#so not only is your mouth likely stabbed but it's gonna burn

[cjlouwho]

Truly Madly Deeply

You guys voted on this poll and chose Truly Madly Deeply as the song to be featured in my little fic. Enjoy!

tw: blood, stabbing, near death experience

If you had asked Tommy what his plans were for 9:32pm on a Thursday, he would not say, “Placing pressure on my ex-boyfriend’s stab wound,” but that’s exactly what he was doing.

The night hadn’t started so dramatically. He had gone to the bar for karaoke trivia, just like he had plenty of times before. Right as it was about to start, he glanced over to see Buck staring at him, mouth agape.

Buck hurried out of the bar after that and, before Tommy could even register what he was doing, he was following behind him.

“I didn’t think you’d b- be here,” Buck explained, the conversation irrelevant to Tommy at the moment. “You changed your schedule and I- I thought you’d be working tonight.”

“I switched with someone for a couple weeks,” Tommy replied, pressing down harder on the wound, feeling Buck’s blood under his hand.

“Oh- Ah!”

“Sorry, sorry.”

I- I thought you didn’t wanna see m- me on a call or something.”

“No, that’s… No.”

“Oh,” Buck repeated. “Okay. I- still, I just wanted t- to get out a little. I- I’ve mostly been baking. I- when I saw you I was g- gonna leave. Try to go before you- you saw me.”

“I saw you,” Tommy muttered.

“I know. Y- You followed me.” Unconsciously, his hand moved up toward the wound. Tommy gently batted it away. “Why?”

“I thought,” Tommy paused. “I don’t know, just wanted to talk to you. Didn’t know you’d be busy getting mugged.”

Even through his labored breathing, with the gash in his abdomen still oozing blood no matter how much pressure Tommy put on it, Buck looked up at Tommy eagerly. “About what?”

“I don’t think that matters right now, Buck.”

“Why? B- Because of th- the stabbing?”

“Yes, Buck. Because of the stabbing.” In the distance, Tommy began to register the familiar tune of an older song. He thought it had been coming from the bar at first, but now he knew it wasn’t. “Why is this damn song playing again?” he asked as it started over. “And where the hell is it coming from?”

“Th- The guy dropped his phone. It st- started playing,” Buck informed him, hand shakily pointing across the alley toward the phone on the ground. “Must b- be on repeat.”

A small gush of blood seeped out between Tommy’s fingers. “I can’t reach it to turn it off.”

“I don’t mind it,” Buck assured him, wincing as a wave of pain hit. “I- It’s fitting, don’t ya think?”

“What do you mean?”

“Truly Madly Deeply,” Buck mumbled, eyebrows raised. “I- I’d stand with you on a mountain.”

Tommy sighed. “Okay.”

“Bathe with you in the sea.”

“Buck.”

“Not sure I- I wanna lay like this forever.” His words began to slur about halfway through and, as he finished the sentence, his head lolled to the side, eyes closing.

“Evan!” Tommy yelled, bringing one hand to his face to tap at his cheek. “You gotta stay awake for me, Evan!” he alerted, getting right up in Buck’s face. “Eyes open. Talk to me.”

Buck’s eyes popped back open and he opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. “Looks like y- you were wrong,” he said, swallowing down a familiar metallic taste.

“That’s nothing new,” Tommy replied. “But what about this time?”

“You… You will get t- to be my last.”

“Stop it. You- You’re not dying, Evan.” He groaned, ignoring the burning in his eyes as he looked out toward the road. “Where’s the damn ambulance?!”

“It- It’s only been a few… few minutes.”

With one hand still on Buck, Tommy checked the time on his watch. Buck was right, Tommy had only hung up the phone maybe five minutes ago. It had felt like an hour.

“You know what I- I think?” Buck asked, raising a hand to poke at Tommy’s shoulder.

“What’s that?”

“I think you- you’re scared.”

“You’re delirious,” Tommy

Buck shook his head. “No, I- I’m lirious,” he replied, then scrunched his face up in confusion. “You know what I m- mean. You’re scared, Tommy. Scared o- of being loved. Scared of c- committing to s- something r-” his words broke off as he began to cough. He could feel something wet on his chin. Was sure it wasn’t just spit. “Real,” he finished once the coughing died down. He could hear his own breathing now, wheezy and stunted. That didn’t stop him. “You- I don’t think you really w- wanted to go that night. I- I know I screwed up but w- we could have fixed it.”

“Can we stop talking about this, please?” Tommy was willing to beg, if necessary. Tonight had been about trying to forget all his failures as a human. He was not prepared to be thrown right into each and every conversation he spent most of his life running away from. Especially not when he was trying to prevent his ex from bleeding out.

“You said t- to stay awake,” Buck reminded him. “Need t- to talk to stay… stay awake.”

“Well, choose a different topic. A funner one. One that doesn’t involve me.”

Buck rolled his eyes, moaning a bit. “Eddie is l- leaving.”

“Yeah? For good or for awhile?”

“Good. Texas. Christopher.”

“That’s good,” Tommy said. “For him. Sorry for you though.”

“It’s… S’okay. He- He’s running to- towards something, ya know? Needs t- to be there.”

“I know,” Tommy agreed. “Still, sucks when a friend leaves.”

“Mm,” Buck hummed. “Sucks more when th- the person you love le- leaves.”

Tommy sighed, “Evan.”

“I n- never said I was talking about…” he voiced trailed off as he sucked in a wheezy breath, “about you. Very pre- presumptuous." He managed a weak smirk in Tommy’s direction. “I w- was talking about, um, that guy f- from that bas- basketball team that, that you like who… he’s retiring this year, I think.”

“Sounds like you two were very close,” Tommy deadpanned. “Sorry for your loss.”

“Th- Thank you.” He blinked up at Tommy, running his tongue over his lips. They suddenly felt so dry. “Just wish- wish you would b- be honest… honest with me before,” he stopped, each breath a little harder to take than the last. “I’m gonna die, Tommy.”

“You are not dying.” The words came out like a demand. He stared into Buck’s eyes, his blood-soaked hands maintaining their pressure. “But I tell you what. After you get all fixed up, if you remember anything from tonight, we’ll talk,” Tommy promised. “I will tell you why I- why I left. Because you’re right, Evan. I’m scared. I’m terrified. You… You scare me. I’ve never felt for anyone th- the way I feel for you.”

“Love.” It wasn’t a question. “You love me.”

Tommy sucked in a shaky breath. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Yes, I do.”

A tiny smile rose on Buck’s face. “Truly madly deeply?” he whispered, voice becoming weaker by the second.

Tommy huffed out a laugh, the song repeating yet again. He nodded. “Truly madly deeply.”

Buck’s breathing slowed, eyelids drooping. “Tommy?”

“Mhm?”

“I… It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Tommy became laser focused, pressing down even harder on Buck’s wound, “Evan, you hang on, you hear me? I hear the sirens now. They’re close, Evan!”

“I’m,” Buck’s eyes began to roll back in his head, “I’m cold,” he muttered before the whole world went dark.

*****

Buck woke up to a hospital room full of family and friends.

But all he noticed was one very important person was not there.

“Where… Where’s Tommy?” he asked Maddie with pleading eyes as she held onto his hand. His heart began to race, wondering if it was a dream, or a hallucination. Maybe Tommy had never been there at all. Maybe-

“Calm down,” Maddie instructed, rubbing her thumb over his palm. “He’d been here for three nights, Buck. We finally got him to go home for a bit. Shower, change, try to sleep. He’ll be back later.”

His eyes scanned the room. “I- I need my phone.”

“Right now?” Maddie questioned, glancing around at the other very confused visitors.

“Yes. Yes, right now.”

“Okay, okay, I’ve got it.” She picked up the bag beside her chair, digging in it briefly before pulling out Buck’s phone.

“He might not answer,” she said, handing it over to him. “He’s probably resting.”

Buck was too busy typing out a text to listen. His words were simple.

Truly Madly Deeply.

The text bubble was only on his screen for a couple of seconds before a reply came through.

I’ll be there in twenty minutes.

[decayical]

✦ ── SOFTLY, SWEETLY !

