#i believe it and it makes sense but. fuck. almost wish i could unread it. not exactly the happy ending i was dreaming of

[soup-or-who-lock]

finally finished Youngbloods by Scott Westerfeld tonight and having emotions about it :| Frey delivering Evil straight to the one place they don't want it via a necklace, exactly like Tally did all those years ago. Tally nuking everything in sight to prove a point and stop some of the damage she takes credit for, nuking her own reputation in the process (and maybe that means she's free now, maybe she can just go and live her life and be a person, because she hasn't been allowed to be a person since she became the face of Revolution. maybe now she can just sit in the woods and enjoy the breeze)

[cursedwriter]

Dancing with your Ghost - Fushiguro Megumi

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist 

Warnings: Deals with death, Megumi has various breakdowns, it’s just really sad over all... sorry for making you cry in advance! 

Words: 4.9k

Author’s Note: Kind of inspired by this song: Dancing with your Ghost - Sasha Sloan // Also, when they dance, I kinda imagined them to dance to this: Technicolour Beat - Oh Wonder 

“Is he still in there?” Yuji pointed at the door by the end of the hallway. Gojo was walking in his direction, his expression unreadable.  

“No matter what I tell him, he won’t come out.” His voice sounded tired, almost worn out. The sight must’ve been hard for him to bear. Itadori gulped. He wasn’t sure if he could take it. “You should try talking to him. Maybe he will listen to you. We both know he would regret it if he missed the ceremony.” Gojo patted Yuji on the shoulder, hand lingering for a few additional seconds in silent comfort.

“I’ll try my best,” Itadori nodded, though, he sounded more hopeful than he was. This was going to be rough.

Soon after, Gojo disappeared behind the corner and out of sight. His shoulders were slouching and his head was hanging low as if he couldn’t walk upright. This was hard on everyone. But the person who had it the worst of all was…

“Fushiguro, can I come in?” Yuji knocked on the door three times. No answer. He tried again. This time more forceful. “Hey, Megumi! It’s me, Yuji! Do you mind if I come in?” Still no answer. Itadori sighed, but he pushed the door open anyways, peering into the dimly lit library of the Jujutsu Tech High school. Admittedly, he’s never been in here before. Yuji wasn’t really the non-fiction reader… or anything that wasn’t manga, really. But upon entering the room, he couldn’t help but gawk. The shelves were stacked to the max, piling up above his head in a seemingly endless supply of books. There were books everywhere. The amount of knowledge that was stored in here was immense. And all about curses and jujutsu? Incredible! Maybe he should’ve come here sooner. He bet that there had to be at least a dozen books about Sukuna here somewhere.

“It doesn’t make any sense. It doesn’t make any sense.” Itadori was pulled out of his thoughts by the repetitive mantra that was coming from somewhere behind a shelf. He followed the sound that was mingled with quiet sobs and he had to force himself to keep walking. This was more terrifying than facing all the curses of this world together.

“Megumi?” He peered around the shelf, finding his friend sitting on the old wooden floor, frantically flipping through a book with yellowed pages that seemed to be falling apart at the seams. It must’ve been ancient.

“No sense, no sense, no sense,” he repeated over and over again as if that phrase was the only thing keeping him sane.

“Megumi?” Itadori tried again and finally Megumi’s head snapped up and he looked at Itadori like a deer caught in headlights… only way worse. His eyes were bloodshot with dark purple circles underneath them. A stark contrast to his sickly pale skin. Briefly, Yuji wondered if Megumi had slept at all since it happened. Tears were streaming down his face and it felt like they would never stop. An endless river of sorrow and despair. Yuji was sure he heard his own heart shatter in his chest as he looked at his best friend. He wished he could take some of the pain away. Even if it was just a little, but of course that was impossible. “The ceremony will start soon and-“

“That’s stupid!” Fushiguro cut him off harshly, his voice hoarse and quieter than usual. “Why would there be a freaking ceremony when she’s coming back?!”

“Megumi, she-“

“No! Stop it!” He yelled, throwing the book he was reading against the opposite wall. “Stop it! Shut up!” He pressed his palms against his temples as if he wanted to crush his own skull. “I’ll do it, you’ll see! All of you! You’ll see! I’ll bring her back! I’ll bring her back, okay?! I will – I will!” He repeated it over and over again and it was apparent that he wanted to proof himself right more than anything else. Maybe making him believe would help ease his pain? Should he encourage him? No. Despite wishing that he could provide some words of comfort right now, Itadori knew that false hope would be the cruelest thing he could offer. No matter how much it hurt, but Megumi couldn’t go on like this… searching for something that wasn’t real.

“Megumi, please. You’ll regret it if you don’t come,” Itadori tried again, picking up the book that Megumi had thrown away. He flipped through the first pages and he could already tell that the answers Megumi was searching for weren’t in this book. It was mostly about how sorcerers could reincarnate as curses if their dead bodies weren’t handled properly. If they died you had to make sure that the last hit was infused with cursed energy. Usually, that took care of things. However, if they died of natural causes, diseases or accidents there was a special ritual, a ceremony that made sure their bodies were put to rest accordingly. Kind of like a funeral, but then again, not quite. This was the ceremony Fushiguro refused to attend, even though it was highly valued among sorcerers. It was a way to pay your last respects, value their accomplishments and thank them for their sacrifice. He probably refused to go because that would make her death final and he would be forced to move on, no matter how hard it would be… and it was going to be very hard.

“SHE’S COMING BACK, DAMMIT!” Megumi yelled at him, reaching for another book that was stocked in a pile he’d built himself. The tower crumbled with the way he yanked it out, dozen books falling to the ground, scattering to their feet. It was eerily quiet for a second, Yuji didn’t dare to speak. The atmosphere so thick, he doubted even Maki’s demon blade could cut through it. And then, right when he wanted to say something, anything really to get rid of the suffocating silence in the room, Megumi started sobbing. Not like before. Impossibly, it was even worse. His whole body shook with the action, hands that were clinging onto the book were trembling and despite him hanging his head low, Yuji could see the frequent tears that were hitting the old worn out pages of the book, blurring the ink further, making it almost unreadable.

Hesitantly, he took a step forward, but he wasn’t quite sure what to do. Should he hug him? What could he even say? Should he call for someone? Gojo-sensei? Would he know what to do? Or Nobara? Or, wait! Y/N always knew what to do when it came to him… Oh, right…

Yuji slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. How could he forget?! It really didn’t feel real yet, huh? Itadori tried to swallow the big lump in his throat as he crouched down and gently took the book out of Fushiguro’s shaking hands. He looked so fragile, as if a single slap to the wrist could break his arm.

“I just don’t get it,” Megumi whispered. His voice sounded far away, as if he was underwater or as if Yuji had cotton in his ears, muffling his voice to a point where it was almost incomprehensible. “It’s just so unfair.”

Yuji placed the book on the ground beside him, skipping over the title “Resurrection and the balance of the world”, it read. He gulped again. Could it be possible?

“I know it is.” He laid a comforting hand on his shoulder and another muffled cry escaped Megumi’s mouth. Yuji had seen a lot over the course of just one year, but not once has he witnessed such utter despair. The sight pulled on his heart strings in ways he couldn’t even explain.

“She fought against the most heinous creatures every day and you’re telling me she died because some fucking asshole thought it was a good idea to drive while being absolutely shit faced?!” Some of his words were swallowed by his sobs, but Itadori understood him well enough. “I refuse to believe that! I refuse to accept that!”

Momentarily Itadori was thrown back to the moment they got the call, he remembered it all too vividly. The shock, the confusion and his scream…

“I’m sorry for your loss,” the nurse led them into the room. The air was chilly and it smelled like disinfectant.  The stench so unbelievably strong, Megumi thought he might throw up. It burned in his eyes and nose and he distantly felt his cheeks getting wet. He couldn’t tell if it was because of the smell or of what was to come… at this point, it still felt like a sick joke, some twisted game or prank. Just not real, like a dream, a nightmare he would wake up from any second.

There was a single bed in the middle of the room, the body underneath covered by a white cloth. Gojo, Nobara and Yuji gathered around it, hands clutched together in front of them as if they were silently praying. Megumi hesitated. He stood in the doorframe, looking at the scene in front of him and nothing seemed to make sense anymore. Everyone was crying. Even Gojo seemed more tense than usual and he was sure he saw a stray tear slip from underneath his sunglasses.

The room was silent, except for the door falling shut behind him as the nurse left them to mourn in peace. This was a dream, right? A nightmare? How could it be anything else?

Megumi’s footsteps echoed off the walls as he hesitantly approached the bed covered in white sheets.

This is just a dream. This is a nightmare. You’re going to wake up any second now. Just wake up. Wake up! Wake up, dammit!

But he didn’t wake up. Not even as he reached for the white cloth. And he didn’t wake up as he slowly lifted it up. He didn’t wake up when everyone sucked in a sharp breath. And he didn’t wake up as Nobara’s knees buckled and she fell to the ground sobbing. He didn’t wake up as he laid his eyes on your peaceful but lifeless face.

Megumi didn’t wake up. But God did he wish he did.

He stood there for what felt like an eternity. Studying your features. How your hair was softly flowing on the pillow, how your lips were slightly parted as if you would wake up at any given moment and tell him something important. But he also noticed that your cheeks lacked their signature pinkish tint and your lips were more blue than their usual vibrant red.

His hand inched closer to your face, connecting to your cheeks and adoringly caressing it. It was cold underneath his touch. Your skin feeling more like wax than it felt alive.

No one said anything, the only sound was Nobara’s quiet sobs that she tried to stiffle to the best of her abilities. Everyone watched Megumi and no one knew what to do. Neither of them has ever felt so helpless. Even Gojo was rendered speechless at the heartbreaking sight in front of him.

And then, everything slowly started to sink in…

She’s gone.  She’s gone. She’s really gone! You’re not waking up! Why aren’t you waking up?! Wake up!! No, no, no. This can’t happen. This can’t happen. This isn’t happening! Tell me this isn’t happening?!

Didn’t I just talk to her this morning? Didn’t we talk about going to the beach as soon as it got warmer? Didn’t we make dinner plans? Didn’t she boast about a new recipe she wanted to try? Didn’t this just happen? And you’re telling me that all of that is just… gone? Just like that? In a moments notice… poof?! Evaporated into thin air? You’re telling me that?

“Wake up, dammit! Wake up, dammit! WAKE UP!”

Everyone stared helplessly at Fushiguro. At first no one knew if he was talking to himself or you, but then he started desperately shaking your shoulders, repeating the words over and over again. “We wanted to go to the beach, remember? You told me you couldn’t wait! Come back, and I’ll drive us right now! Come back! Come back to me, please! Please!”

Gojo couldn’t bear the sight anymore. The way he shook your body as if that would change anything. With a few long strides he closed the distance between him and Megumi and pulled him away from the bed. He was thrashing at him, screaming in his face to let him go, but Gojo didn’t listen. He gladly took a hit or two if that meant Fushiguro could get at least some of his frustration out of his body. To Gojo, the room itself was a hard place to be in – for obvious reasons. The energy here made him feel uneasy and on edge. The amount of cursed energy gushing out of Megumi was immense and almost unbearable. He had to get his emotions in check or else…

Megumi continued to yell and thrash. “Let me go, you bastard! Let me go! I need to see her! I need to see her!”

“I understand that this is hard for you, but you need to calm down!” Gojo’s voice was stern. This was probably the first time ever that he actually put on the façade of a responsible adult. Nobara and Yuji watched the two with wide eyes, but didn’t interfere otherwise. “If you keep this up, you might end up cursing her! Do you want that?!”

“Let me go! Let me go!” Megumi wasn’t listening.

“Megumi, snap out of it!” Gojo’s palm connected to Megumi’s cheek, his flesh burning hot where it had connected. For a moment, the room was silent again. Only Megumi’s labored breaths broke through the thick tension.

“You bastard!” Megumi launched himself at Gojo with all his strength, but that was exactly what Gojo intended. It was better if he directed all his energy towards him than having it leak out of him uncontrollably. Otherwise he had the potential of manifesting a new special grade curse that neither one of them wanted to deal with, especially if you were to be reborn as said curse.

Megumi stopped his relentless attacks, knees buckling under his weight as a single agony filled screamed echoed off the walls…

Megumi slowly opened his eyes. His head was aching, blood soaring in his ears. What happened? He looked around himself. The room was dark, only illuminated by the moon light that peered through his partially closed blinds. He was laying in his bed, the room a mess just like he remembered. That was unlike him. Well, ever since that day he hasn’t been himself at all. Now, he more or less felt like an empty shell, existing but not alive.

He groaned, sitting up while he rubbed his temples, hoping to get the relentless throbbing to stop. Ah, that’s right. A few flashes of the previous events reminded him of what had happened. Megumi’s frustration and anger had gotten the best of him and he started throwing books, ripping them out of their shelves and even tearing some of them apart when he couldn’t find the answers he was looking for. Yuji had to call for Gojo and he in turn had knocked him unconscious.  

Megumi huffed. Great. Now he was probably not permitted to go to the library again. He should really start thinking before lashing out like this. No, matter, though. If push comes to shove he’d find a way in and if it’s the last thing he did. He didn’t really care anymore anyways. What’s the worst that could happen? Expulsion? That was nothing.

He peeled the covers back, his shirt sticking to his body uncomfortably. Maybe he should take a shower before he went back again.

Reluctantly, he got up and walked towards his bathroom, mindful not to trip on anything that was scattered on his floor.

Once he was there, he turned the shower faucet on, letting the water heat up while he stripped out of his clothes. His head was still killing him and his whole body ached. He shivered, even as he got into the shower and the hot water burned his skin. He was still cold. For some reason he didn’t seem to be able to get warm anymore, as if you took all of his warmth with you, when you left him.

“Ew, stop doing that,” you laughed wholeheartedly as Megumi shook his wet hair in your face after coming out of the shower. “Seriously, are you a dog?”

“No, but I love hearing you laugh.” Megumi wrapped his arms around you, pressing your back against his naked chest as you both watched your reflection in the mirror. “I really love you, Y/N. So much,” he whispered in your ear, not taking his eyes off the mirror. He could see the faint blush on your cheeks and he placed a soft kiss to the nape of your neck to emphasize his words.

“I love you, too.” The smile on your lips and the way your eyes sparkled with joy, filled his heart with warmth and light. He could bask in it for all eternity and he would never get tired of it.

Megumi turned the water off, still shivering. It was to no use. His skin was burning red, though, and the whole room was filled with steam and yet, he had goosebumps all over his body. His teeth started clattering as he dried himself and he put on new clothes.

The clock on his bedside table told him that it was three in the morning. He felt like he forgot about something… something important. What was it again?

And then his eyes widened in shock. No, no, no.

“Hey, look!” Megumi felt your slender fingers wrap around his wrist, your warmth immediately warming his cold skin. You tugged him gently and he followed you. It didn’t take long for you to reach your desired destination and you stopped, eyes shining with awe in them as you watched over the city, lights sparkling and illuminating the darkness. Megumi couldn’t deny that the view was breathtaking, but he couldn’t keep his eyes from constantly looking at you instead. The way your face lit up, the way the lights danced on your face and how your cheeks were always tinted in their usual pinkish color, made him fall for you all over again. His heart hammered in his chest and his pulse picked up. Butterflies assaulting his stomach in the best way imaginable and he felt like he was floating above ground. Never has he felt so happy. “There! It’s starting!” You beamed at him as the first flash of light painted the night sky in a bright blue color, then it changed to red and then green. The sound of other fireworks being set off rang through the otherwise silent night. Here, on top of the mountain away from anyone, it was the most peaceful place he could imagine. But he wasn’t sure if it was only because of the view and the fact that no one was around or if it was because you were here. Whatever it was, he didn’t dream to fight it. The feeling so foreign yet so welcomed.

Suddenly your hand appeared in his line of vision and he didn’t hesitate to take it. What he didn’t expect was you starting to spin around. It took him a moment to catch up. “C’mon, Megumi, what are you doing? Don’t just stand there so stiffly! Dance with me!” You urged him on and Megumi felt his cheeks heating up in embarrassment. He could only hope that you couldn’t see it.

“There’s no music, though,” he said, trying to find an excuse to not make a complete fool out of himself. You see, Megumi wasn’t a dancer. Give him a choreographed fighting formation and he could do that no problem, but moving his feet to the rhythm of a song? Nope. That was sure to end in him tripping over his own feet and in the worst case break his leg or arm.

You rolled your eyes at him, but instead of saying anything, you reached into your back pocket to get a hold of your phone. It didn’t take long and the sound of the fireworks was mixed with the soft tune of a song that he didn’t know. “Better?”

Well, not really… Megumi scratched the back of his head, unsure. Better to come clean, I guess. “You see… I can’t really dance… like at all,” Megumi stammered.

“So what? I can’t dance either,” you laughed, spinning around and jumping up and down like it was the most normal thing to do. The smile on your face never faltered and you did another spin, throwing your hands up in the air, moving them around awkwardly. Megumi couldn’t help but laugh at your awkward movements. You looked so silly, it was hilarious. “See? Now it’s only fair that you make a fool out of yourself, too. You can’t leave me hanging like this!”

What the hell, right? Megumi started moving his feet, still super stiffly and anything but graceful, but he did it. He looked at you, following your movements and it didn’t take him long to get the hang of it… well, somewhat at least. He still looked really awkward and helpless, so you reached both your hands out for him again and he grabbed them without hesitation, just like before. You started spinning both of you in circles, giggling at the way his face lit up slightly. He joined your laughter, looking at you with the most adoring smile in the world. It felt… so easy. Everything with you felt so easy.

So now it was just the both of you, spinning around in fast circles, laughing at the night sky filled with stars while in the distance the sound of fireworks slowly died down. The music playing softly in the background, but you didn’t even care that the rhythm of the song didn’t match with your movements at all. Nothing mattered in that moment. Just the two of you. Together. Forever.

“Ah, I was wondering when you’d show up.” Gojo scratched the back of his neck, smiling apologetically. “Maybe I was a bit too rough, when I knocked you out. Sorry about that.”

Megumi stared at him sitting in the front row of lined up chairs. The room was only dimly lit by the candles at the other end. The soft light they cast illuminated a picture of you in a black frame. It was the same one he had saved as his phone background. Megumi gulped, feet moving on their own as he approached Gojo, though, he felt his knees wobble unsteadily. The air became thicker and thicker with every other step he took. It felt excruciatingly hard to breathe. It was suffocating.

Megumi sat down on a chair next to Gojo, forcing himself to tear his eyes off the framed picture in front of him. If he didn’t he was afraid he might break down again. So he shifted his attention to the man in the chair next to him. He was already looking at him, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, as usual. There was a slight frown in his features, though, and his mouth was pressed into a thin line, a stark contrast to his normally giddy self. So Gojo could be serious, huh? Who would’ve thought? Bet you would’ve loved to see him like that…

“Megumi,” Gojo broke the silence first, his tone soft, but there was a certain sternness behind it that Megumi didn’t know he had until now. It left no room for interpretation. This was going to be a serious talk and Fushiguro didn’t know if he was ready for that yet. “I know that losing someone you care about is not easy and I’m not trying to pretend that I know exactly what you’re going through right now, but I’m telling you as your sensei and as a friend… you have to move on. And that means you have to stop looking for ways to bring her back.”

Megumi opened his mouth to tell him off, but Gojo just held a finger up to show him he wasn’t done yet. The crease between Megumi’s brows deepened, but he kept his mouth shut regardless. “The world works under a few distinct principles. Rules that cannot be broken, if you will. Like we know that after the sun sets, dawn will come. With darkness, there is light and no matter how harsh a winter might be, spring will always come next. And the pinnacle of those rules will always be that with life there comes death. We don’t get to choose when this’ll be or how it’ll happen, but from the moment we’re born we know without a doubt that we’ll have to leave this place at some point. Death is certain. It’s but one part of life and disrupting that cycle, breaking one of the unbreakable rules, would cause the whole system to fall apart. It would level the ground for mayhem and destruction, nothing would make sense anymore. The world would crumble. As sorcerers you know that we protect the ones who cannot protect themselves, but we also maintain balance and Megumi… while I do understand your desire to see her again, I have to warn you… even if there is a chance, I won’t let you do it at the expense of everyone else’s life.”

Silence fell between them again. Megumi had a hard time believing that these words really just came out of Gojo’s mouth. Deep down, he knew he was right. He knew it was a futile plan to bring you back. It was selfish and irresponsible, but he was so… desperate. So desperate to hear your voice again, so desperate to listen to you laugh or complain, so desperate to feel your delicate and warm touch on his cold skin. He was so desperate for these things; he couldn’t think straight. His mind felt foreign to him without you there. He didn’t know who he was, who he would be without you by his side. He didn’t know if he wanted to be in this world anymore with his source of warmth and comfort gone. They said, time healed all wounds but as of now that seemed impossible. Just a thing people told themselves to keep moving forward. A lie that was supposed to protect oneself from the cruel and harsh truth that the world didn’t stop spinning, that time passed by and that dawn always came… no matter what. The world moved forward regardless if you were here or not and it felt like a cruel joke to him. Nothing seemed the same. He didn’t recognize anything, looking at the world with different eyes. How could there be a world without you in it? Why was everyone moving forward while he was left behind? And how could they? How could they move on? Why didn’t the world stop spinning? It should. Because nothing felt right. Nothing was the same. And yet… that only held true for him.

Megumi wiped away his silent tears with the sleeve of his shirt. “But I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” he croaked out. It was the first thing that came to his mind. He replayed the morning with you over and over again and he couldn’t remember if he said goodbye to you when you left that fateful day. Did he? Did he not? In any case, he would’ve never thought how final of a farewell it would’ve been in the end. “I don’t even remember the last thing I said to her,” he sobbed.

He felt beyond guilty for not being able to recall it clearly. Did he say ‘I love you’? Did you say it back? He wanted to believe he did, but he just wasn’t sure and it drove him insane.

“She knew that you loved her very much, Megumi. I’m sure she knew until the very end.” Gojo patted his shoulder a few times, before he got up. “Take all the time you need.” He left the room, closing the door behind him, but not before he turned around one last time, looking at Megumi with worried eyes. “But remember, Megumi… You have to move on eventually, no matter how hard it is. For her sake and your own… Just know that you have people in your life that you can rely on any time, okay?”

Megumi nodded and Gojo let the door fall shut behind him. The silence that ensued was almost deafening. Finally, Megumi let his tears fall freely, sobbing like a child and sucking in air after shallow breaths.

Everything hurt with you gone. How could he ever move on? How could he ever love again? Megumi was scared he might break in half. How much pain could someone even bear? Though, deep down he knew that he didn’t have a choice… He had to try. And he would try his hardest to keep moving forward, holding on to that tiny glimpse of hope that one day he’d see you again. And when he did, he swore to himself to never stop telling you how much he loved you. Always and forever.

[dumdumsun]

And Dusk

A/N: Just a heads up, the sensitive content in this chapter will be marked "<<<<<<" as the beginning and ">>>>>>" to signify the end. The racial slurs used in this chapter were targeted towards African Americans (and still are) and I chose these because I, myself, am African American and used them as a sort of “default” for any POC readers. ⚠️Please, never use these towards anyone. Whether it be in a “joking” manner or not. They are hurtful and were created to be that way⚠️ I wrote this chapter the way I did to bring awareness. Proceed with caution. Much love ❤️

Warnings: ⚠️racial slurs⚠️, violence, mentions of guns and dying/death

Word Count: 3707

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Chapter 3: The Frankel Footage

Shaking himself out of his shock, Five stood from his seat and hurried after his brother, grabbing onto his arm and stopping his strides. “The hell is wrong with you, Luther? I just told you the world’s gonna end in ten days!”

“Yeah, well, you’re always saying that.” Luther nonchalantly spoke before moving away, but Five intervened yet again.

“And so far, I’ve been right.” He hissed as Luther sighed and shook his head.

“Look, you want to go save the world? Knock yourself out, alright? I already got a job.”

“Wait, you work in this shithole?” The boy furrowed his brows.

“Yeah. Well, my boss owns the place,” Luther only received a nod from his brother, so he clarified. “I’m his body man.”

But this only made Five even more confused. “What’s that? Like, a masseuse or something?”

“Okay, you can make fun all you want, but I take good care of Mr Ruby.”

“Wait, Ruby. The Jack Ruby? The gangster who shot Oswald.”

Despite Five’s concern, Luther proudly smiled a smug smile as he glanced over at his boss. “Yeah. The one and only.”

“Well, it finally happened,” Five sighed. “That gorilla DNA has finally taken over your mind-”

“Hey, watch it, alright? Jack’s a good friend-”

“And you’re Number One. Numero Uno. Remember?”

Luther clenched his jaw and shook his head. “There is no Number One. Not anymore. Not in 1963,” When Five stared at him in disbelief, Luther sighed again. “Look, I’ve been stranded here alone for a year. What did you expect?”

Five scoffed. “I get it, alright? You watched Pogo die, the world exploded, and I marooned your big dumb ass in time. I’m sorry, okay? But I’m asking for your help, Luther. The Umbrella Academy needs you.”

“It doesn’t need me,” He slowly spoke to draw out his words. “It never did.”

“Luther, honey,” The waitress from earlier approached the two. “Jack’s about to lose it on some half-wit. A little help?”

“Ah, shit,” He groaned and began walking away. When Five tried yet again to stop him, he whirled on him, his lips pulled into a thin line. “Listen. You’re the genius who said we should jump, right? You’re the one who got us stuck here. And you’re the one who brought Vanya. So, if there is a doomsday coming, she’s probably the cause. And if I was gonna do something about it, it sure as hell is not gonna be with you. That’s (Y/N)’s job, being dragged around into your messes-”

“I don’t drag her into anything.” Five swallowed, blinking rapidly.

“Yeah? Well, she wasn’t stuck as a thirteen-year-old and constantly worrying about her kids until you showed up. I’m surprised she isn’t sick of you yet.” And with that, he stomped away to his boss. This time, Five let him go, his words sending a pang through his chest as he thought back on it. Grabbing his drink, he sighed and shook his head.

“Dad should’ve left him on the moon…” He muttered, taking a sip of his drink before moving to leave his seat. When he felt his jacket snag on something, he looked down to see an object in his pocket. Taking out the tape, he frowned and turned it over.

Date: 11/22/63

Subject: FRANKEL FOOTAGE

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

This world was unfamiliar to (Y/N). She knew she had to have been somewhere in America, but she didn’t know where. The cars, fashion and stores bringing the street she walked to life told her she had to have been in the sixties. But she didn’t want to believe it. Surely Five hadn’t time travelled that far? She had to have been dropped during some type of sixties-theme festival. But the voices suddenly beside her quickly prove her doubts wrong.

“What do we have here?”

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a lost little colored girl.”

Tensing, (Y/N) continued her way down the sidewalk, slightly speeding up her pace, but the men fell into step beside her with ease, flanking her sides.

“You’re on the wrong side of town, girl.”

“Yeah, we don’t like coons around here.” One of them hissed right in her ear. Her eyes welled up with tears before the other shoved her forward.

“Gon now, get!” He ordered as if she were a dog. She realized that’s how they had seen her. An animal. Nothing more. Tripping on a crack in the sidewalk, she fell to the ground, smacking her face on the concrete. She choked out a sob as the two men cackled. And to make matters even worse, she felt the pitter patter of raindrops start to freeze her skin.

(Y/N) gasped out in shock when the men spit two wads of saliva in her face. She knew she must’ve looked a mess with spit and tears sliding down her cheeks and blood oozing from her nose. She hiccupped on her sobs and began to stand, much too tired from her previous fight with Vanya and literally being dropped from the sky to successfully do so. The men backed her up against a wall and one fisted the front of her vest before a voice called out.

“Take your hands off of my child!” Whipping around, the men were half expecting to find another target, but (Y/N) coughed and sputtered nonsense upon the person her gaze fell upon.

“M-Mom…?”

Before her was Grace, but… she wasn’t robotic in any sense. She could tell by the raw anger etched into her features. She took a brave step forward. “I said. Take your hands. Off my child.”

And that was another thing: her accent. (Y/N) was immediately comforted by the stern southern accent the woman shared with her attackers. It was a voice she never thought she needed. The two looked between Grace and (Y/N) with smirks. “You mean this lil ol’ jigaboo-”

“Is my daughter. Now you let her go before I call the police.”

“Woman, I don’t care if you call the police-”

Grace took it upon herself to step closer and grab the child by her arms, yanking her into her warm embrace. (Y/N) immediately latched onto her, quivering in her hold. The men scoffed and shook their heads, beginning to walk away. “Make sure to keep that thing on a leash if you’re gonna have it out, ma’am.”

“Oh, fuck off.” She growled before turning and walking back in the direction the girl came from. As they walked past the alleyway, Grace took out a handkerchief and began wiping the girl’s face clean of what the raindrops hadn’t already washed away. “It’s alright, hun, they aren’t gonna hurt you anymore.”

“T-Thank you.” (Y/N) sobbed and gently held her nose in pain. Grace crouched in front of her and gently held her face in between her hands.

“Don’t thank me, darlin’, it’s how everyone should be treatin’ you ‘round here… Where are your parents? I could take you to ‘em.”

(Y/N) thought for a long moment, watching as the rain soaked Grace’s hair and clothing. The woman didn’t seem to mind as she watched the girl before her swallowing thickly. (Y/N) skimmed over her current choices. She didn’t have any choice.

“I don’t have parents. I-I don’t remember them…”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

“I’m tellin’ you, Reggie, she’s highly intelligent for a child her age.” Grace proudly presented (Y/N) to the man she had grown fond of over their time working together. (Y/N), however, was frozen in her spot. Sir Reginald Hargreeves. The man whose death she had wished upon for years, whose death had finally graced her existence, was back in her life. She flinched at the disapproving look on his face, much too acquainted with it by this point in her life. “And she’s very respectful. Talented, too, this girl can speak several languages.”

“You seem rather fond of this child.” The man observed as Grace squeezed her into her side.

“She’s my pride and joy.”

“And you cannot remember anything of your past, child?”

“N-No,” (Y/N) shook her head and stared down. “Not a lot. J-Just my name and birthday.”

Reginald hummed and stared her down with an unreadable expression. When she met his eyes again, he was crouched down to her level, his monocle clutched in his fist. “(Y/N), was it?”

“Yes.”

“It would be an honor to have your presence within my home, along with your mother.”

“O-Oh, that’s okay-”

“I insist. Besides, you have been living with her for almost half a year, correct? It is highly unlikely that she will share a home without you.”

“He’s right about that, hun,” (Y/N) glanced up at Grace, who was smiling warmly at her. “I’m not leavin’ you.”

(Y/N) could have cried.

And she did.

