monteriggioni XD

[nellyofthevalley]

spawn, ch.1

astarion x fem!tav…

rating: explicit content: NON-CON, tragedy, violence, lots of cazador, dead dove, probably death at some point, i don’t know it’s a lot, fuck or die summary: cazador uses the one thing astarion cares about to exert control over his favorite spawn in the worst ways.

“My boy, you’ve not been paying attention. I never needed you to be my spawn to control you. Leave if you like,” says Cazador. “But first, tell me, what do you think I will do with her if you leave? And where will you go running off to?” Tav just looks at Astarion across the room, accepting of what’s to come, eyes begging him to leave. She shakes her head, telling him not to stay; to save himself. If he left, she would be granted a fate worse than death, he knows it. To kill her would be a mercy. Cazador has never shown mercy. 

chapters: ch.1 | ch.2 | ch.3

read it on ao3 or below the cut:

No. No no no. Anything but this.

When Astarion rises that morning from his nightly trance, Tav is gone without a trace. No sign of struggle, no note, nothing. Only an empty bed. He panics, pacing around the room, trying to think. 

Maybe she’d had enough and left him. Maybe it was too much for her—he’d warned her of that, that he came with a lot of baggage, and he thinks that maybe she’s finally wisened up. Still, Tav was never one to be so cold, he’s certain she wouldn’t just leave, right? She’d have the decency to tell him. 

Cazador still lives, perhaps she’s gone to take care of him herself. He’d hate that, but she’s always been pragmatic and the worry in her voice when they talked about facing him was evident. Tav had asked him so many times how he was feeling about the ritual, clearly hoping he’d changed his mind since the last she’d asked, and he’d gotten frustrated with her. She could have taken things into her own hands to prevent him from completing it. 

No. No, he knows the truth, and he knew it from the start, much as he’d rather deny it. It was bound to happen, he’d given Petras and Dalyria an earful, and his siblings had come for him once already on Cazador’s orders. Cazador knew he’d taken a lover, he had to; he’d watch from the shadows and force every last minute detail out of the mouths of his brothers and sisters. 

Cazador has her, he’s sure. He took her. Worse, Astarion’s sure this means they’d been watched for longer than they thought; it’s the first night they’ve stayed in separate beds for awhile, and now, only tonight, she’s gone?

It’s hard to believe; they’d already won the battle against the Absolute, and Cazador is nothing compared to that. And yet, he’d managed to whisk her away, right under his nose, having perfected the art of capturing people, by many means, over the centuries. Astarion blames himself—they’d put off facing Cazador for too long and now she paid the consequences for it. 

He has to go alone. If he doesn’t, Cazador will surely kill her as soon as he dares to step foot in there with allies, and he can’t risk it.

For a brief moment, Astarion wishes she’d simply left; he thinks it and holds onto it with a little naive hope. She’d shown him how to feel again, and he could re-learn that, even if it took centuries. But he couldn’t re-learn it if her very essence had been stolen from this world. Not in a century, not in forever. 

Cazador is waiting for him in the ballroom. There, with his six siblings, and by Cazador’s side, Tav; her hands and legs tied, her mouth covered with tape. He would give anything to trade places with her. Gods, just seeing her like this—she hardly looks like herself, bound and helpless, but those amber eyes and braided hair he’d recognize anywhere.

She looks, outside of the restraints, to be untouched. No blood, no bite marks. Still her. 

“Welcome home,” Cazador announces with a smirk, tightening the grip of his hand resting on her shoulder. “Are you done with this… outburst of yours? Are you ready to take your place as my good little spawn again?”

Astarion disregards his words, trying to focus. He can’t get distracted, can’t let Cazador’s manipulation work on him. It’s not about him. It’s about Tav. He can’t be imperfect. Not now.

“She has nothing to do with this,” he says. 

“Ah. You thought you could disobey me and go unpunished? You’re the same stupid boy you’ve always been,” Cazador mocks. “She has everything to do with this.”

“You can’t compel me anymore, you can’t order me!” The desperation in Astarion’s voice shows; already, he’s losing his composure as the walls close in around him. He’s wrong, and he’s aware of it the moment he speaks.

There’s no way out. The moment Cazador got his hands on Tav, it was sealed. It doesn’t matter if he can be compelled or not—he has no choice in the matter. The only variable now is how cruel it will be. If he can get Tav out alive.

“My boy, you’ve not been paying attention. I never needed you to be my spawn to control you. Leave if you like,” says Cazador. “But first, tell me, what do you think I will do with her if you leave? And where will you go running off to?”