❝ blade loves you, he will never stop loving you . ❞

01 notes: i literally have nothing to put here like ever ... this was my first time writing soft dom im pretty sure i hope it's ok 🙏🙏

02 tags: praise kink, dumbification, unintentional edging, a bit angsty a but fluffy if you squint, creampie, afab/gn reader, puppy/sweetheart/baby used as pet names, blade is called bladie :3

03 mdni blogs do not interact! a minor wrote this. word count 848

“so pretty, so pretty, so pretty, so pretty, fuck—so pretty, just for me.”

blade let out a soft whimper as he continued to thrust gently into you, his tongue slightly lolling out of his mouth as he stared into space. he probably didn't even realize how tangled up he and you were in the blankets, because all on his mind was you, you, you. your pretty face, your flushed cheeks, your soft thighs and the oh-so-heavenly way you squeezed around his fat cock.

though, to be fair, it's not like you were much better—despite blade's slow movements, the drag of his cock along your walls was enough to fuck you dumb, making your head fuzzy in the best way possible. you had been teetering on the edge of a climax for so long you became much more sensitive than usual, and even though you desperately wanted to cum you still love, love, loved the feeling—being beneath him, completely at his mercy.

blade tilted his head down to connect your tongue to his, the sloppy kiss being the only thing to ground you as he let out a pretty little moan, snapping his hips into yours just once, but it was enough to make you squeal and writhe around under his hold. in that moment, he was so deep inside of you that his tip was probably kissing your cervix from how full you felt, the unfamiliar sensation quickly becoming too much as you arched your back, trying to make sense of the situation.

blade cursed internally, shushing you and pressing comforting kisses all over your exposed neck to distract yourself from the sudden pain. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, my love…” he continued to whisper to you, resuming his slow, sensual movements as he started to rub your clit with a calloused thumb.

you squealed again, your back arching as tears pricked the corner of your eyes and you reached out to tug at his hair. “blade, blade, ‘s too big! too much, hurts, fuck, more, so—ah—so full…”

blade let out a soft chuckle, his thumb doused in your arousal moving up to caress your cheek. “you're not making any sense, puppy. is it too much or not?” he asked teasingly, licking your jaw. “like that, yeah? right here?” his thrusts suddenly got more aggressive again, but not like he was trying to stab you with his dick—they were sharp, the thrusts inward so fast you could barely process what was happening, but he'd drag his cock out of your slick walls so painfully slow a frustrated moan left your mouth.

“blaaaade,” you whined, toes curling as your legs wrapped around his waist, “love you…”

blade’s chest panged with a sort of emotion he was unfamiliar with, yet somehow the sensation felt nostalgic to him at the same time. “oh, baby,” he cooed, tucking a strand of hair away from your face, “i love you too. taking me so well, hmm? ‘s just like you were made for this dick.”

his musings made your heart flutter as your cheeks burned up, you nodded vigorously in agreement as he moved his hands to pin your wrists above your head. “mm, yeah made f’ you, made just f’ you, bladie.”

you let out this bright smile that always seemed to make blade's day, and you nuzzled the forearm and hand that was close to your head. you peppered kisses all over his scarred wrists, feeling his hands twitch and tighten over your own.

“fuck, i—i love you.” blade's head swam, the coil in his stomach tightening as he let out another shy moan. “gonna let me cum inside you, pretty? gonna let me make you all mine?”

you whined, wiggling your hips to get more friction. “c–close,” was the only thing you managed to say, but to blade it was good enough.

“we cum together,” he mumbles, hand gently grazing your jaw as he kisses you softly, deliciously. he never once changed his pace, always keeping it slow, soft, firm, but it was still enough to have his thighs twitching and your walls fluttering around him, the comfort in each other more than enough.

you came first, letting out a high-pitched squeal as you tightened around him and your fluids covered the base of his dick. blade's eyes fell closed, he muttered “fuck”, before thrusting into you just once more before he let you milk his cock. he kept on moving, trying to prolong both of your orgasms, shaky breaths leaving his chest and he whined. his release filled you to the brim and then started to spill out, truly a mesmerizing sight.

his hands let go of yours and shyly, you reached for his neck, delving into a kiss. his tongue glided over yours, tasting everything you had to offer. “so good for me,” he whispered, trailing your jaw with his fingers.

“fuck… again, bladie,” you whined, moving to rile him up. “‘gain, please? wan’ your cock.”

blade huffed. “you have that, sweetheart.” he grabbed your jaw to make you look directly into his eyes. “you have that and more.”

[snuggleboots]

₊˚♡˚₊ The Akatsuki and their jealousy ₊˚♡˚₊

Tags: GN Reader, GN flirt, general jealousy and implied murder shenanigans.

Tobi essentially zeroes in the instant someone else starts laughing a little too hard at your jokes. Uhm, hello? You're funny, but you're not that funny. In fact, he's pretty sure he's the only person that busts a gut laughing when you crack your silly little one-liners or puns. It's cute to him, nobody else has any business making a play by acting all giggly and doe-eyed. He doesn't need to be violent about it - and really, why would he be? Tobi's just as happy to lean in - uncomfortably close - and then loudly declare that they have something stuck in their teeth! And it's super noticeable! So's their breath! It's not rude, he's just being helpful! He can smell their lunch through his mask! And it's rank! How embarrassing! Haha! They really should go brush their teeth, huh! Go away! Far, far, away!

Hidan is, in fact, very liable to wind up jealous over stupid little things that always result in becoming a pain in the ass for you to defuse when he inevitably hops onto his bullshit. You're out trying to enjoy one meal in peace together? That's funny, because the server seemed to put some weird, flirtatious emphasis on hot when they asked how you like your tea, and that's a problem, and that bitch knows it, too. Oh, they wanna know how hot you like it? Alright! There's loads of people on this earth, and they really wanna get stabbed over you? Fuck it! He just sat down, but clearly he's got some shit to do now. Dinner and a show! Why not?! He gets why Kakuzu doesn't tip now, not that he was gonna anyway. Shit service, and thirsty-ass servers. Fucking ridiculous.

Deidara is the first to notice when someone gets too close and cosy with you. Does it bug him immediately? No. His reaction, however, depends entirely on yours. Do you notice that they're smiling with way too much teeth when they playfully punched your arm? No? Alright. He can let that slide. It's when they deliberately divert your attention from him to themselves that he starts getting annoyed. He's not at all above pointing out tacky behaviour, petty king, and even if it embarrasses you a little, it is highly satisfying for him to see the flirt's face drop into something sour or burn up from the embarrassment. It's even better if you snicker along with him.

Kakuzu's only problem with someone chatting your ear off and really gushing over whatever comes out of your mouth is the fact that they're boosting your ego and he has to deal with it later. Not because the offending flirt boosted your ego, he doesn't give a damn about that, but he's now going to hear the same things you just told them about later when he's already just heard it - and he sincerely doesn't care to hear it again. He doesn't want to act interested, and yet he's going to be faced with either being called a dick, or being forced to feign something to avoid bickering about it after the fact. God dammit.

Kisame doesn't mind seeing someone try their damndest to flirt with you. He trusts you, and he's very happy to sit back while you turn them down- or, if he's lucky, watch while the flirt makes an idiot of themselves trying too hard to clue you in and get your attention. It's funny - he's laughing, and he isn't even trying to hide it. If he's in a cheeky mood, he'll even stir the pot, because he has gremlin tendencies and his humour is catered exclusively to himself. Yeah, he'll egg them on in little ways, until they're feeling nice and confident. Then, while he isn't really a PDA kind of guy, he'll drape a brawny arm over your shoulders, plonk a cheek atop your head and drawl something to the effect of, 'You know what? You do look great in that outfit. It'll look better on the floor later. Ready to go?' Kisame likes finding his own fun like this. The flirts always flap their lips like gasping fish when he hits 'em with that bit, and it tickles his brain just right.

Itachi is generally ambivalent. You have attractive qualities, he knows this, and he's well acquainted with the consequence of having said attractive qualities. As long as you're fine with it and nobody's pushing any obvious boundaries, he's fine with it too. Jealousy isn't an issue at all with Itachi. It only becomes one if you end up uncomfortable and the flirt doesn't pick up on that fact. In that case? He's glad to leave with you, if you don't feel like handling it. If you don't want to leave, or leaving isn't an option? Well, he can use his words. Or, if they've ruffled your feathers enough to annoy him, there are many benefits to being a genjutsu master. Oh, noooo, suddenly all eyes are on the flirt and the judgmental looks are intense and highly disarming. Or, uh oh! There's definitely a fire that just broke out, and they're the only one panicking about it! Oh wow, they left in a hurry. What a shame. They must've drank a little too much, or something like that.