One year later, (Y/N) had been living quite the comfortable life with Grace and Reginald. She had been introduced to the ape, Pogo, for the second time since Grace first started working with him. As much as she loved being around the chimp, it brought back so many memories. She almost felt silly, looking after him sometimes knowing he had done the same for her in the original timeline.

Her relationship with Reginald was nothing she ever expected. He was gentle, well as gentle as Reginald Hargreeves could get, he cared for her, spoiled her, even. She wouldn’t have to ask for anything half the time. If he were to overhear a conversation between her and Grace about a dress she oh-so wanted, it would suddenly be laid out on her bed the next day. She usually had a say in dinner meals every Thursday and Sunday and Reginald listened intently whenever she would voice any discomfort or concerns with her living conditions. (Y/N) never had a real father, but she assumed this is what it was like to have one. She never wanted to let go of it.

For her birthday in 1963, she was surprised that he had actually gotten her a present. As she entered the parlor, she was met with the tiniest bark and an even tinier golden retriever, bounding up to her. She gasped and stopped low, letting him jump into her arms. She let him lick her face and giggled in the joy it brought her.

“Your mother said you would like it. Though I would never allow dogs in my house, I have come to understand that there are rules I must bend for you, my child.”

(Y/N) turned to her father. Yes, father. Reginald, also growing quite fond of their father-daughter bond formed between them, decided to adopt the girl. As much as his beliefs and his deep distaste for children protested. There was just something about this child. Or perhaps it was Grace’s insisting, reassuring him that he would make a wonderful father. (Y/N) was very hesitant at first for her own reasons she never shared, but eventually came around to the idea of being his daughter again.

This was the same Reginald Hargreeves who locked her in a dark room for five days straight, but also an entirely different man. Perhaps it was her fascination with the differences, or maybe she just wanted a real father for once.

“Thank you, Dad.” She softly smiled, the man nodding in response.

“But this is your pet, (Y/N). It is your responsibility. I will not find it in my study, in my bedroom, you are to train it yourself-”

“Can you-”

“And no, I will not help you pick out its name.”

The girl softly groaned and looked back down at her new puppy. Looking into its eyes, she smiled softly at a distant memory as a small child.

“Welcome to the family, Mr Pennycrumb.”

-------------------------------------------------

(Y/N) groaned when she felt the sunbeams of the early morning sunrise hit her eyelids, coloring her black vision with the stinging fire of orange. Rolling onto her other side, she stretched her blanket over her head. They were yanked away the next second, causing a whine to leave her lips. “Mom… Five more minutes.”

“I let you sleep in long enough, hun, it’s time to get up. You have a date with Preston this afternoon.” Grace gently pulled her daughter to sit up, giggling quietly at her look of disgust.

“Preston? Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously, let’s get goin’.” Grace patted her leg and walked to her door, waiting patiently. (Y/N) sighed and rubbed her face, letting her feet slide into her slippers. As they descended the stairs to the kitchen for breakfast, Reginald could hear his daughter’s sleepy complaining from his place at the table.

Setting his utensils down, he turned his head in their direction. “My child, how many times throughout each week must we have to repeat this conversation?”

“Until it starts making sense.” (Y/N) stepped into the dining room, now in her robe, and crossed her arms over her chest. Reginald sighed and stood from his chair at the table.

“You are one of my greatest accomplishments,” He began towards her. “There is no doubt in my mind that you would make a fine successor. I do not believe you will need a husband. In fact, you would be better off without another individual holding you back from what you are truly capable of.”

“But?” She raised a brow.

“But… I have grown to know you more than I expected… and I know that you would need someone to help manage your finances you inherit once I am gone. Preston is a fine young man who was born into this life, made into this life. He will take good care of you.”

(Y/N) knew there was only one person in this world who would truly take good care of her. But he wasn’t here, and she needed to play the part as the amnesiac adopted daughter, so she huffed and nodded. “Fine… I’ll go…”

“Thank you-”

“But only if Mr Pennycrumb can go, too.”

“Very well, but you will not be gifted another animal if you lose it.”

The outing wasn’t entirely bad. (Y/N) didn’t mind the picnic or the art museum, it was the company that made her blood boil. Preston is anything she would have expected out of him. This had been their seventh date, tenth of the ones he planned. (Y/N) sought out any opportunity she could to cancel on him to save herself from the unbearable three hours she would have to spend with the kid. He was arrogant, smug, selfish, narcissistic, and overbearing. Of course, this was not the Preston he presented to her parents. No, to them, Preston was ‘a fine man with a bright future ahead of him’, or as Grace would put it, ‘a delight to have around’. He laughed like a drunk, talked like a husband, and smelled like a man. All at the age of fifteen. (Y/N) had to remind herself on several occasions that she was mentally the older out of the two and to not stoop to his level when he got under her skin.

“Don’t you think, (Y/N)?” The voice brought her attention back to the boy beside her. She looked up from the grass they had been strolling through. When she hummed in question, he amusedly scoffed and side-step closer to her. “Never mind. I should have known you wouldn’t have been interested in politics.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” The girl raised a brow. At her confusion, he laughed and gently tapped the side of his head.

“You’ve always got that head of yours in the clouds. Or turned behind you- like right now.”

(Y/N) turned her head away from where she had been looking over her shoulder. “What? Sorry, Preston, I’m a little preoccupied today.”

“With what, exactly? You don’t seem to be the type of girl to have very many issues. Nothing to worry about.”

“And you wonder why I don’t listen to you.” She sighed as her puppy ran in between her legs, rolling in the grass once he was a few paces in front of them. Preston frowned in distaste and shook his head.

“You should really keep that thing on a leash, sweetheart.”

She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes, clenching her teeth as she folded her hands behind her back. “Really now?”

“Really. You know, I’m not very fond of dogs, so I’m not sure how it’ll work out once we’re married. I think we should get one after we have kids, you know? Just so the kids could grow up with it.”

(Y/N) quickly turned her head to the left, pointing out across the street. “Preston, would you look at that?”

“Look at what?” He gullibly looked in the direction, (Y/N) quickly checking the area before almost silently singing her tune. From her shadow, her clone formed and robotically walked behind the two. She quickly switched spots with it and ordered the clone to walk with Preston before scooping her puppy into her arms and rushing off in the opposite direction. Once she was behind a diner far away from their date location, she let out a sigh and gently patted her dog on the head.

“Were you sick of it, too?” She chuckled. Resting the back of her head against the brick wall she leaned on, she let out a slow breath and began to relax. The sound of guns cocking had her head snapping up so fast, she swore she could have dislocated it. Just down the end of the line of stores were three white-haired men, one in a milkman uniform, training their guns on her. (Y/N) didn’t waste a second tucking her dog in front of her and spinning around, charging down the opposite direction as bullets whizzed past her. She dodged them the best she could, jumping a few feet in the air at the ones that threatened to take their place in her feet. It was like a dance; the twisting, spinning and jumping, and she was to perform this dance until one of those bullets killed her if she didn’t find a way out soon. Sliding to the side of a clothing store for cover, she gently shushed her pet as she caught her breath.

The three sets of footsteps eventually found their destination and rounded the corner with skilled quickness, shooting at the girl until she was nothing more than a bloodied corpse on the ground, bullet holes lodged in almost every inch of her body. The three men nodded to each other and turned around, making their way out from behind the stores.

(Y/N) had already been down the street from her house by the time her attackers found the clone in her place. She couldn’t have been bothered to check herself for any wounds, too worried about Mr Pennycrumb’s potential bullet wounds. But the pup was perfectly, happily nuzzling into her arms and wagging his tail. This left (Y/N) to ponder.

Who the hell were those men?

-------------------------------------------------

“Is it on?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know? There’s an ‘on’ button. Just- There’s something over- that jigga-ma-thing, whatever.”

“I hit the jigga-ma-thing!”

“Okay, well, just- Give it to me. I know how to do this.”

“Alright, here, here. Hurry up.”

“Okay, alright, let’s see…”

Lila didn’t look up from her task of painting poor Elliott’s toenails, his bindings he received after threatening the trio with a gun preventing him from moving too much. Which was beneficial to her, as it kept her from ruining the paint job. She softly smiled as she listened to the argument between the elderly couple on the film Five and Diego were intently watching. “They’re so cute,” She commented. “I love old couples. I’m always so proud of them for not murdering each other.”

Ignoring her, Diego turned to his brother from his seat on Elliott’s counter. “Why are we watching this?”

“Shush.” Five replied, eyes trained on the film before him, searching for any clue to the approaching apocalypse, brows furrowed in concentration.

“Yeah, I… I’m Dan Frankel. And…”

“I’m Edna Frankel.”

“...Edna Frankel. We are in Dallas, Texas, to see the president. Today’s date is November 22, 1963.”

Five nodded as everyone’s attention was brought to the projected screen before them.

“That’s six days from now.” Lila spoke as Elliott thrashed about more against his bindings. Diego sat forward in interest.

“Holy shit. This is it. The grassy knoll. Kennedy’s about to get shot. How do you have this?”

“Hazel died to get me this footage,” Five answered. “It must be the key to stopping doomsday.”

“Hazel…?” Diego frowned, remembering the man he spent hours searching for and planning to kill to avenge the death of Eudora Patch.

“Long story.”

“What’s doomsday?” Lila looked up at the boy.

“Longer story.”

“What exactly did he say to you?” Diego asked as Lila turned her head back to the film.

Five shrugged. “Well, he was killed before he could explain. But whatever he wanted us to see, it’s on this film.”

“This is very exciting.” The old man smiled before the sound of gunshots and screaming could be heard, the camera moving around in blurs due to the shock of the old woman filming.

“Oh, my god!”

“Oswald…” Diego whispered, setting his knife down as Five leaned in closer.

“The president!”

When the camera was steadied to record across the street, Five and Diego both stiffened in their spots at what their eyes caught. “Oh, no…” Five breathed and moved behind the projector, rewinding the film and scooting the cart backwards to zoom in closer. The room was silent as Diego stood to his feet and Five rounded the cart before standing beside his brother, directly in front of the film. “This can’t be…”

“Okay, you gonna fill me in now, boys?” Lila glanced between the two. “What the hell is this shit we’re watching?”

But she was ignored yet again.

“No, that’s impossible…”

“Clearly, it’s not.”

“What… What is it?” Elliott muffled past the gag in his mouth.

A beat of silence went by before the two Hargreeves whispered in unison,

“Dad.”

—————————————

Taglist: @unfortu-nate-ly @sapphicsyn @m00n-sh @starcurrent @alexander-hamilhoe @youcandalekmyballs @wonderlandfandomkingdom @yrdadjstcallsmekatya @sm0kingcrack @a-t-h-r-e-e-n-a @moatsnow @bubblegumflamingos @starstormssymphony @meowiemari @magicalgothpandamaker @simping-4-fictional-men @hehehehannahthings @harrystylescherrie @rhain3 @himikaphoo @zerocanonlywriteshit @xxeiraxx @camerondiaz48104 @isawachickeninatree

[slightlycrunchy]

Number 7 “ who did this to you? “ “ silence* “ hey, look at me. look at me. who did this to you? Some Dadzawa and Shinson?

Thank you, Sam. I haven't written dadzawa in too long! 🥺

Dadzawa and shinson, WC 1000~, rated G, pretty fluffy honestly

It's not really the fact that he's tied to a tree, wrists bound and mouth covered, scalp digging uncomfortably into bark, that bothers him. It's not really that he's sweating through a fabric that wasn't made to be breathable or comfortable in any sense of the word, or that he can hardly take said breaths through the small opening left for him above his lip, nose whistling with each wheeze, either. No, while none of those are pleasant, that isn't the part that makes his cheeks heat with shame.

No, that comes from who finds him, an hour (he thinks) after he’s been left to be found.

Hitoshi could roll his eyes at the universe right now. You’re a fucking asshole, he projects strongly into the astral plane. Of course it wouldn’t be anyone else other than a very specific dark figure making their way over the crest of the hill.

Aizawa.

It all plays out in slow motion to Hitoshi, the wildly searching eyes squinting in recognition, confusion turning to concern. Hitoshi stopped struggling a while ago, but he picks it up again now, simply out of embarrassment. He has to show that he fought, that he tried. As Aizawa walks closer, Hitoshi feels his breath catch in his chest, his failure writ plain for his mentor to see; wrapped up tight in his own capture weapon.

“Shinsou,” Aizawa says gently, only spending a moment to take in Hitoshi’s entire mummified body before starting on the knots around his hands. Never did Shinsou understand the length of his capture weapon better than now, when the lengths of it have been wrapped around him multiple times. The ends at his wrists come loose, followed by the ones at his chest, mouth, forehead. The other boys had held him down roughly, and he had fought, his skin turning red with scrapes against the tree.

He thought he had been alone; just another way he failed. He didn’t hear them coming.

Hitoshi can't look up at Aizawa when the man is done, grey fabric piling onto the ground with a soft rustle at Hitoshi’s feet that does nothing to betray what the cloth had been used to accomplish. Hitoshi can’t help eyeing it warily from the corners of his vision. His own weapon used against him...how pathetic.

“Shinsou, look at me please.”

Hitoshi’s stomach plummets to his feet, falling out to rest right next to his scarf, he’s sure. He feels heat behind his eyes and tries to blink it away rapidly.

“Please, kid. It’s alright.”

Aizawa is being so gentle and Hitoshi hates it. He loves it and he hates it. How long has he wanted something like this? An adult showing clear and obvious care for him? But not like this, he thinks hatefully. He’s so unbearably selfish, isn’t he?

Unable to disobey Aizawa in anything however, Hitoshi finally looks up and immediately wishes he hadn’t. Aizawa’s face is flat--’unreadable’ is usually what Hitoshi would call it but now he can swear he sees the disappointment already felt radiating off of the man. This is it. This will be the final straw that Hitoshi has been expecting from day one. Aizawa will tell him the words he’s been ready to hear, “You couldn’t even do this one thing? Fight back against a few teenagers that were probably smaller than you? Pathetic.”

But those aren’t the words he hears.

“Who did this to you?”

It takes a moment for Hitoshi to realize his mouth has gone agape, closing it with a snap. He can’t look anymore, eyes darting back to the ground--

“Hitoshi.” There’s a hand on his shoulder now, firm and warm, warmer than the summer heat that soaks Hitoshi’s clothes even under the shade of the tree. Some of the sweat is from his fear, but whatever. He’ll ignore that bit. He can’t ignore the hand though, his focus pinpointed on his own body. He hears Aizawa sigh heavily.

Oh, now Hitoshi understands.

Aizawa wants to know who did it, so that he can be sure just how much of a fuck up Hitoshi is.

“I don’t know their names, sensei,” he begins, every word hard won from his own mouth. He feels like he’s walking to his own death, and he clasps his hands together in front of him so that Aizawa can’t see how they shake. “I think they were a class above...maybe. I dunno.” His words fade into a whisper. Every second of this is horrible.

The hand disappears, slowly and just as gently as it had come and with its lost weight Hitoshi knows this is it. He nearly flinches when Aizawa opens his mouth to speak.

“That’s fine. Nezu has cameras all over this place, I’m sure we can find them. Attacking other students is prohibited, and both he and I don’t take it lightly.”

Hitoshi can’t help it now as his head shoots up, lips parted in disbelief as he stares at Aizawa. “Wh-what?”

Aizawa’s face is still calm, though maybe Hitoshi imagines a sort of fire in his eyes, an intensity he only gets when he and Hitoshi spar.

“‘What’, what kid? Did you think I wouldn’t care that I found my student tied to a tree, road rash all up and down his arms, sweating in this heat with no access to water for an unknown amount of time? I do care. I care a lot.”

And god Hitoshi believes him.

Aizawa always does this, says things like there would be no other way to interpret them, like every word that comes from him is law and fact and shouldn’t be challenged. Hitoshi wouldn’t dream of it.

His chest suddenly feels lighter than air.

“You hungry? It’s almost dinner time at the dorms,” Aizawa says, shifting his weight almost imperceptibly as if he is done with all of this, but not in a cruel way. He almost seems uncomfortable. Hitoshi feels a small smile tug at his lips.

“Yea, sensei. Starving.”

❤️Send me prompts

[drxwsyni]

Petrified (pt. 9)

Yandere Erasermic x f!Reader

SERIES MASTERLIST

a/n: This part is really short, and honestly not that good. But seeing as this whole series is a mess, not much is new lmao. Thank you to @sawamooora for beta reading ilyyyyy <3 <3 <3

*Sidenote*: Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the taglist!

3.4k words

Warnings: Descriptions of past dubcon, gaslighting.

Waking up, you wished the metaphorical blanket of comfort wasn’t ripped off of you the moment you opened your eyes.

It was an uncomfortable contrast.

While one blanket was ripped off, a real, physically tangible blanket weighed down on not just you, but the two sleeping men who had you sandwiched in between them. Seeing Hizashi on your right, and Shouta on your left was all you needed to be plunged into a dreadful confusion.

Your body hurt. An ache creeped through your spine as you sat up, only to realize you were completely bare. If the pain spreading across your skin wasn’t enough of a clue as to what had ensued less than twelve hours ago, then the evidence marring your body would be.

An intense throbbing radiated from your backside, prompting you to lean over on your elbow. Pulling down the covers, your eyes landed upon the black and blue patterns littering your skin, trailing down to the tops of your thighs. It seemed that both your wrists and hips were adorned with similar bruises, the only difference were those being distinctly fingerprint shaped. No one position completely alleviated the ache.

A sting emanated from your neck and shoulders as you lightly traced over the series of wounds, feeling remnants of bite marks and long scratches. In examining the bedsheets, you were convinced that the patterning of the fabric wasn’t tricking your mind. Little blotches of blood were just barely visible where you once laid.

An indiscernible cloud still hung over your mind, even if it was only slightly there by now. A fog that was muddling your memories, blocking whatever had gone down between you and the men at your sides. Nothing you could recall really felt concrete, at least for now―the possibility of memories returning over time being not all that unlikely. In the present however, the only indicators to tell you what happened were the marks they left behind.

And based on those―you were certain that it was never something you would’ve agreed to.

The morning sunlight was beginning to stream into the room, breaking through the small divides of the curtains. One glance at the alarm clock placed on Shouta’s nightstand told you that it was just over half past five.

On a Sunday morning, neither of them had anything to do. Naturally, the two were still sound asleep. You envied how peaceful they seemed, bathed in morning light, free from worry―a contrast to the nauseating unease you felt.

Becoming more and more horrified by the second, drowning in your thoughts and grasping at what they had done to you, the only one thing that stood out was your need to get the fuck out of there.

As carefully as possible, for fear that one move too harsh would wake one, if not both of the so called heroes, you peeled back the blankets from your battered form. Proceeding to crawl down to the foot of the bed, you gave a glance over your shoulder―just to confirm that the two were still sedated in slumber.

You let out a shaky breath upon confirming that they were, returning to swiftly taking your leave. But in the split second, when a whimper of pain left your lips, body doubling over at the burning enveloping your core as you settled your weight to stand—you were immediately sure their perception as trained heroes would alert them to the noise.

Though still, the steady rise and fall of Shouta’s chest, and the now relaxing sound of Hizashi's light snoring, put your nerves at ease―even if only a little.

Your clothes from last night weren’t in the bedroom, but neither were theirs. In finding a steady trail of frantically discarded articles leading to the living room, you could finally abandon the suffocating atmosphere that was their home. Freedom was the only thing on your mind as you hastily dressed yourself and grabbed your bag from the foyer.

_____

Hizashi Missed Call (7) 10:48 AM

Hizashi Text Message (16) 10:32 AM

Shouta Missed Call (3) 9:54 AM

Shouta Text Message (5) 8:12 AM

It would seem the shake in your hands would be uncontrollable until the foreseeable future, sighing as your phone lit up once again. Perhaps it wasn’t the wisest idea to disappear with no warning, knowing how the two could be when they weren’t in the know of your every move.

Yet, if they knew just how downright terrified you were to stay until they woke up, maybe they’d understand your unceremonious leave of absence.

Unfortunately, they didn’t. Neither of the heroes seem to be all that knowledgeable of how they affected you, what they did to make you fear them.

For so long you tried to bury that anxiety you felt with them. They crossed the line of innocent concern a long time ago with their intrusiveness. And now, with the marks they left behind, spanning across your body and leaving a searing pain as an unignorable reminder of just who they were under their doting facade―you couldn’t simply disregard what this relationship had turned into.

It was toxic.

The safety they should provide feeling ripped away in their presence.

It was suffocating.

Even when you were alone, there always seemed to be an inescapable weight upon your shoulders, mind guessing as to when you’d see them next.

It took you until now to realize it, until they’d done something you couldn't quite ‘forgive and forget’―but you finally knew their tactics, what they’d been doing all along. They were predatory in every sense of the word, targeting your weaknesses to seek a self satisfying goal.

With each missed call and unread text message, you cursed yourself for not fighting your way out of their grasp before it became nearly inescapable. That, and there was a painful tinge of shame riddling your body with how you’d let them handle you.

Most of last night was all but impossible to recall, but the existing memories told a clear story. They made you feel good, really good. Even in whatever stupor they’d placed you under, it’d be impossible to forget the intense and repeated sensations the two men made you reach.

The thought alone had you nauseous, knowing the circumstances of how you ended up like that.

In any case, the idea at the forefront of your mind was that there’s no time like the present. Especially since you were quite literally adding fuel to the fire by ignoring them. You couldn't change what they’d done to you, but you could change what happened going forward.

It was simple―you never wanted to see the two faux heroes ever again.

Hizashi had been trying to contact you for the better half of the hour. But what really bothered you was how Shouta stopped doing so a while ago―better to know what he was up to than the radio silence that only made the pit in your stomach worse.

Though it wasn’t all that bad―it would be easier to stomach the voice of Hizashi, especially over the phone, given what you were about to tell him.

A new call came through. On the final ring, you answered.

“...―Shou’, I’m not gonna stop till she―”

With the sudden absence of noise, it wouldn’t be hard to believe that the call had ended. Though, silence between the three of you was never short. Never before, and still not now.

“...(Y/n)?”

Your jaw clenched in worry, hearing Hizashi use your first name instead of a not so endearing pet name. Laced with the exhausted sounding disbelief, you could tell even over the phone that he wasn’t doing so good.

Part of you almost forgot to respond, his voice alone bringing you back to last night. When you did, you winced at the unintentional shake which you couldn’t control.

“Y-Yeah, I’m here.”

“Oh, thank god. What―Where did you run off to? Gave us a damn heart attack when you weren’t in the house.”

For someone so physically fit, Hizashi sounded like he just ran a marathon. Although, you suppose given the scare you put him through, the out of breath reaction was understandable.

And relatable, as your heart rate was beginning to pick up, anticipating how they’d soon handle your message.

“I, uh...I went home before you guys woke up…”

You could practically see the perplexed expression on his face, the sound of confusion coating his words.

A small laugh of disbelief came through the speaker. “Well there was no need for that, sweetheart.”

As if your body was trying to expel the extra energy from the adrenaline you were using to have a steady conversation with him, you began mindlessly wandering around your apartment.

“I just didn’t...feel comfortable? N-Not after what happened, I mean―last night shouldn't have happened, at all. So I left.”

The two heroes were back in the living room of their home, where they found your stuff missing in the morning. Shouta’s eyes narrowed at your words, hearing them clearly over the speakerphone. He shared a glance with his partner, the latter seated on the couch and nervously bouncing his leg.

“I’m not so sure I’m following. I don’t wanna embarrass you or anything, knowin’ how shy ya get, but...you were screamin’ our names last night. Don’t see how ya could’ve had a bad time, songbird.”

That detail in particular was one of the many occurrences from then that escaped you. With your memory being in shambles, it was pretty much a ‘he said, she said’ when it came to what happened.

...Pretty much.

The things that did stick, well...you almost wish they didn’t.

While all the fleeting events you knew of didn’t leave a good taste in your mouth, certain details made you sick to your stomach.

“I’ll never get sick of seein’ ya like this, songbird.”

The ones you couldn’t explain, and left far too many possibilities of theoretical context. Most of them being a worst case scenario for you.

“…You saying we should speed things up?”

Or, the ones that could be easy to pass off as playful teasing, if it weren’t for the darker undertones that made your wild imagination run rampant.

And when the things they whispered lowly into your ear became a jumbled mess of inebriated nonsense, you could still rely on memories of their touch. How they held you, early in the night when you weren’t completely lost to both natural and unnatural chemical influences. The sensations of frustration, only met with feelings of being restrained. They way it felt almost practiced, as if they were planning to do whatever they did long before it actually happened.

Unconsciously, you wandered into your bedroom, anxiously pacing all the while. The safety of its familiarity was sedating, to an extent.

You shook your head, trying to figure out how you’d get your concerns across to the two men. “That’s...That’s not the problem. Well it is but―the whole thing was just a bad idea.”

A muffled, irritated sigh could be heard. “No, something must be going on with ya. It’s probably better we talk this out in person, yeah? You home right now, sweetheart?”

In typical Hizashi fashion, he failed to respect your boundaries. You let out your own sigh of annoyance, spinning on your heel to face your bedroom’s window.

“There’s nothing―”

...You were most definitely certain that you closed your window before leaving yesterday.

Forgetting that you were in the middle of a very heated conversation, the hand that was holding your phone to your ear fell slightly. With the one that was free, you pulled the frame closed.

…

And it creaked back open.

The latch was busted.

Deft fingers grazed the metal frame, where it would typically snap shut, and stay shut. While it wasn’t untypical for these kinds of things to break, knowing that your apartment complex wasn’t exactly the newest, the fault didn’t sit right with you.

And, when you set your phone down, using one hand to hold the window closed, the other to keep it in place by fastening the lock, you found that too equally damaged.

...Almost like someone tried to leave out the window, in a hurry at that. Which would explain it being left open, and how the aggressiveness of the action would render the whole thing completely useless.

The sound of your name being called through the speaker brought you back to the main issue at hand. Picking up the phone, you could only continue where you left off.

“There’s nothing else to talk about. Whatever relationship the three of us have...I don’t want to be a part of it anymore.”

You managed to shock yourself with that, not actually believing you had it in you to really put your foot down.

Hearing the radio silence that followed, you knew he was more shocked than you were.

It made you wonder if he was more fucked up on one substance or another than you were last night—the sheer level of denial Hizashi was in over the whole thing.

“...Don’t talk like that, gonna give me another heart attack. Two in one mornin’, that’s awfully cruel, dontcha think?”

You were always one to shy away from confrontation, but now was not the time for that. The chance to cut your ties with them in this moment was as best as you would likely ever get.

“I’m not okay with what this has turned into, Hizashi. Not remotely comfortable, and—“

“Where are you, (y/n).”

...

Shouta’s voice.

“...This isn’t something we should discuss over the phone.”

It shamed you that all Shouta had to do was address you in that low, gravely voice of his, and you were instantly regretting every decision you’d made since picking up the phone. He certainly had an effect on you; no matter how many times you dealt with his tone, you could never quite get used to the sternness.

You swallowed dryly, still eyeing the unnaturally broken window.

“I-I’m not telling you where I am. You need to respect my decision on this…”

But if they couldn’t respect the privacy of your own home, why would they care about your newfound insistence?

...

The thought of the two men being culprits to the property damage popped intrusively into your head. Wildly associating it to be an explanation to the fragments of blissed out proclamations, whatever “seein’ ya like this” meant.

Your grip on the cellphone faltered, a shake seizing your hands.

No, they were heroes.

What purpose would they have breaking into your apartment?

Because if Hizashi was referring to somehow having already seen you in such a compromising position as the one him and his partner coerced you into…

You took a step back from the window.

“It’s not something you have to like, b-but neither of you guys cared about what I wanted last night.” With the slight crack in your voice, you winced knowing they could likely tell how hard it was to be firm in your ways with them, only making their job easier. “You...you went too far―that’s why I’m so upset.”

Shouta’s words, as always, effortlessly sent a pang of anxiety through your system.

“You didn’t know what you wanted last night, we made that decision for you. And judging by how you didn’t exactly try to put up a fight...” The small, almost inaudible chuckle only made his claims tear you apart more. “...I’d say you were more than happy with our decision.”

Never failing to find the exact things to say to shut you up, to put you in your place, Shouta remained confident with where things were going since he took control of the conversation.

You fumbled on your words, not quite sure of what would be the best argument to deny his statement.

“T-That’s―”

“That’s the truth, and you know it.”

I can’t even remember half of what happened last night, is what you wanted to say.

You wanted to scream at him, really. The two of them loved assuming they knew everything―what was best for you―despite the clear evidence that they in fact did not.

Naturally, all you could actually do was run from wherever this conversation was headed. It was obvious you would never reach an agreement with them. All they’d want to do was take, take, take. Make demands like they were in charge of you.

You knew that you’d never be able to get through to them.

And honestly, you didn’t have the energy to even try.

The point of answering their call was to finally end things, and that’s all that was left to do.

“...I don’t care what either of you think, whatever happened last night—I didn’t want it. Just...don’t try to contact me again. Goodbye.”

When you finally pressed the ‘end call’ button, you expected to feel that weight of their unrelenting presence lift off of you.

...It didn’t. But you probably shouldn’t be surprised. It’d take time to calm down, all you really needed to worry about now was returning your life to how it was before meeting the two all those months ago.

Another call came through in seconds, startling you where you still stood in your bedroom. Shaking slightly from lingering nervousness, you hastily declined it, not checking to see who it was from. Fingers flying across the screen, you blocked both Shouta’s and Hizashi’s contacts from your phone, proceeding to delete the existing conversations.

A small step towards getting back to normal.

Just one of many.

_____

Trying to conceal the slight limp in your step as you walked to work on Monday was both difficult and mortifying, each sharp pain shooting through your abdomen an unwelcome reminder. A cold shiver ran through you, prompting you to shove your hands in your pockets for warmth.

The changing seasons meant you’d have to work on moving around the shop’s layout. Bringing more delicate plants inside, swapping them out for seasonal ones that could handle the chill in the air. A task that you wondered if you would have to complete yourself.

With the days growing shorter, you noted the dusk already settling over the sky, drawing near the start of your 5pm shift. The orange hues dancing in the clouds were certainly a beautiful sight. Your gaze repeatedly found its way back to the sky as you walked down the sidewalk.

The closer you got to work, the more vibrant it seemed.

Strange indeed.You passed it off as the darkening night merely amplifying the remaining light of the setting sun.

Turning down another street, you could hear the approaching sound of sirens. A firetruck soon whipped past and continued down the road, making you shuffle towards the inside of the sidewalk. The piercing noise left an uncomfortable ringing in your ears.

When such an irritating reaction to the blaring never completely faded, you realized that was because it was just more distant sirens, multiple of them, sounding off in the direction you were heading.

You picked up your pace.

