#i forgot how tags work here- its not ao3 help me

[nymphiou]

hi! yeah, its me. Nymph.

me on tumblr again ? yeah, its surprising! ahah...i have old art for you, apologies for not coming to post a lot

here blob Dream !! love him, hes so squishy and cute. i like blobs, i like stars, what else do i need? nothing !

welp, see you in three years lmfao

[gremlingottoosilly]

Your ride is here (dark!Ghoap x fem!Reader)

CW and tags: Non-con, poly, group sex, size kink, daddy kink, power imbalance, kidnapping, dead dove do not eat, forced orgasms, praise, humiliation I really really adore @ohbo-ohno and @ceilidho for their amazing takes on writing dark fics with Ghoap and fem!Readers Word count: 3794 AO3

You were already way too drunk when you got out of the bar. It was an annoyingly loud party, too many people you never even knew – you thought that it would be nice since it’s a nice bar and not some weird tech music club, but it didn’t really matter in the end. You were still wasted, head spinning around and headache already forming with bile in your throat every time you opened your eyes. Your phone is dead, your brain is barely working, and the only thing you wish to do right now is to curl down in a small ball and cry. 

You barely managed to call for an Uber before your phone blinked one last time and turned off – and judging by the fact that the somewhat kinda, big-ish car was the only one in the dim alleyway, you assumed it was your ride. Hopefully, you’ll get home as soon as possible, get a shower, clear your stomach from alcohol slowly brewing into nausea, and fall asleep. 

You’re far too drunk to notice that the driver didn’t even ask for your name when you got inside. 

— H…hey there. You’re my driver, yea? 

You force the words out of your mouth as you slowly duck your head into the car and settle on the backseat before the guy even says anything. He is pretty, somewhat – a weird fucking haircut for sure, but has a roguish charm of a boy you might meet at the nearest gas station shop. You’re way too buzzed to think of him in any romantic way, but he is nice to look at, and you’re staring to the point of being inappropriate. 

He smiles, and you feel your cheeks heating up – probably just alcohol working its way up your system. But he looks nice and probably would feel nice in bed, too – he clearly forgot about shaving for a few days, and you almost think about the way it would feel on your face. Or between your legs. Or just right on your…

— Aye, it’s me. 

You can see his cheeks getting flushed as he stares back at you. The situation becomes slightly more weird with each passing moment, but he taps on his phone, probably searching for a map. You turn your head to look at the blurry image – not like you have any knowledge of the area, transferring here for your big girl job and trying to make your way in the city that couldn’t care less about you or your feelings. 

You press your cheek against the car seat, leaning over to help him. 

— It’s on…yeah, um, Maple 37-12. I think I might have typed the address incorrectly on the app. 

— Thank ye, lassie. 

He quickly turns on the map to head over to your house, and you smile, happy about your management skills even as you’re still drunk as hell. You allow your head to fall on the backseat headrest again, closing your eyes just for a second. It’s a long ride home, and you already regret every decision that made you go to this fucking party. 

The driver is chatty. 

Really fucking chatty. 

— So, where do you work? Ye shouldn’t be up in that hour. 

You grumble something in the answer, not wanting to speak too much. Your brain isn’t built for this kind of pressure right now. 

— Yer boyfriend goin’ to pick ye up? 

You slightly wince at the words, another reminder of how utterly alone you were. Of course, if you had a boyfriend or even some close, responsible friends, you would ask them to help you with a ride home – you never trusted public transport at this hour, and uber is often varies between a last resort and a stranger danger on wheels. 

— Don’t have any. 

Your brain is far too drunk to even comprehend why you didn’t just lie that a mysterious boyfriend will meet you. Somehow, the expression of the driver – he called himself Johnny with such a beautiful boyish smile that it made your toes curl – made you feel dizzy and light in the head. God, you don’t want to act like a high school sweetheart, but all of those drinks made you feel lonely. 

— No way. A wee bonnie like ye shouldnae be alone. 

You lick your lips, trying not to sound too miserable. You’re failing. 

— I’m focusing on my career. 

He actually laughs at that, and you feel even more embarrassed. 

— Career? How does that work out for ye? 

You just grumble at the answer, not wanting to bury yourself even deeper. Truth be told, it’s not what you expected when moving to a new city – you don’t know anyone, don’t have any friends here, your life has started from a blank point, and there is really nothing for you to do besides trying to connect with some uptight work buddies in a grimy bar. 

Driver says something else – just general questions, something about the weather. Silly jokes that make you snort and reconsider your sense of humor – he is really nice for a cab driver, and you kinda want to just listen to him talk over and over again. You kinda just want to close your eyes and sleep, but you suddenly realize that you need to charge your phone in order to check the payment – you don’t think you have enough cash in your purse, and you don’t want to make the driver’s life even more miserable. He must be low on money to work at this hour, and you kinda feel bad enough to leave him a big tip after all of this, especially if you would end up throwing up all over his nice, big car. It's suited for some brutal man from war movies, not an Uber driver. 

— Hey, sorry. Can I charge my phone for a bit? 

He smiles even more, getting you the required cable – you plug your phone finally, for the first time in the past few minutes, seeing your home screen again. God, this is late hours – you never got home at this time before. 

The car takes an unexpected turn, and you swing your head to look at the window – you don’t recognize the area. Of course, the road was dark, and you lived far away, but even with your blurry mind and hazy memories of the street you moved to,  you knew this wasn’t right. The driver is nice and all, but you feel like he made a mistake by relying only on Google Maps. You hope he made a genuine mistake, at least. 

— Um, sir? 

— Aye, lassie? 

He looks so innocent it immediately drops you off guard. You lean closer to him, a phone still in your hand – you were trying to refresh the Uber app quite a few times already, but it somehow never showed you the price you were supposed to pay for the trip – and try to sound as chill as possible. No use in making a scene, you both are tired, and he probably wants to get done with you as soon as possible. 

— I think you took a wrong turn. My street should be on the right side. 

— Didnae think I did. 

— What do you mean? My home isn’t…

The app blinks, and you look at it, trying to concentrate on the obscenely bright screen, punishing your eyes for simply having those. You lick your lips, blood running cold. 

You stare at the “Your driver will be here in 5 minutes”. With a description of a car that couldn’t be more different than the car you were in. 

With the driver, whose name wasn’t even remotely “Johnny”. 

***

Soap wasn’t intending to bring a girl home. What he intends is to find a nice chip place near the bar he and Simon used to go to together and then bring something home to eat because, of course, Lt came home before him, and his cooking skills are almost as bad as his jokes. Simon is a mad dog that will probably eat anything provided and isn’t against chewing on his shoes in case of an emergency, but he doesn’t want him to do this off-deployment. 

Johnny literally just wanted to buy some grub, get it home warm, and take off drinking beer and watching some mindless shit on the TV. Preferably with Simon by his side because their relationship cannot be defined by any labels, and he as a nice fucking ass. 

Well, turns out random drunk girls who slammed into his car just when he got the takeout bag securely on the front seat have nice asses too. And Soap can’t think of the last time he had his dick smothered by a woman’s lips and not his fist or, somehow, Simon’s hand. 

You’re pretty, drunk, and kinda dumb – just like he loves them. Silly girl, really, what did you expect when your phone is dead and you have no other means of contacting safety. He saw you approaching the car, not even looking at his plate – you probably wouldn’t remember when he would dump you in the morning. Not that he would, of course, pretty dumb girls like you should be protected, and his job is, well, protection itself –  he can drag you to his and Ghost’s apartment like a trophy in his teeth. 

He licks his lips, enjoying the expression of fear slowly creeping on your face. You’re so drowsy, so adorable, he can’t help but smile widely when you’re panicking. You try to open the door, but, of course, it’s child-locked. Fitting for someone who behaves like one. 

The last time he tried to convince a girl to have a threesome with him and Simon, she preferred to just watch them awkwardly jerk each other off. The last time he tried to convince a guy for a threesome with him and Simon, Johnny spent the whole night in the corner, blue-balled and lonely, as the twink preferred to suck Lt until he’d cum like two times in a row. 

Johnny knows that if he wants a chance for something other than a sloppy seconds, he will have to accept a quick car fuck, possible kidnapping, and forging marriage documents for a pretty girl he just locked in his car because why the hell not, why can’t a handsome Scotsman just kidnap a drunk girl who mistook him for an Uber driver. 

He stops the car in a more or less secluded area – poor bird, you’re still trying to bump your way out of the door with your shoulder, only risking dislocating it. The car was a fucking tank in disguise, the only thing that could survive Ghost’s driving skills – there is no way you would be able to get it to open without the owner wanting you to. Soap licks his lips, turning to you. Hell bells, you look divine. 

Tears in your eyes, panicked expression, hands curling into fists as you’re trying to get out of your personal nightmare, no matter how drunk you are. Poor baby, he really feels bad for you – you’re so sweet, so trusting, there is no way he was the first guy to ever try to harm you like this. Sergeant might like to think of himself as being more or less in touch with normal people, but when he sees a pretty girl in trouble, he wants nothing more but to become her trouble. 

He opens the car just for a second from the driver’s seat – he needs to get to you, after all, just looking at you, trapped in the backseat, won’t be enough for the throbbing erection he has in his pants. You try to fight him as he heavily lingers on you, almost crushing you under his weight. Car isn’t nearly big enough for someone like him to comfortably sit in normal position on top of you, so Johnny uses one hand to drag you back, deeper into the seat, and the other hand – to unbuckle his belt, proving to be fucking beautiful with his fingers. 

You look so pretty, he can’t help but snap a few pictures for the group chat – dumb idea at first, as he thought, but now he can’t wait for the Captain to see what a pretty catch he has on his arms. The last mission was pretty rough, and they all deserve a pretty thing to cover themselves in fear and tremble under them after they fuck her, one after one. Might even bring you to Captain’s house, show you what a good girl you can be for your daddy if given a chance. 

Soap smirks as he drags his hard cock out of his pants. Your eyes are wide in shock – he might not be the biggest of the group, Lt has the crown rightfully and deservingly, but it doesn’t mean that the Scot is small. Thicker than average, leaking pre-cum already – has been since you first got into the car, all cute and disoriented. He had to waste quite a few minutes driving you as far from civilization as possible without alarming your pretty, dazed head about anything – now he can reap his prize. A part of it, anyway. 

You cry and squirm, trying to fight him off when he pushes his hand into your hair and tugs angrily – you’re simply too fucking weak to be a reasonable challenge, so Johnny only laughs when he can put your fight with a single press on your windpipe. You cough, struggling again – soon enough, you learn to just stop and allow him to lead. Good girl, can be trained so well – you’d make a good soldier if you weren’t so pretty and so vulnerable. 

— Don’t make me break yer nose, lassie. Open up, aye? 

He smiles, too warm for the situation – you don’t understand what you did to deserve this, his hand presses your throat in a tight embrace, and you can’t do anything but squirm and try somehow to use your legs to fight – but oh, you’re far too drunk to do this. You whimper, and your head spins and aches with each hiccup, leaving your lips. Such a pathetic sight to see, you could almost feel bile in your throat as he pressed his cock closer to your lips, smearing bitter liquid all over your closed mouth. 

— Pl…please, don’t do this, don’t… what do you want? Money? I will give you money, or my phone, or…

He groans, the waiting time for this pretty girl is far too long already. He doesn’t want to hurt you, you’re too soft for this – a thought of slapping your face lingers in his mind, but ruining your pretty cheeks won’t be efficient in this case. Johnny tugs on your hair, hoping it will be enough to set you straight – he doesn’t want you to pass out from pain, after all. Already too merciful with just using your throat and now that tight ass hiding underneath your dress. 

Your words are slurred, hazed, your tongue can’t move quite right enough – still too drunk, and lack of fresh air only makes you go dumber by each second. Soap only lets go of you when he is sure you’re far too gone to try and bite him – still, he pushes his two hands in your mouth, opening you wide as you gag and cough. 

— Don’t worry yer pretty head ‘bout it. Just take me, and then we’ll go home. 

He will ride you home, make you ride him, and make you some really nice breakfast later. He will carefully wipe away the damp makeup from your face – poor girl, you’re crying too much and ruined all of your hard work on this skin – and send some pretty pictures to the group. But, hey, he can snap a couple right now. 

With one hand still in your mouth, he awkwardly moves his hips so his cock can point right against your lips – and presses down, making you gag more and more as he slowly but surely pushes his cock inside of your tight, warm mouth. God, this is the heavens – he can’t remember the last time he had such an amazing blowjob from such a cutie. Gaz would fucking love you. 

You’re so pretty from this angle, coughing on his cock, tears streaming down your cheeks – Johnny tells you to smile for the camera and snaps a couple of pictures. Group chat was an amazing idea, after all – he can’t wait to share some more cute videos once you’ve settled it. The feeling of your warm mouth on his cock is absolutely divine – you’re tight, probably inexperienced, and he relishes in the fact he might be the biggest cock you ever took in your pretty lips. 

You try your hardest to pull away, but he keeps you close, a hand tugs on your hair again, making you cry harder. Soap is so sorry, bonnie, he will make it up to you later – will eat your pretty cunt sloppily, maybe mess with your ass a bit, making sure you’re all wet and open for the members of his team and their members. He snorts at the thought. smiling as you’re still fighting the urge to puke. 

— Like this, aye? Don’t fuckin’ try to bite me, I don’t want to prick yer teeth off. 

Threat lingers in your panicked mind as he drags his hips back before slamming in your mouth again, his balls slapping your chin with an obscene sound. The drool is leaking down your lips, creating a mess on the car seat – it’s not a problem, really, he will clean it later. Maybe would have to change the fabric of the seating for something less damp if he plans to fuck you in the car more. And oh, aren’t they all planning to do this? 

His phone rings when he was least expecting it – skull emoji on the display. No name, no photo – of course. He must have predicted that Lt would like some of the fun beforehand. Well, Soap isn’t the one to hoard every trophy to himself – even if he really wants to be the first with a pretty girl. 

He loves his team – and they will love you as much. 

He picks up with a smug grin on his face, staring at the screen. His moans become louder, grunts that make your cheeks burn as you just know he is faking it for more theatrics – pressing his phone between his cheek and a shoulder, leaving his friend to listen to his pleasure. Licking his lips as Ghost groans, a familiar sound of an unbuckled belt clanging somewhere in the background. You sob, trying to trash out of his hold again – he only presses you deeper, your nose flattening against his pubic bone. 

— Couldn’t fuckin’ wait, Jonny? Simon sounds tired, angry, jealous even – his sergeant smiles wider, slowly removing the phone from under his cheek and going into video call instead – showing your pretty face, all smothered with pre-cum, ruined makeup, and tears. You look so pretty, so perfect, he moves his hips more to remind you to suck on his cock and not just stare at him like a pretty kitten. He loves you like this, of course, but his dick twitches without proper movement, and Johnny was never the one for patience. Only for bombs, maybe. 

Well, you’re a freaking bombshell, aren’t ye. 

— Sorry, Lt. Dumb thing thought I was her ride. 

The other man snorts. They both laugh – a cruel sound, taunting your ears. You whine and cry, feeling the cock in your mouth pulsating. You try to turn away from the camera, but it’s impossible with a hand still pressing down on your head – you can only close your eyes, poor attempt at saving your dignity. God, you feel absolutely trashed. Soap adores that defeated look in your eyes. 

— And you aren’t? 

— Still a better driver than you, sir. But no, not this time. Can give her a ride, though. 

You hate their laughing, hate the way he is gently caressing your head like you’re a threatened animal and not a living, breathing being. He is being soft with you, like he isn’t forcing his way into your mouth – like he isn’t showing your fucked face to his friend. You hate the way your pussy burns, wet from humiliation, and the soft retirement you’re receiving. Bastard isn’t even thinking of your pleasure, and maybe that’s good. You don’t want to like it. 

— Goin’ bring her home? 

— Aye. Would look bloody adorable on our bed. 

They both snort while your blood runs cold. You hoped, you prayed he would let you go after this – traumatized, but mostly alive and well. You have a job, you have a life, and you can’t be fucking “taken home” to some bastard’s bed while he is using you like a sex toy. You try to squeeze your teeth on his dick, maybe do at least something to make him let you go – but Soap strikes your cheek with unknown anger, making you squirm in his grasp. You sob. 

— Don’t break her yet, Johnny. 

— Sorry. Dumb thing tried to bite me. 

— Doesn’t know any better. Gaz had a special muzzle for dumb girls. 

— Too tight for my dick. 

— Bloody hell, Mactavish. Don’t get too cocky. 

— Never intended to, sir. 

He pushes his dick deeper into your mouth. Your cheek burns from the slap, you can almost feel the bruise forming – and the bastard just tugs on your hair, filling your throat with sticky, disgusting cum. You drink it all, no use in trying to choke yourself on his seed when you’re already set in his hold. 

— How is her mouth? 

— Fuckin’ heaven, Lt. 

— I noticed. You finished fast, even for you, Johnny. 

— I’ll try better next time. Maybe get our dollie off after. 

— Selfish, Mactavish. 

— We all deserve to be selfish. 

Soap has the fucking audacity to wipe your mouth after you finish drinking it all, pushing the remaining cum and drool back on your tongue. He gently patted on your head, then made a small apology for being too rough. Was never his intention. 

— Sorry, bonnie. Don’t try to fight again, aye? You’re too tired to answer, and he just cradles your head against his chest. You whimper and cry, pleading senselessly for him to leave you – he only snaps even more photos of your tear-stained face. God, he can’t wait to bring you home. You’ll look heavenly as a fucktoy for the whole team. 

— L..let me…

— Naw, lassie. Shut up and let me take you where you belong. You’ll love it, promise. 

He kisses your forehead before moving to the front seat again. 

You clutch to the seat in silence, bitter taste of his cum still lingering on your tongue. 

[allidoistrytrytryy]

a moment's silence when my baby puts her mouth on me (cove holden x reader)

ao3 version here

summary: Cove Holden and the black underwear (from Patreon moment 2, if you know you know), except it's his own surprise on a random Friday (smut with feelings)

word count: 3,116 words

tags: smut, porn with feelings, porn without plot, light dom/sub, switching, sexual intimacy, they're in love your honour, author has been feeling insane about cove for years and lately about the black underwear so here we are (female reader implied but i tried to be as non-descriptive as possible, can be a male trans reader too)

You were exhausted, your fingers rubbed at your eyelids and at your forehead, trying to take the headache away.

You had had a large project at your job, long hours, and planning that took too much of your time. You came home late, too late, so late sometimes Cove would already be in bed or asleep on the couch, always waiting for you (even though you had told him to sleep, not to wait up for you if you were too late, but he insisted every time).

You sighed at the thought of your fiancee. You missed him too much, missed being able to have time with him, going out on weekends or lazing around after work to watch a show you would fall asleep through anyway, snuggled in his warmth.

You hadn’t been able to do that in more than two weeks, always working, always in contact with your coworkers to continue the project even deep into the night. You were glad today was the presentation, and then you were taking a few days off, away from everything.

You felt the fear in your gut at the presentation. You were nerves on legs, as you always were when you had to talk in front of an audience. You knew that would never change, the way you spaced out, waiting and waiting, at your desk.

Your phone buzzed on your desk, which took you out of your thoughts and the ball in your stomach. A smile crept up on your face before you even had the time to read what the text said, at the name appearing on your screen.

Cove.

Romeo: You have this, show them what you’re made of. Love you. <3

You smiled hard, your finger rubbing at the heart emoji with the text, at the picture you had set as his picture on your phone. A picture of him asleep on your couch, snuggled under a blanket, his long hair freed from its usual low bun.

You hadn’t been able to resist the urge to take a picture, and your fingers had gone through his hair.

You sent him a heart back, now fired back up. You could do this, go home and kiss your fiancee senselessly until you fell asleep snuggled into his warmth.

And the presentation happened. It went well, and you shared smiles and compliments with your colleagues. Sighs of relief. You could all go home peacefully tonight.

Which you did. You sprinted to your car when the hour came, your colleagues’ laughter following you down the elevator. They all knew you were eager to be home again, to be with the fiancee you talked about too much. (You couldn’t help it. You loved Cove Holden too much, loved him since you were eight. What could you do?)

The drive went quickly and you arrived at your little place a bit further from the city in record time. When you parked in your spot, next to Cove’s car who was already there and home, you realized you had forgotten to send him a text. You bit your lip, hoping he hadn’t waited for it.

Five unread texts with Cove inquiring about the presentation, worried. Shit.

You climbed the stairs of the apartment complex quickly, your keys already in hand. You entered.

”I’m home! Sorry, I completely forgot to answer your texts, I’m so so...” You interrupted yourself by the sight of your living room, your coffee table with a range of plates and food, and even a cake.

Hands sneaked around your waist, a kiss on your hair, a chest against your back. Your fiancee enveloped you, mint, citrus and this particular ocean smell in your nose and you finally relaxed. “Hi sweetheart, how was it?” he asked gently.

You turned around in his arms and, as always, you had to crane your neck to look up into his eyes. You hadn't been fortunate with height while Cove had had too much of it over the years. His arms circled your waist. “Went smoothly, we can finally breathe now,” you answered and got on your tiptoes to kiss him quickly, which he answered with that giddy smile he never lost around you. “Now, what’s all of this, Covie?”

”Well, I knew it would go perfectly since it’s you,” you rolled your eyes at the remark but the smile betrayed you, the blush even more. “and wanted to celebrate it. I got your favorite things from your favorite places and got a cake.”

Cove looked like it wasn’t even an effort, and it wasn’t in your relationship. You both made so much effort, so much again and again for each other that it was just normal. But, it didn't change the fact that you were always touched by every gesture.

You still couldn’t phantom how dear you were to this man sometimes. You still couldn’t understand how your heart never seemed to stop expanding for him, taking in every piece, every detail, every word and action from him.

Your hands dragged his face to you, to kiss him deeply, like you had wanted to since you had finished the project. He sighed against your lips, that content sigh, his lips and tongue entangled with yours. An intimacy you could never get enough of.

”I love you so much,” you whispered against his lips and his eyes misted over, your crybaby, always yours.

”I love you too,” he whispered as if he didn’t want to break the calm of the moment, wanted to stay in this moment suspended in time.

Until you dragged him to the couch to drape yourself over him, eating and barely paying attention to whatever was on the TV as background noise. You talked about the project. He talked about his day and his own job.

When you finished, he pushed you to the bathroom. “Go take a bath, relax, I got the dishes,” Cove reassured and you pouted.