Sasori, simply put, could not possibly care less if you paid him. Possibly aggravated by the fact that someone's breathing air in his direction while he's minding his business with you, someone he can actually tolerate. Yeah, he fully expects you to handle that. He's gained a knack for zoning minor annoyances out- until those minor annoyances become general annoyances. It's only when the offending flirt's voice becomes grating - which, really, doesn't take long at all before he bothers intervening if you haven't already shooed them away yourself. If a terse 'shut up' or 'begone' doesn't dissuade the persistent little gnat, he has poison and many fun, discrete vehicles with which to deliver it. It is purely for the sake of peace and quiet. Does he care when they drop like a sack of rocks, seizing and foaming at the mouth? Not particularly. Do as he does, and zone it out. Don't look at it (derogatory), you'll only encourage it to make more of a scene.

[littlerequiem]

we mourned the sea ˚⁎⁺ chapter 2

> Crossposted on AO3

Levi hasn't seen you in a year, and he wonders how you will find him. Changed, perhaps. Lost, definitely. Or: After the war, you and Levi learn to live in this new world.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 - Levi Ackerman / Female Reader (Attack on Titan)

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 - Rated Explicit (18+). Post-Canon, Post-War, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Grumpy/Sunshine, Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Grief/Mourning, Chronic Pain, Panic Attack, Depression, Ambulatory Wheelchair Use, Descriptions of the Rumbling (WC: 7k).

( Previous chapter / Next chapter / WMTS' Masterlist )

It’s past curfew when you catch a glimpse of Levi on the rooftop of the infirmary. He's been coming up here this past week, though this is the first time you approach him.

“You gonna tell anyone?” Levi asks. He’s playing with a small pocket knife, twirling it in his hand.

You consider his question. No doubt Erwin would want to know about his new gamble sneaking away from the barracks every evening. Then again, knowing Erwin, he might already know and chooses to just let it slide anyway.

You lean your weight over the edge of the window sill, gazing at the way moonlight crowns Levi's hair. “Are you going to hurt anyone with that knife?”

Levi's eyes twinkle in the night. “What, just because I’m from the Underground means I’m gonna stab someone?”

“Actually,” you say carefully, “I was more worried about you hurting yourself.”

His eyes lose their fire; he focuses back on his knife. “I won’t.”

.

.

.

Freedom—it is the ability to glimpse at endless blue skies; it is horse riding until dusk; it is choices and opinions and being able to voice them.

These days, Levi takes it for granted, his freedom. He’s an ungrateful asshole like that.

If the people from his childhood would hear him now, they would spit in his face. Try to beat him to a pulp. Here he is, lacking gratitude, when some poor lowlife was born and died in that shit hole that was the Underground.

Levi hears that the Underground doesn’t exist anymore. You’ve told him that the Rumbling caused earthquakes to fracture the ground, that much of the subterranean city has been buried under. There were some casualties, of course, but the worst could be avoided since Queen Historia had ordered a gradual evacuation years prior.

Levi wonders if the people now discovering life above ground still have violence in their blood the way he once did when he first saw the sun.

“Levi, where is your secret tea stash?”

Your question muffles over the sound of the kettle groaning awake on the gas stove, blending with the sound of waves crashing outside. It tears him right out of his thoughts and away from the headline he'd been reading: 'More than 75% of refugees in Marley now rehoused, much work still remains in the mental aftermath of the war'.

Levi has been up for several hours now, breakfast long since consumed. You, on the other hand, just got up, the whisks of sleep still present in your cadence, in the corners of your eyes. An anomaly to be sure—Levi remembers you being an early riser, but he supposes that habits, just like people, change.

“Why would I have a secret tea stash?” 

You yawn, a hand covering your mouth. “Well... you always had a secret tea stash, didn't you?”

“To hide from cadets and their grubby fingers. I’m all alone here.”

“Mm." You shrug, words a little slurred. "You could still want to hide a thing or two from me.”

“Then I wouldn’t tell ya where it was, would I?” Levi leans one elbow over the kitchen table, chin lazily resting on the center of his palm. His index finally pokes out to give directions. “S’on the left side, second cupboard.”

Your gaze follows his directive, only to look at him with a slightly more straight posture. “See, that wasn’t so hard.” You stick your tongue out, like a damn child. “Words. They help.”

Levi refrains from rolling his eyes. He watches you open the cupboard, grabbing the tin of loose tea leaves.

On the chair next to him, Scout is curled up and fast asleep. The kitten's muzzle scrunches as she dreams.

“Are you sure I'm allowed to drink this?” 

Levi's eyes flicker back towards you. You're facing him, looking uncertainly at the tea.

“Yeah," he says. 

"But isn't this special? Isn't this tea from Paradis?"

It is tea from Paradis, courtesy of Armin. It's one of Levi's last boxes, in fact. He knows he'll eventually run out of it, and while he supposes he could ask for more of it, he thinks his taste buds will just need to adapt to something else. That's just the way life goes.

"You know," he mutters, "if you’re gonna be like this about every little thing around the house, it's gonna get tiring real fast.”

You focus on the tea preparation, turning away from him. “I’m just being polite."

“Why? You never bothered before."

"Ouch. Harsh.”

"S'not," Levi mumbles, running a hand through his hair. It’s freshly washed, still a bit damp. "I mean, no need to act all fake and shit."

"Okay... but this isn't like life in the Survey Corps. This is your house."

His house. Levi doesn't know if he should be more possessive about these things, the way he's seen some townspeople be with their possessions, but Levi's just never been one to care about these things. He never has.

Levi flips his newspaper to the next page. "So long as you keep the place clean, I don’t care about the rest."

“You don’t care?”

You've turned back in his direction, and his eyes meet yours. There's a spark in your gaze.

Oh you’re taunting him.

Levi crosses his arms over his chest. "Drill this into your head, Adler: anything that’s mine is yours, so just treat this place as such.”

That seems to shut you right up. You blink with a dumbfounded expression, apparently startled by his (accidental, Levi swears it was accidental) turn of phrasing. It’s soon replaced by words uttered beneath your breath, words Levi doesn’t quite grasp because his own ears are whistling. He returns his attention back to the newspaper, attempting to shrug off the weight of the innuendo.

Anything that’s mine is yours. What a stupid thing to say. That almost sounded like a confession or some shit. One day in, and Levi's already screwing up with his words.

For the next minute, Levi tries his damn best to focus on his newspaper.

“Getting her beauty rest, huh?” Levi looks up; you're placing two cups of tea on the table, one pushed towards him, along with a plate for the infusers. You're eying Scout. “She seems glued to your side,” you muse, sitting down.

“Kittens sleep a lot,” Levi supplies lamely.

“In any case, it’s cute to see the two of you together.”

Levi turns the handle of his cup to his left side. “Please.”

“Can you imagine what everyone would say? The fearless Captain Levi, succumbing to a cat—”

"Quit talking and just drink your tea, would you?”

A smirk tugs at your lips. “Aye, aye, captain."

For a moment, silence does fall, and his peripheral catches your chest rising and falling, something oddly quaint and peaceful about witnessing your breathing. You take to staring outside the window, looking at the view of the sea glimmering in the distance. He follows your line of sight, noting that there’s a buildup of crusted salt around the windows; Levi should really clean it off before summer ends.

“Hey, so,” you interrupt after a while, “I was thinking of going to the market today. Get a few things. Maybe find a job.”

Levi locks eyes with you. “A job?” 

“Mm. Yeah. Something that makes sense for me...”

You want to get back to the medical field, already? You just got here.

“Why the hurry?"

“Well…" you say, "I don’t want to leech off you forever—”

“You're not.”

“Still, it'd be good for me, right?” You shoot a bright smile—something too bright about it. Levi's eyes narrow. “Anyway, you wanna join or what? You know... I’d love to meet all the nosy people you’ve told me about.”

Levi purses his lips, feeling as though you glossed over that subject much too quickly. A part of him wants to nudge you a bit, though his usual habit to just let you be kicks in. Whatever you're hiding, you have your reasons.

Levi considers your proposal. He knows it would be better if he didn’t join, seeing how damn foolish he’s already acting around you. He should try to set clear boundaries with you.

And yet—

“Sure,” comes out of him all the same.

Well, so much for that, anyway.

.

.

.

“You flew.”

You stand there, staring at the sight of the man as he finishes his round of training.

Levi shoots you a look, grappling with the hand grips. “I’m just using the ODM gear correctly.”

You take a step towards him. “No, but you’re amazing. You must know that, right? I’m not a soldier, but… I know talent when I see it.”

He gives you an odd look then, and before you have a chance to say anything else, propels himself in the air and disappears into the shadows of the forest.