With another glance at the sky, you began to see not just the orange hue intensifying, but also a distinct plume of black smoke.

...

...It’s not...it can’t be…

Soon enough, your leisurely walk picked up speed. The ache in your gut from both physical wounds and growing anxiety making you nauseous.

Barely taking precautions to watch where you were going, you focused only on the direction of your shop, and the beacon of light that seemed to be right on top of it. Mindlessly placing one foot in front of the other, feeling like the end of the road before you turned the corner was only growing further away with each step.

The unpleasant smell of something burnt met your senses—faint, but there nonetheless.

You couldn’t lie to yourself, whatever was up ahead, it wasn’t good. But it couldn’t be what you were thinking.

Not your shop.

No. You’d turn the corner, and it would be fine.

The small boutique would be where it always was, nestled in between two buildings, waiting for you to start your shift.

Things would go back to normal, just like you’d planned.

…

The wailing sirens met your ears in full force. A stifling air, unnaturally hot and acrid washed over you, causing you to instinctively clamp a hand over your nose and mouth.

In gradually coming to the worst realization of the night, your free hand braced the brick wall of the building next to you, knees nearly buckling.

Thirty feet away, lighting up the street to be as bright as day, was your workplace completely engulfed in flames.

[happylittledrabbles]

choke me!

Rating: 18+

DO NOT READ IF UNDER 18, NO MINORS!!!

Fandom: Attack on Titan

Pairing: Reiner Braun x Eren Yeager

—

"It's been four years, Reiner."

Reiner never thought he'd see Eren again. And yet there he was, sitting in front of him. The two exchange some heated words until Eren has had enough and lunges at Reiner, pinning him against the wall by the throat.

Except, instead of a cry or a shout, Reiner's reaction is a lot more...unexpected.

"Did you just...moan?"

Choking kink fic, basically.

AO3

—

“It’s been four years, Reiner.”

The last person Reiner Braun expected to see tonight was Eren fucking Yeager. He knew he’d see Eren again eventually, he just figured it’d be when Eren was killing him or he was killing the damned menace.

He didn’t think the reunion would be so soon.

They had warned that if Eren were to attack Marley at any time, it’d be tonight. But he had had so much fun at the fair with the kids that he hadn’t fully registered that Eren Yeager still existed. All he could think about was how happy he was to finally be out of that hell that was called Paradis and away from seeing the devils he had grown to love die at the hands of his own people. And he thought he had finally escaped it, except now, the biggest threat among both of their worlds was sitting right in front of him.

“H-how…” No thoughts in his head. There was nothing. Eren’s expression was so calm, it was mocking in comparison to the panic running amok in the blond’s chest.

“I’ve done a lot of thinking in these four years, Reiner Braun.” His name sounded like pure acid on Eren’s tongue. Even if Eren kept his tone measured, Reiner’s name still came out like two spears that pierced him directly in the heart.

“A lot of thinking about how you betrayed us. About how you killed Marco. About how you were my role model. A big brother, really.”

Nausea swirled in his stomach like a hot pit of lava, and he couldn’t help but step back and bump into Falco, who was also petrified; the two of them stilled like perfect marble statues. Reiner had tried hard to forget he ever interacted with Eren, nevermind considered him a friend. There were many times when they were alone together that he almost professed that he was the Armored Titan because he felt so close to him. He felt pride whenever he watched Eren succeed, even though he should have been actively distancing himself from him in preparation for the big operation. When he was supposed to not feel anything at all after breaking through Wall Maria and effectively killing everybody Eren knew, he locked himself in a room and cried and screamed for hours until Bertholdt came in and had to pry his hands from the table and hug him until his other personality took over, and he felt nothing again.

Oh, how he wished his other personality took over now. Then he wouldn’t be able to feel the crippling fear resonating throughout his entire body. Then he wouldn’t be able to feel the pure dread cross his face as Eren grew his missing leg back and stood up, instinctively hugging his arms behind him to make sure Falco was protected.

“I won’t hurt him,” Eren said, his visible eye dropping to the young boy staring at him with stormy blue eyes, wide with terror. He snickered. “Maybe he’ll get caught in the fallout. But, I won’t hurt him now, if that’s what you’re wondering. In fact...” He gestured with his hand for Falco to leave, giving him a chilling smile that he meant to be reassuring. “Go ahead and leave, kiddo. This shouldn’t take long. I just need to talk to my old pal Reiner here.”

“Don’t talk to him,” Reiner whispered shakily, but eventually let Falco go and pushed him forward. “Go. Run as far away as you can. I’ll handle this.” If anything happened, he wanted Falco as far away from the site of disaster as possible.

He turned back to Eren and noticed he was several inches taller than when he last saw him. It made sense; he was a grown adult man now, but it was still a shock. He was so used to peering down at Eren and resting his arm on top of his head, ruffling his hair, tipping his chin back to make eye contact with him. But now, if he slouched even a bit, he’d be shorter.

“How cute. You used to be protective over me like that,” Eren said with a bitter laugh, beginning to step forward when Reiner stepped back and nearly tripped over a chair in response. “What, are you scared of me? Ha. I remember when—”

“Stop!” Reiner cried, slapping his hands over his ears and shaking his head emphatically. “I don’t want to hear it! I don’t—”

“Don’t want to hear what, Reiner? How we used to be friends? How I looked up to you? How we shared so many good times together?” He picked up the chair he was sitting in and smashed it to the ground, the wood strewn across the ground like puzzle pieces. Reiner flinched at the echo of the crackling wood, his hands balling into fists at his sides. Eren blew the splinters off his palms and clapped them together to get rid of the rest of the debris as he walked leisurely around the room with his freshly grown leg, circling Reiner like a hawk to its prey.

“Did you feel anything when you killed Marco? Did you feel anything when I told you my mom was eaten? Knowing it was all your goddamn fault?!” Eren roared, his eye a ball of flaming green fire.

“I—”

“No, you didn’t feel anything. Because if you felt anything, you wouldn’t have tried so hard to get close to me.” Eren unraveled the bandages around his face to reveal his other eye, somehow making the fury blazing in his stare even more potent. He let the bandages drop to the ground, the fabric twisting and turning gently as they fell into a pile. Reiner blinked slowly, so slowly it would have seemed he fell asleep for a moment. He stepped forward, about to reach out to Eren when his breath hitched in his throat, his lungs refusing to expand as he was yet again face-to-face with the boy—man—he had ruined the life of and had grown close to, all at the same time.

He took a deep breath once his lungs began to function again, closing his eyes to block out Eren’s intense glare.

“I was always your friend, Eren,” he clarified, taking the chance to raise his arm up and reach out to the other man in hopes of understanding, of doing something to prevent whatever he was about to do. He flinched at the sound of applause outside, a horrifying reminder of the sheer number of people outside that Eren could so easily massacre in the span of a minute if he transformed. If only he could teleport and tell Willy to get everybody the hell out of there. But alas, he was confined to this basement with nobody other than the embodiment of the Attack Titan.

“Please believe me,” he pleaded, a hopeful yet terrified smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he watched Eren’s expression soften. “I’ve always liked you.”

But Eren’s expression wasn’t softening. It was merely morphing into one of mockery, disdain sharpening in his glare and piercing his chest like a lion’s claws ripping into its prey. He never felt weaker than at that moment.

“Don’t,” he huffed, taking a deep breath before shrieking, “ patronize me! ”

He descended upon Reiner with superhuman speed, gripping his outstretched wrist and pinning it against the wall along with the rest of his body, raising his forearm up and pressing it against Reiner’s neck. He expected Reiner to scream, grunt, curse, or exhale sharply, but the last thing he expected to hear was—

“ Ah-nn!”

It was almost comical how stiff the two men went at the sound, their eyes widening at the same time as they simply stared at each other. In awe, fright, surprise, or a mixture of all three. Reiner couldn’t gather what Eren was thinking from his unreadable expression, but all he knew was that his face was bright red, his heart was racing, and his body was being far too receptive to the heavy weight on his windpipe.

And all Eren knew was that he quickly found out that he liked this just as much as Reiner so obviously did as well.

“Did you just...moan?” Eren whispered, his eyebrow quirking in intrigue. He moved his forearm forward, pressing more of his body weight into Reiner, eliciting yet another sound of pleasure from the other’s thin lips.

“N-no— mmn!” The feeling of his windpipe and the sides of his neck being pressed in together was a feeling that left Reiner’s knees weak, his eyelids growing heavy as endorphins danced around his brain, leaving him in a state of swoon.

As Reiner struggled to stay standing, all Eren could do was stare in pure shock at the scene before him. Never had he seen Reiner come undone so quickly and so easily before, not even when he came across Bertholdt fucking him brilliantly in the outhouse during training. He looked, frankly, bored, as if he was putting on a scene for the other. Perhaps it really was a good thing the beanpole died. Now, Eren could play around with that expression of pure ecstasy without worrying that a seven-foot-tall bag of bones would try and slap him with those gangly limbs.

“Interesting…” Eren trailed off, his tongue wetting his lips as he dropped his forearm, allowing Reiner to gasp for breath and cough. The blond’s hand snaked up to his own throat, making sure it was okay, although its trail was hesitant, bewildered. Was this discovery also new to Reiner himself?

“So...this is new to you, too?” he dared to ask, his hand twitching to replace Reiner’s and uncover that never-before-seen expression on the other’s face once again.

Reiner scoffed and swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing at the resistance his throat gave. “Shut up.”

“I mean, no wonder you always looked so bored when Bertholdt was fucking you,” Eren continued with a shrug as he looked around the room. He smirked, his eyes drifting to Reiner’s, mischief glinting conspicuously in both of them. “You needed something else to get you off.”

Reiner’s confusion was palpable, his agape mouth transforming into a sneer once he realized what Eren was talking about. His face had already been red, but now it was a deep scarlet as his mind ran back and quickly figured out that the shadow outside the window of the outhouse had, indeed, been Eren Yeager. How long had the little bastard been there? He was...busy during that time, so he lost track of the shadow outside once they changed positions. Had Eren...been watching them? Not merely passing by and getting surprised by the sight?

“I said shut the fuck up,” Reiner growled, pushing himself off the wall to leave. However, Eren’s hand clamped down on his throat, pushing him back in the wall and causing his head to thump off the concrete. “Shit!” He tried to gasp, but the force pressing against the sides of his throat was even stronger than before, with more purpose, causing his gasp to morph into a squeal.

“Did I say you could leave?” Eren murmured, leaning forward so that his lips tickled the shell of the other’s ear. He licked a trail on the outside of Reiner’s ear, causing the other to release another strained gasp and squirm under the weight of his hand. Perhaps this awakened something in him, too, because his body was reacting just like Reiner’s was. He couldn’t stop his hand no matter how much he tried; the expression and small whimpers the blond was making underneath him were like pure opium.

“Eren! Ere— oh,” Reiner cried, his clawing at Eren’s hand halting once the brunet’s lips fell to the junction of his jaw and neck, sucking feverishly at the soft skin that wasn’t taken up by his tense fingers. Once he came to after the sensation roiled him up, he exclaimed, “W-what are you doing? Eren, stop—”

“Stop?” Eren chuckled, his other hand dropping to Reiner’s crotch, which was painfully swollen and twitched as his knuckles brushed against it, drawing out a delicious moan from the throat underneath his hold. “And let you leave like this? How rude would that be of me, especially since I was the cause of this?” He paused, a pensive look replacing his devious one. “I mean, if you really want me to, I’ll stop.”

He stepped back, releasing Reiner’s throat and holding his hands up in the air. He tried to suppress the devilish grin that threatened to come out, keeping his face neutral. “I stopped.”

But it was nearly impossible to suppress the grin any longer as he watched Reiner’s expression morph from pure pleasure to confusion to, finally, loss. His trembling hands came up to reconvey the place where Eren’s hand was, an angry red bruise beginning to bloom at the sides of his neck as if trying to see if the hand was truly gone. His eyes dropped to his own crotch, wincing at the sight of it as well as, probably, the pain his constrictive pants were giving him.

“I…” Reiner was both at a loss for words. His eyes searched the room until they fell upon Eren again, a sort of pleading in them. He wanted Eren to read his mind so that he didn’t have to embarrass himself by begging do it again, please come here and choke me and fuck me— but all Eren did was stand there, which was somehow more infuriating than listening to him whisper humiliating things into his ear.

“...come here,” he mumbled, rubbing his forearm nervously. He didn’t dare make eye contact, staring down at the floor as if it’d kill him to look up and meet Eren’s undoubtedly jeering eyes.

“What? I couldn’t hear you?” Eren cupped his hand behind his ear and leaned forward, causing Reiner to suck on his teeth and ball his hands into fists at his sides.

“You’ve always been a little shit, haven’t you?” Reiner grumbled, his arm shooting out and gripping Eren’s wrist, bringing it up and guiding the other’s hand around his throat. “I said—”

“Ah-ah,” Eren interrupted, shaking his head. His hand stayed limp around Reiner’s throat, his other hand sitting comfortably in the pocket of his trousers. “You have to prove to me how much you want it.” He tipped his chin up, gazing at Reiner underneath heavy eyelids, shifting his weight onto one foot.

“Beg.”

“Wha-wha—” Reiner spluttered, his eyes wide and his grip on Eren’s wrist getting tighter and tighter. “What?” As much as he was surprised, his body very much was not. It took in the simple word like an aphrodisiac, his shoulders and cheeks getting even redder and his crotch getting even more painful.

“You heard what I said,” Eren taunted, licking his lips as he closed the gap between them, halting right before his lips. “Beg. Or else I’ll leave you like a bitch in heat.”

When had Eren grown so domineering? He had always had a certain gusto about him, some confidence that propelled him forward, even if it made him look like a loser. He didn’t give up during the ODM training even when it was clearly rigged against him. He made the broken thing work. It was pure rage that was fueling him, but...when had lust taken over? When had the fury in his eyes melted into hot ardor? Had he...always felt that way about Reiner?

“Eren…” he trailed off, trying to muster up the courage to actually beg. God, this was humiliating. How the hell did they even get here? What were they doing? But he couldn’t let Eren leave and kill all those people. And he certainly couldn’t fight in this condition. As much as it was dehumanizing, Eren was right. It felt as if he was in heat, his entire body boiling and in need of an electric touch.

“Choke me, please.”

“Yawn. Do better.”

“C-choke me, hard.” Reiner’s eyes rolled partly up as he felt the pressure of Eren’s hand growing around his neck, unable to restrain his outburst: “Harder! Please, choke me—touch me...ugh…”

The pressure had returned, and the physical incapability of speaking due to his constricted windpipe replaced his emotional incapability due to his dignity. But what dignity did he have now? All he could do now was completely let go.

“Fuck, yes! E-Eren, I—” He gasped when the pressure finally returned to its previous state, giving his body its much-needed dose of aggression. “I want you to f...f-fuck me.”

Eren chuckled, deep and dark, and before the other knew it, they were smashing lips, a violent exchange of saliva and pleasure.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he murmured against Reiner’s lips, both of them panting after the impromptu makeout session. He smirked as he slipped his other hand out of his pocket and trailed it down Reiner’s chest, stopping at his pecs and giving them a generous squeeze, earning him a grunt from the blond. “To be honest, I thought you’d come just from me choking you. Kind of pathetic, don’t you think?”

Reiner’s eyes were tightly squeezed shut, biting his bottom lip to prevent any more embarrassing sounds from slipping out.

“S-shut up.” But that couldn’t have been less convincing. The affinity for choking was new, but the chest fondling was old news. The training camp had been torture for him since there were way too many instances of people accidentally brushing against his pecs or nipples, almost causing him to rupture a blood vessel from trying to suppress a squeak.

But Eren was taking full advantage of having it right in front of him, diving his face into them and massaging them with his free hand with a voracious speed as if they’d disappear.

“These have grown a lot, haven’t they?” Eren jeered, pulling back his choking hand to strip Reiner of the top half of his clothing to be even closer to those soft pecs. The second the fabric had been removed, his choking hand returned and he dove right back in, leaving a trail of hickeys on the cleavage made by his pecs.

“Eren! E—a-ah—”

“I’d say they’re almost D cups, I think,” he continued, his voice muffled from the masses of muscle. He pulled back slightly, eyeing them for a moment before opening his mouth and clamping his teeth around the perfectly pink and perky nipple, leaving deep marks in the velvety areola.

“AH! What the—ow!” Reiner’s eyelids shot open, looking to see what the hell Eren was doing down there. All he saw was him grinning proudly, his hand coming up to stroke the bitemarks and not-so-accidentally passing over the nipple, giving it a gentle squeeze and flick. “Eren, the fuck?”

“Get down on your knees,” Eren commanded, and Reiner found himself on autopilot at the conviction in the other’s voice, his knees wobbling before dropping to the floor in compliance. He kept his eyes on Eren’s knees, his previous bashfulness returning; how could he make eye contact like this? He knew what was going to happen next: the horrendous blush on his face and chest made it quite clear.

Meanwhile, Eren was taking his time enjoying the view under him. He bit his bottom lip, letting out another chuckle as he shook his head. “You know, Reiner, I always looked up to you. I never thought I’d see you like this. So...submissive.” He tipped Reiner’s chin up gently with his finger to get the other to meet his eyes. “You never let me get the upper hand in training. You were the one making me drop to my knees.” He frowned. “But now you’re looking up to me. Funny how that works, huh? It only took the murder of an entire village of people and my mom to get you like this.”

Eren teasing him about his choking kink was humiliating. Being on his knees to somebody he saw as a little brother, about to commit even more sinful acts, was humiliating. But being constantly reminded of all the atrocities he committed against his friends was pure torture. It was putting quite a damper on his mood, but he couldn’t exactly tell Eren to stop talking about it because he’d only jeer him more. The only way he could think to get Eren to shut up was…

He dove forward, opening his mouth and wrapping his lips around the bulge in Eren’s trousers, his hand coming up to further massage it. His trousers smelled of grass and disinfectant, but the distraction was clearly working, seeing as Eren’s agape mouth stopped forming words and only allowed a shuddering breath to pass through.

“You’re eager, eh? Alright, I’ll give you what you want.” With one swift motion, he unbuckled his belt and was about to let it drop to the floor, but his eyes flashed with intrigue as they switched between Reiner’s neck and the leather. “On second thought…”

He wrapped it around Reiner’s neck, and before the blond could say anything, he zipped the belt until it was pressed tightly against the pallid skin underneath, already causing it to pinken from irritation. He poked a new hole into the leather, sliding it through and returning his hands to unbutton his trousers.

“You look like a dog,” Eren scoffed. Once his trousers were unbuttoned, he pushed them down only slightly; he didn’t expect this to take too long, seeing as how undone Reiner already was. He gripped the other’s jaw tightly in his hand, maneuvering the chiseled face to look up at him. “Bark for me.”

Reiner, who was still processing the belt around his neck, spluttered about and furiously shook his head, trying to get it out of Eren’s grip. “Hell no! I’m not a damn dog.”

“Hm. Shame.” Eren’s grip on him lessened, only for it to return full force when he transferred it from his muscled jaw to his short hair, the locks sticking straight up in between his fingers. “Then put your mouth to good use.”

Reiner was going to object, but the warmth radiating from in front of him made him drop his eyes to be faced with what looked like an iron rod underneath the linen fabric of Eren’s drawers. He gulped at the sight; if this didn’t fit in his mouth, how the hell was this going to go inside of him? He would have cursed himself for thinking that far ahead, but the act was inevitable—Eren was going to fuck his brains out.

He took a deep breath and leaned forward, pressing a hesitant kiss to the tip wetting the fabric with precum practically sticking up out of the top. He had caught flashes of Eren naked whenever they came across a hot spring or all the boys bathed together, and what was in front of him hardly compared to what he had seen back then. Eren truly had grown in more ways than one.

He shakily lifted a hand and moved the fabric out of the way, allowing Eren’s cock to spring up proudly, almost as if he was mocking Reiner and his need for it. He licked his lips and leaned forward, licking from the base to the tip with a flat tongue, practically drooling over it with the amount of need swirling in his chest.

“F...uck,” Eren groaned, tipping his chin up as his grip on Reiner’s hair tightened. “Got a lot of practice with Bertholdt, I see.”

Just at the mention of Bertholdt, Reiner sped up his stroking and licking, yet again hoping this method would get Eren to shut up and to produce more of those sounds of pleasure. Sure, he seemed to be dominant in this dynamic, but Reiner was the one who held the most power as of now. He could leave Eren blue-balled and walk away, or Eren could do the same to him. They were caught in a lustful dance of power, and neither wanted to walk away, as sinful as it was.

“Wait, you’re going too— shit!” The grip on his hair was growing painful, and it only grew tighter when he opened his mouth wide and engulfed Eren’s cock up to the middle, using his tongue all the while to lap up his drool and his hand to stroke the places his mouth couldn’t reach. He very much successfully got Eren to shut the fuck up, and he smiled to himself as he graciously lent his throat as a substitute for yelling at him to be quiet.

“What a fucking slut,” Eren chuckled, brushing the few long locks of hair that flopped into Reiner’s eyes, tipping his chin up slightly to meet his eyes. “Look at me while you do it.”

Pervert, Reiner thought, but he wasn’t all that different himself, for he looked up at lightning speed and locked eyes with the commandeering man above him, feeling precum and saliva running down his beard. That’ll be a bitch to clean.

“Good.” Just that word was enough to send chills down his spine, his eyelids fluttering with pleasure as he reached his hand that wasn’t busy stroking down between his legs, trying to soothe the throbbing pain spreading in his groin. But he was interrupted by Eren groaning and his grip on his hair turning into stone.

“Since you wanna go so fast,” he murmured, cocking his head curiously before pulling Reiner all the way down his cock, the other’s nose nestling in the happy trail leading down his stomach.

GURK!

“It’s satisfying to see you choking on me,” he laughed, tossing his head back to let out a moan as he could feel Reiner’s throat tightening and moving around him, the softness of the back of his mouth leaving him breathless. “I’ll fuck you in a second, but in the meantime…”

He gave an experimental thrust, slow and shallow, leading to more gurgling and choking noises from the man below him, drool beginning to build up in the corners of his mouth and dribble down his chin. Reiner’s hands flung out to grip Eren’s thighs, trying to process the fact that he was being facefucked.

“Mmgh—nngf!” He tried desperately to slurp up as much drool as he could, but it was beginning to pour now, down his chin and onto the floor, gathering into a pool near his knees. His eyes were watering, the tears accumulating in the corners of his eyes.

“F-fuck yeah,” Eren growled. Now equipped with more confidence, he pulled out of Reiner’s mouth partly—giving the other a short sense of relief—before snapping his hips forward, lodging himself deep down in his throat. A horrid gagging sound released itself from his throat, squeezing between his cheeks and Eren’s cock. His stomach dry-heaved, but he had hardly any time to recuperate before Eren launched back into thrusting himself over and over into his mouth.

“Hah— fuck, this is good,” he groaned, a smirk ever-present on his lips. He could feel Reiner’s throat straining against the belt as it expanded, which only provided even more tightness. However, his smirk disappeared once he felt a familiar warmth building up in his stomach, signaling he was almost at his end. He lowered his head from the thrown-back position it had been in before, and he almost finished on the spot when he saw the lewdness on Reiner’s face. The blond was beet red, his cheeks looking as if he had been slapped over and over—which he had somewhat been, with Eren’s stomach—his mouth berry red and stretched to accommodate the cock he was sucking so deliciously, gobs of spit running down his chin, and tears trailing down those highlighter-red cheeks. God, he looked gorgeous.

“Well,” he mumbled, pulling out of Reiner’s mouth and allowing him a moment to breathe and cough out all the phlegm and irritation gathered up in his throat. He only added more spit to the pool in front of him, falling onto hands and knees as he spat out the last of the spit and precum that accumulated in his throat.

Eren let out an exasperated breath, rolling his eyes as he buried his hand in Reiner’s hair again and roughly tugged him up to his feet, the other whining and complaining the entire way. He faced the blond for only a second before turning him around to face the wall and shoved him against it, his chest pressed against the cold stone. While his hand was busy holding Reiner’s wrists together behind his back, the other trailed down to grip his ass, giving it a firm squeeze before slipping it underneath the waistband of his trousers.

“Your mouth pussy was fantastic, but I want to use the real one,” he explained, his lips leaving the tip of Reiner’s ears bright red as he stroked the soft skin underneath his hand and cupped the mounds of well-built muscle. “What a bubble butt. Heh, you really worked hard on this. If your muscles are this tight, I can’t imagine your asshole.”

“Mm!” Reiner whimpered, his shoulders hiking up to his ears to protect them from the assault of Eren’s hot breath and humiliating words. He tried to break free from Eren’s grip on his wrists, to no avail. Both his wrists and his neck were restricted, and although it was uncomfortable, it only made the throbbing ache in his pants even more painful. How he developed this kink, he had no idea—all he knew was that he wanted relief, now. “Eren...Eren, please. Fuck me. Ple—guh— ”

“Shut up for a second,” Eren commanded as he forced two fingers into Reiner’s already heavily lubricated mouth, sopping up the spit dripping from the roof of his mouth and tongue. He shuddered at the feeling of Reiner’s soft tongue wrapping around his fingers, amazed that such a thing was on his cock only a few moments ago and even more amazed that he didn’t come on the spot. He used his thumb to push Reiner’s pants down to his ankles, marveling at the view of his back muscles rippling under his pale skin, fighting against the restraining grip on his wrists, followed by the elegant slope into the two golden apples for an ass.

“Goddamn,” he breathed, lowering his head and opening his mouth to deliver a deep bite to the virgin skin at the nape of Reiner’s neck, sinking his canines into the flesh in an almost animalistic motion, causing Reiner to jolt from underneath him.

“Eren, stop with the biting!” Reiner pleaded, but he couldn’t help the whispery moan that passed through his lips at the thought of being marked.

“Sorry not sorry,” Eren replied with a snicker, resorting to leaving hickeys to further mark his presence on Reiner’s body, proudly screaming I was here and fucked him beautifully. “You clean back here?”

The mere insinuation that he wasn’t made Reiner want to turn around and snap Eren’s neck right then and there, especially considering he very much doubted Eren was. He grunted, the awkwardness of that question causing nausea to boil in his stomach.

“I...bathed for the festival earlier today,” he explained haltingly, his blush radioactive at this point. But when Eren didn’t move right away, he sighed and opened his legs slightly, wrestling one wrist free and trailing it down to his asscheek, spreading it open as a very clear invitation. “Hurry up.”

Eren’s eyes widened, and a heated smile filled out his face at the sight of Reiner coming completely undone and practically begging to get fucked. Before the spit on his fingers could dry, he spread Reiner’s cheeks with his other fingers and plunged his index and middle fingers inside, earning a squeal from the blond.

“S-slow! Slower!”

A confused look crossed Eren’s face, but he shrugged and continued to scissor Reiner open, curling his fingers against the soft walls to try and find that one spot that drove men crazy. He found out about that quickly while at the hospital, a male nurse being particularly caring and spreading his legs open to cure a patient.

“I thought you’d be looser than this,” he replied, genuinely baffled at how tightly Reiner’s grip around his fingers was. How the hell was he supposed to fit inside? They said the bottom being tight is more pleasurable, but he imagined it’d downright hurt his dick.

“You jackass, I haven’t done it in a-a wh... while,” Reiner stuttered, a grunt sneaking in between his words as he tried to accustom himself to the feeling. He was arching his back as much as possible, but he quickly discovered it could arch much more when a sudden wave of pleasure crashed over him and a lustful cry made his mouth drop.

“Found it,” Eren sang, a proud grin spreading across his lips.

“Hng-! ” was all that came out of Reiner, followed by heavy breathing and small whimpers as he tried to regulate his breathing, but it was difficult when Eren ruthlessly continued abusing that spot now that he knew its location. “Eren...it feels...a-ah…”

“My fingers are magic, I know,” he replied with a shit-eating grin, and although Reiner’s back was to him, he could feel the bratty expression he was making.

“Oh, shut up, you idiot,” Reiner groaned, about to insult the other once more before another wave of pure pleasure corrupted him and returned him to his panting, sweating state.

After a few more moments of scissoring and dirty talk, Eren pulled out his fingers, much to Reiner’s dismay, and gripped himself as he stepped closer and lined himself up with Reiner’s entrance.

“Alright, get ready,” he joked, bracing the wall with one hand and snaking the other around Reiner’s neck once more, pulling his head back so that he could see the look of shock in his eyes as he slowly pushed the tip inside.

“Ngh!” Tears were gathering at the corners of Reiner’s eyes again as he attempted, again and again, to relax and breathe the pain away, but it didn’t help that Eren was so well-endowed. “Just...slow—go slowly.”

Eren pulled out at a snail’s pace, looking down to see where they connected before pushing back in, earning a low groan from both the men. “I don’t even have to try. You’re so tight, I can’t fucking move. Feels like my dick is going to be pulled off.”

Reiner rolled his eyes, about to say something until a sigh interrupted him as Eren continued to pull out and push inside, staying at the same pace. “I can’t control that. I hope your dick gets pulled off. Maybe then you wouldn’t be a murderous basta— hngh!”

A slap echoed in the small room from Eren giving one solid thrust, the roughness of it seen from the reddening of Reiner’s ass. He chuckled at the other’s reaction and tightened his grip on his neck, the belt making it a lot easier to yank him back and force him to meet his eyes. “Watch your words, Braun. Or else,” he gave another rapid thrust, causing the fat on Reiner’s ass to ripple from the force, “that will happen.”

“O-okay, okay, I’m d-done!” Reiner cried, his arm reaching back to grip Eren’s shirt for leverage while the other clung to the wall for dear life. “I promise, I’ll s...nngh...stop.”

“That’s what I thought,” Eren taunted, licking a trail up Reiner’s cheek, picking up the salty tears spilling from his eyes along the way. “You think I can move now without losing my dick?”

Reiner didn’t answer. All he did was lower his head as much as he could with Eren’s grip on it, preparing himself to lose the small ounce of dignity he still had left. He arched his back and pushed back onto Eren’s cock, gasping at the feeling of it spreading him apart and leaving him so perfectly full. He swirled his hips, trying to find that spot Eren so easily discovered, all the while pulling out and swirling his hips as he pushed back. It was quite the ab workout, causing sweat to build up on his hairline and building a thin sheen on his skin.

This was heaven on Earth. The view was spectacular, but what was more spectacular was watching Reiner act like a complete slut, as if Eren’s cock was the only thing that could bring him relief and pleasure. He was really willing to give up all his dignity just to use it to pleasure himself, and Eren couldn’t have been more willing of a participant.

“I guess that’s the answer to my question,” he breathed, a moan causing him to throw his head back. He dropped both his hands to Reiner’s hips, riding alongside their gyrating motions. “Yeah...that’s nice. Keep moving like that.”