”But, I can help, I didn’t get dinner so it should be me,” you whined in his shoulder and he laughed while pushing in the bathroom while you couldn’t do anything.

”No way. Go, now,” he kissed your cheek and you still pouted as you got into the bathroom.

You did well on what he had told you to do, spending too much time in a hot bath until it got cold, your body wrapped in your comfortable fuzzy robe. You finally stepped out to get to the bedroom, itching to put your pajamas on, and fall asleep next to Cove.

The too-large shirt was in your hands, actually just one of Cove’s shirts you had stolen and never returned, as you did since you were teenagers, even before you were officially truly together. You hadn’t realized why the light was so dim, hadn't realized Cove was on the bed.

You turned your head slowly and you felt your knees wobble, felt your eyes widen until they almost popped out of your skull.

You had seen Cove in all types of clothes and nakedness over the years. You knew him and his body by heart, the moles, the sleeve on his right arm that you loved to kiss all over, the dips, and where the redness would creep. But right now? You were speechless.

Cove fucking Holden was sat against the headboard, half-lidded eyes on you, but you could see the blush high on his face and ears and down his neck. He was naked, well, except for the underwear but it was the underwear that made you want to scream.

It was black but it barely hid anything, the green happy trail visible from that delicious V-shape you liked to bite, down a dangerous low dip. Straps followed his hips and they showed his hipbones. You almost wanted to ask him to get up and show the back, to see how it looked over that ass you loved too much.

”Surprise,” he simply said, wanting to sound sultry but ending up at excited, embarrassed, waiting.

The shirt slipped through your fingers, forgotten on the floor, and you were still speechless. “What...are you...” you swallowed hard, heat at the back of your neck, on your ears.

Large shoulders were shrugged and he tilted his head, “I… we talked about how I wanted to try some...lingerie out and I thought it would be a good idea for a celebration.”

He was still waiting and you could see how waiting affected him, the redness ever more present on his face and down his neck, the quick jostle of his knee. You approached the bed slowly, eyes laser-focused on him.

You could feel a restraint slowly unfurling in your gut, a wait. You had missed Cove and his hands on you, you had missed the everyday intimacy but you had also missed the sexual intimacy you shared. You both couldn’t have enough of each other sometimes, a pull between your hearts and your bodies.

Your hands settled on the edge of the bed, and you crawled slowly to him, putting up a show for his eyes and his eyes only. The robe dipped down and he gulped, his eyes on your cleavage, on your bare chest visible underneath. You smirked, finding a place between his legs, hands on his thighs, so so close to the dangerous piece of underwear that threatened your composure.

”So, you decided to gift my eyes with this, baby?” you whispered, a finger playing with a strap at his hip. “You’re way too good for me.”

Cove gulped again and you wanted to bite at his Adam’s apple, leaving marks on his pale skin until everybody would know. He shook his head.

”What? You don't agree that you’re too good for me?” you asked, a little pout at the words, your eyes on his face. You were playing the game of how sultry you could be, how much you could push it until his own restraints broke. “Maybe I should show you.”

Your hands traced the straps and the edges of the underwear. Your mouth found a nipple as your hands traced but never touched where you could feel a hardness growing and growing. His moans hit your ears and you smiled, your tongue playing from one nipple to another.

”You don't have to...” he tried to say, his moans high, and god, did you love how vocal he could be. He was always so vocal, so good.

”I want to, so be a good boy, baby,” you whispered, bit at the side of his chest, so muscular, so pretty. He moaned higher, hips bucking against your chest. Your mouth traveled down and down, following the green trail of hair. “Driving me crazy with this, Covie.”

Your hands caressed the hardness over the fabric, but your mouth found the tip already out with how hard he was. The dip was so low that the tip was the only thing visible, so your tongue swirled around it, the saltiness hitting your tastebuds. You moaned, fingers at the straps.

”Oh my god," Cove whined loudly, hips bucking again, the tip making its way deeper into your mouth. “Shit, sorry sweetheart, I didn't mean to...”

You shook your head and pulled at the straps downward, until the underwear sat underneath his cock and you pushed more and more into your mouth, desperate for more, to make him feel even better.

”Fuck, fuck, fuck," you heard him repeat and you wanted to smile, to tease him like you always did because he only ever cursed in those moments, so gone, so desperate.

More and more, until you felt tears in your eyes, until you breathed through your nose, hands at what you couldn’t fit down your throat because of how big he was. But you loved it, thighs clenching to relieve the ache that formed in between.

It wasn’t about you, even though you could spend hours between his legs, to look at his head thrown back, his eyes closed and face scrunched up, like now. He looked out of this world, long hair around his head, down his shoulders, redness still at his face, sweat down his neck and on his chest. You couldn’t believe he was yours still.

”Shit, sweetheart, I’m gonna… I’m...” Cove’s voice rang out and you felt how tight his balls were getting, see how his abs tightened. He was close, and a part of you wanted him to cum in your mouth, but you had another plan.

You popped off his hardness with a loud pop, saliva around your mouth, and his head rose up, his eyes opened in question. You crawled back up his body, your hands opening your robe, until you could throw it on the floor beside the large bed. You settled on his lap, hands on his shoulders.

You swatted his hands away before they could fall on your hips, and you saw the small pout on his face that you kissed away with a laugh. “Sorry, no touching baby, be good a bit longer for me,” you kissed along his face, nibbled at his neck, leaving a few hickeys as your hips moved, your wetness rubbing on his cock.

Cove whined still against your shoulder, “But you look so good… And you’re so wet,” he moaned, groaned. “Let me touch you, please,” he begged but you shook your head, your hips rising up to catch the tip at the edge of your wetness, of your warmth.

You slowly sunk down, your own moan unable to stay in your throat at the delicious burn his cock always gave you, that fullness that always took your breath away. You hummed as you sank lower and lower.

His eyes were closed tightly, his body trembled when you finished back on his lap, the length fully inside you. You stayed still, enjoying the moment, and his hands stayed beside his hips, beside the underwear that was still underneath his cock, trapping his legs in place. He was taut, all muscles tight and restrained.

”Please, please, move," Cove begged and you could only answer with your hips moving up and slamming back down.

Your moans intertwined with Cove’s, as you rode him, slowly, building a faster rhythm with every breath, every moan. You rode him, a deep pleasure building in your stomach, pleasure built with his moans in your ear, your teeth at his shoulder.

You rode him until your thighs trembled and his hips, so restrained until now, slammed up in response. You almost screamed his name. It had hit that one spot deep inside and your body had fallen down onto his chest.

All restraint broke in his body, his hands at your hips, so tight you knew you would feel them still tomorrow, “Sorry, I can’t...” he breathed out, before his hips slammed up again and again, his hands guiding your hips down every time.

“Fuck, Cove, Cove,” you repeated his name, your forehead on his shoulder, your eyes on the spot that joined your two bodies together, his cock sliding in and out.

His name on your lips broke him again and you lost all control you had on the situation. His hands manhandled you on your back, almost ripped the underwear that had started it all off his legs, and he had your legs folded against his chest before he slid back in.

The breath was knocked out of your chest, your hands tugged at his hair, and your eyes were on him always. The muscles bulging with every movement, the sweat trickling down, the pure ferocity and desperation on his face.

Cove wasn't always pushed to this side of dominance, if not ever. Not to this degree. You both liked to switch, to play with what were the limits and new things, but falling back into lovemaking most of the time. Here, your gentle sweet Cove was gone, to leave a rougher Cove you loved too, your moans encouraging him.

”Don’t stop, Cove, don’t stop," you begged, hands desperate in his hair, hips moving to answer every thrust deep inside, against the spot. You could barely talk and he could only groan and moan, his own mouth busy on your nipples, back arched.

You were getting closer and closer, and he could feel it, the way you arched more and more, the way you were tighter and tighter around him, the way your moans only got louder. His eyes were on your face, a hand moving down from your hip to the nub of nerves, so wet from everything.

Your head tilted back into the pillow, “Cove, I’m… I’m gonna cum,” you moaned, warned and he hummed in response, his thumb insistent on your clit, in time with every thrust. Your back arched even more, the pleasure exploding in your stomach, behind your eyes, and in your whole body until you were left a trembling thing underneath Cove.

His thrusts slowed down, but your hips moved and you shook your head. “No, don't stop, need you to cum,” you croaked out, voice spent, hands still tugging at his hair.

”I don’t want to hurt you,” Cove moaned over you, eyes half-lidded on your face, but you shook your head again. You tugged him closer, forehead against his.

”You can’t hurt me. Please Cove, I love you, please,” you begged, his thrusts were erratic and you could tell he was close.

”I love you, fuck, I love you so much, I love you," he repeated against your cheek, and you hummed, answered back, until he moaned louder.

Until the final thrust, until he came deep inside you with your name on his lips and you kissed his face.

Cove detangled himself from you only to bring back a wet washcloth, to wipe you and himself. You only got up to go the toilets, fast and impatient, to find him back in bed, under the covers.

You cuddled in his arms, your cheek on his shoulder, legs entangled to look at him. Content, beautiful. It was magical, as always, to go to sleep with him every night, to have him be the last thing you always saw at night.

”Well, that was a nice surprise," you giggled and he smiled lazily. “I’ll be the one to surprise you next time.”

He groaned lightly but laughed, forehead hitting yours gently. “If you want me to really die, sure,” and you could only laugh, his lips on your eyelids, yours reaching up to kiss his eyebrows. “Go to sleep, sweetheart.”

You hummed, “I love you, Covie.”

His smile grew larger, and his cheeks turned red as always, “I love you too.”

And you fell asleep, safe, happy, home, where you belonged.

[hyper-fixates]

Tears of Blood

König x AFAB!reader (no pronouns/gendered language).

Explicit content (18+)

Word count: 3.0k

Tags/warnings: unprotected sex, light choking, mentions of murder/blood (look who we’re working with), mentions of ghostsoap (yay!), explicit language, some fluff, dry humping, friends with benefits…? (let me know if anything was missed!)

Summary: König reveals a very compelling detail about himself while you prepare him for tomorrow's deployment—also inspired by this post/ask and bluegiragi’s art <3

Notes: this has been posted on AO3 for over a year and i just straight up forgot to post it here, too…oops

The barracks are eerily quiet after curfew. So quiet, in fact, that a ghost couldn’t even float around without being heard. Sometimes there is one, he’s just not of the conventional sort.

You’ve learned that Soap gladly let’s his room be haunted most nights.

König never says a word about it. If he did, he’d be a hypocrite. Especially now, as he drifts to the door of your room: after curfew.

By now, you know to leave it unlocked for him. You don’t know when it started becoming habit, but it did. A mindless gesture that makes his lips quirk under the hood when he turns the knob and feels the door give in with no resistance.

You’ve grown used to seeing his figure loom in the doorway, but sometimes your brain forgets it’s just him, and your heart instinctually stutters a beat out of fear as you see the shadows from the dim lighting hug around his broad, towering form—just as imposing and threatening even without the gear.

You’ve mentally noted that not everyone that casts their gaze, usually a fearful and watery one, upon him lives to do so again. But you are fortunate. You never let yourself forget what he’s been trained to do—what he does. He doesn’t like to indulge in it much, if at all, and his hesitance to do so makes you think it’s better if you don’t know the complicated details anyway.

KorTac has quite a different reputation than the 141. König helped make sure of that.

You finish folding the rest of your civvies, tucking them away in their small drawer, and toss a look over your shoulder to the man lingering in the doorway. “See any ghosts?” you muse, prompting König to step in and lock the door behind him.

A breathy chuckle fills the room. “Didn’t see anything, but I wish these rooms were soundproof.”

“Oh, no.” You hold a cackle, hand slapped over your mouth as you meet his amused eyes through the rough-edged holes of his hood.

“Well, that’s just Soap for you. Not even Ghost can shut him up, I guess.” You plop onto your bed with a sigh to compose yourself.

You know Soap will indulge you later.

“So, how may I be of service to the king?” You offer a playful smile as he stands at the foot of your bed. The unexpected nickname making him more interested in the flooring.

He brings a finger up to the black hood, hooking it in by his jaw and pulling to reveal a sizeable gash in the fabric. A close call with a knife if you ever saw one. “Needle and thread.”

He unhooks his finger and drags the worn material off of his head, then the plain black balaclava that hides him further under it follows. He drops both onto your clean sheets in front of him, rounding the corner of the bed and joining you.

Dark red hair flops over his forehead and hangs in thick, wavy strands. It hasn’t quite reached his shoulders yet, but it’s long enough to have a mind of its own. It’s a colour you don’t come across too often; maybe comparable to a chestnut, or old leaves in autumn before they disappear under a blanket of snow.

“Jeez, you ever gonna cut this?” You turn to face him and run a hand up the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in the dense locks and lightly scratching his scalp on the way down.

Soft blue eyes glance to you, still outlined in black from earlier. “Probably not. Can’t find the time.” His accent gently rounds out the vowels as he leans into your touch.

“Let me braid it for you, then. To hold it back. I know you deploy again tomorrow.” You tuck a strand behind his ear, following with a fleeting kiss right above his cheekbone. A faint blush creeps over his temples and the barely-there freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks.

“I promise it won’t be the worst thing ever,” you gently plead. “You can mend your hood in peace while I do it?”

You’ve definitely done worse together. But worse always seems to be easier.

“Okay.”

Usually these nights don’t go like this.

3 days ago

“Oh, that’s good—right there. Yeah. Yeah,” you nearly sob. König holds you against him, left arm reaching across your chest and hand comfortably gripping your throat as you try to roll your hips back against him harder.

His other hand is between your thighs—on your clit—which are dangling over his own to keep you spread. You’re trapped there; under his arms and over his legs as he jerks his hips up to meet your disjointed riding on the rickety office chair.

An empty briefing room. Not really smart, but Soap passed on that it was “out of service” until next week, not knowing that you’d end up in there sat on König’s cock later that afternoon.

The fabric of König’s hood rubs uncomfortably against your cheek, making you drop your head back onto his shoulder to escape it.

A breathy moan rushes past his lips as you arch your back. “No, no. You’re staying right here.” He tightens and corrects the grip he has across your chest, sliding his gloved fingers up under your jaw to keep you locked in place.

His cock slides itself in and out of you with little resistance, which would usually be slightly embarrassing if it was anyone else inside you, but the way he’s been massaging your clit with such attentiveness and grinding his hips into yours makes you forget anything you could be worried about.

The only thing you can think of right now is how good this orgasm is going to be.

Your hands snake themselves up his arm that’s pinned to your front to grip his wrist, holding on for dear life as his small thrusts become rougher. “You get much, much wetter when you’re close,” he observes. His index finger holds a steady rhythm on your clit as it works counterclockwise over you. “Fuck, I can hear it…can you?”

A whine bubbles in your throat. The zipper of his cargo pants bites against your ass on every downstroke, and you can feel how wet you’ve made the front of his pants. That’s what he gets for only caring enough to pull his cock out while he ripped your cargos off entirely.

“I—fuck. Yes, I’m close, yes,” you choke out, daring to cast your gaze upon where your bodies are connected.

You’re swollen and slick and you can hear it, too. The quick, sharp slaps of his hips against your ass does little to hide the hungry squelching of your cunt. You’ve probably dripped all down his balls at this point. He’s always happier with a big mess in the end anyway.

“Cum when you’ve had enough, Schatzi,” he chirps in your ear, breathless and lost in the wet, suffocating warmth of you—all his doing, of course. The result of far too many minutes spent with his thick cock gently sliding between your folds and nudging itself over your throbbing clit, just to be annoying, before he moved you both to the chair.

You drag in a heavy breath, focusing on the stretch of his cock deep inside your walls as the chair creaks with every desperate drop onto him.

Schatzi. “W-what does that mean?”

You’ve naturally picked up a few German words and phrases here and there from time spent with him, but this one was new. A term of endearment? A degrading nickname? Either could be possible in this moment. The sound and pronunciation couldn’t be more ambiguous to you.

“König?” It came out as a whisper, quickly silenced by the release of your orgasm throughout your body as he forces you down to the base of his cock.

—

You haven’t brought it up since. Neither has he.

Even now it sits in the back of your mind as you divide his hair down the middle into two parts. You remain on your bed, he sits on the floor between your knees with a needle and black thread in hand that he retrieved from the bedside table (stashed there specifically for him).

He lays the hood over his left arm and begins to stitch it quietly as you wind three generous strands of his hair between your fingers at the front of his scalp, pulling taught at the root. You carefully thread more hair in from the sides to have it lay perfectly against the top of his skull when finished. You’ll do a matching one on the right side.

“Let me know if it hurts at all,” you warn as you begin tugging more hair into place.

“Ha, I’ve faced adversaries far worse than your little hands,” he laughs, adjusting the hood in his hand as he pokes the needle in again.

The long vermillion markings under the eye sockets stare back at you over his shoulder. “Yeah, I don’t doubt that.”

It’s hard to not be curious about all of the parts that make up “König”. The mask is one of them.

“Why the tears?” you ask confidently while you establish the first braid.

“Hm?” He quirks his head to follow your voice, pausing the followthrough with the thread as you give an accidental yank to his hair.

“Your mask…under the eyes. Why tears?” You figured it was either something symbolic or just his personal taste. Everyone’s got a gimmick.

It seems like every aspect of his existence is a test of one’s curiosity, and you may have just failed.

He focuses his attention back on the stitch he was occupied with. “Fear tactic.” Oh.

Short and sweet. Simple and straightforward. It makes sense—

“I make them with the blood of my targets.” Oh.

Your fingers lose their rhythm for a moment, caught off-guard by the admission. Not so much surprised by the fact that he would do something like that, but rather that he confessed such a thing…to you.

“So you do that…presently?” How could you resist following up about that? It’s the perfect snare. This is the most you’ve gotten from him in weeks.

A beat of measured silence, yet it’s not uncomfortable. He likes to think about what to say, how to say it, before speaking his thoughts spontaneously.

“Only if I believe it’s truly deserved,” he explains. His tone doesn’t reveal if he’s displeased with the topic of work. “The blood actually doesn’t hold up against the black on its own, so Horangi suggested using bleach underneath so it will show better. If needed.” He runs a finger over a washed-out tear track. “Less maintenance with the chemical.”

It’s…it’s morbid, obviously, but you’re not sure if you expected anything less from someone in this line of work. And, of course, leave it to Horangi to feed the fantasy. They are nearly inseparable, besides the times that König’s with you.

Sometimes it’s hard to imagine him as murderous or malevolent—König, who has the most gentle, innocent blue eyes that have offered nothing but kindness to you, even in moments of fierce, consuming pleasure. König, who you’ve never seen, or heard, raise his voice at anyone in anger. König, who despises small talk because he can’t stand the awkwardness.

König, who enjoys the vibrant red sunsets on base and thunderstorms. König, who prefers blueberries over strawberries. König, who is obsessed with entomology books.

But there’s still another part of him that can take out entire platoons of enemies and have no more than a rip in his beloved hood afterwards.

The man under the facade of a callsign and reputation is someone who you may never truly meet, no matter how much he reveals. It feels like you’ve only met half of him despite knowing as much as you do about him, and that fact has settled as an ache in your chest.

“I see…I know it’s not really my place to ask about that stuff, but it’s hard to not wonder about you sometimes.” You’ve reached the end of the first braid, leaving the tail to sit at the crown of his head amongst the uneven layers he has going on.

You tie it off with a small black elastic. It’s a little messy considering the awkward length of his hair, but it looks like it’s meant to be there.

“It’s fine. I’m a big boy, I think I can handle it.” He gives a comforting laugh, amused at your timidness.

In every facet, he’s right. You can’t help but nod your head in agreement with a small smile, despite the fact that he can’t see your expression. “Well, I can’t disagree with you there.”

You begin the start of the second, and final, braid, grabbing the three strands at the front and twisting them into place as he speaks again. “I know it was my size that drew you to me in the first place,” he states confidently, shoulders shaking in amusement at the tease.

Your mouth gapes in feigned offence. “Wow, okay. Is that a crime?”

“No, not in my eyes. Look, look,” he brushes past the sarcasm, holding and stretching the now intact hood out in front of him to see the effectiveness of his handiwork. The seam is near invisible in the sea of black fabric (a ratty t-shirt).

It’s definitely better than the last one he did a few weeks ago. “Damn, that’s pretty fucking impressive. I’m almost done, hold on.” You hurry to tie off the hair, gently holding the sides of his head to see how even they came out. “Looks good, from up here at least. Come sit, let me see the front.” You pat one of his shoulders, freeing him from the cage of your legs and scooting further onto your bed.

“Danke. My spine didn’t love that, though,” he says with a theatric exhale.

He folds the hood in his lap, setting it on the bedside table with the needle and roll of thread. He all but tumbles back onto the soft sheets, groaning as he stretches his neck and shoulders out and lays comfortably on his back, long legs hanging over the side of the mattress.

His eyes flutter shut from the homely feeling of being in—or on—your bed. “Mm, I think I’ll stay here tonight.”

You acknowledge his thought with a small hum as you lean over his restful form to quickly assess his hair, dragging your fingertips along each side lightly. The shaggy hair will always suit him. It frames his cheekbones and jaw perfectly.

König opens his eyes at your touch. “So how does it look, doc? Will I survive deployment now?”

Another smile from you with a slight roll of your eyes. “I think it’ll do the job. Now go clean the black off your eyes if you’re staying. I don’t want it all over my pillows again.”

—

Soap saw the braids in König’s hair the next day before they deployed. An accident or purposefully, you’re not sure yet.

And now, two days later, he still won’t shut the fuck up about it.

“Would ye do that for me?” he asks, playfully quirking a thick brow.

“Probably not, no.”

An arm shoots out accusingly at you in disbelief. “That’s my point! I—”

“Wouldn’t be able to anyway with that fucking landing strip you call a mohawk.” You poorly stifle a laugh with a tight-lipped smirk.

“Away n’ bile yer heid, I’m just trying to help!” He rubs a hand over his eyes, trying to stave off his laughter too. It’s hard to be in his presence and not be overcome with a state of lively energy.

You’re in Soap’s—and sometimes Ghost’s—room, for no real reason other than company while König is at a (delayed) briefing.

Soap’s sitting on his—and sometimes Ghost’s—bed hounding you about the complex being that is König just because he can. You move about the room, finding things to tidy and organize to busy your mind.

“Have ye gone to town on each other yet?”

“Dude!?” You rip a pillow from under him and whack his head. Hard. His infectious cackling now muffled through the thick pillow.