.

.

.

At the market, Levi follows you around like a brooding shadow.

He’s in his wheelchair today. Behind him, you’re pushing him and asking questions about the scenery and the people and all sorts of trivial things.

(“Look, look there, all these teas. Have you tried any of them?”

“Some.”)

(“I'm gonna buy some flowers to plant in the gardens. Is that alright?”

“Do what you want.”)

(“Is the sea always as pretty?”

“Yeah. Sometimes, there's shit that gets carried in.”

"How poetic.")

(“Look, Levi! A car.”

“It looks dangerous.”

“I think I’d like to try driving. Get over my fear, you know?”

“You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“Hey, give me some credit! S’not so different from riding a horse, right?”

“You’ve got a few screws loose up there, you know that?”)

Well, Levi was never great at talking. Not that you seem to mind; you’ve always liked to ask him questions and fill in the blanks when needed. Most of the time, it’s the silence that sits comfortably between the two of you that Levi appreciates so much anyway. It just is, like a soft cloud fills the sky with shapes.

You're now moving next to him, calmly taking in the sight of the buzzing market. It's a little too busy for Levi's liking, but the sight of you distracts him: you’re wearing a sunhat with ribbons, coupled with your cotton overalls. Levi’s never seen you wear a hat like this one before, but he thinks it suits you.

“You should protect your skin from the sun,” you said earlier. “That’s why I wear a hat.”

“I didn’t come to the surface to run away from the sun,” he grumbled back, even if he did notice how warm summers in Marley truly are (and yes, he’d gotten sunburned on several occasions, and also yes, his injured eye stings every time the sun shines too brightly... but, still, Levi wouldn’t budge).

“Good morning, dear boy! What a surprise to see you here!” someone says, tearing Levi out of the thoughts.

Attached to that booming voice is none other than Levi's boss, Adam Jakowski.

Originally an Eldian from Marley, Mr Jakowski was one of the first residents that settled here in Mare. He quickly opened his carpentry shop, and when Levi moved in, he found a job there.

Today, however, Mr Jakowski isn't here for any carpentry-related trades. Every week-end, the man likes to come here and share the goods his wife makes.

"What brings you here?" Mr Jakowski asks.

“I was dragged out, believe it or not,” Levi answers, head bobbing towards you.

Next to him, he hears you snort.

“And who might this pretty young lady be? Are you the missus Ackerman, perchance?” Mr Jakowski asks, his tone carrying a curiosity only people genuinely interested in others are capable of mustering.

Levi feels his cheeks burn at the idea, but you just chuckle, swatting a hand in the air to dispel the notion. “No such thing, sir. But I am new to town and it pleases me all the same to make your acquaintance. Miss Adler, charmed to meet you.”

Levi’s thin brows knit together. It’s the first time he hears you introduce yourself without your profession tied in.

Miss Adler. Not Dr Adler.

Strange.

“Well met, Miss Adler… Well met, indeed! Ah, it is a pleasure to see new faces in Mare, especially a lovely one such as yours. Will you be staying here for a while?”

“Mm. Who knows?” You smile. “I can’t quite say yet, to tell the truth.”

Levi’s throat suddenly feels a little thick.

“Anyway, what are you selling here, sir?” you ask, peering over the stall of the merchant, gazing at all the products and zeroing on a particular one: a red paste.

“The one you're eying is a paste from the eastern part of Marley, ma'am. It’s made with paprika and bell-peppers, you see. Great for inflammations and stomach issues,” the old man explains. He makes you smell it, then turns around to sprinkle it onto something. “You can coat it like so,” he raises a piece of bread that he smears with the red paste, “or add it to your cooking.”

He hands you the toast.

You bite into it, chewing for several moments as you raise a hand over your mouth. “Walls! It does have such a particular taste. It’s the aftertaste, right? Spicy.”

Your eyes wander to meet Levi’s, and you raise the bread slightly in his direction as if to inquire if he wants to taste it as well. Levi shakes his head, and you shoot him a smile, gulping down the rest of the food.

Levi crosses his arms over his chest, drumming his left index in a series of five taps over his forearm—tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. Next to him, he hears the way you engage in easy conversation, talking about the weather, how the region has adjusted to the influx of settlers, how you're looking for a job and how, yes, you’d love to meet his wife and daughter!

The rest flies over his head. Instead, Levi looks up at your sunhat again, admiring the way it hugs the shape of your skull, the way the ribbons flow gently with the breeze.

Levi wonders if he could buy you a hat. Or sew you a new ribbon. Would you accept his gifts?

At last, you seem convinced of the product and order three jars. This is the moment when Levi comes back to his senses, seeing you rummage through your pockets to find coins to pay for your purchase.

No such luck.

Levi beats you to it, slinging out the leather pouch his first squad gifted him many years ago, placing the change in Mr Jakowski's hands.

You blink, mouth parted, but Levi just plops the jars he receives into your bag, wheeling himself back.

He hears you fumble your goodbyes to Mr Jakowski, thanking him for his help, and at once, your voice is in his ears.

“Levi, why did you just pay?” you ask, tone bewildered.

“Don’t make a big deal out of nothing.”

“I’m not." You stop in front of him, all stern-looking, hands on your hips. "You didn’t have to do that.”

Levi raises a defiant brow. “But I did, and it’s done.”

“Don’t make it sound so simple. You’re already letting me stay in your house for free. I intend to pay my dues, you know. I have money.”

“I'm sure you do.”

“You—”

“Complain again and I won’t let you pay for a damn thing.”

You close your mouth, glaring at him.

Levi swears he hears something along the lines of ‘I’ll just sneak it back into your pockets later’ whispered under your breath, but when he narrows his eyes in your direction, you feign a look of innocence.

After purchasing everything you wanted to purchase—a book on art, flower beds for the garden—you finally settle in a cozy little café on the town’s square. You order some pastries, while Levi takes his usual tea, the closest thing that resembles the tea from back home. You watch people from everywhere bustle by while Levi sips on his drink.

“Hey, look!” you point out suddenly. “I’ve never seen those birds before.”

You've pointed to a flock of birds of all colors, no larger than a fist. They’re hopping on the ground, scavenging for food. You get up, asking for some seeds from a waiter to feed them.

“Why did they migrate to this part of the world?” you wonder as you lay out food for them.

Levi doesn’t know what to say. He stares at the birds, nibbling the seeds, admiring the way their feathers seem foreign in this strange land.

Maybe, Levi thinks to himself, just like all the rest of this town, the birds were looking for a new home.

.

.

.

“You know, you should try to teach them.”

Levi’s bored expression swerves in your direction. You’re back to leaning on the window sill, while he sits on the rooftop. A routine, these last weeks.

“What?” Levi mutters.

“Your combat skills. I saw you at training again. I’ve never seen anything quite like the way you handle yourself. You should teach the other cadets.”

His eyes narrow. “Why would I do that?”

“You’ve been out there, right? Seen what the titans are like? You could save their lives.”

.

.

.

The square of Mare is quiet at this time of the evening. A half-moon hangs lazily over the black sky, casting its silver glow over Mare.

You’ve both been drinking. Cheap, bubbly, acidic. Cremant, a drink native to Marley. It was given to you by a shopkeeper when you picked up bread earlier—all it took was seeing you by his side and hearing you were new in town. The woman practically threw the bottle at you, offering it as a welcome gift. You tried to refuse, many times over, but the woman wouldn't take no for an answer (“We need young blood around, so anythin’ to convince younglings like yourself to settle down!”).

Now, here you are, finishing the bottle together in a park. Levi sits with you on a bench, his wheelchair tucked behind it.

Silence.

Levi thinks there’s something on your mind. You’ve never been easy to read; you’ve got a tendency to hide and scheme, to play it off like it’s no big deal, but it’s always your lips that give you away. You bite them when you’re worried, you pout when you’re deep in thoughts.

“Hey.” Levi raises your attention, only to find gentle eagerness on your face. It makes him frown for some reason. “Say something.”

You seem a little taken aback by his directive. It’s rare for Levi to actually seek conversation after all, much less to be the one initiating it.

“What do you want me to say?” you ask.

Levi shrugs. “I don’t know, just anything.”

“Like… what?”

Levi mulls it over. If it were him, he’d hate to be put on the spot and asked outright what to say. So he decides to try a tactic he’s seen you use on others—starting with something light before finding the right angle to tackle the actual subject.

“What was your favorite sight?” he inquires. “On your travels.”

“My… favorite sight?”