“Eren,” Reiner warned, looking over his shoulder now that his neck was freed. “Eren, move, goddamn it.”

Eren cocked his head. “Is that how you ask for it?”

“Oh, for fuck’s—Eren, please, fuck me. Ruin me, do what you want, just please fuck m— ”

“That’s all I needed to hear.” It only took half a second for Eren to comply with Reiner's wishes, snapping his hips forward and sending Reiner careening toward the wall, his face pressed up against the stone just like his chest was. He’d definitely have scrapes on his face as it bounced up and down with each merciless thrust that practically sent him up the wall.

“ Ahn—ugh! Fuck, fuck, yes! Feels good, f-feels so—hnngh! ” The dry slapping noises eventually turned into wet, squelching sounds that would have made Reiner cringe, but he could barely hear them in the fugue state he was in. Eren was right: he felt like a dog in heat, his mind on nothing else but getting pounded until he was filled.

“Faster! God, faster! Ngh, harder!”

Reiner’s moans leaked, and as much as he wanted to stop, he didn’t have the energy since all of it was going into not finishing right then and there. It was just what he needed, except…

He tilted his head back, which was difficult with how roughly Eren was slamming into him, but he eventually caught Eren’s eye and smiled. “Choke me, Eren. Choke me until I can’t breathe.”

Eren smiled back, his grin malicious. “You got it, sweetheart.”

He took that command to heart because instead of one hand this time around, he used both hands, wrapping them around Reiner’s neck and using that for leverage instead of his hips. It was honestly a nicer angle to better fuck Reiner into oblivion, and he used it to his full advantage.

Smack, smack, smack, smack…

“ Guh— ugh, fu-uck,” Reiner groaned, practically gargling his own words with how he could barely breathe. Meanwhile, Eren was struggling with holding back his own moans with how velvety soft Reiner’s walls were, hugging him like the most comfortable sweater in the world. How did he go this long without taking advantage of the hole that had been around him all this time?

“I never thought you’d be this easy of a lay,” Eren remarked, graduating one hand’s place from Reiner’s neck to his hair, pulling it and pushing his face into the concrete. “Who knew you’d open up to me this easily? If I knew, I would’ve fought Bertholdt for access to your ass.”

The fog of lust clouding Reiner’s brain long enough for him to understand and process Eren’s comments, and, even though it was nearly impossible to speak anything other than moans and whines and emote anything other than pleasure, he still attempted to reach backward and scratch Eren’s hip, leaving three bright marks on the tanned skin.

“After this is over, I’m going to kill you,” Reiner managed to say when Eren stopped shortly to readjust his angle. He was very grateful for that split second of clarity because once Eren started up, instead of brushing against that spot, he was directly nailing it over and over with perfect precision.

“ OH— oh, my God, I-I’m—too much, too much, I’m so— ah, hah... c-close—!” Reiner was incoherent at this point, finally reaching the “brains fucked out” stage of this brutal hookup. He could no longer think. All he could do was moan, pant, and cry out each time his spot was abused.

“ Hah—I’m gonna come soon, t-too,” Eren breathed, having his own difficulties with speech. He tried to act as cool and collected for as long as possible, but now, it was nearly impossible, with each thrust drawing out the warm feeling in his stomach more and more. It also didn’t help that Reiner kept tightening around him with each thrust, giving him all the components to finish. He just needed one thing.

“Where do you want it?” Eren whispered, dropping his head to take advantage of the last few moments to leave more hickeys all along Reiner’s neck and collarbones.

Reiner was beyond redemption at this point, evidenced by the fact that he all but screamed out, “Inside! Please, inside, come inside, I n-need it, I need you, please, I—”

His orgasm was sudden and unexpected, but Eren hit his spot at the perfect angle and speed, causing it to rip through his body. He was left speechless, going rigid as his vision spotted before going completely white, finally receiving the release he had been chasing over the past half hour. He heard somebody wailing, and when his consciousness returned to him, he realized he was the one making that awful noise, his vocal cords frying themselves with the unadulterated ecstasy running through his system.

Eren didn’t take much longer to follow, giving a few more slams—rougher than all the ones preceding them—before coming undone deep inside Reiner, groaning at the feeling of warmth coating Reiner’s walls and making his insides even hotter than they already were. But he wasn’t done. In his state of bliss, he managed to pull out of Reiner—earning a pitiful whimper from the other—and turn him around to push down on his shoulders so that he was on his knees again.

“Fuck, fuck—fuck! ” Eren couldn’t help the countless exclamations of pleasure that racked his body as he stroked himself furiously in front of Reiner’s face. The last of his come splashed on Reiner’s face, coating his cheeks and the bridge of his nose in the milky white substance. Yet again, he wasn’t done. He smeared the tip across Reiner’s lips, painting them with the same glossy color. And with that, he was done, stepping back to admire his handiwork. He grinned, satisfied with the result.

He had completely ruined Reiner Braun. His hair was tangled and sticking out in all different places. His eyes were red from crying. His face was completely coated in sticky, hot semen. He could barely open his lips without it stringing between them. Tears stained his splotched cheeks, and dried saliva ran down the entirety of his chin and throat. His chest was red as well, full of bite marks and hickeys. His neck was a completely different story—it was probably rubbed raw and full of scratches and finger indentations, all of which were hidden under the belt. And then…

“Turn around for me and bend over,” Eren said, his last demand of the night.

He had evidently turned Reiner into an obedient subordinate because without a single complaint or hesitation, the blond nodded submissively and turned around, revealing his back that was full of scratches and the deep bite mark at the nape of his neck. To think, he’d probably be targeting that nape in a couple of minutes once again, except it’d be for the kill. He wondered if, when he’d rip Reiner from the nape of his Titan’s neck and admire his dead body, the bite mark on his neck would still be there.

Reiner bent over, lifting his ass in the air and dropping his chest and face to the floor, a look of pure embarrassment on his soiled face.

“Beautiful,” Eren whispered to himself as he watched his come pour out of Reiner’s hole, running down his leg and dripping onto the ground. “Satisfied?”

Reiner, from his docile place on the floor, nodded his head, his hair flowing back and forth on the ground. “Y-yes...thank you…”

He then collapsed to the floor, his hips no longer able to sustain his own weight. His legs were trembling, never having experienced such a savage fucking before. It had always been loving, sweet, slow. But he quickly found that he had been severely deprived of something he so desperately needed. He’d probably get brain damage from all the choking he was going to do in the future, but that didn’t matter. He already planned on dying soon, anyway.

“I’m going...to kill you...after this,” Reiner continued, severely out of breath.

Eren walked over silently, squatting down and brushing the hair out of Reiner’s sweaty and dirtied face. “I’d like to see you try. You can barely walk.”

He laughed and pat Reiner on the rear, standing back up and walking over to the exit as he fixed his trousers and buttoned them.

“But thanks for the good fuck. I needed that. Honestly, if I hadn’t made everybody from Paradis come rescue me today, I’d save this battle for another day. I’m feeling very…” He lifted up his hands, looking at his nails and running his fingers through his hair. “...relaxed right now.”

Reiner was half-asleep, but he was conscious enough to have heard Eren’s words loud and clear. He snapped his head up and turned to stare at Eren to see if what he heard was the truth, but all he was met with was Eren adjusting his shirt and tightening his hair into a bun.

“P-Paradis?”

“Yeah. Heh.” Eren looked over his shoulder and winked. “I’ll catch you out there, then. If you manage to survive, come to Paradis. I’ll give you a very special welcome.”

And with that, Eren Yeager exited the room heavy with the smell of sex and quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Reiner Braun was left alone—used and besmirched with a fucked-out mind—to mull over what just happened and what will happen in only a handful of minutes.

Eren fucking Yeager.

[taxicabinmemphis]

I don't care what ship but give me a fic where two characters are interacting and one notice that oh my goodness their eyes are so pretty oh no they're so pretty oh no

tw swearing, making out (if it’s not making out and just kissing I’m sorry I have no idea how kissing works all I know is they’re in love mmkay)

post fwsa

The excitement of the day's events had yet to wear off. While Roman was much calmer than before, he was still giddy and happy. He had sunk out with Virgil to give Thomas time to fill in the other sides without Roman and Virgil interfering with their then-uncontrollable excitement. Now, they were in the mindscape commons.

Virgil fell on the couch. He maneuvered himself into a sitting position, immediately putting his head in his hands.

Roman laughed, sitting beside him. "You alright, Virge?"

"Alright?" Virgil asked incredulously, lifting his head from his hands a fraction of an inch. He made a noise too positive to be a scoff and let his elated open-mouthed smile show clearly on his face. "I'm fucking fantastic!"

Roman's heart stopped. He finally noticed Virgil's eyeshadow. It was purple, not black. A brilliant, glittering purple. And oh, stars above, was Roman gay.

He could only manage a short laugh in response, eyes still trained on Virgil.

The eyeshadow didn't just make Roman gayer, it brought out Virgil's eyes. Roman decided then and there that he could drown in those eyes for all eternity and call it an honorable death. Virgil's chocolate brown eyes, previously shadowed by the pitch-black eyeshadow, were now showing their unfathomable beauty to Roman in a way he was unsure if he could handle. He was torn between wanting to stare at them for the rest of his life and wanting to never have to look at and be caught off-guard by those eyes again. He was leaning towards the former because he knew it would be impossible to avoid seeing Virgil's eyes again, and now that he knew of all the heavenly wonders they held, he wouldn't be able to ignore their beauty, even if Virgil went back to black eyeshadow.

Despite being a prince and a warrior, Roman couldn't find the strength to look away. Any worries of Virgil taking notice of his staring either weren't there or were too far at the back of his mind for him to register their existence.

Virgil's laughing started to awkwardly cease. "What is it, Roman?"

Roman's trance was interrupted, the confused look on Virgil's face finally registering in his brain. He lifted his head a bit and blinked animatedly three times in succession, running over Virgil's question in his mind multiple times to make sense of it.

"Is something wrong?"

Roman finally realized that this was a result of Virgil noticing his staring. Wherever those anxieties were when he was entranced, whether it be in the back of his mind or nonexistent, were now loud and clear at the front of his brain.

"Oh! Uh...no. No. Nothing is wrong," Roman said, words speeding up as he spoke. "Everything is fine and nothing bad or out of the ordinary is going on."

Virgil looked unimpressed. "Seriously. Is there, like, something on my face?"

Roman opened his mouth to mention the eyeshadow but realized the eyeshadow was black again. Roman frowned.

"No..." he said pensively. "No, there isn't."

Virgil gave him an unreadable look for a moment, as if waiting for him to continue.

"Alright, what's up?"

Roman blushed at his forward tone, scratching the back of his neck. "Nothing, you just...your eyeshadow was...um...purple."

Virgil's eyebrows raised in mild surprise. "Was it? Huh."

"Yeah...."

Virgil suddenly looked worried. "Is there something wrong about that? I'm so-"

"No!" Roman exclaimed quickly, covering his mouth the second the word had escaped it. He had been a bit too loud. "Um...no. No, it was fine. Quite nice, actually."

Virgil blushed at that. "Oh, well...thanks. I think."

Roman almost swooned—Virgil looked so cute with a blush adorning his features and a cautious smile on his face. His eyeshadow may have been back to black but now that Roman had seen the figurative light, he was noticing just how stunning Virgil was. Of course, he'd vaguely acknowledged Virgil's attractiveness before, but this, especially with the pure ecstasy he was radiating, this was a whole new level. This realization was different.

Roman didn't know much about what he was feeling at that moment, and the only thing that seemed to be clear was his incredible desire to sweep Virgil into a passionate kiss.

"Roman...you're still staring," Virgil observed nervously. "Are you sure it's just that? Have...have I done something?"

Roman's face immediately fell into sympathy. "Oh, my darling, no. You have done nothing wrong, nothing near it."

Virgil blushed, likely at the pet name. "Then why are you staring?"

"Sometimes I can't help but appreciate beauty," Roman said thoughtlessly, "and your eyes, mi corazón, outshine all the jewels on Earth."

Roman wasn't exactly known for thinking before he spoke. This was a prime example of this, and of the immediate regret that typically followed. Roman hadn't meant to be that forward. He'd likely ruined everything he had with Virgil for forever.

Virgil's face was aflame. He put his head in his hands. He flipped his hood up and Roman could hear a muffled scream from within the fabric.

Well, there was no going back now. If he backtracked, he'd only make things worse. So, he rolled with it.

"What are you doing? While I know they are your eyes and you can do with them what you wish, I'm really hating being deprived of my view."

Virgil screamed again, higher.

"Are you alright, my dear? Is there anything I can kill for you to relieve you of your anguish?" Roman asked in concern.

A minute of silence passed, and Virgil slowly removed himself from his hoodie. His cheeks were still redder than Roman's sash, but he seemed to be in a place where he wasn't going to scream anytime soon.

“I’m okay,” Virgil said slowly, the words leaving his mouth over enunciated and like he didn’t believe what he was saying.

“That’s wonderful, Stormy Knight! However, it would be an honor to kill something in your na-”

Virgil grabbed Roman’s collar and pulled him closer, before putting another hand on his chest and leaning him backwards slowly. Roman was now blushing up a storm, looking up at Virgil weakly as he was taken off-guard and no longer had anything to say.

So, he started rambling. “I-Virg- um...I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry if I’ve ruined things. I just said something without thought, you know how I am, and I went with it ‘cause I didn’t wanna worsen th-”

“Are you gonna kiss me or not?” Virgil growled harshly.

Roman’s words cut off and he looked into Virgil’s eyes, shocked and alarmed. He noticed that his anxious side had his hypnotizing eyes set on Roman’s lips. Roman gulped in worry and in discomfort at being looked at in such a way, but managed to stumble out a response.

“I...I mean... if, um, if you’re offering...”

Virgil crashed his lips against Roman, sending his back to the couch cushions and Virgil properly on him.

The kiss was passionate, searing, and had a fire so hot that no star could compare. While Roman might’ve been oblivious of his feelings for Virgil until a short while ago, this had clearly been building up for a long time.

When they separated, they were both panting and were staring at each other like there was nothing else in the world.

Roman smiled slightly.

“What?”

“Your eyeshadow...it’s purple again.”

Virgil smiled in return, before returning his lips to Roman’s.

~

That was so weird I’m sorry I have no idea how kissing works. They’re just in love, okay? I’m sleep deprived and have to go to math tutoring in ten minutes so please bear with me. I hope you liked it! Sorry these prompts are taking so long, I just have school as well as limited motivation and three ongoing wips.

[sophiashortcake]

— 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 🍰

“I GUESS I’M JUST A PLAY DATE TO YOU.”

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𝟐𝟒. it’s always been you

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: kicked out of her home with no place to go, y/n is forced to move into her family friend’s home, who coincidentally is also the family of tsukishima kei, the boy who denied her confession.

Your eyes still sting when you wake up.

You had no idea how long you had been asleep, but it must’ve not been for very long since it was still dark outside. You heard Yachi softly snoring next to you on the futon, and Kiyoko’s light breathing from her bed. You rubbed your still puffy eyes as you felt around for your phone, turning it on to see the time.

3:15am

89 missed calls from Oikawa Tooru.

72 missed calls from Tsukishima Kei.

632 unread texts.

You underestimated the wave of notifications that would sweep your phone after the party, so you had decided to just turn it off altogether, too distraught from tonight’s events to even manage to look at your phone.

The texts were from friends and strangers alike, some asking you how you were, some wanting more information about what happened. You spent the next few minutes deleting any unwanted texts, and more importantly ignoring the texts and calls from Kei and Tooru.

Your heart clenched whenever your eyes skimmed over your notifications and you spotted Kei and Tooru’s names. Your head was still foggy with exhaustion from sobbing earlier that you couldn’t even begin to describe the betrayal you felt with Oikawa, and not to mention whatever the hell you felt for Kei.

You rubbed your eyes in an attempt to stop the tears from resurfacing, only to wipe away stray mascara still clinging to your eyes. Great, you forgot to wash off your makeup too.

You quietly rolled off the futon, quietly creeping to the bathroom making sure not to wake up Yachi and Kiyoko.

As you entered the bathroom, you were greeted by your reflection in the mirror. Your face was puffy from crying with your eyes still rimmed red. Half of your makeup was cried off, the rest smeared across your face. You looked as much of a wreck as you felt.

You scavenged around Kiyoko’s bathroom for some makeup wipes and face wash, thankfully finding some in the cabinet. You spent the next few minutes cleaning yourself up to a presentable state.

You splashed water on your face, the cool water relieving your eyes. You looked back up at yourself, glad that you atleast didn’t look like a mess now (physically anyway, emotionally was another issue). You exhaled in relief, and got yourself ready to climb back into bed.

Then your phone buzzed, Oikawa’s caller ID flashing on your screen.

Your hand paused on the bathroom doorknob, trying to subside any urge to pick up and answer the call. Do not answer, do not answer, you repeated in your head, hoping the mantra stuck.

You knew you shouldn’t answer. But how couldn’t you?

With a shaky hand, you picked up.

“Y/N, oh thank god-“ Oikawa said shakily into the phone, you could tell he had been crying.

“What do you want?” You muttered softly, as to not wake your friends in the other room, but more so you couldn’t bring yourself to speak strongly.

“Can we talk? Please? I need to explain.”

“Fine, you have two minutes.”

“No, no, I want to explain myself in person.”

“Tooru, it’s 3am.”

“Y/N, please.”

You paused. What possible explanation could Oikawa give you? I’m sorry I ruined your reputation numerous times? I’m sorry I nearly ruined your relationship with Kei? I’m sorry I lied to you for months? But the only reason resentment didn’t entirely consume you was because this was Tooru, your best friend.

“Fine,” you spat, “I’ll meet you at the park by your house.”

Without another word, you hung up.

You quietly left the bathroom, hoping not to wake Yachi and Kiyoko who were still soundly asleep next door. You carefully crept your way downstairs, and slid out the front door. You shot Kiyoko a text in case she woke up to your empty futon.

3:42am

You: I’m going to meet Oikawa.

The only company you had on your walk to the park were your thoughts, leaving you to replay the party, Oikawa, and Kei. With all that had happened with Oikawa, you hadn’t even processed what Kei had done at the party yet.

Honestly? It scared you. You had never seen Kei act so angry before, even when he thought you were the one who told MiyagiTea that you were living together. That was bitter and resentful; what Kei had done at the party was rage. The way Kei had looked at Oikawa made your blood run cold, you geniunely believed he was going to murder Oikawa had you not stepped in.

Had he been that infuriated by Oikawa? But a small thought buzzed in the back of your head, maybe he had done that for you.

You felt how he relaxed under your grip when you tugged at his shirt as an attempt to stop him from totally beating Oikawa, and the way his gaze softened when he turned around to face you. Had you coaxed him out of his anger?

You shook away your wishful thinking, knowing you were only getting your hopes up. He said it himself, there’s no way he would ever have feelings for you. But still, you couldn’t help but mull over how Kei had softened against you.

Before long, you made it to the park where Oikawa was waiting.

Your stomach lurched at the sight of him, the memories of the party replaying in your mind.

Oikawa was MiyagiTea. He had lied to you.

“Y/N,” he breathed, “I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

Oikawa looked as much of a wreck as you did, his usually bright eyes were red rimmed, dark bags under his eyes. Had he stayed up all night because of you? You almost let the worry wash over you, but you remembered why you were here. You wanted answers.

“Of course I did,” you muttered, “I want to know why.”

“Why?” He repeated, confused. Was he fucking serious right now? You clenched your fists, nearly wincing at the way your nails pierced your skin.

“Why the fuck you lied to me!” You snapped, the accumulated anger finally boiling over. “That stupid account has done nothing but hurt me! Why the fuck would you do this?”

Oikawa shakily sighed, collecting himself.

“At first, I started it as a joke, a stupid gossip account, but then it went too far-” He choked out, tears threatening his eyes, “I hated seeing you and Tsukishima together, so I used it to try and keep you two apart.”

“Apart? Why would you want us-”

“Isn’t it obvious?” He bitterly chuckled.

“Tooru, you’re not making any sense-”

“Because I’m in love with you!” Oikawa snapped.

Your voice faltered. What?

“Everyday I had to see you and Tsukishima together, wishing that were me, do you know how much that hurt, Y/N?”

Your voice felt like gravel in your throat, the words caught in your throat, unable to come out.

“I wanted to be the one you thought of, I wanted to be the one with you. I didn’t want to be second place.” He said, choking back a sob.

“Tooru-”

Your words burned leaving your throat. Your head was spinning. You felt like you were choking.

“Y/N, It’s always been you,” he croaked, “I’m so sorry I ever hurt you, I swear, from this day forward, I’ll never hurt you again, I’ll be better, I just want you to be mine, I love you-”

“Tooru, stop,” you choked out.

It was too much. You could barely hear Oikawa anymore against the pounding in your chest. All you could feel was the burn in your throat as you desperately needed to choke out something, anything. You needed to leave.

“Y/N, hear me out-”

“Oikawa, please!” You cried, the tears you shed earlier tonight returning.

The use of his last name instead of his first name made him flinch and your tears made him stepped back from you. You exhaled, relieving in the space he put.

“Just let me think, okay?” You whispered.

“Okay,” he muttered, unable to meet your eyes. “Just know, I’m so sorry Y/N.”

You turned away, walking away from the park, leaving Oikawa standing with his heart torn in two, and yours as well.

𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭: kiyoko and yachi woke up and found y/n gone.

𝐚/𝐧: um chile anyways so... 🤨 well, we have 2 chapters left and the epilogue! how we feelin?

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 (𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃!): @sinistersith @moronsuke @yougivemebutterfliess @saturnfarie @peachiikichu @what-happens-inside-the-box @nonoszrk @cece-lives-here @belli-jelly @cvlliesstuff @ack-aashi @mindofess @virgoamajiki @natsukitakama @shimy-deko @irenevyas @virgoamajiki @toaster-stick @little-dark-empress @h0ngh0ngh0ng @freyafolkvangr @winunk @estmagnifique @thechaosoflonging @ilovesupersoldiers @simpletype @burntcilantro @starrydaisy @animatedrapture @intothatbluebluesky @resetrestartandreplay @lostmarimoismyhubby @witcherydotcom @kukiisan @not-venice @grapesauze @amberisnotcrazy @tarasaoristark @ammemuts @cloudymotel @loving-unicorns106 @strawberryssel @kakaokenma @cadelinha-de-haikyuu @wowie-issa-me-amario @pruemania @vitalthot @kageyamasgirl @abswrites @kac-chowsballs

[pocminiseries]

When He Comes.

2|Fated

♖❤♖❤♖

It was the clash of thunder in the distance that made Julianna finally snap back into reality.

With her hand covering her stinging cheek, her watery eyes stared back into her sisters brown orbs with an unreadable look spread across her pretty face. "J-juli...I'm sor-"

"Why Mia? Why would you accept it when you know what that means for us?" Julianna softly questions, swiftly cutting off her sister's attempt to apologize.

Biting her lip as she shook her head, Mia looked away from her younger sister's icy gaze and focused on the darkened sky above them. "Because Juli, I can't escape him, I've tried. You know I have. But he's changed, I know he has. We have a daughter now and you know how much I always wanted to be married and I...I'm tired of fighting the inevitable,"

"He will never change," Julianna retorts back, feeling a drop of rain hit against her exposed shoulder. "And now he owns us,"

"You can leave Juli, no one is keeping you here," Mia smartly reminds her, allowing her eyes to settle on her younger sister once more. Her beautiful features reminded her so much of their deceased mother.

Releasing a humorless laugh through her nose, Julianna bawled up her fist in frustration. "You and Aubrey are all I have left. If I leave, you know I won't be allowed to come back. I'm not you Mia. I actually think before I make decisions that could affect me in the long run,"

Julianna knew she could just pack her things and never look back but it wasn't that simple. Nothing ever was with the type of man her sister chose to marry. If there was one thing that Julianna has come to know about Adonis in the four years that her sister has been with him was that he loved being in control. The power that he had over Mia was almost nauseating. She was his own personal puppet to use at his will and Julianna hated it.

"Look, I get that you don't like him but he's a part of this family now. I love him, Juli, I really do. Just...let me be happy. Please," Mia pleaded, wishing that for once Julianna would finally accept reality. "I need you here and so does Aubrey," She added knowing how much Julianna loved her niece.

"Happy? How can you be happy with the person who to-"

"Stop!" Mia quickly rushed out. "Don't....please," She pleaded with watery eyes. The words that were about to leave her sister's mouth were the absolute last words she wanted to hear, especially today. "Why can't you just be happy for me Juli? I'm finally getting the happy ending I deserve,"

Julianna could only shake her head. Mia was so lost.

How that man managed to manipulate and wrap her mind into believing he actually gave a fuck about her or their daughter was beyond what Julianna could comprehend because it literally made no fucking sense.

"The day you say I do to him...he will never let you go," Julianna made sure to heavy emphasis on the word never because it was true. Adonis was a powerful businessman, an angry and money-hungry businessman.

And her sister just handed him her soul for the sake of a false fairytale that would never exist as long as she would remain his doormat.

"And that's what I want. There's nothing else out there for me...he made sure of that. Remember?" Mia reminds her as her frown deepens even more. "I literally have nowhere else to go and neither do you,"

With every word her sister spoke, Julianna could feel her anger level rise. The hostility she felt towards her last flesh and blood shouldn't have been like this nor run this deep. "How could I? You made the choice for me..."

Waving her hand in a dismissive manner, Julianna turned and walked away, ignoring her name being called. The skies above her seemed to darken even more, almost seeming to mimick how she was feeling.

Life has been so unfair and she hated being here living it.

Happiness wasn't a feeling she had the pleasure of experiencing too much of if any at all.

Misery was her best friend.

All she wanted was a sense of peace. Even if it was temporary she would cherish it while she could.

Soon Julianna found herself walking along the slightly busy streets with no real destination in mind as long as it was far away from her sister and her new fiancé. Just the thought made her sick to her stomach.

Being too deep into her own thoughts, Julianna ignored the light rain that hit against her skin until a heavy rainfall seemed to come out of nowhere, pulling her from her thoughts almost immediately. "Shit!" she huffed, running as quick as she could in her heeled covered feet to get out of the rain.

In seconds she was drenched and eventually found refuge by standing under a random building entryway. She found herself silently cussing at forgetting her phone and her purse back at the restaurant. Now she was stuck with no way to call anyone to come to get her.

Julianna wasn't sure how long she stood there, watching as the heavy rain hit against the pavement. Her mind was in somewhat of a daze that she didn't even notice a figure standing little ways from her until they decided to let their presence known.

"I thought I warned you about being alone?" Spoke a familiar voice that caused Julianna to almost jump out of her skin.

"What the fuck?!" She screeched, taking a step back as she eyed the smirking man beside her.

"You're soaking," Jaehyun observes, looking over her wet hair and clothes. "Did you not leave the house without an umbrella?" He questions, holding up his own.

"I didn't plan for a walk, so no, I didn't bother to grab one,"

Jaehyun hummed in response. "Do you need a ride home?" He offers, seeing that she also seemed to not have any of her personal items on her. It didn't take much to put two and two together.

"Thanks but I'll be ok. The rain will stop soon," She declines, folding her arms to keep herself from shivering.

"You have my word Julianna, I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to help," He just finished having dinner when he stepped out and spotted her standing alone. He didn't even think of how much of a coincidence that he saw her again but he wasn't going to question it.

Looking at Jaehyun, Julianna thought about how odd it was that he was nearby. She didn't think he was stalking her or anything but the fact that they both were at the same place at the same time made her brain hurt.

"Okay," She finally agrees, knowing her options were limited. "Lead the way,"

Opening up his umbrella, Jaehyun held out his free hand and waited for Julianna to grab ahold of it before he led the way back across the street and towards a sleek BMW. Opening the passenger side door, he helped Julianna inside and ran to his side, quickly sliding inside before tossing the umbrella in the backseat.

Taking a quick glance at Julianna, Jaehyun saw her visibly shiver causing him to immediately switch on the heat to give her some sort of comfort. "Thank you," She tells him, giving him a small smile as their eyes met, He was being so kind and she appreciated it greatly.

"Of course," Jaehyun nods in return. "Do you mind if I...." He trails off, pointing at the seatbelt indicating what he meant.

Julianna gave him a knowing look but sat back and allowed him to do what he asked. She watched as he leaned towards her and reached for the seatbelt, giving her a whiff of his masculine scent for a few seconds before moving away to buckle her in.

Out of habit, Julianna licked her lips once he was done, feeling a burst of butterflies erupt in her stomach at something so small. "So where am I going?" He asks, putting his own seatbelt on and push-starting his car.

For a brief moment, Julianna really took the time to just take him in. Everything from his red button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the black slacks he wore, the shoes on his feet to the watch on his wrist looked expensive. He looked expensive. Even when her eyes moved towards his face, a face that was nothing short of perfection, she felt so out of place seating next to him.

"Julianna..." And his voice...it was like a sweet symphony she knew she'd never get tired of hearing.

Blinking, Julianna snapped out of her daze and cleared her throat, feeling a bit embarrassed at what had just occurred. "I-..." She begin, cutting her words short realizing that she really didn't want to go back home where she knew her sister and her owner would be waiting.

Sensing her hesitancy, Jaehyun assumed it was because she didn't want him to know where she lived but that couldn't be the furthest from the truth. "I could get you a room for the night, if that's what you prefer," He offers, wanting her to at least be somewhere comfortable.

"I know what you're thinking but that's not why. I just...I just don't want to go home tonight and...I don't want to be alone either," She confesses, hoping he'd catch what she was hinting at. Lately, she hasn't been in the mood to be around anyone she knew. In fact, she wished she could just get away for a while. She needed it.

Like Julianna, for the first time since she got into the car, Jaehyun took the time to really look her over. And just like the night they met, she was just as beautiful. Except now, she was all wet which caused the dress she wore to fit snugly against her moist skin. Making her look a little bit more sensual than usual.

"I see," He voices, picking up what she meant. "Is there anything you need before we go?"

"Besides clothes, no," She chuckles softly, not believing the choices she's been making. For all she knew this man could be a killer. But in her defense, she's been living with one already.

Julianna watched Jaehyun smile as he pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to whoever he was talking to. "I got it handled. Are you ready?"

"Very."

[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 56

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You and Bucky don't recuperate for long.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

AO3

Wariness thrummed in your bones as you awoke, and when you opened your eyes, Bucky was already sitting upright and alert, brows dipped in concentration.

It wasn’t his movement that had jostled you awake, but his emotions flowing across the bond, as easily felt as your own. It should have been weird—what kind of person wanted to share their deepest emotions with someone else?—but you and Bucky had never been exactly normal.

“What is it?”

You sat upright, still not fully awake, pulling the covers over your bare chest. Now that you were awake, you also sensed something amiss.