Tav just looks at Astarion across the room, accepting of what’s to come, eyes begging him to leave. She shakes her head, telling him not to stay; to save himself. If he left, she would be granted a fate worse than death, he knows it. To kill her would be a mercy. Cazador has never shown mercy. 

“This is your home, we are your family. The only ones you’ve known and will ever remember,” Cazador taunts him, reminding him of the old life long lost to his memories. Astarion is already his, malleable and ready to serve him, ready to bargain with his life.

“Fuck you! Just take me. Take me back,” he pleads, his lips burning with shame as he does it. “Let her go. Don’t you fucking touch her!”

“Oh, I won’t lay a hand on her. Foolish child of mine,” Cazador says. “You will.”

“What—? No…”

“Can you imagine how much I loved to hear about your ego and boasting when Petras ran back to me? Spending all this time thinking you’re the master. You’re still nothing but a putrid, hopeless spawn. Look what you’ve done to her.”

“No,” he repeats.

“Come now, don’t be difficult. If you want to be a master so badly, take it. I’ve taught you how, now prove to me you’ve learned your lesson. Take the pleasure you crave from her body, make her yours,” Cazador commands, beckoning him forward. “Whisper little apologies into her ear while you defile her, tell her how sorry you are. We’re all dying to see your performance. Do it well enough and I’ll let her leave.”

How did they get here? How did they fall from grace so fast? It was mere days ago Astarion had fantasized about how he’d kill Cazador, how he’d take the ritual for himself. How sweet it would be to get his revenge and walk in the sun again. 

Cazador leans over, ripping the tape off Tav’s mouth and leaving a streak of red behind. “Go on,” he says. “Talk. Put on a proper show for your audience.”

“Don’t you fucking listen to him,” she immediately insists; the words had been clawing at her mouth for release. “Leave me. Please! Go.”

“You don’t understand,” Astarion replies, his face resigned to anguish, any fight he had left gone. “You don’t know what he’ll do. I can’t leave you here.”

He approaches her—what else can he do?—and kneels. He can’t stand to look in her eyes anymore. He needs her to become any another victim to him, but it’s an impossible task. He turns her around and shoves her forward, putting her on her hands and knees, just how he’s done so many times before.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into her ear, how Cazador told him to. “Forgive me, my love.”

“This isn’t you,” Tav says. “It’s okay.”

Even now, she sees the good in him; he doesn’t deserve her, he never did. She doesn’t see the truth. This is him. This is what he was made to be.

Astarion places his hand on her back, shaking, still trying to find it within himself to be this person again. This monster. His hand slides up her neck, to her hair, grasping at the strands and craning her back. A little sparkle of tears welling at her eyes dampens his very soul. 

With what small freedom he retains, he positions himself to drink from her. He inhales, taking in her sweet scent; Tav, by habit, leans to offer herself. Before the opportunity can pass, he breaks skin with his fangs, biting hard and indulging in her. Reaching for the only thing that can bring him any sort of relief.

Cazador doesn’t intervene; he watches, relishing in witnessing his favorite spawn’s barbaric display. Astarion’s messy, painting his lover’s skin red; his lack of care is reminiscent of a wild animal. It’s exactly the point. To turn him into a creature and to take away the last bit of his humanity. His siblings ache, the metallic smell of blood in the air intoxicating them, drawing them in. All they can do is watch their dear brother fall apart, piece by piece. 

Tav utters a harsh groan as Astarion sinks his fangs deeper, drinking more; he’s aggressive, he’s taking too much and she can do nothing about it with her hands tied and her voice tired. He forces himself to separate from her, and the sight of blood trickling down her shoulder and collarbones rouses him in a visceral way he can’t control.

Astarion lets her hair go and violently pulls her pants down to her knees. He frees himself, moves her underwear aside and pushes into her. She cries out for him, in despair he’s sure, but he tosses the thought away; he must. Has to pretend every noise she makes is no different from the ones she made for him in the forest, so many months ago. 

Tav whimpers beneath him as he takes her, burying himself as far in her as he can, each thrust fiercer than the last. Drops of blood seep from his death grip on her hips. He tries to remember a better time, but what better time was there? When he’d slept with her before, that wasn’t real—he was manipulating her, charming her as he’d done to so many others for Cazador. How their relationship blossomed later didn’t change that or make it any less of a tainted memory.