“You’re insufferable. How the fuck does Ghost put up with you?” You try to suppress your giggling as you drop the pillow and join him on the bed in defeat.

A mischievous grin lines his lips at the question. “Well, he t—”

“No! No. Nope. I don’t need to know. It was rhetorical.” You hold up a hand to silence him, bringing it to cover his mouth. His day-old scruff pricks your palm as he tries to talk through your hand.

“Whatever you say next better be insightful or profound or else I’m gonna suffocate you with your own pillow.”

Soap, in fact, didn’t have anything insightful or profound to say about the situation.

— 

König wanders into your room again that night, and he’s filled with a gluttonous desire to consume you in any way that he can. 

It’s the least he can do for you. It’s the most you can do for him.

You rut against his clothed cock, straddling his hips tightly while your hands keep a death-grip on his hair. Once again, you find yourself on your bed with him under you, the clock on the bedside table glaring the angry red 12:56am.

His large hands have found their home on your ass, encouraging your pussy—still covered by your underwear—to rock harder over his length, which is still trapped in his briefs. 

He breaks away from your mouth when you give a rather forceful roll over him, a surprised gasp slipping through his now rosy lips. His grip on your ass slides down to your quivering thighs, rubbing over them soothingly as you work.

A harmony of softs whines and rough groans dance around the room as your pliant bodies move together. “This is somehow better than sex,” König mumbles, mostly to himself. “I don’t want to admit it, but I can cum like this if you don’t stop,” he adds with an overwhelmed huff. “Fuck, I will cum like this if you don’t stop,” he moans.

You let him, and he holds you tight as if you were something other than casual.

[milksnake-tea]

Dunno if you've ever answered an ask like this before, but do you mind telling us about your mutuals?

Rather, their writing styles and how they interact (No pressure if this sounds like I'm intruding on a boundary or something, I've noticed that you reblog a lot of works and I'm trying to find more fic writers from HSR and Genshin to support, but sometimes it feels a little scary 😅)

HELP NO IT'S OKAY !!! no fear in asking, we love people like you <333 these are mainly the mutuals that i've read fics from so that i can actually tell you how they write but still. THIS IS GOING TO BE A LONG ONE STRAP IN FOLKS. if i forgot ygs im sorry oops... also sorry for the tag COUGHS (esp to the ppl i keep tagging when i get asked abt my moots BYE kawa skip mhie naru ren im so sorry i love you i swear)

@generalsmemories

NARU !!! ONE OF MY FIRST EVER HSR MOOTS AND ONE OF THE WRITERS I LOOK UP TO THE MOST. her writing style is very scenic?? if i were to describe it, it's very dreamy and whimsical and it's like reading a fantasy book. very descriptive but not so descriptive that you're eating fancy words. she's jing yuan centric but occasionally writes for others such as dan heng and sunday! she's honestly very very silly when it comes to interaction, like in an older sister way <33 she talks like an aesthetic if that makes sense

@inarvii

skip has a very elegant feel to her writing like LORD. it's giving noble/fantasy thriller enemies to lovers but in a writing style i love her prose and how she really makes you feel the vibe of a scene. she's really kind and sweet, gives older sister vibes lowkey

@k9wa

kawa is like me but x497842389 cooler and with a lot better grasp on characters. you want proper characterization? you want big brain ideas? GO TO HIM. his writing feels theatric, like a movie or a play. it's so descriptive and he does an amazing job at describing action and characters and GRGRGRGR

@luvether

lord i dont know if its okay to tag you but uhm. hi waves hand 😭😭 honestly i haven't interacted w kou much but from what i can tell she's really nice!! BUT I HAVE READ HER WRITING. AND LAWRD. her writing feels like little snapshots of life, you feel like you're actually like. THERE. she always has the biggest brain of ideas i swear and i highly recommend her writing. mostly fluff with a touch of angst, one of my favorites fr !!

@emiken-070907

hi emi. bet you didn't expect to get tagged here huh. but you have one hsr fic and that's enough for me to slap you onto here and promo you (it's on ao3 and it's not an x reader, but it is a tragedy yanqing timeskip!!! i beta read for that btw flips hair (i still need to edit im so sorry emi please)). as for interaction, she is silly asf. TO ME PERSONALLY? shes like the ratty little sibling that you want to throw out the window but would also kill for. has great vibes over all, she's so sweet but sometimes shes a lil shit so. yeah. idk how she acts to followers but she is like that to ME. but she is full of whimsy and glee so there's that

@rainswept

edgar allan poe incarnate over here??? HELLO??? crow is. her writing is RAW. like okay this is going to get a bit gorey but they write like a freshly opened wound, it's vulnerable, it's poetic, it's pure imagery and i LOVE it. also another goofy moot. i think like just attracts like atp

@tragedy-of-commons

gwen is an absolute SWEETHEART. very silly. BUT THEY'RE SO SWEET. her writing is literally sunlight put into literary terms, if that makes sense. it's warm, comfy, and cozy (except when she kills you in the arms of your favorite character. which she has done) and i highly recommend her writing for a comfy read <3

@iceunhie

mhie is a HATER OF THE HIGHEST ORDER jk i love her she just bullies me GOODBYE 😭 mhie gives off older sister vibes, a lot of people (including me HELP) see her as intimidating but she's really sweet once you get to know her. or she calls you milk. who knows. ANYWAYS genuinely one of the people i look up to most, she always gives amazing feedback on writing and her own writing??? the prose??? she's a master at it. knows how to really elevate a piece and it's just really easy on the eyes. she's also a research writer, her jiaoqiu fic utilizes chinese proverbs and terminology and i think that's really neat <3

@st6rly

hi bottom beta. okay wait sorry you have a reputation i forgot ANYWAYS. SOL IS SUCH A SILLY GOOSE. i love him. BUT HE IS SO GOOFY AND I MEAN THAT IN A POSITIVE WAY. i haven't read that much about what sol writes unfortunately since i'm no longer interested in genshin that much 😭😭 but i've heard good things !! definitely someone you wanna check out if you like good vibes :D

@lowkeyren

ren my pookiebear my LORD !!! resident aquila favonia haver (she has like 21 as of right now) and she serves every time she writes. always gets slapped onto my rec list because she's one of the few writers that genuinely have me kicking and giggling 😭 really cute, really tension filled, one of my favorite authors :))

@scribs-dibs

SUNNIII true to his name his writing feels just so warm and light, like a slice of life anime. very relaxing reads, at least from what i've seen !! very warm, really really cute <33 like the main one that ive read from him is that alhaitham jealousy fic and??? the characterization was ON POINT. i loved it so much (the switch up made me laugh) as for personality. HES FUNNY. LIKE HES STRAIGHT UP HILARIOUS I LOVE HIM GO CHECK HIM OUT I SWEAR ITS WORTH IT

@akutasoda

q has a very pretty vibe if that makes sense, i haven't read much from them but i can definitely say that their writing style is beautiful, like a meadow full of flowers or a quiet stream. they've always been kind to me in that sort of older sibling way, and they're someone that i would trust as an emergency contact. lots of genshin and hsr from what i've seen on my dash, so definitely go check them out!

@aviiarie

avery's on the more reserved side, at least from my point of view, or maybe that's because when i first met them they had a ferminet pfp. they're pretty chill and casual, and can i just say? their writing is very easy to read, it has great flow and i can just lose myself in the fic. like i don't see the words i see what the words are saying, if that makes sense. avery also focuses on platonic writing, although they have been writing some romance with furina!! my personal favorite work of theirs was that fic of arlecchino comforting her crying child because it made me feel so much better about my life at 9 am when i just woke up.

@vynicity

FELICITYYYY she's a mutual in my heart even tho apparently tumblr thinks i dont follow her. but i do. ANYWAYS. another person that i consider on the more reserved side, but she's been fun whenever we talked. can i just say. SHE IS SO GOOD AT WRITING AVENTURINE. there's this one fic down the line about him being drunk??? i think??? and I ATE THAT UP because the tension and atmosphere that she managed to create. just magnificent. she has an aventurine series up right now iirc (i still need to read the new chapter im so sorry feli) and the prologue was. a roller coaster so definitely go check her out!

@vxnuslogy

vee is literally bursting with ideas and by god does she put them to use. i always see them brainrotting or thinking of new ideas or things to write, literally one of the most creative people ive met. can be a little silly, but still a sweetheart <33 her writing is more formal than what i'm used to i'll admit, but still a delight to read nevertheless <33 very descriptive is how i'd describe it, like it feels like she's looking at the scene as shes writing it

@ughscara

ayame is like. the sweetest person i have ever met. like ill be here being a little shit and she'll still be an absolute sweetheart I ALMOST FEEL BAD BECAUSE SHE HAS TO DEAL WITH MY ASS BYE 😭😭 i just recently reblogged one of her works and it straight up feels like it came out of a fairytale, it was so light and sweet <33

[delusionally-loveless-by-choice]

Lost in a cornfield..? Pt2

Scarecrow!Phillip Graves x Lost!Reader

summary: You learn a bit more about Mr. Scarecrow! There's something he wants to show you? What can that be?

warnings: horror aspects coming in later in the chapter >:), mention of blood, likely incorrect depictions/references to wrong periods because I forgot that light bulbs weren't invented until like 1879 (googled it), he kinda turns dark so big contrast to the first part loll

w/c - 2k

Part 1, Part 3

Author's note: its ass and its got a part 2 :)) also on ao3 under Phillip graves tag. also I know this is not a Phillip graves gif, I just wanted something to fill in so I might change it later

Oh, God, what hell is this place? You can’t help the horrified look that sits on your face, it’s paralyzing and a moment of vulnerability. 

One that the scarecrow catches.

He stares at you, watching the realization finally sink into you, and he can’t help the grin that stretches on his face as he watches your expression.

He sighs, clearly amused. “I don’t just protect this ‘cornfield’. In all honesty, this land is strange compared to the one you know.” His tone was matter of factly, “I’m a guardian of sorts, one that is bound to serve it. It’s more work than it sounds, but this job isn’t really my choice, more of a burden and purpose, y'know.” 

“This land.. It’s dangerous.” He makes sure to face you directly as he says this, you can feel the intensity of his tone. “There are things in the field that would do anything in its power to take advantage of your vulnerability. It also doesn't help that you’re their favorite meal: human.” He says the last part with an air of amusement; and though he’s looking at you, the way his straw hat is tilted, it hides a clear view of his eyes. 

His response doesn’t help your wariness. 

The scarecrow seems to take note of this. 

He then says, “But I’m not gonna let that happen.”

You nod and exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Well that’s reassuring.” You nervously chuckle. But it’s only slightly reassuring to your instincts that tell you that this field, this place, is more than dangerous.

"Just remember: this place has its creatures, but it has me too." He pauses, then adds: "I've lived here ever since I was a kid, so I know every nook and cranny of the field. Ain't no pest that's gonna sneak past me."

You see something move further within the corn. Graves snaps his fingers, and the plants rustle to block a pathway. "If we head left, we'll bypass these critters."

“Did.. did you just control the field..?” You ask bewildered. 

"Yes... The corn is a living, breathing organism. I can influence its growth and motion to an extent. The plants listen to my will." The scarecrow replies simply.

He pauses, and grabs your wrist to make you look at him. "Don't worry. The field is friendly to me--I grew up here, after all."

You look up at him, you finally get a look at eyes. They were blue but there was a yellow haze that slightly glowed further reminding you he was far from human. Whatever he was, he was terrifyingly beautiful, in the sense that you didn’t know what he was. Perhaps he was just a true eldritch horror. 

He pulls you along to walk after him.

No, he can’t be that.. Those are monsters after all.. and he’s a guardian, not a monster! You reassure yourself.

As you think and walk, you are reminded of his presence by the yellow haze of his eyes glancing toward you. He lazily turns his head away from you.

You can’t help but ask him, “How.. old are you, Scarecrow..?” this curious whisper of yours makes his ears perk.

He takes a minute to respond, as if he was thinking.

“I’ve been around for about… two-hundred and thirty years, or so.” He finally replies. “Thankfully my age and good looks don’t seem to go hand in hand,” he chuckles. 

The scarecrow smiles, then adds: "I'm proud that I've kept this place safe for so long--doing my duty, serving my purpose."

You don’t do much to mask your surprise. 

“Oh, that’s.. a long time..” You muttered.

Both of you walk for a bit, before you decide to speak again. 

“Uh.. so is there ever an end to this field? Or where are we going?” You asked, it wasn’t in an irritated tone but it sounded so.

He let out a short dry chuckle. “Sort of.. the best you're getting for an exit or end here is the house.” 

Finally with a smooth swift gesture with his hand, the corn in front of the both of you opens up.

There then lies a large acre of land, one that wasn’t infested with the corn. Though it was surrounded by the endless crop, in the middle sat a farmhouse.

It looked abandoned. A home that hadn’t taken up well with time.

The white paint was peeling, the wood of the home looked rotten. One storm, and the house is reduced to nothing.

Yet, there the home stood.

As he walked towards it without a second thought, you were gagged. 

Oh fuck, you distastefully think, but if he said it’s “a way out”.. Guess I shouldn’t judge..

“Follow me, this big ol’ thing has too many hidden entrances and exits.. I’ll take you through the safest.” he gestured for you to follow him as he made his way to the back of the farmhouse. 

You politely nod and follow him, trying to mask the faces you make at the house. 

He turns around to face you, walking backwards as he proudly says, “This beauty is the safest place to escape to in the fields.”

You smile at his pride, it's admirable and slightly adorable with that grin he has on. 

Though, as you look at him, your eyes trail down to his left side. On his waist, his flannel shirt adorns a large red stain.

You grab him by the arm and make him stop walking. A worried face plastered on, you ask, “A-Are you bleeding? Oh God..!”

"Huh? Oh, this?" The scarecrow asks, looking down at the stain, he seems unconcerned by your discovery of blood on him. "It's nothing, just old blood. I've been hurt in these fields many times before, and I've made it out alive."

“But this blood, it ain’t mine, darlin’,” he says with a sheepish grin. Almost like he’s trying to reassure you. But it seems to do the opposite, until you remember the encounter you two had earlier with that critter, as he calls them.

“Oh..” you mumbled. 

He gently pried your hand off of his arm, and started walking again. This time he directly leads you to the entrance he was talking about.

There are weeds, and junk, and rotten pieces of wood lying around. Then finally, there is a shitty little “door” that looks more like someone tried to board a window up instead of a door.

He unhooks the latch and pries open the door.

A wave of dust and spiderwebs go flying, and inside there lies only darkness. 

“C’mon, let’s head in.. there’s something I wanna show ya..” he says excitedly. 

You watch him duck and make his way in, and it doesn’t take longer than three seconds for you to follow after him in fear of being left behind.

It seems it was a basement of sorts that you entered through. It was dark so it was hard to see, but his blue eyes held that yellow glow that seemed to be all he needed to see.

He walked up some stairs and unlocked a door, one that presumably led to the main level of the farmhouse. 

“This way!” he called over to you.

You followed him deeper into the farmhouse.

He was slightly more ahead of you, solely because you were simultaneously looking around at the inside of the farmhouse.

In the main level of the home, there was some light shining from the orange hued sun outside that came in from the boarded up windows. 

The house smelled of wet wood and dust. Not surprising. 

What was slightly surprising was the furniture and general state of the home. The furniture looked so old.. very 1790. If the home was well taken care of maybe the entire place would seem homely.

Instead it felt haunted.

Not innately sinister, but just abandoned. By the owners and time.

You finished looking and turned a corner to find him. 

He stood at another staircase, holding his straw hat.  

This one clearly led to the second story. 

“All done?” he asked with a grin as he set the hat on the railing of the staircase.

“Guess so..” You mumbled and grumbled. “I thought you were taking me out of this place, not deeper into it. This farmhouse is probably dead in the center of this place with all the endless cornfield surrounding it!” 

“In time,” he quickly says, “right now it’s best that you’re here. The farmhouse,” he pouts his lips in a manner that makes it seem like he’s picking his words wisely, “has its own set of.. securities.”

His eyes make it back to yours, and before you can answer he speaks again. “Now you ready for what I wanna show you?” he asked with a grin. 

It was charming and alluring; his pearly fangs poking out and dimples on display.

It was enough to make any thoughts, defenses, and protests you had melt away.

You find yourself rolling your eyes and smiling back at him. 

“Alright.. what do you want to show me?” you finally ask with a raised brow.

“Jus’.. follow me.. It ain’t something I show to just anyone..” he says as he turns and starts to make his way up the stairs.

As you follow him up the stairs, he walks down a hallway, it’s not very well lit. 

You see the shitty discolored floral wallpaper that was definitely put up later in the owners residency from 1790. Behind the wallpaper you see the cracked walls and rotten wood that somehow surpassed the weird time.

Even in the shitty lighting you make out pictures that are hung up on the wall.

They show a family, a big one. 

One that probably lived in the house at some point and were the last known occupants before it turned into whatever it was now.

“Was this your family?” You ask him. 

He only hums, and you take that as all the confirmation you were gonna get.

You tear your eyes away from the wall and see him standing at the last door of the hallway.

It was especially dark, and for some reason you felt your body start to feel like it wanted to run. 

“C’mere, in here.” he says with that same charming grin, it makes you want to trust him even when your body is starting to vibrate with the urge to run.

He goes to open the door, and of course it creaks when it opens, it’s an old ass house.

And of course the inside is dark as shit, there’s no electricity, the house is from the near 1800s.

“After you,” his charming southern accent rings like sweet honey, and you walk right into the room.

He of course follows right after you and shuts the door behind him. 

The bit of light that shone from the hallway disappeared.

The sound of the door closing, the consumption of the room in darkness, and the click of the door being locked, cause you to turn around in the now dark to face the direction for which you think he is in.

The darkness doesn’t last, with a snap of his finger candles are set and the room is illuminated in a dim light.

Finally you get a good look at the room.

It’s small, and it smelled putrid.

You saw that the boarded up windows had curtains, but the material wasn’t cloth.

“What is..” you trailed off as the slow realization creeped in.

It was skin. 

Human skin. 

Your head reeled, you turned and saw that the rest of the room was adorned in furniture that was also made up of patches and pieces of skin stitched together. 

Your eyes wide, they searched desperately around the room but were only met with skin.

It covered every surface. 

The floor, the walls, the furniture. 

It was all human skin.

There were even a few faces stitched into the wall and ceiling, portraits that blended into the wall. 

Confused teary eyes wildly looked around the room.

You whipped around to find the scarecrow. He stood right where he had been, leaning on the locked door, the same grin plastered on his face.

This time it did nothing to ease you. Instead it felt sinister, taunting.

Your trembling lips try to say something but your voice dies in your throat.

Finally that southern voice you had some to familiarize yourself with spoke, his tone sickeningly sweet and that yellow hue in his eyes burned like the candles that lit the room, “What ya think? Beautiful, right darlin’?.”

[sniigura-archive]

where are you? (i don’t want to die alone) 3

all might x child! reader

chapter 1 ; chapter 2

tags/cw: child neglect, slight self harm, unhealthy coping mechanisms, VERY unrealistic everything

read on ao3 for better formatting + tagging

when you turn up on time to your first class, your friends seem relieved. ah, you nearly forgot, since its the 20 year anniversary for your school, the students will hold a cultural festival. there will be a concert, dancing performances and food.

you don’t perform on stage, especially not in-front of huge groups of people. your stage fright was too severe. still, you will spend the day helping to set up everything. being the man behind the scene and everything.

right now you were behind the gymnasium with your best friend, he was rolling a cigarette for himself. you were too paranoid to smoke, what if your voice changed too much and everyone ends up hating it?

leaning against the wall, you finished telling him of your crazy morning. he was the only one who knows who your father is. not because you told him, but because all might barged into your apartment and revealed his own secret identity. you don’t know how that could have happened, because you extra texted him AND left a message on his voice mail. who would have thought, he didn’t answer and screwed himself up.

the gymnasium is painted in a graffiti style, the new first years alway re paint it. a few years ago your group project was presented for everyone to see. now, it is buried under layers and layers of paint. even though the wall has been painted again and again, it still had a rough texture. your finger glided across it, nervously.

“…when’s your birthday anyways?” he asked, while patting his pockets, searching for his lighter.

scowling at him, you pressed your finger harder against the rough surface. your finger was starting to become raw.

“dude, that’s like the least important information in the whole world you could ask for.” reaching into your pant pocket, you pull out a lighter and give it to him. he quickly thanks you.

“it’s important to me! mmm, what’s your zodiac sign?”

sighing, you rub your forehead. you made sure not to tell the birthday story, yet. if someone congratulated you for your birthday you would start crying at this point. you straightened up when you heard voices coming close towards you. your best friend puts his cigarette out against the wall and puts it in his hoodie pocket. he stepped towards you, trying to look who was coming.

of course it had to be class 1a with their two teachers. so they were able to make it. with them was the director, giving them a tour of the campus. ugh you can never catch a break. you have to think fast, do you leave as quickly as possible or stay?

thank god you’re not a hero, so you don’t need to be brave and face uncomfortable situations!

“..i’m running, bro.”

“huh? wait..!”

before you could really think everything through, you started sprinting. not too far, just to put some distance between you and them. after a few seconds you slowed down and looked over your shoulder. the group just rounded the corner. quickly looking ahead again, you decided to walk towards the main building, since your next classes will be there. while you walked, you ignored the feeling of being watched.

________________________

end of the day, somewhat.

while your classes did end, it didn’t mean you could go home yet to rot away in your room. since today was the anniversary of your school, your job is to prepare the stage, so others can perform.

you aren’t late for the preparations! which is a blessing in disguise. right now you’re behind the stage, stashing away your bag.

“…so that’s why the hero class is here.” someone explained, a first year.

immediately perking up at the mention of hero class, you asked,

“why are they here?”

“ugh! dude, i explained it, like, 100 times already! they are here to play through like a boomb threat scenario. you know, since hero work also includes assisting during terrorism threats.” you knew if you were not an upperclassman, they probably would have refused to answer. children.

nodding your head at the explanation, you straightened your back and sighed. maybe you could fake sick…nah. gotta pull through.

massaging your temples you simply tried to focus on breathing.

“they will leave before the perfomances tho! they hid like a secret paper cut out somewhere. they also are not allowed to disturb us. so don’t worry, senpai!”