“I don’t know.” Bucky threw back the covers and hastily pulled on his jeans, not wasting time to wrestle with a shirt as his wings twitched behind him. “There’s a lot of activity going on out there.”

Also scrambling for your clothes, you realized all you had were the ceremonial robes, which were currently tattered to ribbons on the floor.

Wong is going to kill me.

But that was an issue for later-you. Needing to find another set of clothes but not keen on leaving the room naked, you opened the nearest set of drawers and pulled out the robes inside until you found a pair that fit. Muted gold and tan, you slipped it on and realized too late it only came up to mid-thigh, clearly mean to be worn with trousers.

Bucky paused next to the door, appraising your new outfit, and you gave him a don’t say a word glare.

His lips twitched, but at least he kept his thoughts to himself, and you followed him out the door.

Or, you tried and bumped into him, holding onto his wings to not stumble back; Bucky had been forced to stop at the sheer amount of chaos in the hallway. Sorcerers running back and forth, many of them casting spells into the air or at the walls, none of them paying Bucky or you any attention.

You approached the nearest one, recognizing him as one of Wong’s students, and had to grab his arm when he nearly tripped into you in his haste to cast spells.

“What’s happened?” you demanded, letting go of his wrist when you had his attention.

The sorcerer glanced between you and Bucky, and as it so often did, lingered for a moment on your horns. He cleared his throat.

“What?” Bucky asked, pressing against your shoulder. “What is it? Speak up.”

“The… the prisoner has escaped.”

Bucky went pale, his eyes wide, and for a moment you sensed the raw, jagged fear across your bond, prickling up the back of your own neck. He hadn’t forgotten what it was like to be enslaved by Zemo, the memories still as fresh as new wounds.

You pushed back against his strong emotions, realizing this was something you’d have to work on, separating your emotions so they wouldn’t overwhelm. Your pulse was elevated, goosebumps broke out across your skin, but you muted Bucky’s fear as best you could so you could get a handle on the situation.

“Where’s Strange?”

“His office. Making plans to retrieve the prisoner.”

And probably figure out how Zemo managed to get free, you thought. You imagined not many people were able to escape from deep in the wizard’s headquarters.

“Great. Thanks.”

You turned away from the sorcerer to leave him to what he was doing, which was either repairing broken wards or bolstering existing ones, and faced Bucky. With a gentle touch on his arm, you leaned in so as not to be overheard but the hassled wizards.

“Are you okay?”

Bucky blinked and blew out a short breath. He ran his normal hand through his hair, visibly collecting himself before he answered.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be fine. Fuck.” He shook his head. “How did that bastard get out?”

“I think we need to have a talk with Strange.”

“Yeah,” he growled, fixing his eyes down the hallway toward the far end where the staircase was located. “We do.”

The journey to Strange’s office was interspersed with hurried sorcerers, hands weaving complicated glyphs into the air, too occupied to even notice your passage through the halls.

You nearly walked into a wizard as he dashed from the office, giving a rushed apology as he slipped between you and Bucky. You exchanged a glance and continued inside.

As opposed to the pandemonium outside, it was controlled chaos within. Sorcerers walked the perimeter of the office casting spells, some of them consulted over what looked suspiciously like electronic tablets, and there were Strange and Wong in the middle of the room. In between them was a glowing orange depiction of the Sanctum, with an area below it depicted in blue. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out it was a magical layout of the building and where it had been breached.

“Finally,” Strange said without taking his eyes off the glittering miniature building. “Sergeant, I need you to suit up—after you’ve been cleared by the healers, of course.”

“You want me to hunt Zemo.” Bucky’s tone was flat, incurious, as if he already knew the answer. A glimmer of fear shone across the bond, but when he glanced at you, the trepidation molded into simmering anger. “Yeah, I’ll hunt the bastard for you.”

“I’m coming too.”

Now Strange did take his gaze off the map, meeting your eye through the magical projection. Even Wong stared, expression unreadable as it often was. You met their gazes unblinking, even as you tried not to fidget from the draft against your bare legs.

“The bond worked,” you insisted.

Strange sighed.

“Yes, I deduced as much when neither of you left the room for hours on end.”

Heat burned your cheeks and your tail puffed like an angry snake, which you then had to hold down with one hand so it didn’t lift the back of your robes.

So much for not blinking.

There was a hand on your shoulder, soothing and comforting. Bucky met your questioning look with a soft smile, and the same comfort given by his presence was doubled as it also came across the bond.

“The bond worked,” you repeated to Strange, bolstered by Bucky’s silent support. “Which means Bucky and I work better in tandem. I’m not a liability anymore; you said it yourself I’m a full-fledged sorcerer. I want to help. I will help.”

Strange said nothing and you bristled.

“Zemo kidnaped me. He tortured me. He held me hostage so he could get to Bucky—“

“And then he killed you.”

It wasn’t Strange who spoke, but Wong, stepping forward with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Are you sure this is something you wish to do? Track down the man who ended your life and sent you to the demon realm? Think carefully.”

You closed your mouth and swallowed, taking in Wong’s words and giving them the proper attention they deserved.

“Yeah.” You cleared your throat. “Yes. I won’t let him do to someone else what he did to me. And to Bucky.”

Pride, concern, and even some exasperated fondness trickled across your link. You nearly smiled but kept your lips in a thin line, not wanting Wong to think you weren’t serious about this, because you absolutely were.

Strange stroked his goatee and glanced sideways at Wong.

“She was your student first. What do you think?”

If Wong was surprised to be asked for his opinion by the Sorcerer Supreme, he didn’t show it. Instead, he scrutinized you so closely you wanted to break out in a cold sweat, and then he turned to Strange and said:

“She’s ready.”

“Then I will defer to your judgement.”

You blinked.

“Just like that?”

Strange actually had the audacity to smirk.

“Were you hoping for a debate committee?” His attention was drawn back to the magical blueprint, his smile fading, replaced by a thoughtful frown. “The truth is, we could use the help. Zemo has gone to ground. He’s a smart man, even managed to break the tracking spells we put on him. He may be one step ahead of us, but… there’s one thing he won’t factor into his calculations.”

“What’s that?”

“You.”

You glanced at Bucky but he simply shrugged, confused as you were.

“Me?”

“Yes,” Wong answered this time. “Zemo believes you are still dead. He doesn’t know you’ve returned, and he certainly doesn’t know you now possess magical capabilities. What has he been relying on to give him his edge so far?”

It was almost like you were back in one of Wong’s lessons, so you paid attention and followed his train of thought.

“Demon magic?”

“Mmhmm.” Wong gave the barest of smiles. “And what is your mystical specialization?”

“Demon magic,” you answered with your own smile.

“He will most likely rely on old HYDRA facilities to stay in hiding, which is where you come in, Sergeant.” Strange nodded to Bucky. “You both are our best means of tracking and recapturing Helmut Zemo.”

The plan sounded all well and good, but something was nagging you. Something important you were missing.

“How did Zemo escape?”

Bucky’s nose wrinkled as he pulled his hand off your shoulder and turned to the two sorcerers, arms folded over his chest.

“Yeah. How did Zemo escape?”

“We’re still investigating the precise way he did it, but…” Strange tapped the magical image of the building and it expanded, focusing on the sub level where it showed a cell lined in blue, fragments of it missing. “From what I can tell, during your ritual with Barnes someone infiltrated the Sanctum with the goal of weakening the demon wards around Zemo’s cell. They succeeded, causing only minor damage to the wards, but unfortunately it was enough for Zemo to recall his servant to teleport him and his accomplice out of the building.”

“You mean his slave.” Anger simmered in your chest, but dread twisted in the pit of your stomach. “The Alp is enslaved again.”

“Yes,” Strange said, reluctantly. “And we don’t know if Zemo has other demons under his power, ones that can do more than simple teleportation, or if his allies are human, such as the one who set him free. Most likely, he has backup plans of his backup plans, so we must move swiftly, especially before he finds more of HYDRA’s ill-advised toys lying around. One demon gate was bad enough. I don’t wish to find out what he would do with more Infinity Stone-powered artifacts.”

“So.” Bucky stepped forward, arms across his chest. “Where do we start?

As Strange began to discuss strategy and what he believed was the best approach, your attention drifted to something else.

Strange’s collar. More specifically, the collar of his red cape. The Cloak of Levitation. It slightly fluttered in a non-existent breeze, just as present and alive as any person.

The relic that had chosen Strange.

Recalling the Ancient One’s words, you let your eyes wander around the room, searching for the relic that was supposedly yours. The instruments that lined the shelves and display cases had never responded to you before, even after reawakening your powers, and they didn’t call to you now. A relic was supposed to make itself known to you when you were ready, but still, nothing leapt out at you as particularly important.

And then you finally remembered, oh shit. You hadn’t actually told them about your conversation with the Ancient One yet. Not that you’d had time, with waking up and finding Bucky the way he was, and that had certainly taken up all of your—

“I hope I’m not boring you.”

You jerked your head around and there was Strange, giving you a flat and put-upon stare. Bucky turned to you with a raised brow, but Wong was watching you without blinking.

“Sorry. I just… Is this the Ancient One’s office? This is her office, right?”

Much like the sorcerer you had just mentioned at your last encounter, Strange simply gaped at you.

“Come again?” he said with the impatient tone of one not used to having to ask for clarification.

“Is this her office? I’m supposed to find something here.” When no one said a word, you sheepishly added, “I, uh, spoke to her. After I must have passed out during the ritual—“

“Excuse me?”

“How is that possible?”

“You what?”

That last was from Bucky, and it was to him you answered first. Guilt surfaced at your unintentional omission of truth.

“I saw her, and talked to her, but it-it’s not important how right now.”

At Bucky’s furrowed brow and tight jaw you moved closer, trying to soothe him across your bond. The tension in his body loosened marginally, and his distress became a more mild worry.

“I promise I’ll tell you everything later when we have time,” you said quietly. “What’s important is that she wanted me to go to her office to find my relic. And if we’re going to hunt Zemo, I would rather have it before we leave.”

Strange exchanged a look with Wong, one you didn’t understand but seemed laden with meaning. You frowned.

“What?”

“She said: her office?” Wong asked. “Are you positive those were her exact words?”

“Yes. Why?”

Bucky didn’t seem to have any clue as to why that was important either, but Strange and Wong continued to have a silent discussion before Wong finally spoke.

“I’ll take her.”

“Then…” Strange took a deep breath and gave you a last look. “I wish you luck.”

Before you could ask what the hell that meant, Wong began ushering you and Bucky out of the office, but then Strange spoke up again.

“Oh, one last thing. You two won’t be going after Zemo alone.”

You couldn’t quite read Strange’s expression, something like frustration and amusement. Usually he only made that face in regards to you, so you knew it couldn’t be good.

“What’s that mean?” Bucky asked, probably coming to a similar conclusion.

“The Avengers, as you know, have their hands tied with the Sokovian Accords, and can’t help us with this matter. Not in an official capacity. The last thing we need is to have the United Nations aware of our presence.”

Bucky frowned further.

“Your point?”

“My point, Sergeant, is that neither Steve Rogers nor Tony Stark can assist in retrieving Zemo. To do so would require official channels to know how he escaped, and why imprisonment was necessary from the start.

“Not to mention where he was being held,” Strange added with a sigh. “Our order relies on secrecy and independence in order to function. The UN knowing about the Sanctums would make protecting this planet that much harder.”

Strange was right, but you were less concerned about the sorcerers being exposed—they could handle themselves. More worrying would be the world’s governments becoming aware of Bucky and his demonic side. Especially with the Sokovian Accords in play and the Avengers unable to intervene, keeping Bucky under the radar was important now more than ever.

“So… who’s going to be helping us?” you asked, curious despite yourself.

“A liaison, of sorts. I’ll give you more details when you return, and I expect you to play nice.”

“You don’t have to tell me that, Strange,” Bucky growled.

“I was talking to her.”

Strange glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. You didn’t even get the chance to defend the slander before he was waving you away and Wong was leading you out the door.

“His name is Sam Wilson,” Strange called after you. “And he is an Avenger, so try not to embarrass us.”

Your annoyance at the wizard evaporated.

“You know who he is?” Bucky asked, casting you a side glance. He must have sensed your sudden excitement across the bond.

“Of course, he’s the Falcon! He helped Steve Rogers dismantle HYDRA when they tried to take over S.H.I.E.L.D. It’s how he became an Avenger.”

“Uh-huh.” Bucky’s voice dropped a notch. “And you’ve met Captain America himself, but I don’t remember you fangirling over Steve.”

You stumbled over your own feet. Wong pointedly ignored you both, for which you were grateful.

“I-well, that’s different! Steve is… Steve.”

You couldn’t exactly say Steve is your ex, but there it was. Even if you’d met Steve at a time where you hadn’t been spiraling with devastation at Bucky going into the cryo-chamber, the whole thing would have been just as awkward. You liked Steve well enough, especially after you’d had time to get to know him, but he was still Steve Rogers to you. Someone who was important to Bucky in a way that he was different to the rest of the world.

But Sam Wilson… You were going to be working with an Avenger. A bonafide superhero. And you were going to be using your magic the way it should be wielded, not cloistered away in a sanctum.

Your tail twitched, and you grabbed it before it could lift up your short tunic the rest of the way again.

Bucky was immediately distracted, his eyes growing darker as he followed the sudden movement of your tail down to your bare legs.

You cleared your throat.

“Can I get changed before we go to… wherever it is we’re going?”

Wong looked over his shoulder, glanced at your state of undress, and rolled his eyes.

“Very well.”

The three of you made a detour back to your room, or you assumed it was a detour, because you still didn’t know your destination. You paused in the doorway.

“Where are we going?”

“Kamar-Taj,” Wong answered, eyes straight ahead. Down the hallway where you would eventually enter the meeting room that only the Masters used. You’d never been there, or through the magical doors beyond that led to the other Sanctums.

A chill went down your spine, one that was shared as Bucky met your eye, and you didn’t object as he followed you into your room. Nor did you speak when he shut the door, turn to you, and wrapped his arms around your tense shoulders.

He didn’t know the source of your distress, couldn’t know what the Ancient One had told you, but he could feel the results of it anyway.

Wong would have to wait a few minutes more as you allowed yourself to take comfort in Bucky’s steadfast presence. It was the only way you could gather your strength for whatever came next.

Next Chapter

[vizhi0nw]

Confidence

Pairing: Porco/OC/Reiner

Warnings: NSFW - oral (male/female receiving) handjobs, threesome, face riding.

Words: 4k

I’ve never written a fic for SNK before but I decided...why not. I hope I did Porco and Reiner justice. This is just smut with some backstory and feels (Reiner needs a big hug)

                                                          ---

“Reiner always looks so....sad,” Samira murmured into Porco’s ear. “Like he’s got a lot of thoughts cooped up in his head and doesn’t know how to let them out.”

Porco hummed absently. He, like Samira, couldn’t take his eyes off Reiner. The tall blonde was listening to Zeke speak with half-hearted enthusiasm, his posture slack and his head tilted to one side. His entire demeanor, the entire act screamed discontent. Like he’d given up even attempting to take pointers from Zeke and was instead more interested in the little line of fire ants crawling across the dirt next to the heel of his shoe. 

Samira and Porco were a little ways away, cooped up on a rickety wooden bench, away from the training ground. It was tucked away, secluded, and in the shade - it was the perfect little metaphor for her relationship with Porco, Samira mused. Tucked away. Secluded. She was well aware that people knew she and Porco were together, but it wasn’t something Porco had yet to feel comfortable flaunting in front of Zeke or the other warriors - though, Samira knew he’d like nothing more than to rub it in the Jeager’s face - for reasons she had yet to uncover. 

When Samira looked at Porco, his eyes were still trained on Reiner. His brow was furrowed, lips pulled taut into a line. It was one of the very few times Samira couldn’t read him, and it always seemed to happen when he was gazing at the blonde Warrior who had been a source of flickering ire in his life for as long as Samira could remember. 

She leaned up and gently kissed the exposed skin of Porco’s neck before nipping at his earlobe. “First Reiner, now you. Why the face?”

“He doesn’t have anything to be sad about. Not after I saved his ass on the battlefield,” Porco murmured. “I don’t know what goes on in that brick of a head of his.”

“Maybe you - we - should ask.”

“Maybe I don’t want to know,” Porco turned back to face Samira. “I’d much rather think about what’s going on in your head than his.”

“You already know because I tell you,” Samira giggled as Porco’s mouth covered her own, his kisses quick and demanding but to the point and oh-so arden - all him. When he pulled away, Samira tilted her head in Reiner’s direction. “We should talk to him. I know you don’t like to admit it to yourself, but you’re his friend.”

Porco snorted. “Yeah, sure.”

“Pock.”

“Friends on the battlefield, acquaintances off,” Porco replied. “If you insist on talking to him, go ahead. I won’t stop you.” 

Samira didn’t have to go far. Reiner was already heading towards them, his expression the same as before, though a bit less forlorn. Samira gently separated herself from Porco, leaving her partner to sit, arms crossed and with a sour expression on his face.

“Did Zeke chew you out too badly?” Samira inquired.

Reiner shrugged. “Not...as badly as he normally does. What I did on the battlefield was stupid. Reckless. I understand that now.”

“You’re back safe. That’s all that really matters,” Samira said softly. Reiner’s eyes widened a bit, and he nodded his head robotically. Samira could see the flush creeping up his neck to his cheeks, and she was glad Porco had decided to focus his attention on a browning blade of grass. 

Reiner, bless him, had always been terrible at hiding the fact that he was rather enamored with Samira. More than once, Samira had caught him gazing at her with half-lidded eyes, and he always seemed hesitant to approach, especially when Porco was around. Reiner wasn’t one to exacerbate tension, and Samira was positive he’d been spending prior months trying to crush whatever feelings he had for Samira with the same force and drive he used to crush enemies on the battlefield as the Armored Titan. To Reiner, Samira was unobtainable.

Perhaps his sadness was a byproduct of that. Samira wasn’t sure, but she felt she owed it to Reiner - he was a kind man, and his sense of duty rivaled that of Porco. He’d been one of the few people who had stuck up for Samira when Zeke had made it very clear that he harbored no fondness towards her. He was also heavily burdened with emotions from his experiences on Paradis, something Porco had only told her about in passing. Whatever had happened, whatever Reiner had done or seen, had changed him. 

“I’m back, but at what cost?” Reiner murmured. “I...I shouldn’t burden you with my problems, Sam. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. I just noticed that you seemed upset. If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m available. So is Porco, to be honest. I know he’s an ass but he does care about you,” Samira glanced back towards her partner. “Bottling things up isn’t healthy. Trust me, I know.”

Reiner let out a long sigh. He seemed as if he wanted to talk further, but pulled himself away. “I appreciate that.”

Samira squeezed his arm as he walked past. She felt him stiffen beneath her touch, briefly, before his stride increased and he almost hurried away. Porco finally lifted his head to watch Reiner disappear back inside, once again sporting that same unreadable expression as before. 

One day, Samira would figure out what that expression meant.

                                                         ---

Porco squeezed out the sponge, letting a cascade of hot, soapy water run down the smooth expanse of Samira’s back. 

He felt content to just look at her like she was his prize, which she was. His greatest prize, more important and valuable than any victory on the battlefield. More important than Marley itself, though Porco could never bring himself to admit it to anyone other than Samira. 

Porco leaned forward and kissed her shoulder, one hand running across deep brown skin as she leaned back to rest against him. The thick, tightly packed coils of hair on her head were wet, washed, and smelled like mint. The water of the bath was still the perfect temperature, soothing Porco’s sore limbs and making him wish he could just last in this moment forever. 

He knew it would have to end, eventually. He didn’t want to think about that right now. He wanted to think about Samira and how her soft, flexible fingers were massaging the skin of his thigh -

“We should do something to help Reiner out,” Samira hummed. “He’s upset. I can tell. He needs...something. Help. I don’t know-”

“Talk to Zeke about it. Have him deal with it.”

Samira barked a laugh. “Me? Talk to Zeke?”

She was right. It was a dumb suggestion, and Porco internally cursed himself for not spouting out Pieck’s name instead. Zeke harbored nothing but negative feelings towards Samira, born most likely out of envy. Porco had something that he didn’t. 

Porco sighed and reclined back further in the bath. “Stupid suggestion, I know.”

Samira turned, sitting up a bit to straddle Porco’s hips. He groaned - she was tantalizingly close to him, his cock resting languidly against her inner thigh. He tried not to think about it while she began to speak. 

“The way you look at him sometimes...it confuses me.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I can usually read you like the back of my hand,” Samira murmured. “When you look at Reiner sometimes, I can’t read you. It’s like I’m back to when we first met - you had that same expression on your face when you looked at me. Like you didn’t know what to feel, how to feel.”

“I know how I feel about Reiner,” Porco didn’t even believe those words as they tumbled out. He grit his teeth and ducked his head, waiting for Samira to catch his flub. She didn’t. Like she usually did, she waited for him to compose himself, gave him time, before speaking. 

“You don’t always have to rush into things head-on, Pock. Much less your emotions. I know you think of...of Marcel, when you see him. I know how much it hurts.”

It brought Porco comfort that she did know, empirically so, as she’d lost two of her own siblings to war. She wasn’t just saying it as a pity response. The wounds were raw, real, and deep. Samira herself had yet to heal from hers, either, though she’d made a far better effort than Porco knew he had. 

She was better than him. So much better than him. Porco knew deep down he didn’t deserve someone like her. 

“Both of my brothers died saving me,” Samira whispered. “I knew I wasn’t fit for the battlefield, that I was weak, but I enlisted anyway and they paid for it.”

Porco gripped her arms almost instinctively, holding her tightly and hissing, “You are not weak-” 

“I was weak, Porco. I couldn’t do what needed to be done because I was scared. I told everyone I wasn’t. I pretended to be brave and capable,” Samira’s hands reached up to cradle Porco’s face. “Reiner was a child. You were all children.”

Porco leaned forward and rested his head against Samira’s shoulder. He kissed her damp skin, her shoulder, her neck, before kissing his way up her jaw and finally, her lips. 

“We can...we can try something. To help,” Porco whispered. “Just- fuck - just tell me what you want to do.”

                                                        ---

“Are you sure he’ll agree to this?” Porco dug his thumb into the tight muscle between Samira’s neck and shoulder, casually massaging out a knot beneath the skin. Samira hummed and tilted her head to the side, eyes fluttering shut. 

“I think he will.”

It didn’t take long for Reiner to arrive, shuffling into the room rather awkwardly before closing the door behind him. He looked between Porco and Samira, confusion etched across his face. 

“You wanted to see me?”

“Obviously,” Porco’s tone was smooth and curt. “We called you here, didn’t we?”

 “For what?”

Before Samira could explain, Porco spoke. There was a glint in his eye, and a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He kept a hand steady on Samira’s shoulder, his thumb now stroking patterns against her skin. “You know, Braun, you’re incredibly bad at hiding the way you look at Sam. Eye-fucking another man’s girl across a room isn’t exactly the brightest idea, considering who that man is.”

Reiner sputtered and Samira’s eyes widened at Porco’s words. She reached over to swat his chest, but he caught her wrist, his smile widening. 

“I should beat the shit out of you right now for that,” Porco said. “But I won’t. Instead, I’ll indulge you.”

“W-what do you mean?” Reiner’s adams apple bobbed as he gulped, eyes darting between Samira and Porco. 

“You want to fuck her?” Porco said. 

Reiner didn’t reply. Porco asked again, this time slower.

“I said, do you want to fuck her, Braun?”

“You can say yes,” Samira interrupted. “That’s why you’re here - to answer your question.” 

Reiner’s fingers fell away from where they’d been hovering over the doorknob, though they drifted back up when Porco instructed him to turn the lock. The blonde took slow, methodical steps across the room, coming to stop before Samira. His hands were shaking a bit as he reached out to clasp her face between his big hands. Samira began working at the buttons of his shirt, peeling the cloth away to reveal rippling muscles underneath. 

“I - thank you,” Reiner said.

“Just kiss her, you brute,” Porco rolled his eyes. 

While Porco’s kisses were demanding, Reiner’s were almost needy - like he’d never had them before and wanted more. He and Porco both worked to undress Samira, tossing her clothes away without a care as to where they landed in the room. 

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Porco moaned against Samira’s hair. 

Reiner nodded frantically, before gasping as he was wrestled onto the bed by two pairs of hands. 

“This is for you,” Samira murmured against his lips. She worked on undoing his belt, sliding it off and letting it clatter to the wooden floor. She spread her fingers before curling them around his clothed cock, palming him through his trousers. Reiner writhed against the sheets, bare chest heaving. His eyes travelled from Samira, to Porco, who was yanking his own shirt over his head. 

He was already hard when Samira pulled his pants and undergarments down past his hips and off his legs. His dick was impressive in girth and length, and Samira brushed her palm across the head as she crawled up to kiss him once more. She heard Porco aggressively ridding himself of his own pants, the bed dipping as he joined the duo. 

Samira pulled away and licked a stripe across his collarbone before resuming her journey down his chest, Sweat was beading on Reiner’s brow as he propped herself up to look down at Samira as she gave his cock a few tugs before pushing the head past her lips. 

Reiner’s thighs tensed. Samira felt a hand gently stroke her hair - Porco - as she slid down further on his cock. 

“Ah,” Reiner’s eyes were half-closed, the muscles in his lower abdomen tight. Samira felt soft breathing against her cheek as Porco leaned down, his own lips brushing over Reiner’s cock. He began to leave teasing, suckling kisses against the skin, drawing out filthy moans from deep within Reiner’s gut. He then laid his tongue flat against the broad base, licking a long stripe from root to tip. 

It was Porco who pulled Samira off Reiner’s cock, eventually, though not before smashing his lips against hers for good measure. Reiner watched, mouth agape, cock leaking and happy between his legs. 

Porco’s fingers snuck between Samira’s legs, swiping across her slick folds. 

“Sucking him off got you that wet?” Porco inquired, though there was no jealousy in his tone - only lust. “Fuck.”

Strong fingers gripped Samira’s face. Porco yanked her forward, crushing his mouth against hers, once more, with urgency. Samira felt the bed shift as Reiner began to try and sit up, only to be shoved back down by a strong push from Porco. 

“Stay still. This is for you, after all,” Porco kept a firm grip on Samira’s face, eyes travelling from the proud column of Reiner’s throat, down his barrel chest and hips. Gone was that same hooded-eyed look Samira was used to seeing, instead replaced by one of pure, unsullied desire. He wanted Reiner just as much as Samira.

Maybe that had been the source of “the look” all along. It was no secret to Samira that Porco, like her, had no preference for the gender of his partner - Porco had admitted, several times, that Reiner was an attractive man. Samira just hadn’t read into it as fully as she probably should have. 

“Why don’t you show him how you ride me?” Porco’s large palm drifted across Samira’s back as she happily clambered atop Reiner, his breath hitching as she rested her palms against his chest. She swung a leg over his hip,  and Reiner’s own hand frantically came to grip the base of his cock, sliding the appendage between Samira’s slick folds. 

Porco was watching, eyes narrowed to slits. With a snarl, he reached down to grab Reiner’s face between his fingers - the same motion he’d done to Samira moments earlier - so he could lean down and kiss him. Reiner gave a deep, rumbling moan, eyes slipping closed as Samira sank down onto him, inch by inch, velvety walls trapping his cock in a vice grip. 

It felt heavenly. Reiner felt heavenly.

The bed creaked as Porco pulled away from Reiner and flopped onto his back, the veins on his thick arms pulsing as he gripped his cock and began to stroke. 

“She feels f-fucking amazing, doesn’t she?” Porco could barely speak, and Reiner couldn’t speak at all - he just grunted and nodded in agreement. “Don’t ever f-forget how her pussy feels. You’re only getting it o-once.”

That, Samira knew immediately, was a lie.

Samira lurched forward, legs clamping around Reiner’s hips as her orgasm rocked her entire body. Reiner pumped upward once, twice, before he came - grunting out expletives and gnawing on his lower lip so hard that Samira was scared he would break skin and bleed. His dick was spent, sticky and still leaking as it slipped from her cunt and bobbed before resting against his stomach

“We’re ignoring Porco,” Samira said through her heaving pants. Reiner’s big hand was running across her hips, her lower back, and thighs. He had a half-dazed expression on his face, but perked up when Samira reached over to stroke her partner’s bare, heaving chest. 

“Fucking hell,” Porco moaned. “Both of you will be the death of me, I swear.”

“I couldn’t think of a better way to go,” Reiner replied. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Porco was laughing, shoulders bouncing. He reached out to grip Samira’s thigh, stopping her before she could climb off Reiner’s lap. “I want you on my face next.”

“P-Pock-”

A tilt of the head and a sharp look was enough for Samira to know that he wasn’t kidding.

This was new - Samira had never...well, Porco had never suggested it before during the countless times he’d taken her in this very same bed. She’d imagined it, of course, but she’d never imagined that Porco would ask her to sit on his face. He wasn’t a vanilla guy, but she could tell that Reiner’s presence in the room had changed the way he acted. Perhaps it was some urge to one-up Reiner, prove to him that he, and only he, could make Samira moan and scream and tremble all at once. Samira wasn’t complaining.

Always a competition, Samira mused. 

She allowed herself to smile as she swung her legs on either side of Porco’s head, making sure to give him room to breathe. She braced her hands on the headboard of the bed, fingers curling into the wood as Porco caressed her thighs, her stomach, and then her breasts, tweaking a nipple with his thumb and making Samira mewl. 

“Watch and learn, Braun,” Porco breathed against Samira’s folds. He licked a stripe from one end to the other, and Samira’s hips bucked, her grip on the headboard tightening. His mouth felt so good on her, suckling at her clit before he slid a finger into her tight cunt, crooking the appendage and drawing out filthy sounds from Samira’s parted lips.

Reiner seemed content to just stare, though Samira could see his eyes drifting lower and lower, past the smooth plane of Porco’s stomach to his erect cock. Reiner disappeared from her sight, suddenly, and Samira twisted her head and saw Reiner dive and slip Porco’s cock past his lips. 

“S-shit,” Porco’s hips bucked and he speared Samira on his tongue, fingers slipping from her pussy to reach down and tangle in Reiner’s blonde locks. “What’s got you so f-fucking confident?”

Samira threw her head back and laughed. Her knees and thighs burned but she didn’t care. All she wanted was to come, desperately, and for Porco to get her there. He used his free hand to shove two fingers back inside of her. She could hear Reiner behind her, heard him gag as he sucked Porco’s dick farther and farther into his mouth. 

Porco moaned. Fire exploded in Samira’s gut and she curled forward, and Porco lapped at her like a starving man. The only indicator that he’d come was a subtle tightening of his abs and the sound of Reiner milking him dry, sliding his cock past his lips. 