Levi gives you a look that makes it clear he’s not gonna repeat himself.

“The sea, of course.” You raise your feet on the bench, hugging your knees as you stare off pensively. “It’s funny, really. With every nation we visited, we saw mountains, deserts and forests… but I kept coming back to the sea.”

Levi remembers the first time he saw the sea. The water, glimmering like thousands of silver gems. The blue sky, coming to meet its shine. The 104th brats, with awestruck wonder. Hange and their brazen curiosity.

And you, the way you’d looked at him…

If ever there was a moment of peace during Levi’s years as a soldier, it was those blissful hours spent by the sea. It felt like the world had grown so big, and that there was only wonder to be discovered.

Of course, reality had caught up.

“I’m glad you’ve picked a place like this one to settle down,” you say. "It kind of feels like a homecoming, you know?"

"Yeah."

“The stars are so bright out here.”

Levi follows your line of sight.

This past year, Levi has rediscovered an admiration for stars. Back inside the Walls, they reminded him of Isabel and Furlan, of his dreams from another life. This past year, they’ve started making him think of you, too.

All because of one of your letters: 'Levi, do you ever think about the fact that, despite the distance that separates us, every night, when we look at the sky, we see the same stars?'

“What else,” he finds himself asking, “what else do you have to say about your travels?”

“Hmm… what do you want to know exactly? I wrote so much in my letters, I’d have thought you’d be tired of hearing about that topic.”

“Yeah, but you only described random shit. What was it like?”

What was it like without me?

That thought hangs on his tongue, begs for relief, but Levi bites it down. It’s not right for him to ask; it's none of his business.

And yet, your answer still takes him by surprise, “It was… hard.”

At that, Levi does raise a brow. He finds your gaze already on him.

“The sights were... nice, of course,” you explain. “I got to witness all manners of landscapes. Those were the photographs I sent you in my letters. But then, well, the rest came.”

You swallow loudly. Levi finds his heart squeezing, though he doesn’t fully understand why.

“Seeing the aftermath of the Rumbling…” Your lower lip quivers as the volume of your tone decreases. “It was horrifying. The emptiness was the worst. It’s not like murdering someone in cold blood, see. There, you have to deal with bodies. But, what Eren did…”

You shudder. Levi thinks you’re trying to even out your breathing, and a part of him wants to reach out to you and squeeze your hand. And yet, he knows there’s nothing he can do to really alleviate those images flashing in your brain. That nothing he does can make it right again, that the pain you feel is the cost both of you need to bear for the rest of your lives.

“After that, I went with Armin because I knew he would need help, because I always believed in diplomacy… because I still believe in it. Even now," you say. "But many nations hate the Eldians from Paradis. They hate us and maybe they have every right to hate us.”

You stop talking and close your eyes. For a while, the lull in conversation allows Levi to stare at you unabashedly, to commit your features to memory.

“Why did you never say any of this in your letters?” he asks mid-silence.

“I guess it felt easier not to mention it. I don’t know. I wanted you to hear hopeful things in my letters.”

“I’ve seen how shitty the world can be.”

“I know, but that’s exactly why.” Your eyes somehow find his own again. “That’s why I didn’t want you to know it’s still the same out there.”

It makes Levi’s blood rush, like he was some breakable thing that needed to be protected. “You don’t need to coddle me.”

And yet, you don’t even seem to notice the snap in his tone, your crossed arms tightening around your knees.

“I know, Levi,” you whisper. “But that doesn’t mean that my pain is your burden to bear.”

Seeing your deflated expression, dipped chin resting over your knees as you lose yourself to your thoughts, Levi’s defense mechanism fizzles away.

That’s the thing about you.

No matter how harshly he reacts, you never seem to rise to the same level as him, the way others did in the military, and it might be why Levi always found it easier to stay by your side.

“You dumbass,” he says with a sigh. Despite telling himself to hone it back, Levi can’t help but raise a hand to the back of your skull, ruffling your head gently—the only comfort he knows how to hand out right now. “Of course that’s my burden.”

The knot in your throat bobs. “Levi, you don’t—”

“Don’t give me that.” He pauses, the words heavy on his tongue. “Even I no longer have the rank to prove it… what does it matter? Nothing’s changed.”

Your voice comes out grated. “Nothing’s changed?”

Levi hesitates. So much hangs on this question. Of course, things have changed.

And yet…

Levi retreats his hand, patting his stiff leg. “Some things did.”

“Oh... does it still hurt a lot?”

“Some days more than others. The doctor has helped.”

“I’m glad. Are you still seeing him every other week?”

He nods.

“That’s good. I’m glad.”

Levi's eyes narrow. “You said that already.” You shoot him a lopsided smile. He sighs, shaking his head. “Anyway, you gonna tell me why you stopped calling yourself a doctor?”

Different degrees of surprise flash across your face. Your eyes are wide as saucers, while your mouth stays slightly open.

Levi waits... and waits.

“Hey, you’re not trying to catch flies, are you?” he says, lifting a finger to poke at your chin.

His physical reminder seems to bring you back to the present.

At once, a pout forms on your lips. “How did you know I no longer want to be a doctor?”

Levi shrugs with one arm, pressing his back against the bench. “I guessed, and you just confirmed it.”

“I didn’t think you’d notice so quickly." You let out a wry snort, shaking your head. "Should have known; you’re always so perceptive.”

“And you’re beating around the bush.”

“Indeed, I am. It’s just… I’m scared of your judgment.”

At that, Levi has to frown. 

“Don’t give me that look, Levi Ackerman. Your judgment, yes. You’re a very scary man, just not for all the reasons people think you are.”

In the distance, the sound of seagulls drifts from the skies. 

“When I asked you if I could come here…” you say after a moment, “I kept on thinking to myself: What will Levi think of me?” You raise one hand to your face, glancing at the scar that runs from your index to the lower part of your palm—a memento left by the Yaegerists. “What will he think of this hand?”

Levi stays silent.

Your smile turns bitter. “You always said my hands were made for healing. But after everything that happened, everything we did, they’re not anymore. They can’t be.”

“Hey—���

“—and the question kept playing in a loop in my head. Will Levi think I’m a coward? Will he think less of me for giving up on this? Is he gonna be done with me?”

Levi ignores all the ways you seem to include him in your insecurities and focuses on one thing only: “You’re a lot of things but a coward isn’t one of them.”

You shake your head. “But I am a coward. I don’t have it in me to heal people, not like that anymore.”

Levi doesn’t know why, but there’s suddenly a sense of dread forming in his pit of his stomach. “Is that why you’re here?” 

Your eyes fire back on him. “No, I didn’t come here to escape, or as a last resort.” You glance away. “But I do feel… lost.”

That makes Levi backtrack. You? Lost? The doctor who blazed through the Survey Corps’ ranks, making her demands known to the Interior and Erwin like it was no big deal, who pushed for changes to save soldiers' lives?

That doesn’t align with the person he knows.

“I don’t think it’s right anymore, the path I chose.” Your tone is suddenly more frail, more vulnerable. “The first three years after the Rumbling, it felt like the right thing to do, giving my skills in helping others but now… Now I feel like a fraud. To arrive here, I had to end lives.”

Levi’s throat is heavy. “We all did.”

You ignore his words. “The attack in Trost, the one in Liberio, and so many others…. I killed people there. I did. And I remember your words, Levi, about it being us or them but I… now, whenever I look at my hands, all I see is the stain of blood. After all of that, I just don’t think I’m fit to call myself a doctor anymore.”

“You shouldn’t regret the past.”

“Maybe. But it's easier said than done.”

“Is that why you’re now calling yourself Miss Adler?”

You nod.

Levi purses his lips. He cannot understand your perspective, not truly, because his own moral compass has never been set right. To him, killing was always about survival and there was never good or bad. There simply was the act and the aftermath. There was the fact that he needed to keep on pushing, for humanity.

Despite this, Levi wants to understand. He wants to tell you that your hands did heal, that they continue to heal in invisible ways. He wants to tell you that however you want to become want, it’s all fine to him.

“Then start over,” he declares, throwing an arm to the back of the bench.

“Yeah.” You snort, fiddling with a loose strand of fabric of your overalls. “It’s not that easy, starting over, is it?”

“Never said it was.” Levi would know. It’s not like he’s here to preach the moral high ground. “But if you want to, you’re the only one that can make it happen.”