“well at least it is something. image how annoying it would be if they, like, were around us all the time…annoying like flies, man.” with those words you left backstage area. stepping into the stage was, maybe, not your best move.

the class, with their teachers (because why would they ever need to be independent) stood infront of the stage. at least they were no on here with you and a few others. you diged your thumb nail into your raw finger. the pain should ground you.

“ah! yagi! you know, our school was able to bring out not only small starts, but also a few big ones.” she winked at you.

schooling your face to stay neutral, you could hear a few whispers from the students. of course they remembered your face from the morning. that was some wild shit you pulled there. jesus.

“oi! aren’t you the one from the train station?!” called someone out.

furrowing your brows at the question, and thanking yourself for taking that action class as a joke, you answered in monotone voice, “huh? no, sorry. i have never seen you guys before, in my life. i swear on my fathers life.”

and then you smiled at them, brightly. fuckers.

what the hell are you supposed to say? yes? no way. why did you even do that. are you mentally unwell or something? …maybe it is some time for self reflexion.

turning around and scanning the stage, you make a mental note on what was missing. the piano was already there, thankfully. speakers, microphones, the drum set, amplifiers, the lights have to be tuned. and and and and.

much to do, with not a lot of time to spare. is the piano even tuned properly? ugh.

fucking back off back stage, you decided on starting with the lights and speakers, since you aren’t sure on what kind of perform order there is. not everyone needs microphones, but everyone needs lights.

“ayo! do we have anyone on the lights yet?” you called out. the answer came fast with a solid no.

thank god, you have a job. taking out your phone, you checked you text messages. your friends were not here yet. those traitors, tell you to be punctual but can’t do that themselves.

while you send out text messages, you could hear hushed whisper in the background.

“hello there! kid, which i have never meet before! could you assist me?”

great.

[animereaderinsertwriter]

Chapter 1 - Next - Series Masterlist - ao3

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags/Warnings: romance, smut, light angst, strangers to lovers to disgustingly in love, medic!reader

Word Count: 25k

During the last months of training for the 104th cadets… 

As a general rule, (Y/N) tried not to make a habit of disobeying direct orders out in the field, but seeing as how the person yelling at her was technically not her boss, she felt that a little resistance to stupid orders in particular wouldn't get her court-marshalled. Or, at least she hoped that was the case, because if not, she was so screwed. 

“Hell if I’m going to forsake my duty here! Take your cowardice and get the fuck out of my OR, you’re contaminating it!”

Okay, so maybe the operating room in question was a field medic’s tent, and maybe it wasn’t as sterile as (Y/N) would have liked it to be in the first place, but it was the principle of the thing. She would not abandon this operation just to save her own skin. She would not . 

“That was an order!” barked the squad leader, barging over to grab her arm. “The signal for retreat was just fired, and we can’t afford to lose any more medics—”

“Cara, bring me the forceps, now!”

The squad leader huffed, exasperated.

“(Y/N), you fool, we’re pulling back with or without you. When we’re gone, there'll be no protection, no cover for you, and we can’t afford to wait around for you to finish! We have to get back inside the walls before the gate closes or this expedition will have been for nothing!"

“Then go! Leave me a cart and horses, I’ll make it back through the gate myself.” (Y/N) looked up from her work, glanced around at the frightened faces of her comrades, and added, “I don’t need an assistant for this, everyone else may go.”

“(Y/N)-san…” began one of the younger medics, but (Y/N) cut her off.

“Go,” she said, her voice more steady than she felt. “All of you. Take everything and go, but leave me the sutures and a scalpel.” 

The sutures, (Y/N) would need to finish the operation. The scalpel, well… that was for emergencies. Its purpose remained unspoken but anyone who had worked in the field would understand. As realization dawned, the medic who had spoken up choked back a gasping sob, placing a hand over her mouth as tears welled in her eyes. 

“This is madness,” declared the squad leader, “I won’t stand for it! I’ll drag you out of here myself if I have to, you mulish little—”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Every head in the tent turned at the sound of that voice, including (Y/N)’s. Captain Levi Ackerman stood at the opening, bracing one hand on the flap of the tent, which allowed the breeze to catch his hair as it passed by. He cut a hell of a figure, standing there as a shadow against the brightness of the world behind him, and (Y/N) nearly forgot that she was supposed to be sewing a man back together as she stared.

“Go ahead and get your men and these medics back through the gate," the captain ordered, his eyes fixed on the operation table. "I’ll watch after her, and we’ll make it back before the gate closes.”

The captain’s tone brooked no argument, but still the squad leader tried to protest. 

“But sir, if you don’t, then—”

“Then you’ll close the gate exactly as you would have, regardless of whether we make it or not. Now, get these people out of here. That’s an order.”

This time, the squad leader did as he was told and began to usher the medics and their tools outside the tent and onto one of the carts. As (Y/N) resumed her work, the captain approached, stopping right before he reached the make-shift operating table that held her patient. She half expected him to offer her a rebuke or to question her stubbornness, but instead, he simply said:

“Tell me how I can help.”

It took a moment for (Y/N) to find her tongue, but once she did, her training quickly kicked in, and she shocked herself by giving orders as though she were speaking to an assistant and not a literal living legend. 

“Move the injured who can’t ride to whatever cart we’ll be taking, and find a horse for those who can. Bring as many of the deceased to their cart as you can, but don't worry if you can’t get them all.” (Y/N) paused for a moment, then added, “Try to get the least-mangled ones you can find first. Some of them… well, it’s better that their loved ones don’t see them like that. You’ll know which ones I mean when you see them.”

The captain nodded and moved to do as she had said, but stopped before he had turned fully away.

“Try to piece that poor bastard together as fast as you can,” he said, his expression unreadable. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

“Hai, heichou. I’m working as fast as I can.”

The rest of the operation went by in a blur. By the time (Y/N) snipped the last suture, the tent had been taken down around her, and nothing was left but herself, her patient, the captain, and the cart. The captain was casually leaning on the side of the cart, arms folded, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but feel his gaze on her as she glanced over to him. Swallowing her timidity, she stared right back and asked for help carrying the wounded soldier on her table to the cart, and soon they were ready to start the journey back to the safety of the walls.

“Can you drive this thing?” he asked her as he took up the reins. “You’ll need to if we run into any titans.”

(Y/N) nodded, and before she could stop herself, she admitted aloud that she always won the cart races at the spring festival in her hometown.

“There’s not a better driver in the whole district,” she added, thinking back to the obstacles that always found their way onto their little makeshift racetrack. “You can count on that.”

“Good,” said the captain as he urged the horses on, “Because if that rumbling is any indication, we’ve got some incoming trouble on the left.”

With that, he passed the reins to (Y/N) and stood lightly on the driver’s bench next to her. Silently, she marveled at his poise and grace; balancing through the rough and bumpy ride was surely difficult, but there was nothing in his disposition to indicate anything but casual ease. Such a talent could only have come from years of experience with ODM gear, and yet (Y/N) felt that it must have come naturally to him on some level, like a cat using its whiskers, or a wolf using its fangs. 

For a while longer, there was peace and quiet on their path. The world outside the walls was so vast and beautiful that in that moment, side-by-side with humanity’s strongest soldier, (Y/N) could almost pretend she was driving somewhere new and exciting to start a life far away from the voluntary captivity of the walls. The sun had never seemed so bright, nor the grass so green, nor the sky so blue from within humanity's protective prison bars; the very air of the world beyond confinement seemed sweeter, and (Y/N) allowed herself to dream, just for a moment, that humanity was free. It was a beautiful dream, even a perfect one, and she wondered whether it was a dream the captain shared. 

“Steady on,” he said, and (Y/N) was jolted out of her thoughts. Curious, she followed the captain’s westward gaze and found a relatively small— but surprisingly swift— titan approaching on the horizon. As instructed, (Y/N) continued driving the cart forward, maintaining their steady pace, and once the titan was in range, the captain lept from the cart and began to engage.

By all rights, (Y/N) should have been watching the ground in front of her, but her traitorous eyes were drawn to the captain as he sailed through the air with the grace of a falcon closing in on its prey. Observing him in action was like watching some sort of intricate, predatory dance; no movement was wasted, no weakness reared its head, and the kill itself seemed to have a rhythm filled with graceful syncopation. It was truly a breathtaking sight, and (Y/N) felt truly grateful that she had been witness to it. 

Once he had finished, the captain returned, landing nimbly in the same spot from which he had lept only a few moments earlier. He was silent for a moment, but then he glanced down at (Y/N) and said in an off-handed sort of way,

“You drive well.”

(Y/N) couldn't help herself. She burst into laughter.  

“Oi, brat,” he huffed testily, “I was trying to give you a compliment.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” she apologized, poorly stifling giggle. “It’s just that you just sailed through the air like whoosh , right, and you brought that titan down like you do it every day right after reading the morning paper, but it’s— it’s my driving that you find impressive!”

The captain had no response to that, but (Y/N) could have sworn she saw the corner of his mouth tick upwards. 

Fortunately, the rest of the ride was uneventful, with the exception of the occasional titan appearing here and there along the way, but the captain always dispatched them with such speed and efficiency that their presence was almost inconsequential. By the time they reached the gate, (Y/N) realized that with the captain by her side, she had forgotten to be worried at all. 

The rumors certainly don’t exaggerate his abilities by any stretch of the imagination, she thought, hazarding a glance up at him only to find his gaze on the horizon. He’s truly a giant among men, even if he’s a bit on the short side. 

They crossed the threshold of the gate just as it was beginning to be lowered, and happy, excited tittering came from those waiting at the opening for their return.

“I’ll be damned,” said the squad leader from before as (Y/N) slowed the horses, pulling the cart to a halt. “You made it just in time— and without a scratch on you, I see!”

“I’m surprised you were ever in doubt,” (Y/N) replied with a teasing smile as she accepted a hand down from the cart. “With Levi-heichou, it seems that anything is possible.”

The captain, who had climbed down on the same side, shrugged. 

“It was as much her as me. She never lost her nerve not once, titans or no titans, and the horses responded well to a calm hand.”

(Y/N) felt heat rise to her cheeks; whether it was from embarrassment or pleasure, she couldn’t tell. “You over-exaggerate, heichou.”

The captain turned to look at her then, and as the full force of his gaze fell on her, (Y/N) had the strongest urge to take a step backwards. She felt at once like a fox who had yipped at a hound, but she refused to look away or do anything else to let anyone know that she was anything but self-assured. 

“I never got your name.”

He spoke each word strangely, as though he had chosen them very carefully, and (Y/N) felt the need to choose her response with equal care and consideration.

“(L/N). (Y/N) (L/N), head medic of the 84th division.” More out of muscle memory than anything, she extended her hand for him to shake. “It’s been a pleasure working with you, heichou.”

The captain studied her for a moment, then took her hand in his own, his grip pleasantly firm.

“Levi Ackerman. Drop the heichou, just Levi is fine.”

The whole world seemed to fall away then at the touch of their hands. Of course, the general movement of the troops away from the closed gate was partly to blame, as it created a sense of standing still in a world that was moving— but there was something about the way that he looked at her just then, something about the way his hand felt in hers that seemed strangely, cosmically inevitable.

It felt like fate.

“Then… thank you, Levi, for helping me today,” she said as their hands parted. “Without you, I’d be titan fodder by now, so… yeah. Thanks.”

“No need,” he replied, utterly unreadable. “You were doing your duty, I did mine. There’s nothing to thank me for.”

(Y/N) frowned.

“Heichou— I mean, Levi,” she hastily corrected herself as he raised a brow, “I— I don’t mean to be rude, but you must know that helping me… that wasn’t your duty. You— you didn’t have to do it, but… you did it anyways.”

The captain— Levi— shook his head. “What are you getting at? I did it, it’s over. There’s nothing more to it.”

“But— why?”

The question was out of (Y/N)’s mouth before she quite realized she’d spoken it, but thankfully Levi didn’t seem offended. He only studied her for a moment— looking suddenly exhausted and somehow softer— before he answered. 

“Because you’re a gallant and a fool for talking back to that squad leader and risking your neck for a single patient,” he said, “And of all the people in the world, gallants and fools are those of whom I'm most fond."

(Y/N) was floored. She hadn’t known what sort of answer she had been expecting but… it certainly wasn’t anything as profound as that.

“I— thank you.”

That should have been the end of the conversation— after all, what more was there to say?— but neither of them moved. They stood there in silence, staring at one another as though it had never occurred for them to look elsewhere, and (Y/N) fought the urge to fidget under the captain’s scrutiny.

“Do— do you sleep well after an expedition, Levi-heichou?”

Once again, her mouth had moved before her brain, and the captain’s eyes narrowed.

“I don’t see how that’s any concern of yours— and I said drop the heichou.”

(Y/N) allowed herself a small smile. If she was going to make a fool of herself, she may as well have fun while she was at it. 

“I’m asking in a professional capacity, Levi . Do you sleep well after an expedition?”

The captain acquiesced. “Initially, I crash, but after…”

He didn’t need to finish the sentence for (Y/N) to understand exactly what he meant.

“Almost everyone I know has the same answer,” she replied, her grin broadening. “One more question. Do you know why the medical corps always camps out in the open the night after an expedition instead of staying at an inn in town with everyone else until they can return to their permanent duty station?”

It was clear that the captain was becoming more and more perplexed, but his answer was simple.

“No.”

Ah, what the hell. What was the worst that could happen?

“Well, if you can’t sleep tonight, or even if you’d just like to find out, slip out to the largest tent in the center of the medical corps camp at dusk,” she told him, refusing to allow herself to hope that he would even consider the invitation once it was out of her mouth. “It’s just what the doctor ordered for any ailments a man might have. Good day to you, heichou— I've got work to do now, but if you decide to go, do look for me there. I’d love to show you around.” 

With that, she turned on her heel and wandered to where the wounded were being helped into places where real treatment could be administered, leaving the conversation behind. Even as she walked away, she felt brazen and foolish, but she couldn't contain the buzz of excitement that bubbled through her veins at the thought that the captain might actually take her up on her offer.

Idiot girl, she scolded herself as she put her hands to work, He probably thinks you’re some stupid hero-worshipper. He’ll never even think about it after today, except maybe to laugh about it with his friends.

That offer was the only think Levi could think about as darkness fell. 

When he’d told Erwin and Hange, they’d nearly laughed him out of the room.

“I bet she has nurse lingerie lying in wait for you,” Hange giggled, her eyes bright with mirth. “She seems all cool and collected on the outside, but on the inside there’s just another rabid fangirl foaming at the mouth for the famous Levi-heichou. ”

“Hange, don’t bully him,” said Erwin, though the laughter in his tone belied his reprimand. “I’m sure she’s well-intentioned. I think going would be good for you, Levi.”

Levi had scowled, ready to adamantly refuse, but Erwin wasn’t finished.

“How long has it been since anyone sparked your interest, hm? Tell me, exactly how long has it been that someone looked you in the face and openly held an intriguing, engaging conversation with you that wasn't meant to flatter or charm you?”

Erwin already knew the answer. It had been a long time— too long. Still, that had little relevance to the matter at hand.

“So what?” Levi replied, crossing his arms. “So she’s chatty, so she’s got a decent head on her shoulders— that doesn’t mean I should take her up on a shady invitation to ‘the medic’s tent’ or whatever in the hell.”

“She’s letting you into her world,” Erwin said, sipping his cup of tea. “It could be her way of saying thank you.”

Hange grinned. “Or it could be a trap, and her way of saying ‘thank you’ could be a drunken frolic in the forest where, y’know, anything could happen, and then you end up with little Ackerman babies running amok and wreaking havoc on the general population— ow!”

Levi had thrown his cup at her, and still wasn’t sorry. 

That conversation had given him a lot to think about. On one hand, he was unbearably curious about this woman; she was sharp and brave and witty and unpredictable, and he was frighteningly eager to see her again. On the other… there were so many ways that the evening could turn sour that it wasn’t even funny. She could drug him and sleep with him for clout. Worse, she could not drug him and manage to coax him into bed anyways for clout— or to have his babies like Hange had suggested. Ugh, what a horrible thought! She could get him drunk and make a fool of him for sport, she could ask him to dance and step all over his newly-polished boots, or heaven forbid, she really could turn into a rabid fangirl and rip out some of his hair for a keepsake… and yet he was still considering it. 

This is stupid, he thought to himself as he pulled on his boots. Why should I leave my nice, comfy room in this nice, comfy inn? To see a woman I only met today and will likely never see again? That’s lunacy.

He was going. He had to, right? He’d picked out what to wear and everything, there was really no reason not to.

Other than the babies thing. 

Fuck.

It was an hour or two more before Levi made his final decision. He’d paced his room like a caged tiger, unable to get a moment’s peace without thinking of that smile, that voice, that offer … it was maddening. He had to go, or he’d implode his brain trying to take his mind off of it. With an agitated sigh, he shrugged on his uniform coat and forced himself down the stairs, fighting the urge to grumble all the way. 

“Oh-ho, looks like Levi decided to meet his booty call after all!” Hange laughed from her seat beside Erwin at the inn's dinner table, “There’s a man who knows he’ll make the walk of shame in the morning!”

“Shut the hell up, shit-glasses,” he shot back, but there was no real venom behind it.

“I love you too!” she replied with a cackle, and Levi cracked a smile even as he let the door slam shut behind him. In a way, that had been her blessing, and for all that he had never needed anyone’s approval, Levi still valued and appreciated hers.

It was a short and pleasant walk to the medic’s camp. The streetlamps had been lit for the evening already, casting everything in a soft golden light. Crickets chirped merrily as Levi wandered through the grass, and a gentle breeze rustled the nearby leaves and brushed feather-light kisses along his exposed skin as it passed. Suddenly, faced with the quiet beauty and understated splendor of a truly pleasant evening, the frantic indecision and subsequent bout of self-loathing that had previously dogged Levi vanished, leaving only a strange, ambient calm that wasn’t unlike a light buzz from taking a sip from Pixis’ flask.

“Hey, stranger.”

Levi turned his head to the sound of a now-familiar voice— (Y/N)’s voice— and found her standing a few feet away with a mason jar in one hand and her lamp on the ground. Instead of her medic uniform, she wore a loose-fitting white sundress, and her hair was no longer pulled back in a soldier’s updo, but was worn down to frame her face freely. She practically glowed in the lamp-light, and Levi wondered if this was how a wraith would appear to a passing stranger on a foggy night, intent on luring them into a field, moor, or forest, never to be seen again.

“Hey,” he replied, moving to approach, but (Y/N) held up her hand. He paused, and a second later, a firefly lit up directly in front of her. With a smile to rival the sun itself, (Y/N) wasted no time in sweeping the mason jar forward, effectively trapping the firefly in it by screwing the lid on tight. That done, she motioned for him to come forward and thrust the jar into his hands. 

“Isn’t it pretty?” she asked as it lit up. “My friend dared me to try to catch one tipsy, and I told her I could do it piss-drunk, blindfolded, and smoking a cigar.”

Levi grunted. He was almost inclined to believe her. “You certainly caught that one quickly enough.”

(Y/N) laughed, and he noticed the pleasant flush of her cheeks from the drinks she must have had. 

“Oh, I followed that one all the way from the big tent. You just happened to catch the grand finale.”

“I see.”

Levi wracked his brain for something else to say, but came up empty-handed. (Y/N) didn’t seem to mind, though; she just smiled sweetly and studied him, seemingly amused by some unspoken joke.  

“So, you decided to come.”

“I did.”

She shook her head. “I rather hadn’t thought you would, or I wouldn’t have had quite so much to drink so early in the night. I’ll make a terribly giggly guide.”

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine.”

(Y/N) nodded, then pursed her lips in thought. After a moment, she placed her hands on her hips and began to circle him. Self conscious, Levi crossed his arms and very nearly asked her what the hell she was doing, but then she tutted, coming back to the front of him so that he could see her mischievous grin.

“This won’t do at all,” she told him, gesturing to his attire. “Like this, you’re still the captain— stiff, formal, easily recognizable. Here with us, you’re to be the freest version of yourself. Even though we’ve all agreed to pretend that we don’t know each other around here, it’s still polite to be a little more… loose. May I?”

“Just don’t get anything dirty,” he warned, and that was all the permission (Y/N) needed to start touching him. 

First, she ruffled his hair, fucking up the part beyond all repair. After a bit of consideration, she untucked his shirt with an unceremonious yank and unbuttoned enough of it to expose much more of his chest than he strictly felt comfortable with; that done, she took his belt and fastened it around her own waist and gave him another once-over before pulling at his jacket, which he then obediently shrugged off and handed to her. 

“Lovely,” she beamed as she put an arm into the sleeve of his jacket. “Now you almost look like a proper layabout— I hardly recognize you.”

Levi was only partially listening. It was unfair, he thought, that she should look so much better in his jacket than he ever could, or that she could just slip a man’s belt on over a dress of all things and make it fashionable.

“Am I presentable?” he asked as her eyes roamed where they would, and she gave a saucy wink. 

“More than. I’ll have to beat the girls off of you before the night is over— unless, of course, you find one you like.”

Levi huffed a laugh. Wordlessly, he offered her his arm, and she took it, looping her arm through his. It was nice, allowing himself to feel her beside him; the action felt more intimate than it had any right to be, but then, Levi figured, it was only right that gentle, casual touch was so pleasant and frightening at the same time when it had been absent for so long. Anything different, and one might get comfortable, and there was no room in life for anything like that.

Arm in arm, they walked on, their pace slow and leisurely like a Sunday stroll. There was no rush, no driving need to barrel headlong into the next stage of the evening; it seemed to be (Y/N)’s preference to savor the moment at hand like one might a glass of wine. Even their conversation was slow and easy like the slide of honey in a jar, and Levi found that he was beginning to grow quite fond of such easy company. 

“Out of curiosity,” she said, peering over at him with sparkling eyes, “Do you drink?”

Levi shrugged. “Sometimes. It depends.”

“I see.”

(Y/N) waited a long moment, then spoke once more. “The reason I ask is because if you do, you’ll not want to take a drink from anyone here but me. I did say that false anonymity is the policy here, but it is indeed patently false . If you’re recognized, I wouldn’t put it past some of our more promiscuous folks to take measures to see the great Levi-heichou pissed out of his mind.”

“Your concern is touching,” he replied, cutting his eyes at her with a dry look. “Anything else I should be worried about?”

“Absolutely nothing. How do you like dancing?”

Levi shrugged once more. “I don’t do it much.”

“I didn’t ask how often you do it, I asked if you liked it,” (Y/N) giggled, moving so that her hip bumped him gently. “If you don’t want to, you certainly don’t have to, but I was hoping you might dance with my friends and I.”