It took several moments for Samira to peel herself away from Porco, legs spent, her entire body feeling as if it were on a cloud. She collapsed between the two men, Porco remaining on his back while Reiner crawled up, the back of his hand covering his mouth as he wiped away the final evidence of Porco’s release on his lips and chin. 

There were no words spoken between the three, at first. Porco’s eyes were shut, as if he were sleeping. Reiner remained on his side, a distant look in his eyes. Samira was panting still, and she gave a soft sigh. She leaned over and pressed her lips against Reiner’s. 

“Why?” Reiner’s words were soft, though not accusatory. Curious. Just...curious. 

“It was her idea,” Porco mumbled. “You know how she gets. Relentless.”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it,” Samira replied.

“Never said I didn’t.”

“Why?” Reiner repeated the question, this time a bit more forcefully. Porco finally opened his eyes, reaching down to yank the covers across all three of them.

“I...I wanted to do something for you, and I was tired of this little dance the three of us have been doing,” Samira answered honestly. “If I overstepped, I’m sorry-”

“No. I enjoyed it,” Reiner insisted. “I...I needed it. This. Thank you.” 

This time, it was Reiner who tilted forward to capture Samira’s lips with his own. When he pulled away, he leaned over to kiss Porco’s neck before returning to his side of the bed. 

Porco’s skin was flushed red, and Samira could see him struggling not to speak. He instead opted to toss an arm across Samira’s waist and turn over to bury his nose in the nest of coily hair on her head. He was the first to fall asleep, leaving Samira teetering on the edge of slumber and Reiner still wide awake, but beginning to drift off.

“He doesn’t hate you, you know. No matter how much he says he does, he doesn’t hate you,” Samira whispered. She absently lifted a hand to stroke Porco’s hair as soft snores began slipping from his parted lips. 

“How do you know?” 

“Because he’s able to love someone like me.”

Reiner gulped, his eyes drifting to Porco’s face. He reached over and flicked off the bedside lamp, dousing the room in darkness. It was a while before he spoke again, his voice barely above a murmur.

“Good night, Sam.”

“Good night, Reiner.”

[marauder-level-chaos]

Don’t Make Me Play Pretend. Chapter 2

The return on the pining idiots! More awkward, more lovesick neighbors, more drama. This chapter also features Izzy so yay. The next chapter is where the fun really begins.

Masterlist

Warning: swearing, angst, fluff, fake dating, my shitty humor

A/N: I’M SORRYYYYY. This is late. I had tests, then I had a motherfucking lab report and like GAHHHH. I promise I will try to do better with the next chapter. I am not guaranteeing it but I swear I’ll try. My writing will be a little slow until my finals are done tho :( For now please enjoy, and leave feedback? I love reading the comments people leave under fics.

***

“I need you to be my boyfriend, Alexander.” Magnus’ words rang through Alec’s mind. He almost could not believe them. He had been crushing on the golden eyed boy for quite a long time. Before Alec could find the words to respond to this request, however, Magnus continued, “Well, I just need you to pretend for a while. There is a reunion for my high school next month and I would really appreciate it if you would pretend to be my boyfriend.”

“Magnus…” Alec’s heart sank to his stomach. This is not what he had expected. He wanted to tell Magnus that he wasn’t qualified for the job. At 22 years of age, the closest he had ever gotten to being in a relationship was when his mother tried to set him up with Lydia Branwell. That was what pushed Alec to come out to his parents. It had been an absolute disaster for everybody involved.

“I understand if you want to say no.”

“Next month, you said?”

“During Christmas break.” Magnus confirmed.

“I...I’ll help you. It’s just pretending, right?” Alec said, against his better judgement. Although, seeing the smile on Magnus’ face immediately made that worth it. After he and Magnus had said their goodbyes, Alec went back into his apartment and called Izzy. Isabelle Lightwood was his little sister and possibly the only person Alec trusted. She was the first person Alec had felt comfortable talking about his sexuality to. It took her all of three rings to pick up her phone.

“Hey, big brother.”

“Hey, Iz. Can I ask you for advice on something?”

Izzy arched her eyebrows, making Alec immediately regret asking his question. “Mr. I-don’t-need-your-help-finding-a-boyfriend finally needs dating advice, huh?”

“I never said dating advice, Isabelle.”

“So, I’m wrong? This is about something else?” Izzy asked her brother, knowing very well that she was right. Alec sighed, accepting his defeat.

“No, you’re not wrong. It’s about Magnus.”

“The cute neighbor with the impeccable fashion sense?” Alec nodded in response to his sister’s question. They had talked about Alec’s crush on his neighbor before. Alec always thought that Izzy and him would get along well. Izzy’s next question brought Alec back to the conversation he was having. “Did you finally ask him out?”

“He did.” The boy interrupted his sister’s high-pitched squealing and continued, “Well, not really. He needs a pretend boyfriend for his high school reunion next month.”

“And you agreed?”

“Of course I agreed, Iz. I know it’s not ideal but something is better than nothing, right?”

“I just don’t want you getting hurt, Alec.”

“I know, Izzy. I’ll be careful, I promise.” Alec sounded as though he was trying to convince himself rather than his sister. He sighed as he got off the call with Isabelle. What the fuck have I gotten myself into?

***

“I need you to be my boyfriend, Alexander.” The words fell from Magnus’ mouth so quickly when he saw Alexander. With an instant feeling of regret, Magnus tried to study the reaction of his neighbor. Alec’s face was unreadable. The lack of a response caused panic to rise into Magnus’ chest. In a desperate attempt to cover up what he had just said, he added, “Well, I just need you to pretend for a while. There is a reunion for my high school next month and I would really appreciate it if you would pretend to be my boyfriend.”

“Magnus…” The way Alec said his name hit Magnus with a warm feeling, something he hadn’t felt in quite a while.

“I understand if you want to say no.” Please, don’t say no, Alexander.

“Next month, you said?”

“During Christmas break.” Magnus nervously wiped the sweat from his hands on his jeans. Watching Alexander’s face break into the most radiant smile brought some much needed immediate comfort.

“I...I’ll help you. It’s just pretending, right?” I fucking wish it wasn’t. Magnus smiled at the taller boy, expressing his gratitude. Something was better than nothing, right? Once he was back at his apartment Magnus called Catarina.

“How’d it go?” She asked immediately after picking up the call.

“He said he’s okay with pretending to be my boyfriend.” Magnus added in a chuckle. “Because pretend relationships have never complicated anything for anyone before.”

“Look at the positive aspect of this, Mags. At least you two will be spending some time together. He might actually like you in the process.”

“I hope you’re right about this, Cat. I really do.” Magnus looked into the full length mirror hanging in his apartment and sighed into the phone. What the fuck have I gotten myself into?

Taglist: @quickbright @addisonsintern @dreamerthinker @just--another--bean @tolkienlockian @textrovert-01

[alfredosauce50]

What makes me human [Cyberpunk! America x reader] 12

Wordcount: 3, 719 Rating: M for strong language and mature themes Warning: Implications of a panic attack and other sensitive/shocking content ahead. "See? I don't even have any goddamn organs! And I'm still alive!" "But hey, I get it. Maybe this isn't even my body. If it was, I wouldn't be alive. Maybe I'm a clone or something. A robot clone. Do you think they still kept my old body as a souvenir?" Chapter synopsis: Alfred is dying from something unknown, and the weaker his body gets, the faster his sanity wanes. You can't do anything but ease his pain as he slowly deteriorates. Fortunately, a deus ex machina arrives to save the day. The reader is referred to as she/her

Songs to listen to while you read (in order as found in playlist): VIRUS, Devil’s At Your Door, Glassy sky, Within. I have indented song titles throughout the chapter so you can change accordingly. Starting now:

VIRUS

12 - Like tears in rain

When Alfred left to do his business, you traced a finger over your leg and continued to look towards the bathroom. He was going to reappear any second now. That was what you told yourself as you waited, impatiently, but it never happened. Instead, you heard a loud slam and your heart jumped out of your chest.

It was the sound of glass. 

“... Alfred?” You called out, tone uncertain. Sliding yourself off the bed a few moments later, you walked to the door with a fearful kind of urgency. Without wasting another second, you knocked a few times. “Are you okay in there? I heard something. What happened?” He didn’t answer. There was only shuffling of feet--the rough scraping of the sole of a sandal against the tiled floor. 

It was almost as if he was struggling to stand. 

“Alfred, open the door!” You rose your voice in a distressed shout. Pounding your fists against the door, your pleads fell on deaf ears as he never made an effort to respond.

That alarmed you beyond compare and you resorted to thrusting your elbows against the cold and hard metal surface. “Alfred—” Your voice broke as his name fell from your lips. Bile never rose this quickly in your throat. 

When the door did open, you stared wide-eyed at the man through a flurry of tears. He was so confused, disoriented even, but he was safe and sound.

But when he saw the way you looked at him, crying, his face twisted with regret. “Fuck, (F/N)!” He breathed, catching you in his arms when you launched yourself at him. 

“I’m sorry for scaring you, but I’m okay—I promise. See? Now please don’t cry anymore.” Pulling away to offer a smile of reassurance, it faltered when you shook your head profusely with bitter despondency. 

“I’m not stupid. I know what I heard.” A dark glare only lasted so long when your expression quickly morphed into despair. “Please just tell me what’s wrong.” Reaching out to grip onto the sleeves of his shirt, you clung onto him desperately, almost as if he’d disappear if you didn’t. Little did you know, it wasn’t far from the truth. 

As if Alfred already knew this, he hung his head with a tired grin. 

“To be honest, I don’t know any more about this than you do.” He shook his head, defeated. “My best guess is that I’m having particularly shitty side effects with this... Immortality thing. But that’s it. I can’t die. So I’ll be okay.” 

He didn’t pay much attention to the signs he’d been seeing for the past few days. At first, he only experienced a little bit of lagging in his interface, like whenever he’d use his trusty in-built Google maps. This minor issue escalated into occasional forgetfulness, and even then, he brushed it off. But now, this mutated into something alarming.

Finding yourself in his arms again, you squeezed him in a tight embrace and screwed your eyes shut.

“That means this won’t be forever... Right?"

You wanted to believe it with every fiber of your being. But fear returned like an old friend, ravaging your being until it left nothing but paranoia in your consciousness. "I still think there’s something wrong with you..." Shaking your head as you choked out your words, he squeezed you right back.

"This won’t happen again, I’m sure of it. So don’t be so worried, okay?" Pulling away to soften his gaze on your teary one, he wiped away any moisture with a swipe of his thumb. Then, he sighed, but a small smile appeared right after. “I’ll be fine. Otherwise, who’s gonna look after you when I’m gone?”

“Don’t say that.” You deadpanned.

The truth to his words was haunting, and you couldn’t deny it. That was precisely why you hated hearing it.

“Do you care about me that much now, (F/N)?” The other grinned, his cheeks pink with content.

“Don’t ask that as if you don’t already know the answer.”

Alfred closed his eyes with a look of satisfaction. To hear you snap at him like this only pointed to one reason, and one reason only.

He'd totally grown on you. Maybe more so the other way around, but this was how things have always been. So he wasn't surprised when he was the first to feel something beyond a platonic friendship. Ironically, he was made of more metal than flesh and blood like you. But did that even mean anything anymore?

“Just wanted to hear you say it. But that’s good enough for me.” He hummed, watching a blush spread over your cheeks he himself was responsible for.

You hit his shoulder. "... Take this a little more seriously, would you?"

The blonde laughed. "I am! I was just being honest."

Neither of you noticed that you both had taken the leisure to sit on the ground. But given the circumstances, how could you possibly focus on something else? The same could be said for Alfred as he continued to stare at you with an unreadable expression.

Even then, he was pulling you in like a moth to a flame.

"You say that and yet I really can't tell what you're thinking."

"... And what if I didn't want you to?"

Whatever it was that was between you both, it couldn't be ignored. You weren't on the same page as him, but that didn't mean you wouldn't do everything in your power to save him.

He was carefree about this, but you weren't taking your chances.

Not that you could do anything to help him as his symptoms spiraled out of control. What he said would only be a one-time thing became a daily ritual. His episodes were longer. More violent. If he wasn't freezing up in the middle of the street, he was having seizures left and right until he fried his own brain.

Devil's At Your Door

You would drag his heavy body to an alleyway to wait it out. This was one of those times, but the task proved more difficult during a thunderstorm, and when heavy was more of an understatement. Not only was he made mostly out of steel, but he was well over six feet to boot, so all it took was one small puddle to slip and drop him--right onto the concrete with a thump.

In the few seconds he laid flat on the ground, he looked dead.

But a few seconds was more than enough for tears to form. They streamed endlessly down your face as you watched his, motionless and peaceful as it lay half-submerged in a murky well of water. As dark as it was, it still reflected the bright neon of the city. But the lights were anything but beautiful.

"... Sorry for dropping you." You murmured, reaching up to rub your eyes. He remained quiet. A part of you wished he said something, maybe a soft laugh going, don't worry about it. But he never did.

Bending down to sit beside him, you pulled Alfred onto your body and rested his head on your shoulder. It wasn't the freezing puddle your legs were submerged in that bothered you. Nor was it the light drizzle of rain on your face, the rumbling of thunder, or your dirty clothes sticking to your skin.

It was the feeling of him twitching in your arms, the restlessness in his uneven breaths. Something inside him was killing him. And all you could do was ease his pain while he wasted away.

Sticking your hand into his pocket, you pulled out a metal pin before lifting his tank top. Then, you inserted it into a tiny hole in his chest. You felt a pop, and a plate opened up. At least he wasn't drenched on the inside. But the water was a bad sign nevertheless, especially when he wasn't filtering it out like he normally did.

With whatever areas of your clothes that were still dry, you rubbed the inside of his torso vigorously. Then, you carefully removed detachable parts to wipe them as well. So there you sat, and hoped, unscrewing plates and reattaching them with his trusty screwdriver for ten minutes before he began to stir.

It was easily the longest ten minutes of your life. When he laid there, unable to process a single coherent thought, you had to wonder if this would be the last time. What if he never woke up? What if your father's men found him out here, and did away with him while he was so vulnerable?

The fear for his dwindling life chipped away at your sanity faster than you could deal. But every time he woke up, he put a stopper on your waning senses. A cough was heard and you stopped your movements abruptly. "... Pervert." He cracked his eyes open into thin slits as a tired grin stretched at his lips.

But you couldn't humor his comment as bile rose in your throat.

"I thought you weren't gonna wake up again." Your lips trembled in a frown. Working quickly to put him together, you pulled his top down and leaned down to hug him. "Thank god... We need to get you out of the rain. I know that much."

You helped him up slowly and slung his arm around your shoulder. "Yeah. You know more about this dinosaur than me." He furrowed his brows together and managed a sheepish smile. "If you didn't dry me up, I could've shocked myself to death. That would've been kinda embarrassing."

"Oh, shush. You know I'd never let that happen." Taking slow and steady steps, you both moved out of the alleyway and onto the street. The downpour just got heavier, so you kept your head down and ran to the closest shelter available--the outside of an upgrade store.

And as you stood there, waiting, you heard him say something you would never forget.

"... Even if you didn't, I'm still... Probably gonna die anyway." He laughed dryly. Misery shook his voice, and it manifested in the form of tears that rolled down his face. When you saw them, you almost couldn't tell as droplets of rain had dotted his skin. But he gave you no chance to process the fact he was crying when he continued.

"I'm being killed by something inside. It's not a disease. It's like... A virus." He dug a hand through his hair, and his eyes widened with a manic kind of sadness. "Ha! I'm about to die the most unnatural death. And to think I used to believe I was still a human."

"But you are." You forced out, swallowing thickly as an intense wave of grief washed over you. Then, you shook your head at him. "What I said when I met you was stupid. I didn't know who you were. I was scared. You're scared. I can tell. But don't tell me you're not human after everything you've done."

He wanted to believe you with every damn fiber of his being. He did. He really did. But he just couldn't. Not while his vision glitched so that he could barely see your face. And not while his ears blared with static to render him deaf. "... I'm not what you think I am."

Gritting his teeth so hard, veins popped around his neck and his left eye shattered.

"Alfred, stop!"

What was left of it was a bright blue light in his eye socket.

"Look at me." He breathed shakily. "I'm not even a fucking cyborg. Nothing about me is natural. Can't you see?"

He forced his chest plate open, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't stop him from pulling it off its hinges. Landing on the wet sidewalk in a clatter, you struggled to keep his hand still as he tore away one part after the other. "I've opened myself up before. I pulled everything out. There's nothing inside but metal and plastic."

But it was true. It became apparent when he pulled himself apart and gutted himself. You stood no chance against his inhumane strength, so he ripped everything out until he was reduced to nothing but a hollow shell.

"See? I don't even have any goddamn organs! And I'm still alive!" Alfred screamed with a face full of tears, but you were just as much of a mess as you sobbed wretchedly. "But hey, I get it. Maybe this isn't even my body. If it was, I wouldn't be alive. Maybe I'm a clone or something. A robot clone. Do you think they still kept my old body as a souvenir?"

He emptied himself as he spoke through crazed laughs, tossing his insides onto the street without a single shred of care.

Glassy Sky

As people walked by, they stopped to stare at the unfolding altercation, but some couldn't bring themselves to give a shit. A few even stepped on his parts on accident as they brushed past. And the sight of them cracking under their feet left you more and more unstable until you stopped crying altogether.

Lowering yourself into a crouch, you covered your ears as an unpleasant concoction of panic and anxiety overwhelmed your senses. As if hot water rushed into your head, a thick mental fog slowed your thoughts to a standstill. In fact, it was so incapacitating, you never struggled when you were picked up from behind.

Even when you were placed into a stranger's car, you never made a move to get out.

Once you calmed down, you were in an entirely different location. Familiar, but different. As you studied your surroundings, you came to recognize it to be the same room you stayed in at Arthur's. And rather than laying down in bed, you were leaning against a warm body. Pressing your face into their chest, you were overwhelmed with the scent of cologne.

Allen's cologne.

Tilting your head back, a pair of striking red eyes stared down at you with the most tender gaze. "Hey. Did you miss me?" He'd said.

For the second time that day, you cried. You cried and cried until there was nothing to cry about anymore. But rather than on a fearful note, it was a happy one. You clung onto him like a lifeboat as he began to rock you gently from side to side, then whisper soft words of comfort into your ear. Allen was alive and well. And the tables had turned for him to save you.

He never thought he'd have the stroke of luck to find you and Alfred. But his sudden urge to go to the bathroom--which came from the heavy downpour--turned out to be the best damn thing that ever happened to him.

"... I gotta take a leak," Allen murmured, earning a slow nod from the man beside him. Climbing out of the vehicle, he jogged across the road. He had been mulling over going all the way to the mall a few blocks down to relieve himself, but he opted for the alleyway right across where their car was parked. When he left, he noticed a small gathering of people down the street.

"...?"

Then, someone screaming bloody murder. He would've turned away, having seen similar scenes unfold like a regular Tuesday, but it was the sobbing that followed he couldn't ignore.

The voice sounded just like yours.

In a heartbeat, he burst into a sprint and pushed his way through the crowd to the center. When he finally got to the middle, he managed to step on a random part--an enhancement of some kind--much to his confusion. Then, he lifted his head for some answers. He paled immediately at what he saw.

Alfred was standing there in all his glory, having disemboweled himself. You were presumably reacting to him doing it.

"... What in the hell?" Sweat amassed around his forehead as he processed the grotesque sight. But seeing you so distraught was more than enough to get him to spring into action. Without a moment's hesitation, he shoved all the curious onlookers away with a scowl. "Fuck off, all of you. Never seen a dude gut himself before?"

Once the group dispersed, he scooped you up with one arm while he used the other to drag Alfred away by his collar.

One frenzied car ride and nap later, you were here in Allen's arms. He had long forsaken the idea of leaving you by yourself. But that wasn't the right way to put it when he never considered it in the first place. "You're okay, (F/N). Everything's gonna be fine." He murmured, digging his hands into your hair to rub your scalp.

It was something he always did to calm you down, and like every other occasion, it worked like a miracle. Feeling his fingers massage your head was therapeutic, and you quickly settled into his chest.

"... I thought you died, you know." Tightening your grip on his white tank, your chest felt heavy as you revisited the memories. "Even if it was for a little while, I knew I went a little crazy afterward."

Allen closed his eyes and rested his chin on you. He usually would have cracked a joke on a topic like this, but he knew better. So there was no sign of mirth in his expression when he responded.

"And that's why I didn't die, sweetheart." Coiling his arms around your neck, he gave you a squeeze. Then, he opened his eyes and narrowed them into a frown. It didn't matter what he did in his life. If he somehow passed before you did, which was more likely than anything, he'd latch himself onto this world with the regret of unfinished business.

"If I died before you, I wouldn't ever forgive myself. I can't leave you alone in this... Shitty world." He pulled away just so he could press his forehead against yours. "It's just you and me. Everyone else is fucking crazy. We're the only sane ones alive."

You couldn't help but crack a smile at that. Allen always had a way with words, even if he was a bit heavy on the colorful vocabulary. In a way, he shared an affinity with Alfred who hated the world just as much as him. But rather than starting revolutions, he preferred to keep it on the down-low and make the most of what he had.

And you had to admit that you preferred the same. "... Maybe you're right. But at least we have each other."

Allen hummed.

"Uhhuh. And maybe I could take Arthur into consideration for the normal people club. He's got a good head on his shoulders."

Speaking of which, how was he going with Alfred, anyhow?

Within

As if he read your mind, he offered to take you to the medical bay. Leading you down the dimly lit halls, he pushed open the door to reveal a violent altercation taking place. Alfred, who had been sleeping off the operation, was up on his feet and causing a ruckus. He held medical scalpels in both hands as if to defend himself.

Darting his wide eyes between the two men, Arthur and another man you didn't recognize, he screamed his lungs out. "Don't come any closer! I'm armed!" Backing himself to the corner, he dropped one of the blades but kept the other firmly in his grip. And that he used to point at whoever that moved.

"Who the hell are you guys? What the fuck did you do to me?!"

What did he say?

Your face fell as you watched the scene unfold. Nothing but pure, unadulterated fear oozed from every action Alfred made. Like a caged animal, he kept his distance from everyone and everything because he simply couldn't understand what was going on.

And the longer the predicament dragged on, the clearer it became to you why he was acting up.

The Brit gave Allen a nervous side-eye.

"Allen, do something! Restrain him, I don't know! We don't have any enhancements, so one stab from that and we're done for!"

He shook his head as he made a weird look. "Wait, what dya' mean restrain him? He's just disoriented, just let him be! What if he dies?"

"Yeah, big guy! Tackle him while we try and sedate him!" The other man exclaimed, narrowly dodging a metal tray thrown his way. His copper brown hair was tied back in a long ponytail, and his eyes were almost as red as Allen's, but they were noticeably darker. "Fuck you! This is pretty much a hospital, you know? Just because we don't have uniforms doesn't mean we tried to sell your organs!"

"... Not that you even have any." He murmured that under his breath, but karma struck and another metal tray came flying his way to hit him square in the face. "Ow!"

Arthur muttered out a string of curses. "Goddammit, Allen! He's not disoriented, he has amnesia!" You tensed up all over as your suspicions were confirmed right then and there. "He doesn't know who any of us are, and he won't have any trouble killing us all when he figures out he can shoot rockets from his arms!"

"Wait, what the fu--I can do that?!"

"Uhh, no you can't!"

There was no way he couldn't remember you, right?

The thought deeply saddened you, but it was more reasonable than getting ahead of yourself. If he couldn't remember Arthur and Allen, what were the chances he'd remember you? Nevertheless, a part of you hoped he somehow did after everything you two went through.

There was only one way to find out.

"Alfred!"

Your shout echoed across the room and he turned to the source. When he saw you, he dropped his scalpel to the ground in a clatter.

His eyes went wider than dinner plates, but you had no way to gauge what he was feeling, let alone thinking. So you let him walk up to you, albeit slowly. When he managed to stand right in front of you, he attached two hands to your shoulders, the action prompting Allen to pull out his gun at light speed. Training that at the blonde's head, he curled his finger around the trigger.

But he never pulled it.

"... (F/N)?"

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 19

First time reader click here

Summary+TWs: We're talking serious feelings here, okay? Reader, you're literally emotionally illiterate. You also have PTSD, which is finally addressed - kinda. Bruce does his best. And he also knows how to kiss... But y'all know that if you read my ramblings about lucid dreaming/shifting/whatever... Chile-, anyways...

My phone kept buzzing and I ignored it until Bruce declared it was time to take a break and review the results. Whilst the man was typing up the data on a nearby StarkPad, I fought the sudden influx of messages that I received from haters and supporters alike after Tony decided on tweeting a reply that could be interpreted in an alarming variety of ways. It was a smart move, I'll admit, but a fucking bother for me nonetheless.

Disabling my DMs and dealing with a follower increase in the thousands wasn't hard; I didn't consider myself a problematic asshole and didn't need to be afraid of "exposure". The parties I went to - I doubted there was any blackmail material in there and the few nudes I'd sent over the years were always face-less. As a gen Z, I knew my internet safety.

The trolls didn't bother me either. It was more sad than annoying, people shitting on others for clout. Iron Man stans were witty, at least, if jealous. I must admit I've never considered the influx of popularity I would experience should I publicly out myself as a friend of Tony's. Girlfriend? Intern? Science child? Whatever cover story he was going to feed the press worked for me, as long as I still got the hugs, the kisses, the dick and the attention.

"Tony..." Bruce groaned, evidently done with the data processing, had to have opened his social media to see his own skyrocketing popularity.

"Yeah, our Tony is being a Tony again," I chuckled, having reset my social media settings so my phone wouldn't constantly beep, vibrate and bother me. School was going to be fun.

Bruce shook his head, fond, coming over to my side of the lab after removing his own hazmat suit. His eyes shiny with newfound knowledge and hair turned adorably fluffy in the confines of the head covering. He was smiling softly. "Food?"

"Sure."

We chewed our sandwiches in silence for a moment, each of us lost in our thoughts.

"I still can't believe Tony told everyone on Twitter you're his girlfriend, usually he keeps this stuff private or schedules a fancy press conference," Bruce's tone was thoughtful.

I raised an eyebrow. "Is that what it was? Seemed ambiguous to me..." I trailed off, confused.

"He worded it like that on purpose, I mean, you're still in high school," The scientist was confident in his words. "But I know Tony. I'm a hundred percent sure that he meant exactly that. Aren't you?"

Shock flooded me. Suddenly, I understood I completely misread the situation. "Um, no? I thought we were, y'know, just fucking. We never defined our relationship and we're definitely not exclusive." I said, chewing on my lip. "You make a valid argument, I'm a high school student and he's a grown ass man that does grown man stuff. Putting aside the fact that he could have anybody in the world so why would he choose me?" I was rambling, thinking out loud. Discussing my feelings has never my strong forte. "It would be stupid to impose monogamy on such a complex man like Tony. Downright idiotic to expect a genius to confine to social norms just because it suits others." I finished with a wave of my hand. Another bubble of thought that had festered within me for the longest time. I felt relieved, finally voicing it out loud. A weight had been lifted off my shoulders, a weight I wasn't previously consciously aware of.

Bruce was watching me intently, with an unreadable expression that held the tiniest bit of awe, admiration perhaps. The silence that followed was unnerving. I fidgeted with my hands, not really knowing where to put them or where to look.

"You know," He took off his glasses, fiddling them in his hands. "I'm not going to sugar coat it. For the longest time, I thought you were going to inadvertently hurt him when you get bored with whatever you've got going on. I respect you, don't misunderstand me, but you are young. Now, I've changed my mind. You've changed my mind," He punctuated his statement with his hand on mine, grasping it. "I think you managed to understand him in a way most people can't. Or don't want to. Understand and accept him in a way that some of us can't even after years of working and living side by side with him." Bruce's gentle fingers skimmed along the top of my palm.

"I don't always understand Tony but I do accept him," I agreed. "Because Tony is a great man."

"I think you're in love with him," Bruce said, absolutely having ignored my previous statement. Just like that, point blank, he pushed to the surface the very feelings I got so good at ignoring. There was no rest for me in this place.

My heart fluttered, picking up the pace. I kept my mouth shut, not trusting it whatsoever. My thoughts became akin to panicked hares, jumping and zigzagging aimlessly in my skull. I didn't see the point in defending myself because the scientist had pointed out the obvious.

Bruce looked at me, softly, warmly. "And don't think we haven't noticed the rise in team morale. The improvement not only in communication, but on the battlefield, too. It's easier to entrust your back to someone with whom you've shared a laugh and a drink the previous night. You're the glue that keeps us together."

Something warm and wet was on my cheeks. I stared at our clasped hands, his words echoing in my head over and over and over. The moment I realized I was crying, I willed myself to stop and failed spectacularly - only more salty fluid streamed down, some of it getting in my nose, on my lips. The sleepless nights were making me unstable.

It took a single sniffle for Bruce to pick me up and wrap up in his kind embrace. I didn't resist, tucking my face into the crook of his neck, holding onto the back of his lab coat, inhaling the smell of his skin and chemicals. It was familiar, calming. Minutes ticked by with me slowly leaking the tension out of my body.

"He loves you, too, maybe he just doesn't realize it yet." Bruce whispered into my hair. "I've never seen Tony so happy, even with Pepper. You are special and you are loved."

There was something unsaid, I felt it. It hung in the ear, it burned the tips of my ears, stood sharp on the tip of my tongue. "I love you too, Bwucie-bear," I whispered into the space between his ear and his jaw. His arms tightened around me.

The man placed several chaste kisses in my hair, running a palm over my back. In moments like these, the crush for him, the very crush that got out of control, blossomed fully into a deep sense of respect and admiration. He made me feel safe. He said all the right words at the right time.

Drowsiness overtook me. As usual, any worries and anxieties I had evaporated, once Banner had his arms around me, shielding me from the world. I didn't forbid myself this time: delicately, my hand slipped through the man's soft messy curls, eliciting a contented sigh.

"You haven't been sleeping well," He more stated than asked.

I had no choice but to nod. "Clint keeps dying in my dreams. Or even worse, he doesn't, he just suffers, endlessly, painfully." I admitted.

Bruce flinched under me, tensing. My face was in between his hands in a second, the scientist sternly looking into my eyes. "Why didn't you say anything? All of us assumed you were okay after what happened." He looked - angry. Not Hulk-out pissed but Bruce-pissed, which equalled a kicked-puppy look seasoned with a great pinch of disappointment.

"I am okay." I lied, shamelessly. "It's getting better. That's why I want to have a party - relax a little, dance, socialize. I don't think Tony would let me go on my own so I figured I can convince him to throw one here." I looked away. It was better for everyone if I dealt with my own problems - they were superheroes, not babysitters.