“Yeah, I know.” You raise a hand to press against your right eye. Levi has the strange urge to tuck it away, to take it in between his own, but he holds himself back. “It’s just… hard. You know, when we were fighting titans, then humans, then nations… I just never considered who I would be after all of it. And when I found myself trying, I found I wasn’t the person I once was, that I couldn’t do what I would have done any more. You know?”

“Yeah.”

“Old me would have kept on going. Old me would have continued to heal people and traveled and helped Armin with peace negotiations. And I tried. Walls, I tried, Levi. But at the end of the day, I just find myself… tired. I’m just so tired.”

Something heavy fills Levi’s chest. He understands, to a degree, what you’re going through. He knew his role was over the moment that the fighting stopped, but for you, the war hasn’t stopped raging—conflicted on where your place should be.

“Sorry," you say, "I know I’m wallowing here, that I’m throwing my own pity party. But, shit, it’s hard, you know?”

“Yeah. But it’s fine, to wallow. No one expects you not to have setbacks.”

“You don’t mean that. Weren’t you always telling soldiers not to linger and look back? Besides, I don’t get to say any of this in front of you. Not with everything you went through.”

Levi’s jaw clenches. “Hey. It’s not a competition.”

This time, he reaches for your hand and unclasps it, noticing you digging your nails into your skin. He forces you to squeeze his hand instead—only, now, you treat him with such care, not even applying pressure.

Levi takes it as his cue to drive his point home, “I only said what I said because a Scout’s life was a battlefield every day. But we’re not soldiers anymore.”

He sucks in a breath at those words; he realizes it’s the first time he acknowledges it out loud: We're not soldiers anymore. Levi's a hypocrite, saying these things, when he himself hasn’t let go completely. And yet, for your sake, he wants to pretend—he wants to pretend that there’s a way out for the both of you.

“So I’ve told you, the offer still stands," he adds. "You can stay here for as long as you want."

“Careful what you promise, Levi." You snort. "I’m going to be a real burden to you.”

“Only when you don’t clean.”

Your weak snicker turns into laughter. It might be the most enchanting of sounds Levi’s heard in a long while.

Levi lets go of your hand, despite the fact that he wishes he could hold on, but he tells himself that friends don’t hold each other’s hands for prolonged moments. And that's what the two of you are. Friends.

“You know, when it came down to it… after months of introspection,” you say, voice soft, “all I knew is that I wanted to be near you.”

Oh.

“I stayed away for a year, thinking I could prove to myself, to you, that I wasn’t the needy person I once was," you say. "That I could, I don’t know, manage on my own. But all I got was… how much I missed you.”

Levi thinks his breathing might have stopped entirely.

“Levi, you’re… you’re important to me. You know that, right?” Your eyes find his own, glimmering under the moonlight. “I think… I just don’t want to not have you in my life anymore. Is that a strange thing to say?”

Levi is speechless. He stares at your lips, how plump and lovely they seem, glistening with moisture. He feels sweat on his back—damn this hellish warm weather—and he thinks perhaps he should act.

He forces his mouth open but instead of words—

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

An explosion blasts in his ears.

Levi screws his eyes shut, bracing himself for the impact. There’s screams echoing in the back of his skull, bullets ricocheting against concrete. He smells the charred scent of bodies, sweet and off-putting.

But the fighting never comes. When he evens out his breathing, leaning his weight onto the bench, he notices—

You’re on the floor.

Your hands are covering your ears, your lower lip wobbling. You’re muttering things under your breath, things Levi can’t recognize, but there’s tears brimming the corner of your eyes, and Levi realizes then what happened.

You’re hyperventilating.

At once, Levi is by your side, bending down. The action causes his legs to scream in pain, but he promptly ignores it. He sees you and only you.

You, on the other hand, are unable to look at him; you whimper erratically.

Levi can deduce the source of your panic, because he’s had his own moments like this. It’s the way certain noises, smells, and others pull him back into the past. It must be the same for you.

“Hey,” Levi’s voice comes low and clear, trying to muster it all for you, “take a deep breath. It's not guns. Just fireworks some teenagers are toying with.”

But you seem unable to follow his advice, shaken as you are. You squeeze your eyes shut, tears clumping, streaming thick down the valleys of your cheeks. He sees your fingers pull at the strands of your hair.

Before he can think about it, his arms reach out of you, looping around the small of your back, where he draws you in. He presses you firmly against him. At first, you attempt to fight him back, muttering “no, no, no,” beneath your breath, but when Levi finally manages to smooth over your words with his own, you stop fighting.

Your head slumps down into the crest of his shoulder, like you were just a ragdoll gone limp. Levi tries to ignore the way his worry doubles down.

“Adler, listen to my voice,” he urges, trying to use things that have helped him during his worst panic attacks, during his worst episodes. Of course, Levi never allowed anyone to see him like this, but if he had, he thinks this would have helped. “Your ear’s pressed against my heart right now. Do you hear my heartbeat?”

“Y-yeah,” you answer, voice barely a raw whisper. The sound is enough to shatter something in Levi. It’s so small, so fragile.

“Focus on it," he says. "Focus on me speaking. Pretend that it’s the only sound in the world.”

You seem to attempt to laugh, but it comes across as another nervous sob, hiccups strangling your words. “S-someone thinks h-ighly of his v-voice.”

Levi just clicks his tongue, tightening his hold on you.

Your hands interweave with the collar of his shirt, and you bury your face deeper into his neck. It takes several moments, but he feels the tension in your spine untangle, vertebrate by vertebrate.

“Steady,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear. “You’re alright.”

Your warm lips, drenched with tears, move against his neck. “I just can’t do it, ‘Vi… I just can’t.”

“You can.”

“I’m fucking stuck and I feel so guilty there’s always noises in my brain…” A sob cracks out of you. “I’m so fucking lost.”

“But you’re not alone.”

Your knuckles tighten, but your breath falters.

“You’re not alone,” Levi repeats. His three-fingered hand weaves through the hair at the back of your skull, mingling between your locks. He’s reminded of another time, long ago, when he did this after Nanaba died. “Even if you feel lost right now.”

“I just—I don’t want to be a bother. I don't want to overstay my w-welcome.”

“You’re not. You can stay as long as you want.” Until you grow tired of me. “Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

You’re still hiccuping for air as you draw away from him. You seem to be searching for something, dazed and blurry.

“Y-you don’t mind?” you ask.

"Have I ever said something I didn't mean?"

"I... I guess not."

For a while, neither Levi nor you say anything else. He watches as your eyes cast down, eyelashes still full of tears. Your breath is back to being steady, though no less frail.

Eventually, your digits settle over his forearms, looking back at him with puffy eyes.

He offers you his clean handkerchief from his breast pocket. 

You take it with a crooked smile, staring down at the white cloth. “Thank you, Levi. I mean it.”

Levi looks away; he doesn't think he's done much.

“Walls.” You hiccup, lifting the handkerchief to your eyes. “I’ve made a scene, haven’t I? It’s the alcohol, I s-swear. I barely d-drink these days.”

“You were always a lightweight.”

“Pff, don’t remind me.”

“Well, judging by the brats walking towards us," he looks over your shoulders, "they’ve come to apologize.”

Sure enough, moments later, as you help Levi up and you both sit back down on the bench, three snotty kids approach the scene with a look of apology plastered on their faces.

One of them, a boy with vibrant ginger hair, takes the lead. “Ma’am… are you alright?”

You sniffle, eyes still red. “Fine—”

“She’s not fine, brat,” Levi interjects. “Don’t light this shit up in public.”

The boy grimaces with the kind of juvenile innocence only kids can muster.

“Don’t listen to him,” you say, giving Levi a look. “But hey, do try to be careful, ‘kay? Don’t light up things like this all on your own. Fireworks are dangerous, not to mention they’re scary when they’re up so close.”

“I... I won't do it no more, ma’am…" the boy says. "I really didn’t mean to scare you.”

“That’s alright. You couldn’t have known.”

The boy nods before finally fleeting up and meeting Levi's glare. The child instantly cowers back.

“Mistakes happen," Levi grumbles with a softer tone. "Just be more careful.”

“Y-yeah, mister. Won’t happen again.”

"Good."

.

.

.

Erwin finds you in the stables one day. “Levi is integrating with the squad.”

You stop cleaning your horse, raising a brow at the man. “Is he now?”

“Mm." There's wistful amusement on Erwin's face. "He's giving advice to his comrades.”

"Is that right?"

That night, when you greet Levi on the rooftop of the infirmary, you don't say a thing about this exchange, but you'll smile just a bit brighter at him anyway. 

.

.

.