“Some choice you give me,” he teased, “Dance with you, or sit by myself in a den of medical-grade depravity.”

(Y/N) turned to him, and Levi was alarmed to find her suddenly quite serious. 

“I wouldn’t leave you to sit alone. That’s the last thing any of us needs right now. If you wouldn’t like to dance, I can have just as much fun just talking with you.”

Oh.

Levi was touched.

“I was trying to tease you. I’ll dance with you, if you’d like.” 

All he got in reply was a smile, but it said plenty. 

It wasn’t very long after that before they reached their destination. Surprisingly, Levi found himself reluctant to part with the peace and quiet of their walk— in fact, he very nearly suggested that they tarry outside a bit longer— but by the way (Y/N) increased the pace of both her feet and her chatter, he could tell she was eager to get back to the event. In any case, he supposed he could use the opportunity to sate his curiosity; after all, he had never heard of any post-expedition revelling by the medical corps up until that day, and if they had actually been hosting events out in the open without telling a single soul outside of the attendees, he would have to find out by what means that level of discretion was obtained in order to apply it in other, more useful ways. 

"Ready?" (Y/N) asked as they approached the entrance, pulling the flap back just a bit as she waited for his reply. 

"If you are," he replied, and (Y/N) led the way, stepping into the surprisingly crowded room with no hesitation. 

"Oi, listen up!" cried a young medic from across the room, stepping onto one of the tables as he lifted a glass. "(Y/N)'s the lady of the hour, somebody get her a drink!"

Faster than Levi would have thought possible, a pint was shoved into (Y/N)'s hands, and she took it with a grin. 

"For the fallen!" she cried, and the crowd cheered as she turned the pint up and chugged it as though she'd done it all her life and busted the glass heartily against a table. 

"Sorry about that," she told Levi sheepishly when the attention of the crowd had diverted itself. "It's a tradition that when someone notices you doing something either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid on a mission, you become the lady or gentleman of the hour, which basically means that you get free drinks and a toast to kick off the hour. I probably should have warned you that might happen."

"No harm done," he replied, but it didn't seem to lessen her embarrassment. "You mentioned dancing?"

At that, her eyes lit up. "Of course. Just let me find some of my friends, and we'll bully the musicians into playing something fun!"

(Y/N) slipped through the crowd with practiced ease, never once touching anyone or even brushing their clothing as she passed. Levi had no such luck; he was bumped and pushed and jumbled around until he would probably have lost his way if (Y/N) hadn't taken his hand and pulled him through with her. It was a relief when she finally found the friends she was looking for, and after introducing Levi to them as 'Lee-kun,' she darted off once more with two or three others to talk to the musicians, leaving Levi alone with a handful of male medics who appeared to be the dates of the ones who had left with (Y/N). 

“So, Lee-san, what do you do for a living?” asked one of the medics as an attempt at small-talk. “If you’re a medic, we haven’t seen you around anywhere. You work in neurology or something?”

“Ah, no. I’m a soldier.”

The medics exchanged looks and seemed to decide something among themselves before the one who had spoken turned back to Levi.

“I see. (Y/N) put you back together at some point?”

“Not yet. Fortunately, I’ve not had the pleasure of needing to be put back together recently.”

One of the others whistled lowly. “You must have some talent then.”

Levi was saved from the awkwardness of trying to formulate a response to that by (Y/N)’s abrupt return. With a fluidity that he was beginning to recognize as uniquely her own and as natural as a summer breeze, she slipped between the empty spaces in the bodies surrounding them to stand in front of him, hand outstretched. 

“Time to dance,” she said as the music picked up. “I hope you like to swing!”

Truth be told, Levi had no idea what swing even was or how to do it, much less if he liked it, but he was soon to find out as (Y/N) dragged him by the hand to the dance floor. As far as he could tell, it was a form of vaguely organized chaos; bodies were everywhere, the music seemed too slow for the eclectic movements of the dancers, and everyone— including (Y/N)— was twisting and twirling all over the place, but he was soon to get the hang of it as his body got used to the pattern of being pushed and pulled in certain directions. Soon, he was actively moving to the music, and he found himself smiling as (Y/N) shook her skirt at him with another promiscuous wink. 

“You’re a quick learner,” she commented as she spun, breathless from the exertion of the dance. “I can tell you’re brand new, but it took me years to get to where you are right now. I was sure you would have fallen on your ass by now.”

“Comes with being a prodigy,” he smirked. “ I was sure you would have spared a man who did you a favor the humiliation of a difficult dance, but it seems that I stand corrected.”

“Oh please, I thought you’d know how, or at least tell me if you didn't!”

The conversation went no further than that. It took all their concentration to keep up with the movement of the music. Around and around they spun, each laughing breathlessly at the other's missed steps and tired movements until the song was finally over and (Y/N) was begging for a break. Levi allowed her to lean on him as they made their way over to the refreshment table, and didn’t protest when she shoved a pint into his hand.

“Social lubricant,” she said by way of explanation. “You’ll need it when we’re tired of dancing and everyone wants to chat. Drunk medics can be… a lot. It’s best to catch up to them early.”

“Mh.”

So they ate and drank and made merry for as long as they could bear. It had been a long time since Levi had allowed himself to experience life in such a way— so long that he could scarcely remember the last time he’d watched a couple kiss lightly in the open, or a pair of best friends dare each other to act like fools in front of those they wished to impress. For years and years it had been blood and death and strategy and war… not love, not life, and surely not laughter. It struck him as he watched those around him that this experience, this microcosm of humanity, this was what he was fighting for, not rows and rows of unmarked graves. This was real. This was worth the bloodshed. This was beautiful. 

“Penny for your thoughts,” said (Y/N) from across the table, and Levi realized his expression must have been something between consternation and constipation.

“This is nice,” he replied. “Really nice. Thank you.”

Her smile was somewhat tired, but nonetheless genuine. “I’m glad you’re having fun. Beats staying in alone and being sad any day, I’d say.”

“Certainly.”

(Y/N) looked like she might have said something else, but something stopped her. While Levi had turned pensive for a moment, she had turned almost melancholy. They’d been drinking quite a bit, so Levi hadn’t noticed the gradual change, but as they sobered, it seemed that there was something heavy weighing on her shoulders. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, pushing a glass of water towards her. “You look tired.”

“I have a headache,” she replied, still smiling. “It’s nothing another reel won't fix, if you’re up for one. The band is still playing in the style, so we can jump in at the next song.”

Levi shook his head. Truth be told, he felt that if he danced any more he’d throw up. Moreover, he was becoming less and less convinced that (Y/N) was actually as energetic as she said she was. 

“Where are you sleeping tonight?”

At that, (Y/N) looked taken aback. “I, uh, have a personal tent on the far edge of the camp, but I’m not really ready to bed down yet, so I think—”

“Would you like to come back to the inn with me?”

(Y/N) turned so red so quickly that Levi was quick to amend his question.

“Just to sober up a little,” he said, raising his open palms to her, “No funny business. I just figured that you looked tired, and with that headache, having somewhere warm and quiet to be for a while would be helpful. Although, you could stay over if you wanted, just so that you wouldn’t have to sleep on the ground.”

(Y/N) studied him for a moment, her gaze somehow calculating even beyond the haze of drink, and then she nodded. “Alright, that actually sounds lovely. Do you have any coffee?”

“I’ve only got tea, but I’m sure the innkeep could procure some if you’d like.”

She smiled. “Wonderful. I’m ready whenever you are.”

He stood, and they said their goodbyes to (Y/N)’s friends. Lamps lit and arms linked, they slipped out into the night, a comfortable silence settling over them as they walked. Her skin was warm against the chill of the evening, and it made Levi wonder what it would be like to embrace her, to hold her close and feel her heat. 

It had been a long time since Levi had wanted to be warmed by someone. 

As they drew closer to the inn, a strange feeling curled round itself in Levi’s stomach, the sensation not unlike a cat winding itself into a little ball. He wondered briefly if this was what it was like to be nervous in front of the opposite sex, or if he was just sick from all the drink he’d had, but in any case, he had little time to reflect on it; soon, they were crossing the threshold of the inn and climbing the stairs that led to Levi’s room, and his mind was full of plenty of other things to think about. 

She really is beautiful, he thought as he let them into his room, watching (Y/N)’s expression, her movements, her unspoken thoughts manifest themselves physically through little tells that had somehow become familiar over the course of only a single night. If I were to make a fool of myself for someone… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if it were someone like her.  

Truth be told, he felt a bit like he was making one of Erwin’s foolish wagers by letting the evening go as far as it had. Things had been lovely up to this point, sure, but there was no way to tell what was going to happen from this point onwards, no way to know what (Y/N) would do, what he would let her do… Levi felt more than drunk, more than tired, more than foolish. He felt everything and nothing, empty yet overflowing. He felt… he felt .

(Y/N) was exquisite with blushing cheeks and bright eyes as she turned to him, and Levi suddenly, desperately wanted to kiss her. 

“You alright there?” she asked with a questioning smile. "You look a little peaky."

Levi couldn't determine whether or not she was teasing him, so he ignored the question outright. 

"Make yourself at home, I'm going down to see if the innkeep has any coffee for you," he said, and he caught a quick flash of confusion on (Y/N)'s face before he turned on his heel and left, shutting the door tightly behind him. 

What the hell am I doing? He asked himself, pressing himself bodily against the front of the door, breathing like he'd run a marathon. I didn't drink that much, I shouldn't be thinking like that at all… 

But he was. He really, really was. 

It had snuck up on him like a thief in the night, this mad attraction; he couldn't pinpoint the moment he had noticed the curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts, the perfect shape of her mouth, but it was all seared into his mind like a cattle brand had put it there. Shaking like a newborn foal, he realized that he wanted more than just to kiss her— oh yes, much more. He wanted to hold her, to touch her, to consume her entirely… he wanted to wrap himself in her until he lost himself, until he couldn't tell what belonged to her and what belonged to himself in every sense possible. 

It terrified him. 

As calmly as he could manage, Levil peeled himself off of the door and started down the stairs, trying to get a grasp on the situation as best he could. So he was attracted to this strange, beautiful woman— that wasn't necessarily a bad thing, was it? Maybe he was going a bit overboard with it, but it really had been a long time, and he was only human, after all. He could control these urges… he could. And he would. He just had to breathe and think for a little bit. 

Breathe and think, he told himself. Breathe… and think… 

Fighting titans was so much easier than trying to be a person. 

By the time Levi had asked the innkeep for some coffee grounds and braved the stairs once more, he had calmed himself enough to have a plan solidly in place. If he wanted to keep his word to (Y/N) about the lack of funny business, he was going to have to yank on his own reins a bit harder than he had been; no more casual touches, no more teasing, and certainly no more wayward thoughts. He was going to keep his distance as politely and kindly as he could, even if that meant denying himself anything and everything he wanted. He wasn't going to fuck this up, not this late in the game. Failure wasn't an option. 

This should be fine, he thought to himself as his fingers touched the cold brass of the door handle. We'll just have coffee and talk, it'll never even cross my mind to want more. 

When he opened the door to his room, Levi found (Y/N) lounging against the headboard of the queen-size bed— the only furniture in the room— and his convictions were immediately tested as he imagined what it would be like to crawl onto the bed, straddle her legs, and kiss her breathless. 

It was going to be a long night.

They talked for so long and about so much that (Y/N) found it easy to say what was on her mind. Surely, if she could spill her guts about her father's intentions to arrange her marriage and her mother's death over their now-cold coffee, she could manage to scrape some honesty and transparency together to let the captain know how she really felt. 

She took a deep breath, exhaled, and steeled her resolve. 

“I didn’t come here to sleep with you, Levi-heichou.”

Levi’s entire body went even more rigid than it had been before (Y/N) had spoken, which was truly an impressive feat, seeing as he had been as taught as a bowstring from the moment he had taken a seat beside her on the bed.

“I— yes. I mean, no. Of course not, I never thought—” 

(Y/N) placed a hand on his shoulder and twisted her body to face him. They had been sitting side-by-side against the headboard in what should have been a relaxed, comfortable position with appropriate space between them, but with Levi being so fraught with tension, the atmosphere had been strange and awkward in a way that made (Y/N) feel sick with anxiety. It simply couldn’t go on that way, not when the whole point of the evening was for them to be able to relax and enjoy each other’s company; it was clear the air or take her leave, and (Y/N) had no intention of facing the night alone.

“It’s alright if you did,” she said, maintaining eye contact with him, willing him to understand her meaning. “It would be natural for you to. I wouldn’t even be opposed— a woman has needs as well as a man has, you know— but that’s not what I came here for.”

That awful tension remained for a moment more, then the captain’s shoulders sagged infinitesimally as he breathed a sigh of what sounded like relief.

“That’s— er, alright.” He ran a hand over his face, emanating exhaustion that was almost palpable. “I’m sorry, I’m… not a people person.”

(Y/N) found herself laughing. 

“I’m sorry,” she giggled, holding a hand over her mouth. “I don’t mean to tease you, I just— you’re funny. In a good way. I like that you aren’t a people person.”

Truth be told, (Y/N) wasn’t a people person either; she was just very, very good at faking it.

“Well, I’m glad to know that my turmoil amuses you,” he said in the nearly-expressionless way that (Y/N) had learned meant he was teasing. 

“Not at all,” she smiled, and she let her hand fall over his with easy familiarity. “I’m a medic— it’s my job to heal people and ease turmoil. I just want to know how I can help you. ”

The captain shook his head. “I’m perfectly fine. I appreciate the thought, but there is nothing that you can do to help me any more than what you have already done.”

‘Perfectly fine’ was a relative term, but even under the best of circumstances, (Y/N) would bet her life’s savings that he was anything but ‘perfectly fine.’ In any case, (Y/N) decided to let the subject drop in favor of collecting their coffee cups to set on the counter across the room. Sometimes, patients— people — didn’t know what or how to ask for something they needed. It was often the duty of the caretaker to recognize those needs and fulfill them, and (Y/N) was most adept at assessing the needs of those around her.

The captain— no, Levi — was followed by a cloud of unbearable loneliness, a dark, unrelenting cloud that never ceased to rain and rage. Though (Y/N) had known him for only a handful of hours, she could already tell that it had been a long time since Levi had allowed himself to be cared for by another person. It was beginning to show its wear on his tired features, and (Y/N) was inexplicably drawn to fill the missing space of companionship in his life.

“Tell me, Levi,” she said, coming to stand at the edge of the bed. “Will you allow me to do something for you?”

He eyed her warily. “That depends on what it is.”

“Oh, nothing hideous enough to warrant that look in your eye. I won’t do anything inappropriate, or anything you don’t like.” (Y/N) reached forward and tapped one finger on his shin. “How are your muscles right now? Tired? Sore at all?”

Levi hesitated, but eventually nodded.

“I’m always tense after a mission, just from adrenaline and pushing my body so hard, but I don’t see what that has to do with you.”

(Y/N) grinned. It had everything to do with her, he just didn’t know it yet.

“If you’re okay with it, I’d like you to take off your shirt and trousers,” she said, cracking her knuckles. “I give the best massages— just ask anyone who’s ever had the graveyard shift at the infirmary with me.”

Maybe it was the remnants of the drinks they’d had earlier, or perhaps sheer exhaustion that persuaded him to comply, but in any case, Levi began to unbutton his shirt. Almost immediately, (Y/N) began to rethink the wisdom of her brilliant massage idea; the more the captain was exposed, the more dry her mouth became, and the less sure she was that she could keep her eyes where they belonged. He truly was a handsome, shapely thing— the sort of attractive that made a person rethink their standards entirely. 

“On your front,” (Y/N) told the captain once he was down to his underthings, and he turned over to lie on his stomach, exposing his lean, muscled back. The way his body curved against the mattress was frankly obscene; the bulk of his shoulders sloped downwards with the curve of his spine, which crescendoed with the swell of his perfect, peach-shaped ass. (Y/N) was sorely tempted to take one perfect cheek in each hand and just squeeze.

Stop, she scolded herself as she climbed onto the bed, one knee on either side of the captain’s hips. Appropriate, medical thoughts only. This is totally platonic, no need to get worked up. It’s just a massage, I’ve done it a thousand times with Sweaty Pete.

But Levi Ackerman was nothing like Sweaty Pete, not in the least, and as (Y/N) moved her hands to his trap muscles, she realized that trying to pretend he was would be an exercise in futility. 

Everywhere she touched was hot like a sunburn; (Y/N) was very nearly tempted to check him for a fever, but she couldn’t quite manage to pull her hands away from their work for long enough to manage it. As she moved up to his neck and into his hairline, the captain gave a sort of half-groan, and the sound went straight to the butterflies in their stomach, electrifying and exacerbating them. Almost subconsciously, her hands repeated their earlier motion in search of that sound, and her efforts were rewarded with a full moan.

“My lower back,” he said after a moment, his voice muffled by a pillow, “It’s really tight, could you—”

Before the request was even finished, (Y/N)’s hands found their newest territory, and the captain melted beneath her ministrations. 

“That’s good,” he told her, his body limp and boneless at her touch. “Really, really good.”

She just hummed in reply and kept on with her work. 

Later, if someone had asked (Y/N) how long she stayed there just touching his skin, she couldn’t have said. It felt like hours; it felt like an instant. She lost herself in the feeling of his flesh and heat and utter vitality beneath her fingers, and it wasn’t until he reached back with one hand to grab her by the wrist that she came back to the present.

“Enough,” he said simply, turning his head to cast a one-eyed gaze back at her. “Take a break.”

(Y/N), fully prepared to resume sitting at the headboard, moved away from him for a moment, but found herself frozen as the captain shifted beneath her to lay on his back, leaving her settled nicely in far too intimate a position for comfort or propriety. There was no mistaking the heat in the gunmetal-grey eyes of the captain; he wanted her, and would have her, if she wanted. 

She did, but she found that she couldn't speak even as he propped himself up on one elbow and brought his other hand to rest over the nape of her neck. 

"Your eyes are so bright," he murmured almost to himself. "They're beautiful."

(Y/N)'s breath caught in her throat. 

"Levi-heichou," she breathed, and suddenly he was sitting upright, their faces inches from each other. "I— you—"

"You're in my bed, in my lap," he said, threading a hand through her hair. "Call me Levi here at least."

"Levi," she tried again, bracing one hand on the obscene curve of his bicep, "I think— I want to—"

Words failed her once more, and she made up her mind. If words couldn't do the job, then she was just going to have to let her actions speak for her. Summoning her courage, she surged forward and closed the gap between them, pressing her lips firmly against his in a soft, gentle kiss that was enough to crack the edges of her own heart.

When they pulled back, (Y/N) was struck with the urge to move away once more, but Levi's hands— strong, calloused, and large— landed on her hips, keeping her where she was. 

"'Humanity's strongest soldier' my ass," he said, tightening his grip. "An hour ago, I swore to myself I wouldn't do this, and yet…"

He leaned forward and kissed her again, once, twice, three times, and when he pulled away, his eyes were hazy. 

"I'm so fucking weak that I can't make myself stop, knowing it was something you wanted enough to initiate."

"Why stop at all?" (Y/N) found herself asking as she settled her weight fully over him, feeling his firmness beneath her. "I told you earlier that I'm willing to accept whatever you have to offer."

Levi didn't answer, but the roll of his hips up into her made his intentions pretty clear. 

They kissed for what felt like an infinite amount of time. There was no urgency, no rush in their movements; just the act of tasting and touching and tempting was enough to satisfy them for the moment. As they explored each other, they created a rhythm, a push and pull that felt as eminent as the tide, and (Y/N) knew exactly what she wanted from the captain— from her captain. 

She wanted to devour and be devoured. 

"I want to taste you," she told him as his lips moved to her neck. "Lay back."

She wasn't sure why, but she was almost surprised that Levi went easily with her request; he moved backwards to brace himself against the headboard, and (Y/N) pushed her hands beneath the waistband of his boxers, pulling them off when Levi lifted his hips for her. The action revealed the hardness that (Y/N) had felt pressed against her earlier, and she was pleased to find that it was just as lovely as she had imagined it to be, flushed and swollen and delightfully red at the tip. 

"Oh my," she said, stretching out on her side to get better access to the newly-revealed territory. "A very fine specimen you have here, heichou. May I?"

The doe-eyed look of faux-innocence she gave must have done its job; Levi hummed, brushing hair away from her face, then nodded, seeming not to trust himself with speech just then. (Y/N) needed no further permission, and as she lowered her mouth to the weeping erection before her, she knew she had Levi exactly where she wanted him. 

What she didn't expect, however, was to be exactly where Levi wanted her. 

Just as she began to let his length slide farther down her throat, one of his hands reached down to search between her legs, pushing her panties aside. At the first brush of his fingers, (Y/N) couldn't contain the soft 'oh' that escaped her, and as he pushed three rough digits inside, she pulled off of his cock with a gasp.

"Oi, don't stop on my account," he said as his hand began to move, fucking her with his fingers. "Let me make you feel good."

(Y/N) didn't need to be told twice. She took him back in her mouth once more, this time focusing her lips and tongue on the tip while working the base with her hand, and was rewarded with smooth, punctuated thrusts of Levi's fingers inside her. Truly, the man was perfect; the pace he chose was just fast enough to be gratifying, yet slow enough to be satisfying. Her whole body moved with the rhythm and force of it, and (Y/N) couldn't remember the last time fingers alone had felt so good and so right. 

"Beautiful," Levi murmured as he watched her. "Beautiful, perfect creature."

(Y/N) preened at the praise. She redoubled her efforts to push him towards the edge, using a hand to fondle his balls, but he stopped her with a groan that gave her the impression that she was doing an even better job than she had thought. 

"Come here and let me kiss you," he said, and (Y/N) couldn't have said no even if she tried. 

Before long, (Y/N) found herself pulled back on top of Levi, settling nicely in his lap as his tongue explored her mouth. As they kissed, Levi's hands found her breasts, sliding beneath her dress to tease her nipples; the left one, (Y/N) noticed, was left damp and sticky from the hand that that had been inside her, and she shuddered against him as the cool air against it lent itself to her sensation. 

"I'm not going to last very long," said Levi as (Y/N) felt the sweet, solid press of his cock against the thin fabric of her panties. "It's been a while since—" 

"I don't care," she breathed, cutting him off with a biting kiss to his lower lip. "If you can't last, I'll ride your face and we'll go for round two when you're ready, just— I want you."