Bruce frowned. "Why wouldn't Tony let you go?"

"Because of that one time I snorted coke," I rolled my eyes at Bruce's naiveté, leaving the less obvious parts unsaid. Tony knew exactly what I was going to do once I got free reign, he considered it destructive and told me so himself. Admittedly, he had a point but still... I wished I'd been given a choice.

"I'll talk to him," Bruce nodded firmly. "That's not acceptable. He can't forbid you from making mistakes and learning from them."

He was met with my shrug. No excitement came from me regarding this particular turn of conversation. I was drained, limbs like jello, thoughts sluggish. My face was drooping.

"Let's get you to bed," Banner stood up with me wrapped around him. "You need a nap."

"No," I protested. If I went to sleep now, only Satan knew at what ungodly hour I would wake up.

"Yes, Princess," Bruce smirked. I wiggled uncomfortably - when he went all caretaker like, my ovaries wreaked havoc on my body and brain. My thoughts weren't appropriate if Bruce wanted me to see him as a father figure. The signals he was sending were mixed. People around me did that a lot and I wasn't sure how to act so I usually just went with the flow. I decided to do the very same thing in that particular moment.

Curiosity sparked within me, tightly interwoven with the deep longing that settled below my collarbones whenever Tony or one of the others wasn't sitting next to me or talking my ear off. I've almost forgotten how it was to be alone with my thoughts. The maze of my very own self was becoming unfamiliar territory. Alarming.

I allowed Bruce to help me shed my shoes and outer layer of clothing, shivering in the coolness of my room. Despite being a frequent visitor, I still had a 'guest' room in the tower - I mostly stayed at Tony's or Wanda's anyways. During our sleepovers neither me nor the witch minded sharing her enormous bed, to be fair, we could have fit at least two more people in it besides us. Tony took care of his own - all the tower's residents had their apartments furnished with the best stuff.

"Sleep now, Princess," Bruce chastised, tucking a blanket around me, having noticed an earbud in my ear and my smartphone in my hand. I had hoped to kill some time online, damn well knowing sleep wouldn't come easy.

"I don't think I can fall asleep, Bruce," I admitted, looking away. There was just so much going on. My brain wouldn't shut up and if I couldn't drown out the cacophony by being productive, I'd troll the internet, as usual.

Banner sighed, coming to sit next to me, leaning against the headboard. Gently running his fingers through my hair, brushing the outside of his palm against my cheek. "How do you usually deal with this?"

Involuntarily, my eyelashes fluttered. "Tony does most of the work," I admitted coyly. The engineer had a whole arsenal of tricks up his sleeve - sexy and exhausting tricks.

"I see," Bruce muttered, thoughtfully.

I opened my eyes to see him looking down at me with a look I haven't seen before. The usual mildly absent, slightly anxious face he wore was replaced by something I could only describe as hurt envy, like a kid looking at their schoolmate who had all the newest, coolest toys. I used to be on the receiving end of that look far too often and I hated it.

I hid my face against his leg, rubbing my cheek on the raspy corduroy fabric of his pants. "Got any good ideas of your own?" I wondered lowly, thinking about what in the world possessed Bruce to wear corduroy trousers on a semi-casual day, in the twenty-first century.

"Only bad ideas," He replied in a matching low tone. His soft fingertips relocated to my nape, goosebumps rising down my back.

"Humour me," I grinned against his leg.

Bruce was quiet for a moment, the sound of his thinking screaming louder than any words could have done. Knowing the scientist so closely, I found out he was full of surprises - bolder than he appeared outwardly and competitive to a boot. He thought he had a lot to prove to himself and by extension, to others. The unknown, the mystery dangling in front of my nose was exhilarating, trepidation addictive. It took me away from the chaos in my mind.

A gentle grasp on my chin had me turning to look upwards, Bruce's face flushed and focused on my own, open and trusting. He needed to see the obvious, that I trusted him to take care of me. He pulled and I followed, sitting up on my elbows, coming up to his shoulder level, our faces inches apart, enveloped in the unique, intense scent of his herbal tea. It was a tart, strong smell and it suited his quiet but passionate character.

Once, twice, I caught my eyes sliding to his plump lips. They looked far too appealing in this position. I usually strategically stayed away from positions so compromising, fearing the very thing that I'd already let happen, however this time the atmosphere was different. We stood on ambiguous grounds, waiting for Bruce to make a decision.

The man wasn't stupid, he saw the way I looked at him. The nightmares and inability to take a break from life put a significant dent in my resolve to keep a distance between us, romantically - I could have settled even for a pity kiss, a pity fuck. Anything to put my brain on pause.

His lips were softer than I had imagined. Skilled, too, he easily steered the kiss into the shallow waters of our combined longing.

With Tony, it was like an avalanche. Tony ran hot like Peterbilt engines, hard and fast, almost angry in his race for satisfaction. Tony was a man that was used to getting whatever he wanted and it became plainly obvious when we fucked.

Bruce was the opposite. He savoured the kiss, losing himself in a way that could almost be described as delicate. Bruce was humming, softly, as we tasted each other, holding the left side of my face with careful fingertips. Almost as if he was afraid to break me. The feel of his skin on mine was soothing in a way that made me sigh and relax even further.

"Wanna make you feel good." His voice had dropped, gone husky, but his breathing held even. He must know all about self-control.

"Yeah," I was ready to agree with whatever the fuck he was offering. My eyelids remained shut.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie

PS. Letsby, please don't combust. The underwear is coming off in the next chapter. 😶

[bosspigeon]

sunshine on a rainy day

Pairing: M!Detective/Mason Word Count: 3669 Summary: Unit Bravo helps Juni with rooting through the sodden mess of his bedroom, and Mason tries to figure out just what the hell is going on with the detective.

I have no excuses or explanations for this. It’s just self-indulgent corny nonsense.*shakes Mason like an Etch-a-Sketch until he can acknowledge his goddamned feelings*

Please check out this cover of “My Girl” by Kele Okereke that inspired this whole thing, because it makes it gay and it brings my little homosexual heart so much joy~

Mild CW for references to sex/m*sturbation

Things are still… weird, with Juni.

Of course, he’s pretending they aren’t, and he’d be very convincing if it were anyone but Mason he’s trying to convince.

His smiles are too brittle, too tense, and they don’t make his nose scrunch up like they should. His laughs are too-sharp and high-pitched, strained with effort, and he hasn’t snorted once. He radiates tension the second Mason looks his way, hides behind his hair like he’s afraid to look him in the eye. When Mason first met the detective, he thought he was soft. Too soft. The sort Mason would chew up and spit out if he cared enough to bother, but then he dug a little deeper, hit a nerve or two, and found that shiny spine. He found that, when pushed, Juni had bite.

He may have gotten a bit addicted to the bite, and now that it’s gone, he feels completely off-kilter. Juni still responds when he flirts, of course, blushing and fumbling like always, but it feels… different, somehow. And it has since the bakery.

He apologized, and he thought that would make it better, but it hasn’t, and now he’s caught between frustration and what might be... guilt?

Clearly, he’s hurt Juni somehow, and he’s not sure how to fix it.

Why do you need to fix it? Why do you care?

He shakes it off. They’ve got more important things to worry about right now. He’s got to keep his head in the game.

“I’m sorry,” Juni says miserably, again, and Mason wants to shake him. What part of this is his fault?

“It’s not your fault,” Nate says kindly, before Mason can get snippy and make Juni withdraw into himself even further. “You can’t be blamed for bad luck.”

Juni snorts, grabbing his arm. “If I didn’t have bad luck, I’d have no luck at all,” he recites, like it’s something he’s said before. He’s wearing a t-shirt that says “I Just Hope Both Teams Have Fun” and it’s a bit odd to see his arms without the cover of his usual sweatshirt. He keeps rubbing at his inner arm and the bird inked there. A self-soothing gesture, as if he’s not used to exposing so much skin. His nails are bitten all to hell, too. A mess of tells, this man.

“That’s the spirit!” Felix says cheerily, punching the air. The look Juni gives him is dry as a desert, and Mason feels a twist of something hot and acidic in his gut he can’t name. He wants to chuck Felix in a dumpster at least once a day, but the urge hits him like a truck out of the blue, and he can’t pinpoint the reason.

Fuck, he’d kill for a smoke.

“I’m still sorry,” Juni says again, squeezing his forearm. “For, y’know, the whole squad needing to babysit me for this.”

“It’s no trouble at all!” Nate exclaims, as if the very thought that Juniper believes their helping him sort through his soggy belongings to see what can be salvaged to be a chore is somehow an insult. “We’re happy to help.”

Juni gives Nate a soft-eyed smile that lights up his whole face, and that acid feeling burns more.

“You cannot be left unaccompanied,” Adam says stiffly, eyeing the horizon as if the Annunaki will swoop down on them in a parking lot in broad daylight. “It is best that we move as a unit when able, to ensure your safety.”

Juni ducks his head, still smiling. “Thank you guys,” he mumbles, and then he almost keels over when Felix slings his arm around his shoulder to shake him. Mason stifles a growl, and while Felix doesn’t notice, Adam and Nate both glance back at him with twin unreadable expressions he meets with the blandest look he can manage.

“I, for one, am looking forward to snooping through your place some more,” Felix snickers. Juni pushes him off.

For the most part, the flat is still in one piece, most of the damage contained to the bedroom, though the floor in the hallway is a bit waterlogged as well. Nate tuts in disappointment as the warped boards creak pathetically underfoot, no doubt mourning the fancy pattern to the antique wood. Mason can smell the water damage, mold and rot that no doubt caused the collapse in the first place, and the choking reek of plaster dust.

Juni sighs as he pushes open his bedroom door. The mess is even worse than Mason thought it would be, from what Juni told him. The bathtub that apparently crashed through his ceiling is gone, but the gaping hole remains, still shedding debris onto the ruined bed. The heavy antique bed frame itself is cracked clean in half, the mattress sagging in the middle, and Mason's chest squeezes.

Juni was right there seconds before an entire fucking bathtub came down on top of it. He could have been crushed.

He jolts when he feels fingers on his wrist, and when he looks down, Juni isn't looking directly at him, but towards him. "You can wait outside, if you want?" he suggests softly while Nate goes trotting into the room to cluck and fuss over Juni's bookshelf. "I know it smells kind of gross in here." His nose wrinkles a bit, and Mason hears the thick clicking of his throat as he swallows uncomfortably. No doubt, the smell’s not doing him any favors either, hyper senses or no.

"Did you bring a mask or something?" Mason asks rather than replying, gesturing to the plaster dust settled all over everything, floating in the air now that they've disturbed it. "Your lungs are already shitty enough."

Juni flushes a pretty, rosy pink and fumbles hastily for his bag with a little blurt of, "Oh, yeah!" He puts it on, and Mason wants to groan. Of course it's got a stupid little cat mouth on it.

"Juni," Nate calls, his voice heavy with sadness. He's holding a book in his hands as carefully as if it were an injured bird. "You have a collector’s edition of The Velveteen Rabbit?"

"Had," Juni corrects, his eyes crinkling with a sardonic little smile Mason can't see, but knows the shape of intimately enough to picture. “It had reproductions of the original lithograph illustrations too.” He gives Mason a quick sidelong look before pattering over to take the book from Nate and sadly try to peel apart the pages.

Felix sidles up to Mason with about as much subtlety as a bathtub through the ceiling while Nate assures Juni they can salvage the book, and likely a good amount of the others, if they are very careful. The younger vampire gives him a startlingly critical look that he tries to hide under his usual smirk. "You guys are ridiculous," he scoffs. Mason snaps out a hand to cuff him, but Felix dodges and rabbit-punches him lightly in the ribs. It’s surprising enough from someone as ambivalent to fighting as Felix is that Mason doesn’t even think to dodge, and when he glowers at him, Felix glowers right back.

It’s not terribly impressive on him, but points for trying.

“Be nice to him,” Felix hisses, and this time Mason is ready enough to swat his hand away before he can get jabbed again.

“I’m plenty nice to him,” he drawls, affecting an easy smirk.

Felix studies him for a long moment, then looks him dead in the eye, smiles glibly, and says, “You’re so pretty.” He reaches out like he’s going to pat Mason’s cheek, but he dodges and stalks away to help Adam move some of Juni’s heavier furniture that might still be salvageable. Felix makes a beeline for the bathroom, probably to rifle through Juni’s medicine cabinet or something.

Juni leaves Nate to meticulously pick through his bookshelf and slip blotting paper (which he made sure to bring the second Juni voiced his doubts the small collection of books in his room would be salvageable) between the pages and setting them aside to pack up and take back to the warehouse, where he has the supplies to take care of them. He starts bagging up clothes, while Adam and Mason prop his mattress against the wall to get it out of the way. He’ll have to get a new one for sure. Just being close to the damn thing makes Mason want to retch with the smell of the mildew. Juni drifts by to start bundling up his bedding, and his knuckles skim against Mason’s lower back.

A shudder rolls up his spine, and he settles as his senses calm down enough for him to actually assist Adam. The mattress isn’t heavy for them by any means, but it’s bulky enough to be a pain for just one of them to carry.

Juni is setting to work boxing up all his little trinkets and knickknacks (and he’s got a lot of them) when Felix comes barrelling out of his bathroom with something purple held victoriously above his head.

“Hey, Juni!” he yells, and all of them, even Juni,  wince at the volume. “What’s this?”

Once he’s stopped, and is no longer a brightly colored blur in the vague shape of a vampire, Mason can actually see what he’s holding aloft like a trophy. Once he realizes what it is, he can’t help but smirk. Before he even looks at Juni, he can feel the heat radiating off him, his blood rushing, his heart rate spiking.

Even if Mason didn’t know what a goddamned magic wand was, Juni’s reaction would be a dead giveaway.

Faster than Mason has ever seen the detective move, he bolts across the room and snatches the thing out of Felix’s hand, hiding it behind his back. “Where did you find that?” he yelps, his voice pitching high and cracking.

“Your closet,” Felix says brightly, his eyes glimmering with mischief. He’s clearly caught on. “Should I not have touched it?”

“It’s clean!” Juni squawks, his face almost glowing red. “Don’t be gross!”

“Man, now I really wish I’d picked that locked box in there open,” Felix cackles, and Juni smacks at his shoulder and then breaks for the bathroom before the vampire can make good on that promise. He slams the door behind him and Mason hears the click of the lock, while Felix laughs so hard he has to brace himself against the wall and hold his stomach.

Adam and Nate are deeply focused on their own work, admirably pretending they haven’t noticed anything going on outside their little tasks.

It takes a while for Juni to be coaxed out of the bathroom again, but even mortification that makes him blush so ferociously that Mason can feel the heat of him from three feet away wouldn’t allow him to shove his duties off on someone else. He does bring a small wooden trunk out of the bathroom with him, closed with a little heart-shaped padlock that Felix could break off easily if he wanted to. Juni seems just as aware of that risk, so he guards the trunk with his goddamned life, even going so far as to sit on it and glower at Felix while he helps Nate pack up all his waterlogged books and fragile little trinkets.

Mason does give the trunk a very pointed look, trailing his eyes up the detective’s body and meeting his gaze with an easy smirk, just to watch him flush even redder, and while he does go so red the smattering of freckles across his nose almost disappears, he looks away sharply and hides behind his hair.

Mason barely resists pulling an Adam and crushing the weird little ceramic owl he’s packing away.

The rest of the day goes pretty uneventfully afterwards. He and Adam move and dry off furniture, drag stuff that can’t be saved outside to be thrown out, Nate delights in every interesting little antique he finds and mourns the damage done to them, Felix flits around and pretends he’s helping when he’s really just having fun rooting through the detective’s things, and Juni helps where he can and avoids Mason’s eyes as they track his every move. Even if they didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to shake the awareness of Juni, wherever he is in the room.

After they’ve packed everything they could into the Agency SUV, they head off. Juni is quiet on the ride back, sitting close to the window with a box of junk in his lap. Felix is between him and Mason, completely ignoring the odd tension and distracting the detective by asking about whatever random tchotchke he pulls from the box. Mason just stares out the window and tries to ignore the niggling desire to light a cigarette, only slightly mitigated by the fact that he doesn't even have one on him.

Later, once they’ve hauled everything to Juni’s room (or in the case of the books, to Nate’s room to be subjected to the tenderest of mercies) Mason sits on the roof alone for a long while, staring consideringly at an unlit cigarette and twisting it between his fingers. His head feels heavy with everything weighing it down, a twisting, confusing mess writhing in his skull. He tries, once again, to direct his thoughts to easier things, but every time he tries to think about Juni squirming underneath him, thighs squeezing his hips, gasping his name, his thoughts inevitably turn to gentle fingers on his cheeks, a bright laugh lighting up his insides, hazel-green eyes looking up at him with… with what?

He growls and shoves the cigarette back into the pack, cramming it into his pocket.

“What does this mean for us?”

Since when is there an “us?”

He falls back onto the roof with a thud, the rough surface making his skin scream with prickling discomfort, but he ignores it. He closes his eyes, tries to quiet the jumble of his thoughts. He unleashes his senses just a bit, driven by instinct and a need to focus on something, anything else, and takes a slow, deep breath. He hears the low murmur of Nate’s voice somewhere below, in the den. Adam’s there too, naturally. He can’t make out the words, but the conversation is easy and familiar, soft with intimacy.

He snorts. The two of them are fucking ridiculous. You’d think they’d have realized they’re basically married a couple centuries ago, and yet…

Felix isn’t hard to locate, though he’s deeper in the warehouse, where the bedrooms are. He’s loud, as usual, so Mason can hear him a bit better, but still he’s not quite close enough to make out words. He focuses a little harder, relaxes his body and exhales slowly. Along with his voice, there’s a light twanging, which eventually strings together into a rhythm. Music? Felix listens to music often, but it’s usually louder, faster-paced. Grates on Mason’s nerves like absolute hell, but this is slower, brighter. And then he hears Juni’s voice, and his senses rush in like a hungry dog spotting a rabbit.

A laugh, low and sweet.

Mason is rolling to his feet and off the roof before he even has a chance to think about it. It’s the work of a few seconds to slip through the window, and he keeps his footsteps light as he slips through the warehouse like a ghost. He passes the den and glances in. Adam and Nate have their heads close together, talking in low voices with files laid out neatly on the coffee table in front of them, two glasses of wine carefully placed a safe distance away from their paperwork. Adam gives him a quick look over his shoulder, and the ever-present tension in them eases somewhat. Mason nods and continues on by.

The twanging music gets louder as he stalks down the stairs, Felix’s bright voice more raucous than ever, but it’s easy enough to tune out when he hears Juni’s answering laugh floating from Felix’s open bedroom door.

“Are you gonna stop heckling me and make a request?” he asks, and Mason can hear the sunny plunking notes of a ukulele under the words, as if the detective is absently plucking the strings as he talks. Mason vaguely recalls Felix triumphantly hauling the little green instrument from underneath Juni's shattered bed frame, scuffed and covered in wet stickers, and Juni sighing sadly at the broken strings.

“Well, what do you usually play?” Felix asks, his bed creaking. Mason can picture him flopping around like a drunk fish, and he has to stifle a snort.

“I mostly just do covers and stuff.” A rustle of cloth, Juni’s shrugging. “I’ve written a few things, but I’m already giving myself heart palpitations performing in front of people, so I think actually performing something I wrote myself would kill me outright.”

“Well, you’re performing for me, aren’t you? And you seem pretty calm.”

“Since when are you people?” Juni snorts.

Felix barks out a laugh. “Rude!”

There’s a bit of a tussle, a discordant twang, and Juni yelps. “Careful, careful! I just replaced these strings, asshole!”

Felix gasps, affronted. “I’m telling Nate you called me that!”

“No, don’t tell Mum!” Juni whines, and they laugh together more.

Mason shifts from one foot to the other, pressing a hand to his stomach as if that’ll help quell the strange feeling there.

“Stop stalling,” Felix prods, and Juni shifts and sighs heavily. “Fine, fine, but don’t make fun of me, or I will cry.”

“Scout’s honor!” Felix chimes, and Mason wonders where the hell he heard that phrase.

They’re both quiet, and then Juni strums at the strings, just dabbling a bit before he actually starts plucking a rhythm. He takes a deep breath, as if bracing himself. “I’ve got sunshine on a cloudy day,” he croons, and Mason perks up almost instinctively, sunshine echoing in his ears. Juni’s singing voice, much like his speaking one,  is soft and a little breathy, but it warbles with clear nerves. “When it’s cold outside, I’ve got the month of May…”

Felix gasps, delighted, and Juni falters for a moment, but doesn’t stop.

“Well, I guess you’d say what can make me feel this way? My guy, I’m talkin’ ‘bout my guy...” Mason slides forward, towards the door as if pulled on a string, and he sees Juni sitting at the end of Felix’s rumpled bed with its blindingly bright sheets, cross-legged with his back mostly to the door, but Mason can see his face in profile. Felix is lying at the head of the bed on his belly, with his chin propped up on his elbows.

His golden eyes flicker to Mason, and he smirks, raising his eyebrows and sticking his tongue out quickly, before Juni notices. Which he likely won’t, eyes closed, dark lashes fanned out across his freckled cheeks.

There’s a smile curling his lips, small but happy, and it only widens when Felix begins snapping in time, laughter coloring the lilting notes. “I’ve got so much honey, the bees envy me. I’ve got a sweeter song than the birds in the trees…” He leans into the chorus, rocking back and forth along with Felix’s snapping. "Well, I guess you’d say, what can make me feel this way?"

Mason braces a hand on the doorframe, if for no other reason than to stop himself walking into the room. He has no idea what he’d even say, but he knows he’d spook the detective, skittish little human he is, and break whatever odd spell has fallen over them both.

Juni’s voice gets stronger, bit by bit, as he settles, rising with confidence. He hums along to his strumming, and the smile that lights up his face sticks behind Mason’s ribs, along with the words of the song.

As Juni trails off with a dreamily sighed, “I’ve even got the month of May,” Felix claps loudly and cheers, an enthusiastic audience of one. Mason winces back away from the door, scowling and shaking his head.

He should leave. Either leave, or butt in just to watch Juni get all flustered, but something holds him still, keeps him quiet.

“I think I know that song,” Felix says slowly, and Mason doesn’t need to see his face to know the teasing smirk spreading there. He narrows his eyes suspiciously.

Juni snorts. “Everyone does, Fe. It’s from the 60s.”

“Yeah, but you sang it differently,” Felix presses. “Thinking of someone in particular, were you?”

Mason looks around the door frame just in time to see Juni whack Felix solidly with a pillow. “It was a cover!” he exclaims, his cheeks going ruddy. “A cover of a cover!” He smacks Felix with the pillow again, a solid whump muffling the vampire’s bell-like laughter as it hits him in the face. “Don’t make it weird!”

“I’ve got sunshine,” Felix warbles, snatching the pillow before Juni can swing a third time and hugging it to his chest.

“It’s a cute song!” Juni insists. “I like cute songs! I’ve got a ton I could have sung, but I picked that one, because I heard a cover once that made it about a guy instead of a girl, and you might not be aware of this, Felix, but I am a homosexual.”

Felix’s hand flies to his mouth, amber eyes going  comically wide. “No! You? How long were you planning to keep this from me?”

Juni very carefully sets his little green, lovingly restored ukulele to the side for safekeeping before he tries to wrestle the pillow back from Felix so he can hit him again.

Mason figures it’s a good time to take his leave, before Felix decides to use his presence as a scapegoat from the detective’s wrath.

He slips up the stairs, his head heavy, something… just something stirring in him he can’t even begin to parse.

Juni’s soft voice follows him back to the quiet of the rooftop, a gentle strain chasing itself around in his head.

Sunshine on a rainy day...

[angelicmark]

pairing: soulmate!jaemin x soulmate!reader

genre: soulmate!au, ANGST, smut, fluff

warnings: CHARACTER DEATH, als (amyotrophic lateral sclerosis), LOTS OF ANGST, a shit ton of sadness, small suicide mention but no actual suicide, mention of suicide attempt, fingering, unprotected sex, small aftercare, did i mention it’s VERY SAD, read at your own risk.

wc: 8.5k

summary: your perfect soulmate, given to you from heaven itself. just to have it all ripped away from you. some things are less dazzling than they seem.

➣ apart of the narcissistic lovers series

↳ masterlist

[21:43]

you huff out a breath of air. it was cold outside, your body only softly shivering. closing your eyes, you feel your neck starting to burn. the spot right behind your ear. you raise a hand up, feeling the soft scar and cursing to yourself. it was your soulmate marking, and it was honestly starting to piss you off. supposedly you had already met your soulmate, the marking showing up the minute you do. but you still had no idea who it was. but everytime they felt an intense emotion, you could feel it right on the marking. it was red hot, meaning anger. you scoff, what the hell could your soulmate be angry about at this damn hour?

you walk forward in the building, trying to ignore the incessant burning that was almost suffocating you. you always tried to your best to turn off your emotions for the sake of your soulmate, but sometimes it was unavoidable. and you were starting to feel annoyed. where the hell was your fucking soulmate? you wanted to smack some sense into them, or tell them to cool it.

“you look pissed,” you hear a voice, and you whip your head in the direction of your best friend. his eyes were glowing under the light, causing you to take a deep breath and shut off your emotions again.

“sorry,” you mutter, “it’s just this dumb soulmate thing.” you stop, reaching the door to your dorm. “i wish i knew who it was, that’s all.”

hyuck’s eyes travel across your features for a minute, thinking thoughtfully before finally responding, “do you remember where you met them?”

“nope,” you pop the ‘p’ in the sentence, making him sulk, “i’m not even sure what they look like.”

“if i see someone with your marking, i’ll let you know,” he smiles brightly, making a salute gesture.

you chuckle under his bright stare, “thanks, hyuck.”

“anything for my average angel,” he ruffles your hair and you pout.

“shut up,” you swat his hand away. he laughs at that, watching you gleaming eyes. his expression was cute, and you can’t help the smile that graces your features. “it’s late, shouldn’t you be heading back?”

he shrugs his shoulders, “i missed you.”

you smile at him before pinching his cheek softly, “awww, i missed you too, hyuckie!”

he scoffs, shoving your arm away from him and stepping back out of reach as he walks away, “i’ll see you later, idiot.”

you chuckle as you walk into your dorm room finally, taking in the scent of familiarity. your room was silent and plain, the walls white and undecorated. you never found it in yourself to do anything about it, too consumed by studies. it was never a concern of yours, knowing that once you graduate you won’t have this room anymore. it wasn’t necessary.

plopping onto your bed, you easily fall into sleep. your marking finally easing as your eyes grow heavy, the thought of loving someone forever crosing your mind inevitably.

[08:37]

“y/n!”

“fucking hell, wake the hell up!”

“i’m going to knock your door down if you don’t-”

“what the fuck, hyuck?!” you shout, your mind hazy and sleep still in your eyes.

he grins from ear to ear, “i found him.”

you tilt your head sideways, brows furrowing in anger and confusion, “the fuck are you-”

“na jaemin,” he raises his head higher in confidence.

“what about him?” you raise a brow, “you’re roommates with him, right?”

“we’re also friends,” he rolls his eyes, “but yeah.”

“okay, so..” you sway a hand around, eagerly telling him to continue.

“he’s your soulmate.”

you choke on your spit, your eyes going wide as your blood runs cold, “the fuck?!” you pat your chest, and he laughs at your expense, “you can’t fucking say things like that, you idiot!”

“i’m not joking, though,” he pout, “i never exactly noticed it until before we went to bed last night. i’m not sure why, i guess because i never really look behind his ear,” he shrugs, “it’s weird to think about though, because the two of you aren’t really alike.” he looks you up and down before grinning again.

“don’t look at me like that, creep,” you scoff.

“i found your soulmate, where’s my ‘thank you’,” he pouts, shoulders sinking.

“uh huh,” you nod, “hyuck-”

“for once, i’m serious, y/n.”

he stares you down, his grin dropping and his eyes intensely searching yours. you’re about to speak, before closing your mouth again. was he serious? was he really fucking serious right now? panic rushes through your body, looking at him with wide eyes and looking absolutely terrified.

“hyuck!” you scream, punching him in the arm, “i fucking hate you!”

he furrows his brows, “what the hell?!”

“holy shit,” you breathe out, “i hate this.” you run your fingers through your hair, tugging only softly. the air was suddenly too much for you, your lungs threatening to close in on you.

“hey,” hyuck comes closer, “it’s alright. it’s not like you’re automatically dating or in love or anything.”

you look at him again, and his eyes are softer this time. your eyes well up, “this shit is fucking scary.”

“yeah,” he sighs, “sorry about that.”

you huff. this was how you learned who your soulmate was? how embarrassing is that. he’s your best friend’s roommate/friend. it was so sudden, like cold water being dumped on you early in the morning. you cross your arms, looking away from hyuck. you were searching for something else to say, but you stayed silent as he watched you closely.

“do you want to see him?” he asks.

do you? he was your soulmate. shouldn’t you want to? you froze as your eyes became unreadable to him. it was a simple question, but the action itself held intensity. it could be a start to a whole different side of your life you weren’t even sure you were ready for. but, would you ever be ready to meet him? probably not. it was now or never.

“does he want to meet me?” you shuffle, avoiding hyuck’s eyes as it comes out in a low mumble.

he chuckles a bit, “yeah, he does. he was practically jumping around when he found out.”

“does he know who i am?” you look at him this time, head tilted in curiosity.

“yeah,” hyuck shrugs, “why wouldn’t he? you’re my best friend. even if you never come over, he still knows about you.”

it was true. you never really did visit him. the only time you ever really saw jaemin was-

you gasp, raising a hand over your mouth, “i said hey to him that one time!”

hyuck looks at you like you’re stupid.

you roll your eyes, “i was dropping off your shirts that you left here, and he was passing by so i said ‘is that your roommate? hey roommate’.” you pout, realizing how stupid you sounded.

he laughs out loud, his head being thrown back, “seriously?” he looks at you, giggles escaping him, “you’re stupid.” he smiles at you.

you snarl, “whatever.”

“do you want to meet him?” he asks again, “quit avoiding the question.”

you sigh, “i should, right?”

“i would,” he shrugs casually.

you nod curtly, “okay.”

“okay..?”

you roll your eyes, “okay, i’ll meet him.”

his eyes brighten up as he fist bumps the air, “yes!” he grins and twirls around once before looking at you, “come on, idiot! let’s go!”

“i’m not dressed!” you wack his arm away that tries to reach for you.

he makes an ‘o’ with his mouth and nods, “get dressed then, i’ll wait in the car.”

you let out a long breath of air as he leaves.

how much different could jaemin be?