Now he’d missed the opportunity to touch her, to really touch her how he’d wanted to. Astarion had dreamt of the day he’d be ready to lay with her again. In his fantasies, he’d be reborn again with her, forgetting his countless experiences and learning everything anew with her as his lover. He’d imagined discovering what he liked together, how he’d awkwardly kiss and touch her all over, paying close attention to what made her warm, what made her heart accelerate, and the spots that made her melt to his touch.

“I love you, we’ll be okay,” Tav reassures, a quiet murmur under the sounds of him ruining her heart and body.

Cazador’s words echo in Astarion’s mind: ‘whisper little apologies into her ear while you defile her’. He can’t do it. An apology, like this, is meaningless. How do you tell someone—the person you care about most, the only person you care about—you’re sorry while you hurt them like this?

He always did love how patient she was with him, and how their sexless relationship didn’t seem to take up even a moment of her thoughts. She was just happy to be with him, showering him with kisses and affection he’d never known before. And this is how he’s repaying her. 

His hand finds her hair again and he pushes her face down to meet the cold tile floor.  Astarion can’t hear her, can’t face her, can’t see those tears he knows are there. He has to separate himself from her. His eyes close and he focuses on the feeling, the best he can. 

In his mind, he pictures the forest. In spite of the pretense, they had fun, and he can still remember how beautiful she looked in the moonlight. She rolled and offered her neck to him, trusting him, something she never should’ve done. Drinking from her then was such a rush—it was still new, to drink from a thinking creature, and he could feel her body awaken and warm for him when he did it. She enjoyed it, and that made it all the better. There was satisfaction in knowing he was giving her something, too. 

Astarion thinks of what he’d do to her now in better circumstances. How he’d fuck her slow, fast, in every position and every surface. He’d tease her and make her beg for it, denying her finish until she did. Her body would writhe beneath him, a silent plea, but he would take his sweet time with her until she was sweating and feisty and yelling at him to fuck her proper.

Then he’d finally let her come undone. He’s hardly aware of his own undoing when it arrives, lost in his thoughts of what could’ve been. When he looks down at her, he feels disgust, like when he’d turned away, his body had been taken over by another that moved and felt for him. It hurts to see her now, her lovely skin coated with disheveled trails of thick crimson, her face glued to the ground, and his own shame spilling out of her.

“No,” he says only, cursing himself again, spirit shattered. With what little pieces of his mind remain, he tries to redress the both of them and then sits there, wishing it all away in a futile effort; the Gods never answered his calls, and they wouldn’t today. 

Cazador’s voice booms across the ballroom again, but the words go right through Astarion’s ears, his senses shut off to the world, and his soul a thousand planes away or more.

It’s not until one of his siblings comes to take Tav away that he’s back in his own body. 

“No! You can’t,” he yells in disbelief; foolish for it, foolish to believe Cazador would do anything less than the worst. “I did what you asked!”

“Yes, and you did such a poor job of it. You’ve let yourself become too soft!” Cazador’s laugh echoes through the ballroom and shakes Astarion’s core as reality settles in. “Because I so kindly believe even someone as arrogant as you is worth teaching, I’ll show you how to be a real master. Godey will see you back to the kennel.”

“Fuck you,” Astarion cries, but his body is subservient, yielding to Godey’s grasp. “What will you do with her?”

“She will stay in my chambers,” Cazador answers, taunting him, flaunting his power. “At least you can do one thing right—this one is quite lovely. You picked well.”

Stripped of his weapons, armor, dignity. He has nothing. Nothing but her. Maybe, just maybe, together, they could get out… they could escape… Not now, another time. Though he doesn’t understand why, he still hasn’t felt the call of Cazador’s magical pull after ridding themselves of the tadpoles. It means all they need is a leg-up, some sort of advantage, and they can be free.

So long as Cazador doesn’t make her his spawn.

Astarion retches at the thought of it. If Cazador turned her and became her master, that would utterly and truly destroy him. It makes him sick, just thinking of her in Cazador’s chambers, in his bed, him touching her—what does he have planned for her? It was rare they ever saw Cazador taking a special interest in anyone, and the spawn had learned to never show love. He’s learning that again, now, the image of her after he’d finished is burned into his memory, and the knowledge that he’s the one who made her that way. 

When he’d refused to bring his master that lovely boy he couldn’t stand to hurt, he’d been locked away for a year, alone, in silence and darkness. The worst year he could remember. But he’d never stopped to consider what had happened to that sweet boy.