"Then turn around, but stay upright on your knees," he said, his voice dark and husky with desire. "Let's get rid of that dress while we're at it, shall we?"

(Y/N)'s pretty white dress hit the floor just before her panties did, and Levi nudged up behind her, his bare skin pressed against hers chest-to-back. One of his arms circled around her upper half, his hand coming to rest at the base of her neck; the other lined himself up with her sex and pushed in, then came around to circle her clit as they began to fuck.

And oh, what a fantastic fucking it was. 

Levi once more proved his virtuosity; in the art of love-making, he was just as adept as he was at killing titans or learning to dance. As they moved against one another, he held (Y/N) impossibly close and with enough strength to keep her upright even though her own muscles had gone lax against the onslaught of his jackhammer pace, and yet he was so tender and gentle with her that she was electrified by even the tiniest brush of his lips against the back of her neck. It was like actually experiencing one of those bodice-ripping novels she used to read in her spare time, except that it was so much better because it was real. 

"Oh God," she gasped as he relentlessly rubbed her clit in time to their coupling. "Oh, Levi, Levi — you're going to— I'm going to—"

"You don't need my permission," he said, his voice rich and dark as the warmth of his breath tickled her ear. "Do it, I'm close too."

She came recklessly and wildly apart in his arms, and not a moment before she had finished riding the waves of her own pleasure, Levi pulled out and spilled across her lower back with a grunt, his release hot and sticky on her skin. Gently, he lowered her to the mattress, and with a murmured "Stay still," he reached down to the floor to grab something to wipe away the mess he'd made. 

"There you are," he said, tossing whatever he had used aside. "I'm going to wash up. Make yourself at home."

When Levi returned, it was with damp hair and an air of utter exhaustion, and after (Y/N) had done her own washing up, she returned to find him asleep, his face buried in a pillow. She slid silently in beside him, taking care not to move the bed too much, but Levi cracked an eye open anyways, moving over to allow her some room before flinging an arm around her middle.

“S’alright?” he asked, shifting so that he could see her face. 

“Y-yes. This— this is nice.”

“And this?”

He pulled her even closer, tangling their legs together, and (Y/N)’s face hurt with the force of her smile.

“Of course.”

“Good. Will you stay till morning?”

“As long as you want.”

They fell silent for a moment, and the weight of the day seemed to crash into (Y/N) all at once. Exhaustion settled over her frame, and before she knew it, she had fallen asleep.

Levi woke up surrounded by warmth, and for once in his life, he resisted the urge to fully wake. 

There was something warm and soft beneath his hands. Half-sleeping, half-waking, he moved his fingertips against it, then pulled it closer, flush against him. Sleep overtook him again, and he knew no more; it might have been moments or hours later when a knock at the door finally jarred him awake. 

“Levi! Leeeeeeeeeevi!!”

Hange.

Levi sat bolt upright, the air of his sudden inhale stinging his nose and throat.

“Shut up, shit-glasses!” he barked, scrambling out of bed to find his shirt and pants. “Hold on, dammit, you’re pissing me off with all that racket.”

Halfway through buttoning his trousers, Levi froze.

There, sitting up in the middle of his bed, was (Y/N), bare above the sheets (and probably below them too), her hair falling messily around her shoulders, and a soft smile on her face.

“I honestly cannot remember if we had sex last night,” he said earnestly, resuming his frantic dressing. “But if you’ll give me just a minute to deal with that mad fucking disaster of a scientist, we’ll have this all sorted shortly.”

“We did,” she told him, her eyes shining in the morning light. “Carry on, take your time. I’ll just be here.”

Once Levi was out the door and in Hange’s face (as well as he could be, at his height) he suddenly lost the ability to speak at normal levels and was instead confined to whisper-yelling for fear of (Y/N) overhearing him. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded, fisting his hands in the lapel of Hange’s jacket. That appeared to have been the wrong move; Hange only grinned wider and more maniacally.

“You smell like booze, Levi,” she giggled, tweaking his nose. “Did you get sloshed last night?”

“No! Even if I did, what’s it to you?”

“You weren’t up at your usual six-thirty sharp, I had to make sure you weren’t dead!”

Levi scowled. “No, you didn’t. You just wanted to see if I brought (Y/N) back with me.”

Hange’s cackle was answer enough.

“Look, four-eyes, I did, but it's not like that,” he huffed, shoving her away as he released her lapel. “You woke us up.”

“I woke you up? You really let her sleep with you?”

“Oh shut up!”

“Aww, Levi, you’re growing up!”

“Fuck off, Hange.”

“I want to meet her.”

“Never.”

“You are just no fun.”

“Are you gonna fuck the hell off now or am I gonna have to get Erwin?”

Hange held up her hands. “Fine, fine. But I will meet her one day.”

“Dream on, shit-glasses.”

With that, Levi turned on his heel and slammed the door in Hange’s face, barring it shut.

“I take it you had a pleasant first conversation of the morning?”

(Y/N) was every bit as lovely having just woken up as she had been the night before, fresh and well-dressed in fine clothes. It simply wasn’t fair, Levi thought once more, that she could be so comely no matter what she wore or how she was presented. She just… she was .

“It was fucking terrible, was what it was. Hange is too nosy for her own good.”

(Y/N) raised a brow. “Hange the scientist?”

Levi sighed. “The one and only.”

“Oh, I should love to meet her someday, her work is exemplary!”

Levi didn’t voice all the reasons why that should never, ever happen, but it was a near thing. 

“I’m sure,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “She would be thrilled to make your acquaintance as well.”

Silence fell after that, and Levi felt as though he were caught in a tailspin. He remembered the night before with startling clarity after the initial half-sleeping befuddlement he experienced from his harsh wake-up; now, however, even with all the facts together and in their proper place, he found himself at a loss for what should come next, if anything. It was perhaps made even worse by the fact that (Y/N) seemed perfectly at ease. In that graceful, half-drifting way of hers, she approached him, all easy smiles and warm touches and bare skin, but he found himself pulling back, taking a step away for every step she took forward.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, coming to a halt a few feet in front of him. “Are you alright?”

“Maybe.”

It was unconvincing even to his own ears.

“Well, then maybe I should go, let you sort things out for a while—”

“No! I mean… no. Just hold on a second.”

He didn’t want her to go, he didn’t want her to stay. To have her leave would be an irreparable slight to her; to have her stay was wreaking havoc on his mind. He had allowed this woman to share his bed for a night, had told her so much about himself and had listened to so much in return… and for all that, she was practically a stranger! He couldn’t trust her, not like he could Hange or Erwin or his squad; what did it matter that she’d told him her secrets in exchange for his? They had only met twenty-four hours ago! They knew nothing of each other. What was to come of this foolishness? 

Nothing? 

And yet nothing seemed so little, too little to walk away with from this. 

For the first time in a long time, Levi had slept soundly through the night. He had held another person close, and breathed in the scent of them as they slept. He had done this with her, with (Y/N), and she had made him feel truly alive, truly whole, even for a short amount of time. 

What would happen when she inevitably discovered that he was nothing but a killer? That he had darkness and rage and bitterness and resentment holed up inside of him like some insidious tumor, making him sicker and sicker as the years went by? Could he handle the rejection of companionship that he would bring on himself by revealing the fact that he was indeed the most rude, abrasive, hard-assed bastard in the Survey Corps and beyond it?

Would it be easier to kill this budding friendship now, or wait until it inevitably failed?

“Levi…” (Y/N)'s eyes were full of compassion and concern, and a cup rattled as Levi's back hit the counter.

“Wait… wait…”

(Y/N) approached him once more, and he forced himself to stand still and receive her advancements. She stopped directly in front of him, close enough to touch, but too far to do much else, and she cupped his cheek with a soft, gentle hand. 

“You’re freaking out,” she said softly, and the stroking motion of her thumb became soothing, grounding as she spoke. “There’s no need. You’re safe here.”

A few deep breaths later, and everything came back into perspective. (Y/N) stood in front of him, patient, pensive, and he brought a hand up to cover the one she had placed on his cheek. Gently, he lowered their hands but linked their fingers, allowing her touch to continue to ground him, and eventually, she began to smile once more.

“There we are. Now, do you mind telling me what that meltdown was about, or would you rather not discuss it?”

“You can safely assume I never want to talk about a meltdown.”   

“But do you need to?”

Levi sighed. “I hate medics.”

(Y/N) grinned at that. “Hate us all you like. You’ll find that very few of us actually care very much about how you feel about us one way or the other.”

“Sadistic creatures, all of you. I’ve never seen anyone but a medic dig around in the human torso with excitement.”

It was clearly a deflection, but (Y/N) allowed it.

"Speaking of which, I need to go," she told him, covering her chest with her arms. "I have patients to see to— torsos to dig in, you know, that sort of thing— and I'm already late…"

Levi's heart sank. That left precious little time to think about their options.

"When will I see you again?"

"I'm stationed just inside Wall Rose, west of Trost," she said. "I can give you the address to the apartment I rent there, that way if you ever want to get in touch, you can write or— or drop by or something."

Levi nodded. It wasn't much, but it was something, and he would take all he could get. 

"Yeah, that's great. Let me see if I can find something for you to write on around here…"

After a little searching, he found stationery and a pencil in a drawer, and (Y/N) scribbled down her information. 

"There," she said, handing him the paper. "You're welcome to write or pop in anytime."

Levi nodded once more, and (Y/N) busied herself with dressing. Watching her, Levi felt detached; he knew something was missing, knew that he should be doing something, saying something, but he didn't know what or how or why. All he knew was that he didn't want her to leave, and that he was powerless to stop her from doing so. 

"Stop."

(Y/N)—  now dressed— put her hands on her hips, and Levi was torn between amusement and befuddlement.

"Stop what?" he asked, and she walked over to where he stood, stopping just in front of him. 

"Whatever you're thinking that's making you miserable, stop thinking it. It won't change anything, and it won't make you or anyone else feel better." A small, gentle hand found his shoulder, and his throat threatened to close up. "We'll see each other again, on this side or the other. It'll be what it is until it isn't, and until then, we'll make do."

Her eyes were bright and full of utter certainty; she was so brilliant that Levi could hardly bear to look at her. "Of course."

"I'm going to leave now," she said, withdrawing her hand. "Please write me, if you feel like it. It would make me very happy to hear from you."

An idea slapped Levi right across the face. 

"Hang on just a second," he said, brushing past her to look around the room. It took some digging around in the blankets and under the bed, but Levi eventually found the jacket that (Y/N) had borrowed from the night before and shoved it into her hands. 

"I want you to have it," he told her as she gave him a questioning look. "It looks better on you than me anyways, and I have plenty extra."

"Levi, I couldn't possibly—"

"Really, I insist."

"Is it even legal to give away official uniform jackets?"

Levi gave her the driest of looks.

"And who, exactly, is going to scold me for lending my jacket to a lady?"

"Giving, Levi. You're giving this jacket to a civilian ."

He cracked a grin. "Yeah, but they don't know that."

He half-expected more persistent protestation, but (Y/N) seemed to be making a habit of smashing his expectations; instead, she let out a sweet laugh and threw her arms around his shoulders, burying her face in his neck.

"Thank you," she said as her hair tickled his nose. "I'll treasure it."

Levi chuckled, extracting himself from her embrace. "You had better. Now get out of here, brat, before I decide to keep you."

"Hai, heichou," she replied, parroting the first words she had ever spoken directly to him with a smile like a shooting star. "I'm going."

In parting, Levi pressed a kiss to her forehead, and then she was gone, the door shut tightly behind her. 

"Be well, bright-eyes," he said to the empty space she'd left behind. "I'll be in touch."

[romanarose]

If You Wanna Be Wild: Bonus Sick Fic

Santiago Garcia x Javier Pena

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Summary: Part of If You Wanna Be Wild, Santi is sick and Javi comes over to take care of him, both realizing something is brewing.

Warnings and content: PTSD (flashbacks), internalized homophobia but like. Its mild. Flashbacks to that one scene in Glee with Blaine and Tina and the vapo rub lololol

A/N: I know it's been a min since the last chapter and I promise it's coming but I thought I'd giving a lil bonus chapter. Takes place before chapter 3.

A/N 2: for those who aren’t boomers like me, MASH is a show from the 70’s about med soldiers in Korea. It was a comedy but also dealt with super heavy themes and makes me cry

1.8 words

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When Javier Peña waltzed into work at 8:23 AM, he was surprised to find Garcia was not at his desk. Santiago was always on time, and usually early, often staying late to make sure his paperwork was just right. Javi had once returned after realizing he forgot his wallet before the weekend only to drag Santi out of the DEA’s office practically pouting at nearly midnight.

So needless to say, Santiago being gone on a Monday morning was certainly enough to make Javier concerned enough to walk back up to the secretary. Maybe he had finally gone out and enjoyed his life a little on the weekend. The kid needed it, he needed to let off some steam, and a guy that looks like him certainly wouldn’t have any trouble finding a nice girl. Well. Javi hoped she was nice. Santiago would get eaten alive.

“Hola Colleen, ¿Has visto Garcia?” He asked, leaning over her desk.

She did not look up at him. “There’s at least 6 Garcia’s in this building.”

Javi cocked his head to the side. “Which Garcia do you think I’m talking about?” A rhetorical question. “He’s late.”

“What’s it to you? You're late every day, your little lap dog probably got stuck rescuing a kitten from a tree or something.”

He would waste time on something like that.

“Colleen”

She rolled her eyes. “He called in sick, Javi, now mind your business.”

“Sick?” How did he possibly get sick, the kid had the best immune system he knew. Didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, ate all his veggie’s off his plate like his mommy was still watching. “How sick.”

“I didn’t press for details. He never uses sick days so if he wants to play hooky for once it’s none of my business.”

“Thank you Colleen.” Javi smacked the desk, not hard at all. “This was very helpful.”

Javi waited until noon to call. 

“Hola?”

“Garcia, where the hell are you?” He didn’t want to make it seem like he’d been asking about him, after all.

“Oh, hey Javi.” He sounded awful. “Lo siento, I thought they would have told you I was out sick.”

“Well, no one tells me shit around here, you know that.”

“Except for prostitutes.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Anyway, I’m going on break, want me to swing by and get you anything? Some food, medicine, blankies.”

“Oh, actually, there’s some paper work in my top drawer-”

“I’m not bringing you work, Pope! Jesus, were you the kid who had friends bring him his homework when he was home sick from school?”

Santiago coughed and his poor throat sounded so horse. “Well, if I had friends and if I took days off, I suppose I would’ve.”

“Jesus, Garcia.”

“I’m JOKING! But yeah it was my sister. Mamí would have my head if I fell behind.”

That kid was never going to be free of his mother. “Other than work, do you need anything?”

“No, I’m alright, thank you.”

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow? 8 O’clock?”

“I’ll see you when you walk in at 8:45”

“Shut the hell up.”

*

Javi was getting ready to leave work when he thought he might call Santi again to see if he needed anything on his way home. They didn’t live far, after all.

He called once, but the boy didn’t answer. He called again, no answer. When there wasn’t an answer a third time, Javier got concerned; he must be too sick to answer. Only stopping briefly at a corner store for some medicine, Javi rushed over to Santiago’s, banging on the door. “Garcia? Garcia!”

After a few minutes, Santi stumbled to open the door, looking groggy and messy and so unlike the boy he knew. Santiago shaved every morning, came to work crisp and put together. Right now, in a rumpled t shirt and shorts and a face that looked like he hadn’t shaved since Friday morning, Santi looked like an adorable disaster. 

“What happened? Are you okay?” He asked, worry in his eyes.

What a guy. “Am I okay? Garcia I called you three times and you didn’t answer, you look like hell.”

“Oh.” Able to relax a bit, Santi’s shoulders slumped and he rubbed his eye as he coughed and looked at the bad in Javi’s hand. “What’s that?”

Javi glanced at the bag before returning his gaze back to the sick man. “I brought you some medicine. Thought you might need something.”

The smile Santi gave him made his heart leap. “Javi, I appreciate you worrying.”

“I wasn’t-”

“But I’ve had three of my tia’s stop by and baby me already.”

“Oh-”

Santi saw Javi’s slightly dejected look, and it made his heart swell just a bit to see that yeah, Javi was an asshole, but he was his asshole and Javi cared about him. Javi wanted to take care of him. “You know how to make soup?”

“I can try.”

“Good, because I’m starving.” Opening the door to let him in, Santi went back to his couch to watch M.A.S.H.

Javi set to work. “Jesus, Garcia, M.A.S.H? Didn’t you get enough of war?”

“They can’t show anything on TV worse than what I’ve actually seen.” He mumbled, cuddling up in a blanket again.

Javier often forgot that Santiago had a whole life before him, a whole life of seeing things Javi couldn’t protect him from. Occasionally, Santi would mention his friends from the Army, his special ops team he was a part of, but not much, and especially nothing with what happened or why he left. There was his best friend who was a pilot and a pair of brothers. The older brother had been honorably discharged recently with “post-vietnam syndrome” although they hadn’t really spent that much time in Vietnam, comparatively. Vietnam was just the thing that got people talking, finally. This only came up in concern for the young brother who without an older brother’s guidance was hard to reel in.

By the time the soup was done, Santi seemed asleep so Javi walked over to the couch quietly only to find Santi was awake, watching M.A.S.H with tears in his eyes. Javi looked to the TV and although he couldn’t pinpoint what was going on, the scene was somber. “Garcia?” He didn’t answer him. “Garcia, hey, Santi-” Javi touched his shoulder causing Santi to gasp out of his trance.

“Will?!” Santi jumped up, eyes wide with panic and hand going for his hip only to find no gun. No holder. No uniform…

“Hey, amigo, relaje, relaje… It’s okay.” He held up his hands to try and placate him. “It’s just me, you're safe, I’m not going to hurt you, Santi.”

When Santi realized it had happened again he quickly averted his eyes, subconsciously shifting away from his friend. “Fuck, sorry, I was… dreaming.”

Javi knew he wasn’t dreaming. He had been awake, clearly, but Javi didn’t question him. “Dreaming about how you got that scar on your neck?”

He knew him a little too well. That’s why Santi called out for Will, the voice he had heard before slipping into unconsciousness. Santi felt like he had been going crazy. It wasn’t as bad as it had been for Will; Santi could handle gunshots and cross fire and action. He could handle it well, he knew he was capable. It was other things, however, things like dead bodies or funerals that sent him into a haze. One funeral he went to when he looked in the casket he saw himself. He never told anyone and never went again. When he went to mass he prayed he would never have to go Frankie, Will, Benny, or Elena’s. He prayed he’d go first.

“No.” He took a few bites of soup, complimenting it.

Javi just nodded. “Alright.” Turning the TV to the Mary Tyler Moore show, Javi tried to change the subject to distract Santi. “Always thought she was hot.”

“Me too. Had a crush on her when she was on the Dick Van Dyke show.”

Javi chuckled. “Of course you did. Here.” He went and got the cough syrup and put it on a spoon. “Here.”

Like a child, Santi whined. “Asqueroso”

“Shut the hell up, I’m not Mary Poppins and I’m not giving you sugar to wash it down.”

“Fiiiiine.” Santi lifted is head enough that Javi could guid the spoon between his plush and waiting lips, eyes dropping in exhaustion and face flush with fever in a way that made Santi just look… fucked out.

No, fuck, shit, he’s not suppossed to be thinking those things about his partner, or men in general. Not that Javi had a problem with it, but he wasn’t gay. It was just his mind wandering, that’s all. 

“Javi?” Santi mumbled half asleep.

“Hm?”

“There’s some vicks vapor rub on the counter, can you grab it for me?”

“Yeah, no problem.” When Javi returned with the rub, Santi was out cold. “Garcia?” He felt his forehead, he was burning up. Poor kid was probably exhausted. Sighing, he opened the vapor rub. With care and precision, Javi rubbed a bit on his neck and a little on his chest, only dipping slightly under the collar so as to not put his hand anywhere untoward. It wasn’t sexual, Santi just needed help. Digging through his medicine cabinet, Javi also found some peppermint and lavender oils and remembered what his own mother used to do when he was sick. A tiny bit of lavender under the nose and some peppermint on Santi’s temples, Javi hopped at the very least he could have a good sleep.

He deserved it, honestly. The young man worked hard, he cared about what he did and the people of Colombia. He was smart, capable, and kind, traits that Javi remembered liking so much in Steve. He was easy to like. 

Settling into a chair nearby with some soup, Javier decided to stay for a little bit just in case Santi needed something or in case he got worse.

When Santi woke up a few hours later it had already gotten dark out and he had intended on moving to his bed. When he began to sit up, however, Santi saw Javier asleep on the chair. He must have stayed to keep an eye on him. Santi’s heart was full, overcome with emotion and affection for his partner in ways he can’t remember feeling since… well shit, Santi can’t remember feeling like this. He had friends he loved dearly, he loved his sister and his mother and all his extended family… but this felt… different. He couldn’t put his finger on it. 

Standing up, Santi quietly used the bathroom and got another blanket from his room. Before laying down again, Santiago carefully laid the blanket over Javier, tucking him in.

“Buenas noches, amigo. Y gracias."

************

Hope this was enough to tide y'all over!

I was writing the vapo rub scene and it was gonna be a lil more intimate but then I got trauma flashbacks to Glee and ina singing and... I said hmmmmmmmm nope lol

@runa-falls @lunar-ghoulie @campingwiththecharmings @whatthefishh @itspdameronthings @persephone-girl @criticalarchitecture @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @beelzebeth87 @pimosworld @millerscoffee @heareball @thatwonderouswoman @poolbool @meveispunk @lovable-liar @millllenniawrites @read-and-wip @missdictatorme @the-fox-den @milkymoon2483 @k-ra @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @rosellacwrites @legendary-pink-dot @dreamingofbucky @axshadows @englandsgray @starsthatwatch @laiisleitte @fairlyang @alwaysmicado @theywhowriteandknowthings @casa-boiardi @lostfleur @ninebluehearts @puglover12 @sub-aro @laiisleitte @itspdameronthings @heareball @comfortlessjoy @csarab615 @calaveramangonda @bit-dodgy-innit @stevngrant @nanfafnan @kirsteng42

[anotherghoul666]

This Could All Be Yours

STRIPPER!AU STRIPPER!AU GUYS IT’S HERE I FINISHED IT IT’S HERE

This is my offering to this wonderful community of horny and supportive people for the holidays. Yule blessings aplenty on you if you’re pagan like me / merry christmas if that’s something you celebrate / happy hanukkah / if you celebrate another holiday at this time of year I wish you a good one. And if it’s a weird or difficult period of the year for you then I hope this fic brightens your day and brings some positivity in! ❤️

Pairing: Swiss/Rain

Rating: Explicit

Tags / contains: stripper!AU; come discover the setting of the Ghost strip club in all its glory, possibilities and inner workings; get to know each ghoul and their jobs in the stripper!verse; Rain is not in the band / get to know everyone through his eyes; fish out of water trope; every ghoul gets a whole ass scene at least, sometimes more than one scene (yes that’s partly why it’s so big XD); sex worker appreciation; fat bodies appreciation; normal bodies appreciation; yes all the moves I name in the dance scenes are real and you can google the names to see exactly what move the strippers are doing; THE OUTFITS YOU GUYS, the outfits I put the strippers in, I had so much fun with the outfits, please come gush over the outfits with meeeeeeeee; stripper/client dynamic; light D/s vibes; dom!Rain kinda? he tries his best; sub!Swiss kinda? at least he listens; watch these two dorks simultaneously develop a crush on each other; lap dances; private dances; breaking strip club rules; grinding; nipple play; frottage / jacking off dicks together; cum play; breaking even more club rules; idiots in love.