[9:48]

your nerves were on haywire. you felt like you were going to pass out, your breathing starting to labor. you were possibly so close to your soulmate. hyuck could notice your nervous energy, looking at you with worry as he hesitates on opening the door. you were standing outside of his apartment door, and he could tell you were internally fighting with your brain. it was worrying him to no ends.

“hey,” he spoke softly, his slightly high pitched voice soothing you, “it’s alright, you know.” he pauses, looking at the door before back at you, “we can do this another time-”

you huff, “no. i want to do this now.” your eyes were turning glossy, and it took you everything to simply look at him. he took note of the way your lip was trembling. “i’m just afraid.”

he pulls you in a tight embrace, “i know.” he shushes you as he feels your body start to sulk into him.

you pull away from him, you needed to face your fears. you were terrified of losing yourself in him. is that what happens when you find your soulmate? do you lose yourself? you want to believe that wasn’t the case, but loving someone can be so powerful that there is no doubt you will lose yourself at some point. loving someone takes energy. and you were scared you didn’t have enough of it to keep yourself alive.

hyuck slowly opens the door, letting himself in as you trail behind him. immediately, he lets out a dramatic groan, “i’m home, losers!”

you look at him with curious eyes, “wha-”

“haechan?” you hear a gruff voice, and it catches you by surprise. was this jaemin? his hair was ruffled, and it was only slightly curly like hyuck’s sort of looks in the mornings. he didn’t put much into his appearance, his sweatpants hanging lowly on his hips. you take in his looks, realizing just how pretty he actually looked in your eyes. it was almost overwhelming, “who’s this?” he points.

he looks at you, smiling softly, “her name is y/n.” you were confused. was this not jaemin?

“i’m jeno,” he holds his hand out, looking at you with respect glinting in his eyes. you nod back, it wasn’t. you softly take his hand and he shakes it twice before leaning away, “is this jaem’s soulmate?” well, he was blunt.

hyuck laughs as your eyes widen, “way to be subtle, dude,” he pats jeno on the back, “but yeah, she is.” the two boys look at you with bright smiles.

“she’s pretty,” jeno hums before starting to walk away, “good luck, he’s a bit hard to handle sometimes.” he waves you off.

you swallow, hard to handle? hyuck catches your gaze before rolling his eyes, “he’s being over dramatic, don’t worry.” he looks around before licking his lips and shouting, “jaemin! get your ass out here! miss soulmate is here!”

your face heats up, and you feel like you could die right then and there. did he have to be so crude? so direct? it was making you feel light headed, you only wished the ground would swallow you whole. you gulp as you hear footsteps that sound a bit scattered and a small bump and an ‘ouch’. you smile softly at the thought of your soulmate being clumsy.

“huh?” this voice is only slightly different, a bit more lighter but definitely deep. it sends shocks through your body, the thought of it belonging to your soulmate making your body start to shake. you were soon looking at a male with messy pink hair, his jeans clinging tightly to his legs. his shirt was crumbled and looked as if he had just thrown it on last minute. his eyes had a certain sparkle to them, and you were suddenly weak in the legs. and that’s when you see it. the marking. the marking that obviously belonged to the two of you.

“y/n,” he gestures, “meet jaemin.” hyuck smiles brightly.

you see as jaemin’s eyes travel over you, and when he flashes you his enthusiastic smile, you almost feel like toppling over on the ground. he was so beautiful, the prettiest man you had ever seen. you feel like you could smell him, too. his scent was strong from where you were standing, making you dizzy. he smelt like honey and vanilla. it was overwhelming your senses, and you were terrified.

he holds his hand out, “nice to finally meet you.” his voice. curse him and his voice. curse him for being your soulmate. you take his hand very reluctantly, and when you feel the way his soft hands feel in yours, you almost pass out again. he sees the way you start to tremble, and looks at you worriedly, “hey, woah, are you okay?” he goes to pull you closer to him, and you want to fight him and shove him back. but your body starts to fight against you. it felt like he had a magnetic pull on you. “y/n?”

then you start crying. your senses were so overwhelmed, your body starting to shake in his grasp. he gulps when he feels you try to shove him away, “i’m sorry!” you blurt out, eyes blurry and nose only slightly stuffed, “meeting my soulmate, i guess, has a weird effect on me.” you huff, wiping your tears as fast as they come.

jaemin nods in understanding, awkwardly looking at hyuck, “i get that. i was nervous to meet you, too.” it was silent for a really long minute after that as you tried to gain composure again. it was difficult, especially with him so close to you still.

“yeah,” you breathe, pouting slightly, “i’m sorry, i sort of ruined this all.”

he smiles at you, “not at all.” he was kind, taking your feelings into consideration, “if it’s too much, we can-”

“no!” you quickly say before you can even think. you look away for a minute in embarrassment before meeting his gleaming eyes again, “this is important to me.”

his expression goes soft, and he feels his heart start to tighten and his stomach start to turn. you were too precious for his own good. you were silently driving him insane, your scent and voice making him feel just as dizzy. he tried not to show it, though. afraid it would scare you off. he couldn’t risk scaring off the one thing he really had going for him.

“it’s important to me, too,” he says back, looking at you such intensity you weren’t sure you knew existed. it was all intense. the whole ordeal was intense. the air fell silent after that, and it felt like it was just the two of you in the whole entire world. you look around, trying to catch where the hell hyuck went. he wasn’t beside you anymore. it was just you, and jaemin. “here,” he hands a piece of paper when you gaze back at him, “it’s my number. you can call and text at anytime. you’re my soulmate, afterall.”

your chest hurts, and you feel like you’re losing your mind, “oh,” you take the paper silently, smiling at him softly, “thank you.” your voice was so quiet in the soft air, and it made him smile back twenty times brighter.

“anything for my soulmate.”

[13:02]

it took you four days to actually text him. and it took you two weeks to actually face him again since that day. you were moving incredibly slow, but he couldn’t blame you. you were so fickle, he was afraid of saying the wrong thing and chasing off his soulmate forever. your mind was always racing from one thing to another, and you had such an anxious demeanor. it was the opposite of his cool-headed one. he never really showed he was nervous, meanwhile you were always on the verge of tears at just the small sight of him. you weren’t sure why you were like this, or what was going on with you mentally. but you wanted to make this work. to hell with your anxiety.

you breathe out. it’s been two months since meeting jaemin, and the two of you were still only trying to get to know each other. it hasn’t been that long in your eyes, still going through the motions and trying to figure out if everything was real.

“you okay?” jaemin questions, his voice making your body start to spark.

you shift in your seat, “i know i sound like a broken record right now,” you swallow hard, “but i’m afraid.”

“tell me of what,” he was patient, his eyes not wavering. but yours were. they were all over the place.

“i..” you never truly said this out loud. you were even afraid of saying it aloud and making it come true. but he was your soulmate, you were supposed to trust him, right? “i’m afraid of loving you, in all honesty.” the room stayed silent as he waited for you to continue. he was so caring, it made you wonder if you already were starting to love him. “i can’t afford to lose myself in the process of loving you. it’s a scary thought. and even the possibility that you’ll run away because i can never set my mind straight, that scares me too. what if i love you, but you don’t love me back? what if this whole soulmate thing wasn’t made for me?” you look frustrated, eyebrows furrowed and gaze concentrated.

jaemin waited to see if you were done, and when you didn’t speak again, he responded. “i see we have the same mind, then.” he rests his head in his hand, “soulmates really do think alike, huh?” your eyes whipped in his direction as he looked at you softly, making your body start to melt and relax. “i’m not leaving. i know it doesn’t make much of a difference saying it, but i really don’t think you’ll be the only one loving their soulmate. i know i’ll love you. in time, i know i will. and that’s all i really have right now. i can’t predict the future but i know i’ll love you, and i know i’m going to be here.”

his eyes were intense, searching yours as if they held all the keys to everything he owned. as if they were the only way to his own sanity. you were once again overwhelmed, but it wasn’t in a bad way. you were starting to trust him. starting to ease into the idea of loving him, being with him as a soulmate. it was a warm thought.

“thank you,” your eyes tear up and he smiles at you, “a lot. really, thank you a lot.”

it was less tense after that. the air seemed to lighten day by day and you were really starting to grow really fond of him. jaemin was starting to open up your heart, and you were becoming less and less scared at the thought. you were willing to trust him with your heart when it came down to it.

[18:12]

seven months after meeting. neither of you have kissed, or shared more than a couple of nudges of touching. there was the occasional hand holding, but it was super rare. you were starting to notice the way jaemin would stare a little longer than normal. how he would try his best not to scare you away. it was all at your pace, and how you wanted it to be. but now, you wanted to kiss him. you wanted to feel what it was like to truly kiss and feel your soulmate up against you. was it as thrilling as everyone made it out to be? you hoped it was.

“jaemin,” you say his name, and he feels his ears start to burn from the way you say it with such grace. it was easily one of his favorite sounds.

“hm?” he hums back, yawning a bit as he sits beside you on the couch. it felt like you were oceans apart, the two of you not even close enough to graze your hands together. he sees the way you scoot closer to him. he feels his heart start to pick up pace, and suddenly he’s not tired anymore. “yeah? are you alright, y/n?”

you look at him, and for the first time in a really long fucking time, you weren’t nervous. you weren’t unsure, and you weren’t freaking out. and, for once, you were ready. completely ready to bare yourself to him. it wasn’t overwhelming, and you didn’t feel like you were suffocating. it was like living in the clouds. his scent came along your sense, and you almost visibly shuddered at the smell. he was always so sweet. you scoot even closer, your body so close to his the both of you can feel one another’s heat radiating off the other. jaemin shifts in his seat, but doesn’t make a move to get away from you. you take this as a sign of trust.

it all happened so fast, yet so slow. his lips were suddenly on yours, but at the same time it was such a long wait. the two of you were moving so in sync, your lips mushed together in a soft, passionate entangle. it wasn’t rough, wasn’t too much. there wasn’t a shit ton of tongue, and there wasn’t too many emotions. it was perfect in your eyes. it was slow enough to savor the feeling, and fast enough to ease your mind. your hands travel to his hair, and his go to your waist. it feels like heaven having him so close, feeling your soulmate’s emotions from the soft tingling behind your ear.

he pulls you slowly on top of him, so slowly as if he was afraid you were going to run away. but you weren’t. not in a million years. not after getting him so close for the first time ever. you were living in your own personal heaven. the world was starting to drift away from you, the only thing in your mind was jaemin, jaemin, jaemin. the way his hands would only softly rub against your sides, not ushering you to come closer unless at your own will. not initiating anything further or making you come out of the trance you were currently in. it was everything the two of you have done that lead to this very moment. the light touching, the occasional flirting, nothing ever being too much. nothing was ever too much with him. he did everything for you, with you. and you were extremely grateful for his patience. extremely grateful that he was your soulmate. the only man worthy of holding you together, but also keeping the smallest amount of distance just enough for you. it was all for you. everything he did, was for you.

when you part, out of breath, you’re both panting heavily and there’s a small string of saliva that connects between your lips and his. you rest your forehead on his, and he looks at you with shining eyes. you see an expression on him you were so used to, but this time it felt completely different. it felt different being so close to him. and it didn’t freak you out, or making you want to pull at your hair out of stress. your fingers stayed glued to his own hair, stroking and running them through his hair with ease. he enjoyed your touch and the feeling it gave him. you were his solace. his hands were on your waist, his thumbs moving and caressing you. it was silent, the air thickening.

neither of you spoke as you both leaned back in for another kiss. this one just as mind numbing as the last.

[20:20]

your eyes lock with his, and he’s moving so carefully like you’re made of glass. you were determined to make this the night you gave all of yourself to him. he never pressured you into anything, and you didn’t feel pressured in the slightest. none of this felt forced for the sake of the two of you being soulmates. it felt so natural, and you were expecting to find yourself scared. but you found nothing scratching at the surface of your brain as he sat on his heels, eyeing you with adoration. nothing but pure, unadulterated adoration.

“are you sure, love?” he asks. and it’s such a sweet nickname he had developed within the last few months. it was one year since meeting him, and every last second the two of you spent together, was always just as safe and loving as the next. you were truly starting to understand the concept of love, and why you were made just for him, and him just for you.

you lean up and stroke his cheek, his head leaning into the touch, “yes, jaemin.” you kiss him tenderly, your emotions swirling and your head starting to run dizzy, “i’m always sure with you.”

jaemin leans back and takes in your naked form, you were such a fucking goddess in his eyes. you were an angel made only for him, only for his eyes. it was such a pure sight, seeing you displayed just for him. he was slow with his hands and he trailed them along your thighs, admiring the way you raised your hips for him. he smiles softly at the action, your wet core coming into view and making him go crazy. he takes two of his fingers, spreading your lower lips apart and taking everything in. he hears the small plea you let out, followed by a soft whine. and he can’t seem to ignore you, easily slipping both of his fingers in. you were so wet, fuck.

“baby,” he groans, looking at the way you start to fist the pillow beside your head. your body was hot to the touch, and your neck was starting to tingle and become an overwhelming sensation. “you’re so pretty like this, always so pretty no matter what.”

he slowly, very fucking slowly, starts to move his fingers in and out. it was such an excruciatingly pace, making you toss your head back and forth and buck your hips into his fingers. you know he was just trying to stretch you out, his fingers scissoring in place before going in and out again. but you were dying to feel something more, dying to have him fill you up somehow.

“please,” you whine, and it’s such a pretty sound, “please, jaemin.”

“what do you want, my princess?” he leans down to kiss along your jaw and collarbone.

“you,” you pant, your hands coming up to run through his hair, “you, please. give me you. i want you, all of you.”

he can’t deny you, especially not after that. he slips his fingers from you, making sure to lick up what was left. he sighs at the taste, telling you just how sweet you are. he makes quick work to hover over you, giving you a sweet look as his eyes search yours. you lean up, asking for a kiss, and he grants your wish. the kiss was slow, slower than usual. there was no rush between the two of you, and you cherished this very moment. you made sure to remember this forever.

“are you ready?” he asks gruffly, his voice making you slightly jolt.

you nod, “yes, of course.”

he nods, too. letting out a soft breath, he slowly starts to sink into you. and it feels like you’re finally connecting. it feels like you were made to do this from the moment you met him, from the moment you even fucking knew about him. it was so sweet, the moment making your heart sing in your ears. you could feel him bottom out in you, making you groan at the feeling of his cock stretching you so well.

“s- so tight, princess,” he huffs, and his dick can’t help from twitching when your tight walls contract around him. you were too much for him, so good. “ah,” he breathes, head lowering onto your shoulder. when he leans over and starts to lick at the soulmate marking behind your ear, you keen into him and beg him to move.

“oh god,” you whimper in his ear, and it’s his favorite melody, “please, please move. i need to feel you move inside me, jaemin.”

he nods, his forehead starting to glisten with sweat. as he pulled back, and slowly went back in, you let out a noise you didn’t even know you had in you. it was such a pretty sound though, jaemin needed more. so his next thrust was a bit more harsh, making you cry out a soft shout of his name. it felt so good. his mouth was working at your marking, his hips moving so intensely against yours, occasionally opting for rubbing against your clit and then thrusting again. it was so overwhelmingly good. his cock scratched right against your sweet spot every single time, like he immediately knew your body before you even knew it.

“you feel so good,” he moans, and it’s such a sinful sound, making you tug on his hair, “god, y/n. you’re always so fucking good.” jaemin doesn’t cuss much, but fuck, it sounded so good so close to your ear like that. especially since he was groaning, sending you higher and higher towards your pleasure.

“jaemin,” you whine, one of your hands moving down to scratch at his back, and this is his sign to move even faster. it wasn’t rough, though. never too much, never in risk of hurting you. “your cock feels so good inside me.” you whisper, licking the shell of his ear.

he shudders, his hips stuttering against you, “and your pussy feels so tight around me, baby.”

you mewl, the sound coming our foreign to you but to him, it’s heaven. you were so close to coming undone around him, so close to cumming on him. he wanted you to cum first so bad. he reaches down and starts rubbing at your sensitive bud, making you gasp and buck against him. you were close, so close. he could tell from the way you were clenching around him.

“cum for me,” he huffs, his voice coaxing you even further to your release, “come on, baby. cum all over me, show me you’re mine. my pretty soulmate.”

he licks your marking again, and suddenly your wailing towards him, clutching him so tightly as you start to come undone around him. you were shaking beneath him, crying out broken syllables of his name. it was earth shattering, ground breaking even. he followed you not too long after, the intense feeling of you cumming around him sending shocks through his own body. he could feel your nails digging so deeply into his skin as he released inside of you, riding out both of your highs. he clutches the sheets tight, his hand coming up from rubbing against your clit, careful not to hurt you. it was heaven. this was heaven, you were right where you were supposed to be. with him.

you were both out of breath, sweating and incredibly warm. he slowly, very slowly again, eases out of you. he watches as his cum and yours mix together while falling out. he hums before getting up and making his way to the bathroom. you were grateful for him cleaning you up, the warm washcloth surprisingly cool on your hot skin. when he’s done, he throws it somewhere and quickly lays down to pull you against him, throwing a silk sheet over the two of you.

“i..” he gulps, licking his lips, “i love you.”

you clutch him tight against you, feeling as tears start to well in your eyes, “i love you, too.”

it was the first time ever really telling someone you loved them in this way. it was the first time ever making love to someone. the first time ever baring your soul with someone.

and you were so glad it was him, and no one else.

[14:34]

“you know,” jeno starts, sitting in the living room as the both of you wait for jaemin to hop out of the shower, “jaemin was actually really depressed before you.”

your eyes glance in his direction, “what?”

he flips through his phone casually before putting it down and looking at you with an intense gaze, “he tried to... well, he tried to take his life,” he gulps, and you only nod your head as you feel your heart quickening pace, “he’s not open about those kinds of things very often. none of us really knew he was like that. it’s very hard to tell when something is wrong with him.”

you look away from him, not really sure what to say, “i’m sorry.” and that was all you could manage. your mind was starting to run on haywire.

he shakes his head, “it was almost two years ago, it’s fine. but after that we all could tell he was only holding himself together for the benefit of others. but, when he’s around you, it’s like he doesn’t have to act. it’s like he really means it this time.” jeno pauses as you nod your head with a soft smile, “so, thanks, you know. for helping him out.” his gesture was awkward, but you knew he was doing his absolute best.

you look at him with genuine eyes, “you don’t have to thank me. he’s my soulmate, and i’d love him even if he wasn’t.”

jeno nods, “i know.”

the both of you hear jaemin’s door open, and you both act as if the two of you weren’t discussing the secrets of his life. and although a part of you felt like you were intruding, you were still glad to know. you were more than determined to make him the happiest man alive.

“ready?” jaemin asks, giving both of you a smile and gracing a soft kiss on your cheek.

you both nod, ready to go about your day like usual.

[17:56]

time seems to slow down, yet go by really fast around him. you were really starting to fall in love, hard and fast. it was a different type of love, and you were unsure if you were starting to lose yourself or not. you would die for him. you would risk your life, if it meant saving his. your heart ached as you sat on the kitchen counter, watching as he started to cook. it wasn’t clumsy, and he was actually a pretty good cook. it surprised you, in a way.

you swing your legs a bit, “jaemin?”

he glances your way quickly, nodding his head, “yes, love?”

you sigh at the nickname, a smile gracing your features, “you’re always so good to me.”

he raises an eyebrow, eyes peeling away from the directions for only a few seconds before he shakes his head with a chuckle, “you’re my soulmate. i love you.”

“is that the only reason you love me?” you tilt your head. if it wasn’t for the marking on your neck, would he still be by your side? you doubted it. but you still wanted to ask.

he shakes his head again, more serious this time, “no.” he’s affirmative with his answer, “i would love you, even without the stupid marking on your neck. you’re more to me than that.” he looks at you for longer than two seconds, his eyes holding yours in an intense battle.

you smile softly, “i love you, too.”

he nods, “i know.”

it was good to know he knew. you weren’t exactly as good at expressing yourself the way he was, and he knew that. but having these small conversations were enough for him. it was more than enough for him. he enjoyed your company, no matter what. hearing you tell him you love him just once a day was enough to put his mind at ease. he would love you regardless.

your eyes glance towards the time as you place a couple plates on the table, one for you, one for jaemin. you breathe in a deep breath. your life took such a drastic turn with jaemin around, and you were forever happy. as long as it was with jaemin, it didn’t matter where life took you. your soul marking starts to soothe into a deep cold. your back shivers.

“jaemin?” you rush to the kitchen, and you see him glowering with sunken eyes. “jaemin..?” you ask again, placing a hand on his shoulder. his grip on the counter tightens as you see tears start to roll down his flushed cheeks. his eyes are slightly covered by his bangs, but you don’t mistaken the look on his face, even with his head hung low.

“i..” he pauses, swallowing as his body starts to shake. he feels your arms wrap around his body with ease, and he’s quick to wrap his own around yours, too, his face pushed into your neck. you feel tears start to soak your shoulder and shirt, and confusion rushes through your mind. what the hell is happening? you rub along his back, trying to ease the pain he felt in his chest.

“you can tell me,” you whisper, and it coaxes him to sob harder. but you knew he needed this. he needs this small moment of breaking apart. “i’m here, jaemin.”

“amyotrophic lateral sclerosis.”

it was three words. but they struck you deep through the heart. you could feel your body turning stiff, your world spinning beneath your feet, your heart picking up pace. your whole entire world came crashing in on you in such a short amount of time. everything was changing, and this time it was for the worse.

na jaemin was sick.

he was sick, and there wasn’t a cure.

time passes. and you no longer have the courage to look at the clock, anxiously hoping time slows down just for a moment. it was overwhelming. everything was sickeningly slow, yet way too fast. you could see jaemin slowly growing weaker and weaker. no matter how many doctors you paid for, no matter how many pills he took, there was no slowing down how fast his body was starting to lose its momentum. it was breaking your heart.

memories had built with him over time. some good, some bad. but never enough to make you want to leave him. there was never a single doubt in your mind that jaemin wasn’t the one. jaemin gave you everything you weren’t sure of. he made you believe in love, made you realize just how much you needed him. he was there. he was always there for you. when you fell down, when you needed him the most, when you needed a pick-me-up. he was there. and you were more than determined to be there for him. he needed you now. he needed you to be there. and yoy were. weeks passed, weeks turning into months since being diagnosed. you knew there was no cure for what he had, and you knew death was almost certain in these circumstances. and even if the doctors said it most likely wouldn’t be soon, you still made sure to take mental pictures of jaemin every single time you saw him. you love him. you really, really love him.

“jaemin,” you run your fingers through his hair.

he croakily responds, his throat turning itchy, “hm?” he couldn’t find it in himself to properly respond, his body aching severely.

you could feel the aching in his bones. you could fucking tell it was tearing him apart. and it was hurting you like no other. why did this have to happen to you? why him? jaemin was nothing less of a perfect doting boyfriend. nothing fucking less.

tears were rolling before you could help it. you wanted to be strong for him, wanted to hold yourself together for the sake of his happiness. but you just couldn’t. your soul was bound to him, you were running on a rollercoaster of emotions. how could you even imagine living without him?

“hey,” jaemin sits up slowly, and you sob harder. your body racks and shakes, and he attempts to hold you. his eyes were sad, “i’m still here, you know.”

“they said it was increasingly getting worse..” your body was on the verge of giving up, your marking running cold, “i- i don’t know. i don’t know what i’m going to do, jaemin!” your life was falling apart.

“i won’t be going anywhere for awhile, y/n.” his voice easy, soft, comforting. it was everything you weren’t right now. how could he be so calm about all of this? especially when his bones were aching? when his throat was dying?

“i’m sorry,” your head hangs low, “i should be the one that’s there for you. god, i’m so sorry,” you shiver as jaemin pulls you into his embrace. he lays on the bed, and even if his body is begging him not to move, he pulls you even closer to him. because you mean so much more to him than his own health. and it was scaring you. “please, don’t do that. i need you to relax.”

he hums, unable to respond. his voice was dying out on him, reaching his limit for the day. so he does as you say, laying back and letting you pull blankets over the two of you. he feels you snuggle up next to him, eyes still stained with tears. and it hurts. it hurts his chest, and he feels just how shivering cold his marking is from how upset you were. there was a tinge of heat, simmering with the ice cold. you were battling a war inside your head, and he couldn’t help from feeling guilty. he was the reason you felt like this. and he couldn’t do anything.

“i love you,” you breathe, sighing as your senses flood with his smell, “so fucking much.”

he chuckles a bit, “i love you so much, too, my love.” he was exhausted, his eyes falling heavy.

your hands clutch tightly to the clinging fabric on his chest, eyes shut tightly as you reminisce this certain feeling of having him next to you. the moonlight has a pretty glow on his slightly pale skin. he was ethereal, the prettiest human you’ve ever laid eyes on. he made you so happy, and you were afraid of having to let it all go. you never wanted to leave him. never wanted him to leave you.

but nothing lasts forever.

and it hurts knowing that.

“i’m always going to be here, jaemin.” you kiss his cheek, watching as his chest starts to rise and fall easily, “always.”

your heart stops in your chest.

you thought you had more time.

it feels like you’ve completely been dumped in cold water, your veins knowing that something wasn’t right.

jaemin wasn’t breathing.

you woke up that morning, not feeling the easy breathing that would normally tickle the back of your neck. you woke up that morning, not hearing a croaky groan as he stretched. you woke up that morning, feeling nothing but his cold, lifeless body.

you woke up that morning.

losing the love of your life.

and it was earth shattering. you remember screaming, crying, cursing, demanding why this had to happen to you. you remember breaking down as jeno and hyuck rush in the room to see why you were so distraught. you remember the look of fear and realization. you rememeber feeling so sick to your stomach. you remember rushing to the bathroom, throwing up and feeling as your body starts to crash and burn on you. you remember the sirens of the ambulance. you remember the paramedics taking him away. you remember, you fucking remember.

and a weak part of you wishes you didn’t.

you were supposed to have more time. you were supposed to get married, have at least one child, see the world together. you were supposed to get your happy ever after with him. was there a reason why you were being tortured like this? was there a reason he had to go so soon?

you miss him. you miss his laugh, his smile, his sweet words he would whisper in your ear before he fell into a deep slumber. there was no replacing him. there was no replacing the feeling he gave you. and you remember curling in your bed for weeks, months at a time. you remember his funeral being held just a week after he passed in your arms that night. and you remember not going. and you remember hyuck screaming at you through the door that day, saying just how sick you are and how much a ‘terrible human being’ you were. but you didn’t care. no, you really didn’t. because nothing else mattered. not a single thing on earth mattered anymore. he wasn’t there anymore.

you weren’t proud to skip his funeral. you were breaking apart day by day, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to even eat anymore. you were surviving off of the bare minimum just to keep you alive. but, there were times where you barely even wanted to be. your soul was shattered. your heart was broken. you were already in a million different pieces. it was hell. you were living in your own personal hell. you watched day by day, week by week, month by month as his body started to give out. you watched, unable to help him. and you so desperately wanted to remember the good times with him, but everytime you did, it just tore you apart even more. you couldn’t find it in yourself to smile over the small moments with him, only finding yourself crying for the rest of the night until your body fell into exhaustion. you were at your peak, unable to process anything anymore. none of it felt real, yet at the same time, it all felt too fucking real.

you sigh, your heart heavy and your eyes filled to the brim with dried tears. you couldn’t feel anything anymore. you were exhausted. your body was turning tired, feeling as if the tears were even starting to dry out. your body couldn’t move. not for months, at least. it took you almost 5 months to finally get the courage to call hyuck and apologize for missing jaemin’s funeral. you were still grieving. still trying to pull yourself together after losing the one thing that truly held you together through your anxious mind. jaemin walked you out of your slumps. and now that he wasn’t here, you needed to do it on your own. at your own time, at your own pace. and you knew you would get there eventually. but it would never be easy. you will never be able to erase jaemin to the feeling he gave you. you would never be able to forget him. you will never love someone as much as you loved him, and you knew that was a given. you knew that. but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt any less.

almost 7 months after his passing, you finally make it to his grave. you stand right in front of his tombstone, and you feel emotions flooding your senses. you trace your fingers lightly over your marking, and you wince. jaemin may be gone, but his memory will forever be there. you breathe in a long swish of air, feeling the cold sensation on your skin. it was mid-winter, the air feeling crisp beneath your fingertips. you look at the grey tombstone, noticing that just below his name was your soulmate marking. and you curse to yourself. you missed his funeral. you missed it, because you were too selfish to leave your bed. you were in such a broken state, unable to even move. you couldn’t bare standing in front of his casket, watching as they lower him into the ground forever. it would have broken you a million times more than you already were. you just weren’t ready. you didn’t think you ever would be.

but, here you were.

standing in front of him again.

you sit down, sitting criss-cross as you face him for the first time in months.

“jaemin,” it almost sounds foreign saying his name again. but you continue, you needed to. “you gave me my will to live. and i know that sounds cheesy. and i know that you would probably tell me that i shouldn’t think like that, but i’m just being honest. i love you, so much. i couldn’t bring myself to go to your funeral that day. because it felt like it was forever. i was scared of saying goodbye back then, i couldn’t imagine a life without you. and i still can’t. i still think about how much easier it would be if you were just here, and nowhere else. i think about every single moment we spent together, and i remember every single tiny thing we did together.” you pause, breathing in a deep breath, “i remember meeting you, telling you how i was scared, kissing you, loving you. i remember it all.. and i even remember waking up that next morning and realizing you were no longer there with me.

“you’re my soulmate, jaemin. and i hope you know that, despite my selfishness, i still love you. i still care about you. you were my everything. you were someone i could not live without. you taught me how to love, how to truly, fully love someone. you even taught me my own self worth. you eased the pain when it got too much. you made me realize i had a reason to live in the first place. you gave me life, jaemin. you made me feel so alive. and i will never be able to thank you enough for loving me through it all, even despite how mouthy and mean and selfish i could get. no matter how emotionally anxious i became. you were there, and i knew you loved me. i knew, because you were still there every single morning. telling me just how much i mean to you.”

for the first time in weeks, your eyes well up in tears. you feel one drop on your knee as you try to wipe the rest away.

“i love you, na jaemin. there is nothing more to it. there is no defining my love for you, and there is no forgetting the feeling you gave me. i will always love you. and i don’t think i’ll ever be able to fully let you go. but i need to do this, jaemin. i hope you can forgive me, and i hope to see you again one day.”

“goodbye, jaemin. thank you for loving me.”

and that night, you remember seeing a silhouette of jaemin, you remember hearing his sweet voice in your dreams.

“i love you, my love,” he spoke, “please, never forget that. you can let go now. it’s okay, i’ll always be here.”

and, despite it tearing you apart the next morning. you could feel relief wash over you.

you were letting go.

because i might not always have you but i’ll have the feeling of you for the rest of my life.