Levi comes back from his evening shower to find something waiting for him in his bedroom. A piece of paper, carefully folded in three, is placed on his cabinet. Next to it is a medium-sized, black pouch.

Levi first unfolds the piece of paper, unsurprised to find that it’s a letter and that it’s from you.

Levi, You’ll excuse me for coming in without asking, but you insinuated I should make myself comfortable, so… Here I am. You know, if you're going to let me pay for things, then it’s decided: I’m going to bribe you with new tea! No, you can’t fight me on that. As you know, I’m a force of nature—unstoppable. Here’s a new blend for you. I know for certain you haven’t tried this one because it’s straight from my travels. I don’t know why I waited a week to give it to you, but I hope you like it. Your amazing new roomie, - A.

Levi’s lips twitch. He can just picture you scribbling those words in your room, a grin on your face, waiting for him to take a shower just so you can place this handout in secret.

He briefly puts the letter back down, moving to open the gift. The black pouch hides a tea tin of simple design, with an etiquette that’s handwritten. White pu-erh tea. He slowly unscrews the sealed top, bringing it close to his nose to inhale its potent fragrant. Tea aromas, rich in citrus, fill his brain with a lovely buzzing effect. It smells nice, unlike anything he’s encountered before and Levi thinks its taste will be to his liking—that you picked it knowing it would.

His eyes stray back to the letter, picking it back up. He loves the way you write his name, the way you loop the letters together. It's elegant.

With his heart just a bit lighter than usual, Levi adds your letter to the chest under his bed, filled with the rest of your correspondence.

( Next chapter / Join my taglist )

[lustlovehart]

Caught In Her Web

A/n: I love women

Pairing: Kafka x Reader

Summary: [Yandere] Dinner never seems to go right with Kafka

Warnings: Toxic date, memory erasure, unwanted touching, unconscious kiss

Her gloved fingers tap against the wooden table, every sound only increasing the tension through the room.

"Hm? Oh, don't look at me like that, I'm not gonna eat you dear."

At this rate, you wouldn't doubt if she did take a bite out of you.

"Kafka, quit this, what do you need from me this time?"

"Don't be so heartless [Name], maybe I just wanted to have dinner with my favorite person through the universe's."

"Cut it out."

"I'm not messing with you," her leather covered hands slowly make their way into your own, both palms caging your own in hers as she makes heavy contact into your soul. "Let's just eat shall we?"

You don't reply, only looking hesitantly at your hand covered by her malice.

You knew of the existence of scripts, she never hid information from you. Whatever information she did withhold probably would’ve been stuff you wouldn’t wanna know anyway.

The food laid between you two, the steam floating off it being very visible, yet Kafkas eyes completely overshadow them, rather than being drawn to the appetizers your focus is entirely on her, you don't look into her eyes, but just staring at her gloved hands is enough.

She has that effect on people you assume.

Her left hand plays with your arm, the digits of her limb playful crawling up your skin until they catch onto your chin, forcing you to finally look at her.

"You know darling, it's common coutersy to look at someone when you talk to them is it not?"

“I'm not gonna look at you."

Her fingers quickly release you from her hold, a playful 'hm' leaving her lips as she takes a fork and, somehow, makes stabbing a steak look both violent and elegant at the same time.

"Fine, be that way, the least you could do is let me feed you."

"I doubt you'd give me a choice."

"Hm, you're smart, good," the knife cuts through the meat, her utensil slowly lifting it to your mouth, her lips telling you to say 'ahh'. "Be careful dear, it's hot."

You don't give her the satisfaction of listening to her, despite the heat of the food radiating off of it, you don't blow. You'd rather burn your tongue than make this criminal happy with you.

You were right, your mouth is in so much pain. You try to keep your face neutral, but you can't help letting a little of the pain escape.

"See, I told you it was hot. I just praised you too."

You swallowed, it hurt like hell, but you swallowed. You're sure if it wasn't boiling it would've been delicious, but what's done is done.

"Try to at least enjoy our dinner, this will be the last time I see you for a while"

"Hm, maybe you're right, that does sound like something to celebrate."

"Oh, so you're only witty when it comes to remarks against me?"

"Was that not obvious?"

"You wound me [Name]" she looked down at the food again, instead of giving you more she only sighs and pushes the plate to the side. "Seems the dinner plans fell through. That's okay, Elio saw it coming."

"So even your 'heartfelt' dinner was apart of the script."

"Not all of it, we were just meant to sit at table filled with food, that wasn't apart of the plan."

"So you decided toying with me would be funner?"

"Playing with anyone is enjoyable to me, it's just nicer when it's you." She smiles after her words. Just that, a closed lip smile at you.

You look at the clock she had set up, it felt more like a countdown than a way to keep track of time. 3 hours left, that's too long for you.

"What, so you added your flirtations into this dinner?"

The more you think, 3 hours left till what?

“Hm, I did, is there problem? I don't think I hide my liking towards you."

Your brain can't remember what it was you were waiting for. It's like the memory of what waited for you at the end wasn't there anymore.

“You don't, but I wish you did."

Keep... Date... As long... Possible...

She leans across the table, her lips ghosting over your earlobe, a deep laugh escaping from her throat.

“How will I express my adoration for you then?" Her whisper came out teasing, yet if you looked past that, you can hear her underlying annoyance slip through the cracks. "Perhaps lock you in a golden cage like an innocent bird? Or should I do like a spider and trap you in my web." You sit still, not daring to move.

"Jokes of course, though, I would like for you to stay with me."

Feint words of broken memories invade your head, beating like some painful headache.

"Once this is over, you'll be different. It's sad I won't be able to keep the [Name] I cherish, but it's the price we have to pay for the script. These last moments will be what I'll have left of you, so I hope we can enjoy it together.

The whispers felt familiar, like you've been through it before. Spirit Whsiperer...

"Now, can we please enjoy this last meal of peace before it changes ?"

Your hands grab onto her as you push her to her side of the table. Your breaths were heavy once you remembered the situation the damned clock. Looking back at the time, how could time go by so quickly?

1 hour left.

"Don't try using that shit on me Kafka. It was 3 hours left 10 minutes ago how the hell could that be."

"That's the [Name] I like to see." She doesn't answer you, not a single question. While you frantically shake her.

“I told you myelf, I really do enjoy messing with you." Her hands aren't gloved anymore. The leather long being discarded, her fingers slowly reach up to your cheek pulling you closer to her face.

Her fingers are cold, like a corpse. You don't shiver though. Her touch is the most undisturbing part about her. It's what makes her so horrifying.

"Times up dear." Her thumb ghosts over your lips, gently placing her digit on you. She stand up from her seat, being eye to eye to yourself, her other hand placing itself on your waist, seemingly pulling you closer.

"Boom."

Your vision blacks as your head falls forward, the last thing you remember being the soft feeling of your face resting on her shoulder. Ice cold fingers are left stroking your head as the sound of a door opens.

"At the end of the day," Though you're out cold, deep down she wishes you can feel the way her freezing lips place a chaste kiss on your own. "I'm a selfish woman."

------

A dim light is all your blurred vision can see, the sound of a feint hum ringing through the empty space as well. Your head is rested on what feels to be someone's thighs, whoever it is must be the one rubbing circles into your chest, more specifically, the area where a heart would be.

It's not beating. Your hearts not working.

"You're awake." Your eyes clear as you look up at the woman smiling from above. She's beautiful.

She's familar.

"Do you remember me?"

"..."

She waits.

"Do you like me?"

“I…”

She doesn’t say anymore, only tracing patterns into your skin as she waits, that unwavering smile still on her face. The lights grow darker. You don’t hear a throbbing in your ears, something someone with a heart would hear in distress. You don’t have that anymore. Well, maybe not anymore, you can’t remember if you ever did have one.

“Who are you?”

[thegnomelord]

If Makarov managed to capture Hound again, how do you think he'd punish Hound for letting himself be taken away?

OOOOH anon you're gonna give me more ideas for the angst lol

The punishment wouldn't be as much for getting captured as it would be that Hound let someone else touch what belongs to Makarov — Hound. And what a bad dog you've been, evidently he's been too lax with the leash if his hound got this spoiled and disobedient.

Here's 2 scenes that just came to mind that may or may not become cannon idk yet:

CW: NSFW, blood and gore, torture, angst, toxic relationship, cock-warming, dub-con at best non-con at worst

1: Blood. There's so much blood. You feel it creep from the wounds on your head down to the space between your eyes and the blindfold, your carved open back throbbing like one giant wound, shallow cuts weeping blood down your skin. Every harsh breath forces the scent of death and blood deeper into your nose, copper and iron staining your tastebuds. Scraps of flesh dig into your gums between your teeth — the throat of whichever man had stabbed you last.