Summary: Rain is an abbey ghoul with a rather monotonous and repetitive life. He’d like a change, but he can’t quite seem to make it happen. It’s his lack of confidence that’s the issue, his coworkers say, and they give him all sorts of tips, tricks and challenges to help him grow. Including a dare to go spend an evening at the infamous Ghost Strip Club. The ever popular establishment, high-end provider of the most enticing and luxurious sins of the flesh, equally intimidates and fascinates Rain. Beyond the heavy cathedral doors of the club lies a whole world of temptations and pleasures with its own rules, its own codes, its own inhabitants. Rain gets a taste of the peculiar staff of the club in more ways than one, and he also gets a confidence lesson he won’t soon forget. What better way to learn how to be bold than some hands on practice?

Read it here on AO3!!

Tagging the usernames I wrote down for people who showed interest in this fic in my comments and asks, etc: @joeynihil @st-danger @reaperghoul @ghostnamelesfan @sodo-emeritus @namelessghouls-primemover (I dunno if you changed your username or deleted buddy but just in case Imma still tag it the way it used to be written in case you recognize yourself) @merginyourface @royalchachi @crimsonclergy @unholybuttholey @arsonyard @idkhowbut-art @blanchebees I'm sure there's others I missed and forgot to write down specifically, I'm sorry, consider yourself tagged if you were part of the stripper!AU hype train with us too! ❤️

[gyuluvrrr]

The Jazz Spirit

wc: 2,705

ao3 link: https://href.li/?https://archiveofourown.org/works/51004867

audience: teen and above

tags: fluff, suspense, slow romance, mentions of alcohol, mingyu x female character

Summary: Mingyu has been singing at the same jazz bar for a year now, his everyday life being the same boring nights where he sings for drunk or elderly customers. That is until his new co-worker Celeste starts working at the bar, discovering supernatural secrets it keeps within its walls.

note: this is my first fic, let me know what you think !

—

You have reached your destination

Celeste clicks off the navigation on her phone and steps out of her car to see the jazz bar in front of her already being full of life. She used to work in an accounting office, her work life being out of balance messed with her a lot so she decided to quit and find something a bit more lighthearted, something she thought would be less stressful.

The bar was on her way to work, so one day she saw that they were hiring new bartenders and quit after her application got accepted by the owner.

She was nervous since it was her first day at a new job she had never tried out before but was determined to leave a good first impression on her boss. He was an older man, probably in his mid fifties but seemed more kind than he looked at first glance.

“You made it just in time! Welcome to your first night at Heaven's Jazz.” he said smiling at her as she walked into the bar with a firm handshake, the music and scent of alcohol hitting her senses immediately.

“Thank you, I am ready and excited for my first shift!” she exclaimed happily, her nerves seeming to fade after seeing how happy everyone else in the bar was.

Some were dancing, some were talking while others quietly enjoyed the music that was being presented by a young man on the small stage. Celeste was not introduced to him yet, so he did catch her attention with his deep voice and honey like skin that matched his dark hair and eyes perfectly.

“In case you forgot, my name is Eddie and I work from morning until noon almost every weekend to keep everything on track. I sent you a mail with your regular work schedule, if you need any help you will find some sheets on the bar that explain how the machines work.” the elderly man took her attention away from the handsome singer, instructing her with her tasks for the day before he left to go back to work.

It was a rainy Saturday, so most customers asked for hot drinks to keep warm inside while the soft yet deep voice of the same singer filled up the room with smiles. Celeste stood behind the bar most of the time, cleaning and filling up the drinks.

It was almost midnight, when the singer decided to end his show, receiving loud applause and whistles from the customers before stepping off the stage and sitting down on a stool at the bar.

“Could I get some water please?” he asks with a bit of a husky voice, resting his elbow on the side of the bar as he leaned his head on the side of his muscular arm.

With a nod she gave him a cup of water, trying to hide how she's eyeing him and admiring his unique face features. He must've been a model in his past life.

“You're new right? I’m Mingyu, I sing here every weekend.” he says introducing himself with a soft smile, the exhaustion slowly starting to show on his face after he gulped down the water in one go.

“Yes ! My name is Celeste, this is my first day here actually.”

“Good luck, this bar goes crazy on weekends, as you can see..” Mingyu says as he points behind him. There were only a few stools empty even though the day was about to end in a few minutes.

“I like it honestly, its a huge change to get used to for sure though.”

“You weren't a bartender before?” he asked, surprised.

“I worked at an office before, accounting specifically.”

This made Mingyu chuckle, “I used to work at a finance office too.”

Celeste's eyes widened at his response, it's rare for her to find someone in a similar work field who quit as well. Most of them stay since it's well paid and lets you buy some fancy stuff for yourself.

“Funny how we both ended up here then. Did you always want to sing?” she asked, now more curious to know what made him quit and why he didn't start with music in the first place.

“I knew that I had potential but never used it up until now. My family pushed me to it.” His honesty caught her off guard, he's confident but in a humble way.

“You do have a very nice voice, I enjoyed the third song the most.” her confession made her blush, oddly enough she rarely did but something about him made her cheeks heat up during the conversation. Maybe it was the way he held eye contact and the way his lashes fluttered with each sentence.

“It's one of my favorites to perform. These days it's been hard.” he finishes his second cup of water, checking his watch with a faint sigh.

Not knowing how to reply, Celeste gave him an understanding smile before Finn, another bartender, walked up to her to alert her that her shift had already ended a few minutes ago. The bar was such a lovely place, she completely lost track of time and didn't even want to leave, even though this was usually her time to go to sleep anyway.

She wished everyone a good night before going back to the locker room to put her apron into her assigned locker. While lost in thoughts of how she could decorate it with cute stickers and sheets she had at home, she heard a faint tap on the left corner of the room. Thinking she had imagined it, she tried to brush it off and forget about it until a second tap at the wall appeared a few seconds later. She slowly took her bag and walked over to the sounds she heard to investigate it, leaning her ear against the wall while trying to figure out what it was or where it came from.

Tap

Another one, this time a bit more loudly since she moved closer towards it. “This can't be real.” she quietly said to herself, she must be going crazy. This took her back to when she was a child and people made fun of her for having imaginary friends. She used to hear voices or sounds from a young age, so this is nothing new to her. Usually it only happened in her own house, never outside of her own comfortable four walls. She had names and stories from the spirits in her home, thats how invested she was with the world of spiritual beings and supernatural events.

“What.. are you doing?”

Celeste jumps as she hears the already familiar voice of Mingyu who is peeking his head from the side of the door, not daring to go in yet which she cant blame him for. He just saw her head against a wall, she probably looked like an insane woman.

“I heard something, nevermind it though.” she tries to brush it off with an awkward laugh before walking towards him, wishing him a good night again before quickly walking towards her car, rushing out of the situation. He couldn't get a word in since she had left already, his curiosity now peaked at what she may have heard.

During the whole ride home she kept thinking about the embarrassing moment, cursing at herself for how ridiculous she might have seemed in front of Mingyu. That was not the first impression she wanted to leave, nevertheless she was happy with her first night at work. It seems like this could finally lead to more peace in life, or at least that's what she thought back then.

____________________

The next few weekends played out the same way. Celeste gets to work, admires Mingyu's beautiful singing and gives him his water without him even needing to ask, hears something tapping or knocking in the locker room whenever she is alone and goes home with bittersweet thoughts about the night.

At this point she was dying to tell someone about what happens to her whenever she finishes her shift, wanting to know if she’s going crazy or is some type of medium like the ones she hears about in ghost hunting videos. It’s one of her favorite things to watch whenever she’s bored or eating alone at home.

That's when on the next saturday she finds the courage to talk to her coworker Finn about the strange noises she has heard so far.

“I’m pretty sure you’re the only one hearing that because I, personally, have never.” he says with a perplexed look on his face while the both of them were cleaning up cups behind the counter.

“I know it sounds crazy and ridiculously unreal. But… I feel like there’s more to it that I just can't seem to figure out.”

Celeste was lost in her thoughts and didn't notice that she had a guest peeving into the conversation with curiosity written all over his face.

“What is this strange thing you’re talking about?” asks Mingyu as he takes a sip of his regular coffee he gets before he goes on stage to energize himself fully.

Once again the handsome man had startled her while she was lost in her thoughts, placing her hand over her chest while facing him she hesitated before replying, this could change his view and opinion of her completely. There was no doubt of her attraction towards him, so his liking towards her was important to stay positive.

“It’s a tapping noise I hear in the locker room whenever I'm about to go home. It’s probably nothing.“

“That could just be the old building.” Finn shrugged confidently.

“Or something trying to talk to me.” Celeste tried to defend herself, though knowing how fake it all sounded.

“You’re thinking too much into it, this place is not haunted. I would know that.” he says with a sassy voice. Celeste didn’t know what to make of Finn yet, he was usually kind but his skepticism made her feel negatively about herself in some way, as if she was making it all up for attention.

Mingyu sat with his chin cupped in his palm as he smiled, thinking for a moment while listening to both sides before speaking his mind. He thought of Celeste to be a very sweet person, he liked an open mind in people as well which made him more fond of her. He rarely talked to Finn for that reason, he was too sure of himself and his world view and never accepted different opinions.

“I don’t think it’s that crazy, it could be something more than just the crummy building. Don't try to obsess over it Celeste, that makes it worse and less fun.” he says before leaving the bar to make his way over to the stage. Celeste wasn't sure if she had imagined it, but it seemed like right before he turned his head, he left her a small wink with a slight grin.

His comment stuck with her for a while, also the way he pronounced her name so perfectly and so smoothly. It sent a shiver and tingling sensation down her spine. Did he mean something else by that? Could he be talking about his obsession for music that is slowly becoming less fun for him? The thoughts about who Mingyu might really be running through Celeste's head were tiring her as well as the loud music so she decided to take a quick break in the employee room after Finn agreed to being alone behind the bar for a while.

As she walked in she saw Eddie sitting alone in the room, writing down some things in a notebook.

She joined him for a warm coffee, talking about her new work life and how it strangely makes her feel comforted and happy being in the bar late at night. While talking she contemplated a lot about whether or not she should tell him about her experiences in the locker room but decided to not do so since she didn’t want to lose her job over something that unrealistic. One person already thinks she’s crazy enough for it.

She also didn’t talk about how sometimes, especially male customers, went over the top with their snarky comments. She’s used to it since she’s a young female in her twenties but her eyes did roll a few times when she heard another man blatantly talking about her looks.

Oddly enough these things didn’t make her leave, she was too invested now to back down from her secret mission, which was to investigate the place.

After her break she went behind the bar again to do her daily duties as a bartender which she now really enjoyed doing, by this time Mingyu had already started singing his second cover. His voice alone was enough to move something within her. Some of the customers left great tips which made Celeste happy, she dreamed of collecting them to buy herself a big treat with the full amount she’d get over the year. A physical attribute to her success was sadly, usually needed.

It was already mid autumn in Seattle, the weather being chilly yet enjoyable for the most parts. Spooky season was coming soon, Celestes favorite time of the year for obvious reasons.

“Thank you everyone, I will be taking a quick break.” Mingyu speaks into the mic as he’s met with applause as always and steps down to go towards the bar. Celeste already prepared him his water as he walked by and handed it over to him. He took it with an appreciative smile and gulped it down hastily after he whispered a small thanks. This has become their ‘thing’ over the few weekends she has worked at the bar already.

“Exhausting huh?” she says awkwardly, trying to stir up a conversation which is not one of her great strengths.

“Incredibly, these days it’s been getting harder.”

This made her think for a while, she didn’t know if she was allowed to ask him what had been bothering him, she has noticed his state of exhaustion a lot more lately even though it's been only five weeks at the bar so far for her.

“You did a wonderful job, as always. I seriously could listen to you for hours. ”

His tanned skin showed a light blush of pink on the top of his cheeks, at this point he wasn't sure if he wanted to hide it so he just leaned his head down a bit.

This gesture made Celeste overthink her words, should she have said something different? Is it even her fault? There's no doubt that he was not satisfied at all, whether with his life nor with his singing career.

“Anything I can do to help?” she asked after a short pause in the conversation.

Mingyu looks up at her, his eyes widening at the question. He didn’t expect her to notice his words out of what he mumbled, yet is appreciative of her attentiveness.

“Thank you, but I'm not sure what I could need at this moment to feel better.”

His honest answer made Celeste feel a bit lost, she was never good at comforting people, especially if they were still kind of a stranger to her. But even with her closest friends she struggled a lot so the usual thing she’d do is give a big hug and a comforting smile. Which in this case would be a bad idea, remembering who’s actually sitting in front of her. Though she wouldn't mind finding out how it would be to be between his biceps, embraced by him fully.

After a short cut between the conversation by a few more slow songs by Mingyu she smiled at him when he sat down in front of her again. They held another small conversation about his closing performance for the day before Celeste decided on suggesting probably the most ridiculous idea she could think of to make him feel better, or at least get his mind off of his current issues that were still a secret to her for now. ´Here goes nothing´ she thought before asking him boldly:

“Wanna go talk to ghosts?”

[shooshopath]

20 questions for fic writers!

tagged by @hydrochaeriswrites and tagging uuuuhhhh @secretlystephaniebrown @fiercynn @spacebeyonce @tododeku-or-bust idk if all yall still use ao3 but there's some general questions on here too! also anyone else i forgot!!

1. how many works do you have on ao3? only 4 on my actual account but I have a bunch that I orphaned X)

2. what's your total ao3 word count? just 22k rn! current wip is at 12k tho because i love doing these things to myself ig

3. what fandoms do you write for? SEKRET!!! its like. fine if people connect me to my fic eventually but i kinda like having one artistic hobby thats just for me

4. top 5 fics by kudos? SEKRET but it is one of the orphaned ones which I regret. sentence structures and awk sentences all over the place and I know I could edit it into something better now. it bothers me so much that I cant and its just out there!!! being enjoyed while existing in its unimproved state!!!!

5. do you respond to comments? I try!!! sometimes way way later

6. fic you wrote with the angstiest ending: IM NOT CAPABLE OF IT the most I can do is bittersweet leaning sweet

7. fic you wrote with the happiest ending: I'm ngl my current wip might be the schmoopiest shit I've ever written. like even reading it over for edits I get embarrassed aejghaekgh

8. do you get hate on fics? naaah i think the closest I've gotten are comments complaining about top/bottom dynamics which like. suffer

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind? sexy kind

10. do you write crossovers? im not built for that

11. have you ever had a fic stolen? never targeted? most of them did end up on that one scraping site tho which rip

12. have you ever had a fic translated? nope

13. have you ever co-written a fic before? no and honestly the way I write is so convoluted and all over the place I would never willingly inflict that on someone else. in unrelated news i just found out i have adhd

14. all-time favorite ship? I don't think I can choose one!! I usually get super passionate about one ship at a time before moving onto the next one. In terms of stories tho and not just ships, I do think utena and mdzs will always hold particularly special places in my heart even if the mdzs fandom was a hot mess

15. what's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? AAAAAAAHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAA . many.

16. writing strengths: I'd like to think I'm pretty good at writing humor??

17. writing weaknesses: BACKGROUUNNDDSSS SETTING UP SCENESSS AGONY AGONY AGONY

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I'm comfy throwing in bits of chinese and sometimes japanese, but anything outside of that I'd ask for help

19. first fandom you wrote for: naruto....believe it...

20. favorite fic of yours: my favorite fic is always whatever I am currently working on. my least favorite fic is also whatever I am currently working on.

[cherry-froggie]

the masked warrior — chapter 1

pairing — childe x f!reader

summary — Having to live by draining other people’s blood to pay your debt was already a burden to your heart, but you let your mask fall in front of the ones that were hungry to know your identity and take advantage of it. Even worse, it was one of the most distinguished Fatui Harbingers, the Snezhnayan organization you owed and killed to pay the debt. With him appearing on your balcony to offer a big deal, your world shifted radically.

tags — there are very brief mentions of blood in the first paragraph!!

notes — this is the only work i have in my ao3 account, i decided to rewrite it here first and then I'll probably go back and edit the original; maybe the original one sounds better? i guess it's very subjective, you can take a look for yourself if you want!

there are already 12 chapters released on ao3 in case you want to read more!! ALSO!! thank you so much to everyone liking "lament"!!! you made my day!!!

words — 3k

MASTERLIST || REQUESTS || NEXT CHAPTER

Chapter 1 — Dangers of the Scenery

After several minutes of shock and desperation from your enemies, the battle finally came to a close as you rest your weapon on the ground and catch your breath. You take in the destruction that surrounds you - the once vibrant landscape is now tainted by burn marks, damaged trees, and the blood of both you and your foes staining the rocks. Despite the guilt and horror of the situation, you know that it had to be done. You needed to pay off another portion of your debt so that you can finally be free of this burden. You would breathe without suffering from this problem ever again, right?

In an effort to rid the area of the fearsome atmosphere, you pluck the delicate lily from your head and plant it in the center of the field, letting its fragrance fill the air. As you gaze out at the untouched view before you, the beauty of the mountains and waterfalls brings you back to simpler, happier times. You can see Liyue Harbor in the distance, but they cannot see you - the distance is too great. The warm sunshine on your cheeks and the gentle breeze through your hair and clothes bring you a sense of peace, reminding you of the joys of everyday life. You long for those carefree days to return, but everything fell apart after your father's death. He had gone on a mission with the Millelith but was killed when his fellow members used him as a sacrifice to escape their enemies. You never imagined his job would be dangerous enough to end his life, especially when he had others to help him.

No one would tell you the truth about what had happened, but rumors spread like wildfire since someone couldn’t keep their mouth shut. Your dream had been to follow in your father's footsteps and join the Millelith, training with him every day, but those dreams were shattered. Around the same time, your mother became ill, and the money you had saved was not enough to cover the medical expenses. Desperate to save the last member of your family, you made a deal with the Fatui and the Northland Bank. Despite the doctors' efforts, your mother's condition worsened, and she eventually passed away, leaving you alone.

Tears flow from the memories and emotions flooding back to you. The only thing worse than your own death, which you fear will come at the hands of the Fatui if you do not collect enough mora in time.

How could you ever let this happen?

Suddenly, a rustling noise comes from behind you, someone or something moving in the bushes and hiding behind a golden tree. You realize you let your guard down and forgot to check your surroundings. Quickly donning your mask to conceal your face, you call out, "Who's there? Face me if you are brave enough, or run and have your life at my sake." Your voice echoes through the falls, and the world falls silent, waiting for you to take action. When no one comes forward, you decide to investigate for yourself, but found nothing. Your heart races as you fear that something terrible is about to happen. Have your actions caught up with you? Had your life come to an end as the Masked Warrior?

Your visit was over. It would be better to leave and return to Liyue Harbor, to your home, and get some rest.

In the peaceful and prosperous port city of Liyue Harbor, life is usually calm and comfortable. However, the money-hungry Fatui have been known to abuse their authority, causing problems for merchants and ruining their businesses. The Fatui have gained prosperity through their well-known Northland Bank, offering tricky contracts to the citizens. This is the darker side of the idyllic paradise.

Recently, rumors have circulated about a masked warrior who helps merchants by keeping the Fatui at bay, often through violent means. Some believe this warrior is a woman, while others think it is a man. Some people doubt the existence of this warrior, saying that the stories are just a way for people to keep their hope alive as they struggle with debt. These stories have even caught the attention of the Fatui and the Millelith. While the Fatui are not particularly concerned, the Millelith is trying to catch the warrior, believing them to be committing crimes and damaging the reputation of Liyue Harbor.

Most citizens are relieved by the presence of the Masked Warrior, but some, siding with the Millelith, want the warrior to disappear before the Fatui take more drastic action and make their lives even more difficult.

At the Northland Bank, the stories of the Masked Warrior are a source of entertainment for the workers. At the end of the day, they can be heard giggling about the absurdity of someone trying to mess with the Fatui and help traders. It was not possible to maintain a dull face with something so foolish. They believe that the exhausted salesmen must be crazy to tell such silly stories, and they are sure they could handle the so-called warrior if they were to find them. They see the tales as nothing more than a way for debtors to try and instill fear in the loyal servants of the Tsaritsa.

That was until, one peaceful day, a Fatuus arrives at the Northland Bank with a troubled and startled expression on his face. His damaged clothes show that he has been in a fight, and a serious one. Ekaterina, the receptionist, stops what she is doing to pay attention to the man, and Nadia, the guard, storms inside to see what has happened. The Eleventh Fatui Harbinger, who was previously requesting a report from the receptionist, is also present. He stood up from the countertop, ready to inquire about the Fatuus' situation, but the agent spoke faster. The words coming out of his mouth couldn't be more than what the rumors had already told - yet he swore they were real, saying that the Masked Warrior, whom he saw with his own eyes, is real, and she was someone who had the strength of the sheer cold of Snezhnaya. He describes the woman in detail. He introduced the glaze lilies to the picture, which weren't common in many parts of Liyue. In the Harbor, there were some, but not many. The second place they considered would be the Qingce Village. 

Childe, the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger, is skeptical of the Fatuus' story and decides to see for himself. Still, if that warrior truly existed, then all the agents' disappearances and unusual lack of mora received would make more sense He dismisses the workers, warning them not to spread the rumors any further, and decides to investigate the matter further the following day. He is confident that he can easily lure the Masked Warrior into his grasp.

When he nearly missed a woman with what looked like a heavy bag entering a house by his side that looked a lot like the descriptions of the attacked Fatui Agent during his walk on the wonderfully light streets, he almost tripped on the pavement. After stopping, the unique perfume of glaze lilies didn't go unnoticed by him, he saw the balcony in the second-floor apartment. It contained many local flowers, including the lilies. Could it be that he had found her so soon? No, it couldn't have been so easy. Besides, it could have been anyone. Setting up the trap the subsequent day would help him decipher the code that tangled his mind for the past minutes. It wouldn't be fun at all if he didn't at least have a try at fighting this allegedly mighty warrior.

As another day dawns, you feel the weight of your responsibilities to continue collecting blood. You leave your home later than usual to buy breakfast at the Wanmin Restaurant, but you cannot shake the feeling that someone is watching you. You worry that your actions from the previous day have attracted attention, but no one had said anything until now. If people knew your true identity, you would not have been so quick to leave your apartment.

As you wait to place your order at the restaurant, you are greeted by Xiangling, the talented daughter of Chef Mao. You had been coming to the restaurant regularly since you were a child and have always enjoyed chatting with Xiangling when you can. She is dedicated to her work with her father and the two have a close relationship that warms your heart. After a brief catch-up, you place your order and Xiangling gives a chili pepper to her pet panda, Guoba, to light the fire for her.

Your order is ready quickly, and Xiangling brings it to your table, sitting down to keep you company. Guoba climbs onto your lap, requesting soft pats on his head. You thank Xiangling and begin to eat, listening as she talks excitedly about a new recipe she is working on and how she hopes you will try it. "And it's going to be super spicy! Even spicier than the last time, it's going to be perfect!" she says with enthusiasm. You both laugh at the thought of how spicy the dish will be, and you reflect on how Xiangling is one of the few, if not the only, people you can call a friend. She may not give you gifts or hang out with you all the time, but the moments you share are special to you.

Your conversation with Xiangling is interrupted by the arrival of Chef Mao, who is calling for his daughter. Xiangling apologizes and quickly leaves to attend to the customers who have lined up at the restaurant, leaving you to finish your meal. As you are about to leave, you drop some mora on the ground and bend down to pick it up. As you do, you overhear a conversation between two young children nearby, arguing about the rumors of the Masked Warrior and whether or not they are real. The kids seemed to be young, in the years of being naive and not having to worry about a thing. They were disputing the rumors of the Masked Warrior. You recalled you had seen them a few times already with their parents at the Wanmin Restaurant.

One of the children turned to the other with a satisfied look on their face. "You see, I told you it wasn't real. You owe me a thousand mora for that, you promised." The child extended their hand to the other, ready to take the promised mora into their own hands. "Oh, you wish! The Fatui got out of my father's route yesterday in the mountains, and there was blood everywhere! They just came back like they always do. The warrior is real, you'll see! I'll bet all my mora on it!"

"Yeah, right. Then I'll bet all my mora it isn't real!"

Could it be that it was the corresponding place where you had fought recently? Why would the Fatui come back so soon?

"It must have been a very delayed debt..." you assumed, hastening your pace back to your residence to get your wooden mask and your weaponry. You'd ordinarily go out and do your tasks at night when it was easier to hide in the shadows, but money was tight, and you wanted to get your life together sooner or later. Usually, you would talk to the person before deciding if you'll take the offer or not, but finding the man in the light of day would not be of many advantages to you. You would collect the remuneration at night when it was secure.

As the sun began to set, you made your way up the mountain path, fueled by the memory of yesterday's encounter. The climb took longer than you remembered, but finally, you reached the spot where you had fought the Fatui the day before. The sky was awash with the colors of twilight as you surveyed the scene, still feeling as though you were being watched. Despite your desire to avoid violence, it was the only way you knew how to get things done, and before you knew it, blood was spilled on the ground, on your clothes and mask, and in the once-clear stream that flowed through the cliffs.

 You noted that your enemies did not resemble great beings today. They appeared relatively weak. Without allowing any more seconds of your valuable time to go to waste, you dived into battle and stood your ground. Today you would try to scare them and not harm them. But your plan didn't go as you had predicted. The Harbingers jumped on you, and it didn't feel gratifying to go around and spill blood wherever, but it was the only way you knew how to get things done. Blood spilled everywhere: your mask and clothes, the grass, the rocks, the plants, and the once crystalline water that flowed to the ends of the cliff.

It was over before you knew it, and the wooden mask felt heavier than ever. It felt worse than all the emotional wounds already engraved on your mind and body. You needed to take it out and breathe again, but the feeling of being observed still hadn't left you, and it was haunting you ever since you had left this place. You were ready to take your leave when you heard something falling behind you. Could it be that it was the person that had seen you yesterday? It was disturbing your peace of mind and giving you a more difficult time than the one you had already given yourself.

Panic had caused you to turn around and stand your ground again, facing the enemy. You weren't ready to fight. Did you let someone escape again? Or were they here before you? You couldn't make up your mind. There were several possibilities, too many.

In the dim light, all you could make out was the silhouette of a man approaching you. With wavy ginger hair and a bright smile, he strode confidently towards you, his grey attire standing out against the moonlight. "So it was you, the one delaying my work, correct? You've caused quite the stir," he exclaimed. He dashed in your direction with weapons in hand - he clearly had a vision -, but you jumped back, not noticing what would be the cliff that was right behind you. The thing you had found so appealing about this place, something that calmed you and assured you of all the beautiful things nature would preserve, was now deadly and inevitable. You could feel your body working so hard to recover solid ground, only to fall. Death's arms were open to you, and you would have to embrace it. 

Considering you had your eyes locked on the dangers of the scenery, you didn't notice the arm that grabbed yours and prevented your fall. But it was not dragging you back to safety. It was just letting you swing, teasing your death. That boy caught your attention rather quickly after saving you from the worst ending of your life. He smiled, but was it because he had rescued you or because he was planning on letting you go and wanted to see your last moments of desperation?

"Now, listen here, 'Masked Warrior'..." Oh, what fame had brought against you. You were clinging to his arm with such strength you believed you could take it off. It was your last chance at living again, but would your fall change anything now? If he were to expose you, it would be over, wouldn't it? The Millelith would lock you up in no time. "...I was at least expecting a fight. I am almost impressed by what you can do. But I came up with a better plan than this." He reached out his hand to claim your mask, forgetting you wouldn't give him that pleasure. You let go of his arm, and the feeling of wind surrounding you came again. However, his arm had got a better hold of yours. With a simple movement, he used your arm to swing you over the cliff and back to safety. It made you collide back with the beloved ground you missed so much. But this reunion was not as expected. Your back was the first to hit the soft grass that didn't do anything when you got to the rocks, then your head, and then nothing. You couldn't keep your eyes open any longer, and the pain itself made you painless by shutting you down completely. It was like a very unexpected profound sleep.

The pain was indescribable. Every movement was a struggle, and even breathing was difficult, as if something were blocking your airways. Your head was spinning, and you couldn't tell how long you had been unconscious. It was still dark outside, but the cold wind had subsided. You were lying on a soft surface - your bed - and noticed your window was open, letting in the breeze that rustled the curtains. Your balcony, filled with blooming flowers, was visible through the window, and you saw a familiar shadow leaning against the wall. As the figure stepped forward, the moon's light illuminated their face, and you felt a sense of fear and insecurity wash over you. The person's fearless smile did nothing to ease your worry.

"Hey girlie, are you ready to listen to me now?"

MASTERLIST || REQUESTS || NEXT CHAPTER

thank you for reading!! if you want to read more, there are already 12 chapters released on ao3!!

[the-francakes]

Welcome to tumblr now what...

Hi, I wrote this up for my cousin because she’s never used any platform, but since a lot of twitter users are coming to tumblr, I thought I would share as someone that has been here... way too long. This blog might only be a year old, but i lived through tumblarity. both times. ugh. 

cause i will use this interchangeably and forget to clarify, tumblr dash (short for dashboard) is more or less the same as twitter feed. 

likes - these are a thumbs up. A nice little ‘hey this post is cool!’ or ‘i agree with this post.’ users can elect in settings to have their likes visibly on their page, meaning when you go to their actual tumblr, theres a link to liked posts. however, i have always disabled this in the same vein that none of you will ever see my ao3 history. if you get a like, you’ll get notified, but that’s all it really does in the grand scheme of things. 

reblogs - if theres a post you want to share, reblog it.  reblogging it puts it on the dash (feed) of anyone that follows you. tumblr does have a setting to see popular posts, ‘in your orbit,’ or ‘for you’ as in things it thinks you may like.  it has a setting for recommended posts into your feed. i, and mostly everyone i know, disable these features and rely solely on their dash.  so assume if you’re reblogging this post, you’re sharing it to make sure the people that follow you also see it. if no one reblogs this post, then only the 150 people that follow me will see it and it will die. which is totally cool. im rambling all over this shit and forgot what capital letters are. its probably half wrong anyways. 

some people will say always reblog instead of like. i think its give or take. it depends on what you like, what you want to share, you’re weird taste in shit you want people to know about and not know. if you reblog, you will make sure more people see something wonderful and its a really lovely and free way to help writers, artists, etc. spread their art.

commenting on a reblog - its not necessary.  I probably do it once in a blue moon these days.  adding a comment in your reblog is like jumping into the conversation. usually i reserve this for things that are important and want others to build on as well. or continue the shitpost cause i like to think im funny sometimes. if its something like my bullshit commentary that really does not apply to anything in the post or i dont want spread on everyone’s dash as they go on to reblog it, i write it in the tags. for example, please reblog this and add anything i missed that helps you navigate tumblr. write in the tag if you think its bullshit and i should delete. 

replies - replies were made because when they didn’t exist, people would have ‘dash conversations’ by reblogging one post over and over and over and over again.  it would be a post of 50+ posts of two people having a conversation and about things like is it red or blood orange.  this was especially awful in rp when sometimes posts would only be a few sentences asking ‘hey whats up how are you.’ so use a reply if you want to tell the original poster something, but youre not adding onto the post.  a good reply to this post would be a ‘thanks for posting this’ but a good reblog with a comment would be ‘i agree, but also you forgot this important bit!’ 

something different than twitter (i think???) - your replies do not just show up on someone’s dash. they have to click the little word bubble on the post to read them. 

tagging - tagging someone with an @ will give them a notification that you mentioned them in your post.  you can also tag in replies.  you don’t need to tag the original poster in a reply because they will get a notif that says ‘___ replied to your post.’ my brain is fuzzy here, but i believe if you put a reply on a post that is a reblog, both the current poster/reblogger and the original poster will get notifs. i only say this cause some people get annoyed by too much tagging, but as someone that doesnt give a shit, just always tag me. tumblr eats shit or doesnt work sometimes, so just blow up my notifs. 

asks/submit - some people enable you to ask or submit posts.  when they answer the ask or approve the submission, it will end up as a post on their dash.  if the ask is not anon, they can also reply privately. a lot of people do not allow anons these days because while tumblr is one of the better social medias ive encountered, there are still some assholes that like to send hate anons. and i will say this for the people skimming this - ASKS GET EATEN. aka they disappear from asks boxes or don’t even show up. if someone says they didn’t get it, there’s probably like an 80% chance they are not lying. there’s a 20% chance they are and don’t want to answer it but like that’s their choice too. 

messaging - for the new kids, this is DMing. for the cool kids in back, this feature was enabled cause aol took aim away from us. this caused a huge panic of how do we privately talk to our friends since while replies are okay for convos, anyone can see them and tbh can get cumbersome for longer communication.  i use this feature a lot to send my friends posts that i need to make sure they see.  maybe its not my sort of content id reblog, but i know for a sure thing they will love it, so im passing it along for them to reblog, laugh at, tell me im an asshole cause its a meme making fun of them, etc. 

ask games - sometimes people reblog posts that say SEND ME A NUMBER and theres a list of numbered questions.  as i grew up here in roleplay, i was taught it was good tumblr etiquette to always send numbers to the person you reblogged from. I was also taught just to send numbers if you see them cause you’re cultivating friendships here and maybe you don’t know the person, but TRUST ME, they will love and appreciate you took the time to get to know them just a little. its not hard to send 1-5 and then fuck off but it will give them something fun to do and maybe make their entire day so.. send the numbers. 

WHAT YOU SHOULD PAY ATTENTION TO: who interacts with your posts a lot. do you see the same username liking your things? does the person reply a lot. FOLLOW THEM! reply to their posts! fangirl from afar and send a shy ask saying hi i love you. propose on the dash.  answer their questions. become FRIENDS. we’re all the weird kids here so don’t worry, we love you already. 

WHAT NOT TO DO: NEVER STEAL POSTS OR CONTENT. this means, you see a pretty piece of art- reblog it. do not right click, copy link to image, and make your own post.  love a passage someone wrote? see a HILARIOUS joke? do not copy and paste it into your own post.  If you feel in someway you NEED to do this, contact the original poster, ask permission and how they want to be credited.  you might have to link to their tumblr, you might have to link to their tumblr, ig, ao3, website, mom’s best friends snapchat, whatever... you listen to how they want to be credited and respect it. and if they say no? go reblog it and sit down. this is the same how you would never copy and paste someone’s tweet and say it as your own. or would you???? is that a thing??? maybe i shouldn’t be helping you come here... 

ALSO, JUST LIKE AO3, NOTES MEAN NOTHING. a lot of notes does not mean its a great post. Something can have 500 notes and its two friends shitposting ‘hi’ back and forth in the replies 250 times each.  and yes, this has happened before and will happen again because this is a hellscape. 

crabs/april fools/tumblarity/fonts and colors/xkit - you know how in YOU they have those like seven totems of living in LA? same concept except when you understand it all, you’re cursed to live here forever. you’re welcome. 

--- --- --- 

please expand, add to this, tell me im wrong, tell me to get off tiktok cause i need to stop yelling at children to let me love my favorite ships idc what canon says.  

the good news is, if you think you’re doing it wrong, then youre using tumblr right.  people might say don’t use it like a diary, but you bet ill write a long ass post venting about my depression and/or that my sock has a hole in the toe.  people say posts have to have content and length... brevity is the soul of wit or whatever and i love a good shitpost and i will reblog a post that is legit ‘wish i could pet a dog today.’ 

[carlos-tk]

nice ask week

hi D! it's nice ask week! What made you start watching LS and what was it about the show that made you spiral into fandom?

Hi Rae! Thanks for the question! 💗 Apologies for how long this took me to answer. Work took over my life this week 😢 Now buckle in for a stupidly long story 😅

Firstly, I had watched the original 911s first and half of its 2nd season whenever they aired (2018/19 thanks Wikipedia) and then totally forgot all about it because again #life 😅 I did hear about a spin off whenever they announced it but I guess the only info was that it was coming soon. Wikipedia is helping out and it seems it was May 2019. I didn’t really pay it much mind because by then I had already stopped watching the og.

So I move on with my life and don’t think about either series until September 2022. I saw a youtube clip of a scene: the throwing each other against the wall hookup from 1x02. I watched it and I was like.. OH?!👀🔥🥵 Saved it to my YouTube watch later and again forgot all about it because back then I was doing full time shift work and had no time to breathe let alone watch anything new 😂 (kicking myself because I could’ve been here a year ago) 😭

Cut to this year. I can give you an exact date i rediscovered 911 verse. May 17th 2023!! 🥳 All because of the Tarlos wedding.

Twitter is probably the platform I use the most cos it’s got all my sports content😅 Anyway I happened to be on the discover/trending tab and one of the top hashtags was #TarlosWedding which was airing that day. I clicked it to investigate and scrolled through. It was full of pics and fanvids of the wedding and again I was like OH 👁👁. I liked a bunch of the tweets to revisit and moved on with my day. A few days later because I had liked all that stuff, Twitter keeps recommending me more content. So I find myself back on YouTube and watched these:

and then a series of random scenes and I was like... okay I need full context for all of this. Another month passes and it’s probably end of June/early July and I’m like let me see if this is available anywhere to watch in Australia. I find it on Disney+ and they have seasons 1-3. This is finally when I watched the show. And then I could not stop thinking about it. S4 is no where to be found though. So I google and see it’s halfway through airing on Channel 7 here which means it won’t be uploaded to Disney+ for a while. So then I’m like UGH 😒😩😤 I wanted to binge the whole season like I had for the others. I kept tabs on when it would finish airing on TV and eventually the finale airs August 14th. The next day I start it and binge the whole season on 7Plus over a few days.

Now that I had seen their entire story so far, I was full blown hyper fixating. Like they’re on my mind ALL the time. I’m reading a book or watching a movie/show and thinking about Tarlos in place of the characters. I’m listening to a song or reading a poem/lyric and being like oh that’s so Tarlos coded😂😂 At this point i’m like oh no 😅😅 The fandom life is coming for me.

Then the biggest surprise of all I start getting the urge to write fanfic again! Which is insane because I had not written anything in (redacted) years. Like nearly every time as I was about to sleep, I start having ideas and rambling it out in my notes app at stupid hours like 2am 😂😅

Next we have the writers/actors strike and I’m like 👀trust me to find a new obsession and everyone is on strike and I’m gonna get nothing new for ages. Then I remember AO3 is a thing that exists and find my way to the 911 Lone Star tag and start reading fic again. Any spare moment I had I was itching to read whatever I could get my eyeballs on. I said to you the other day that I read your gym!AU first and look I might’ve read a random 1k word one shot or two but nothing I can actually remember like yours 😂🥵 I think the added pictures and texts made it so memorable because 1. I did not know you could do that on AO3 2. Rafael is like the hottest guy I’ve ever seen 😅😅 and 3. It was just so damn good 🥵 Sm*t with feelings and I am there. You teased the feelings a little and if/when (no pressure btw) you decide to revisit this universe just know I’ll be first in line 🙋🏼‍♀️ and the reason I can recall it as the first is it’s the oldest AO3 tab saved to my safari reading list 😅

By this point I’m reading fic through the end of August and September constantly. A few I read had peoples Tumblr links in the end notes so then I remember that Tumblr also exists 😂 I come over and lurk, explore the tags, look at all the beautiful gifs, look at a few peoples blogs and make a mental note to maybe join Tumblr again. I had 2 blogs back in hs, 1 fandom specific blog that got abandoned during my last year of hs and a sports/tv-series one I used a little in the years after hs but then again #life and I didn’t touch it after like 2016.

Come September 2023. I made a new email, signed up to Tumblr again, and requested an AO3 invite. Learning how to use this site again was wild because so much had changed since I last used it. I saw something about getting mistaken for bots so I spent a little time making the blog look nice and like an actual person exists before I bothered to follow anyone or any tags. October rolls around and I finally start using it every day and now I’m here with all of y’all 💗

Sorry for the extremely long story and again sorry for how long it took 😅😅

[tulakhord]

got tagged in SOOO many tag games by @raylangivins asdfghjkl thank u ilu here are like, half of them lmao.

(1) shuffle your on repeat playlist and post the first 10 tracks stupid girl - garbage salt and vinegar - lights DIP N DRIP - cobrah disturbia - rihanna this hell - rina sawayama deep end - catty night crawling - miley cyrus feat. billy idol messy - kiiara jet black hearts - abigail barlow dancing on my own - robyn (2) a questionnaire!

Tea, coffee, or soda? coffee > everybody..... i do love tea tho. Dogs or cats? dogs bc one's sitting on my feet rn and he's pretty cute so. Can you play any instrument? forgot all the piano i once knew oops What's your sun sign? sagittarius for me as well! ♐️♐️ First song lyrics that pops into your head? how will i know if she really loves meee 🎵 Do you have any tattoos? not yet! indecision etc etc Favorite place you've travelled? british virgin islands What's the last movie you've watched? i literally do not remember but i'm seeing the d&d movie this weekend lmao What languages do you speak? only english, i'm pants at languages :( much like the instruments question i forgot the other ones orz Do you have any hobbies? omg so many, i love doing things lmao. rn i am actually doing campaign prep for ttrpg things while i watch hockey and fill this out, which is a whole category of hobbies by itself (writing! mini painting! drawing! map design! terrain builds! etc etc.) You can hang out with one fictional character for an hour, who do you choose? i was gonna be saucy and pick someone hot or someone whose brain i want to dissect like a formaldehyde frog but actually it is toothless i wanna go flying with the flying doggo Compliment yourself: i cooked a delicious dinner tonight! (3) ao3 first lines tagline

Rules: Share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written fewer than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway (spoiler alert: rules are made to be broken…)

"most recent" i have published uhh nothing since 2021 hockey hols oops. i should maybe. fix that. anyway the point is that some of these are from my drafts folder ayy:

The chatter starts up at the end of every season, and every off-season Mat runs the fuck away to get away from it.

There’s three shadows standing over Eddie when he comes to, curled in on himself on the ground and damp with his own sweat.

The last dragons—barely hatchlings—die at Dragonstone. Perhaps it's only fitting that the last dragonspawn do too.

“I used to think about it,” admits Trevor. “You making me sorry for it.” (x)

Leon makes all his biggest mistakes in Las Vegas, and tonight is no exception. The team is flying high off a win they didn’t expect—off a win, strictly speaking, they did not deserve—and the music is good, and the lights are low, and the drinks keep coming. (x)

Raff is in the Dallas hotel room, and Joel didn’t invite him—didn’t expect him—but holy cannoli is Joel glad to see him there. (x)

The first thing to understand was Raff didn’t have a heart. (x)

As far as Jack was concerned, Taylor Hall could take his Nantucket wedding, his signed contract in Boston, his Biosteel invite and his mostly working body and all the other hallmarks of his happily ever after—and shove it up his own ass. (x)

He had made a conscious choice not to tell anyone about the situation, and indeed, not to think about the situation any more than could be helped. This had worked well for the past several years, except that it meant that Auston had not thought twice about extending the invitation for Dylan to join them for two weeks in Scottsdale. (x)

They’d tracked the old legends from planet to planet, each one emptier than the last: graveyards with no graves, detonation marks from imperial explosives scouring ancient stone, each once-sacred place swept clean of its history. (x)

tagging 10 of you i've seen in my notes lately, do one or two or all of em: @maddiebuckley @bluewaterhigh2005 @tobysziegler @st-louis @xreveux @parisebuyout2021 @chevalric @joeslie @marmolita @townhulls @bigbrotherlouis