Adrenaline keeps you standing, muscles trembling in preparation of another stab of pain, gums itching to bite and kill. "Good," You just barely hear before a sharp yank of the leash pulls you down. Light floods in as the blindfold is suddenly ripped off, your eyes stinging from the bright light but you force yourself to look.

Makarov smirks as he watches your eyes fly to look around, wild and feral only to focus on him. There's his hound, blood dying your world red, violence blurring the edges of your vision until the only clear thing you see is him — the one who owns you. Keeping the leash tight so you nearly choke he reaches out to grip your jaw, shoving his thumb into your mouth. There's a second of resistance he'll need to beat out later, but you open your mouth wide, blood glinting on your metal capped canines. "That's better." He presses his thumb on your tongue to keep you silent when he senses you about to try and speak, forcing your mouth to open even wider until a low whine escapes you.

A big mistake; you were ordered to stay quiet. Your muscles tense, but you don't dare anger him further and keep your eyes on him. "A disobedient dog, but at least you're smart." He tuts. You don't know why your eyes want to close when he spits into your mouth, something acrid burning beneath your skin as you feel his saliva rapidly cool on your tongue. (dumb dog, be grateful he's giving you this much)

"Good." Makarov sounds pleased, letting go of your jaw and pushing the blindfold back over your eyes. "Next." His voice rings, and you feel your stupid heart ache as violence rushes through your system as another man approaches you, ready to make you bleed even more until you can get your teeth around his throat.

Or

2: You've experienced it all: cuts, bruises, internal bleeding, broken bones, starvation and so much more — a thousand little deaths. But the sting of tattoo needles hurts more than all of that, like they're piercing deep through your flesh to ink Makarov's initials on your heart. Your head is tilted back so far your skin stretches taught across your Adam's apple, the buzz of the machine rattling your ears.

The tattooing stops long enough for you to hear Makarov scoff before a harsh slap nearly knocks your head off your neck. You realize only then that you'd closed your eyes, quickly snapping them open to look at Makarov as he looms over you. "That's better." Makarov hums, pulling on your throat skin to make it even tighter. "Evidently I spoiled you too much."

You feel Makarov shift, his gummy hot walls clenching around your hard cock as the needles return to your throat. The pain and pleasure blur in your skull, but something about the way his cologne — much harsher and crisper than the scent's of the 141 you'd grown used to — curls in your nose that makes you feel weird. You don't know what it is, but it feels like your heart wants to vomit, the sweet sensation of Makarov taking pleasure from your body buzzing on your tongue like battery acid.

A low sound escapes your chest as he finishes, a pleased look in his eyes as he traces the black lines across your throat. Just from how your skin throbs you know they're big and bold, his claim on you clear. (as it should/n't be -- dumb brute, what is wrong with you?)

"There, now you're a proper hound." Makarov hums, tracing the crisp lines — he's a good owner, he wouldn't make a sloppy job of ensuring everyone knows who his hound belongs to. "That feels better, yes?"

"Yes sir." You say.

You don't know why those words sound like a lie to your ears.

[devildomwriter]

Obey Me as Disenchantment Quotes #1

Lucifer & Satan: *Laughing maniacally*

Simeon: “While I question their evil motives, it is nice to see them happy.”

Barbatos: “Now announcing the triumphant return of our heroes from their quest that we all privately thought would fail.”

Mammon & Leviathan: “…”

Lucifer: “How do we even know it worked.”

Solomon: “Oh but it must have worked. Now to test it, we need a volunteer to kill you.”

Belphegor: “Dibs.”

Barbatos: “How can you keep messing up a recipe with two ingredients?”

Solomon: “If you ever run into trouble give them this note.”

MC: “Kill me?”

Solomon: “Thirteen gave it to me, now I give it to you.”

Leviathan: “I’ve been meaning to…but the thing is, I…so you see…well, I’m glad we had this talk. How bout you talk now?”

MC: “But you haven’t said anything yet.”

Belphegor: “Well I was waiting to tell you until after I was dead so I wouldn’t have to tell you.”

Mammon: “Now just keep holding on, okay. Just keep holding on.”

MC: “It’s okay, it’s okay Mammon, I always wanted to go out while I’m still young and hot.”

Leviathan: “I didn’t want to tell you because I’m terrified of female emotions.”

Satan: “No, no, no, I was mostly raised by Lucifer. And a bunch of friendly drunks down at the pub. They taught me the fine art of stabbing.”

Barbatos: “It’s just too painful seeing the truth all the time.”

Solomon: “Ah, that’s why humans tend to avoid it.”

Belphegor: “The profession left without me.”

Diavolo: “Oh, that’s too bad.”

Belphegor: “I blame myself, cause I didn’t even notice.”

Solomon & Barbatos: *fighting*

Asmodeus: “Guys, guys come on. I’m much more embarrassed than I am aroused.”

Asmodeus: “MC, you poor baby. What a horrific day you’ve had. Let’s have too much wine and forget about it all.”

Beelzebub: “How’d you become a weird talking cat.”

Satan: “You keep shoving waffles in your mouth while I think of an answer.”

Thirteen: “I’ll use my skills as a hunter and Raphael will use his diplomacy to stab them with a broom handle.”

Solomon: “I used to spend many nights up here. Watching the sky, the moon, the neighbors.”

Lucifer: “This is your home. You’re free to explore.”

MC: “Wow, what’s behind that door?”

Lucifer: “None of your business nosy.”

Mammon: “Maybe you were overcome by chimney fumes. It happens quite frequently in a place like this with no chimnies.”

Satan: “What family curse? You mean insanity?”

Leviathan: “No, don’t be crazy. But yes I mean insanity.”

Asmodeus: “You guys are heavy. Do I really need both of you?”

Solomon & Satan: “Yes!”

Asmodeus: “Damn, I hate democracy.”

Mammon: “I knew you could count on me!”

Simeon: “What’s this called again?”

Mammon: “A a massage. It’s like a light well intentioned beating.”

Diavolo: “You’re clearly upset.”

Lucifer: “I’m not upset!”

Diavolo: “You said that like you were upset!”

MC: “Come on Belphegor be reasonable!”

Belphegor: “Never!”

Satan: “We’re gonna have to wing this in a dangerously half assed manner.”

Mammon: “That’s the Morningstar way.”

Asmodeus: “There’s plenty of fish in the sea, Sol.”

Solomon: “Like hell am I marrying another fish woman.”

Lucifer: “Disappointment’s a form of caring.”

Diavolo: “Tell me, where are you from.”

Solomon: “A country setting, it’s kind of like a farm but more stabbing.”

Simeon: “This whole thing feels like a weird dream.”

Mammon: “Or scurvy. When does scurvy kick in?”

Lucifer: “Believe it or not I know what it feels like to be burned alive by a mob of idiots.”

Beelzebub: “Oh, sweet butter, you’re the only thing right with the world.”

Solomon: “Morning, Belphegor! Care to try my new cure all? It wards off the deadly plague.”

Belphegor: “I’m actually hoping for death. Thanks though.”

Mammon: “For the first time in my life I feel completely calm and—“

Mammon: *Gets attacked by hawk*

Satan: “I’ve loved you since the moment you killed my brother.”

Mammon: “You don’t scare me! I was born scared.”

[whorediaries-09]

okay, what if, reader (james gf) got jealous of lily tutoring james and told james abt it and james tells her "i would never date anyone else other than you" and also "you have all rights over me. you OWN me." and then smut where they're kissing, and reader suddenly says stop and james DOES stop to prove that he belongs to her???

hi honey <3 i'm sorry it took so much time to get around the request, but here you are, i hope you like it xoxo.

dark red

pairing(s)- james potter x reader warning(s)- stupid teenagers in love, 18+ content. a/n- uggh it was so hard to find proper pictures for the header, my feed is full of sirius black shit 💀🫢

ps- dark red is so james potter coded. (he dances on chammak challo, don't ask me how i know okay now bye)

masterlist

only you, my girl, only you, babe only you, darling, only you

'hey, darling,' your boyfriends' voice echoes in your ears. your eyes sink deeper into the words printed upon the paper of the book you'd been reading. they seemed like plain words on paper, which made no sense as your mind subconsciously made note that the one you loved so dearly was near you.

he sunk beside your bed, his quidditch sweater hugging his body in a form fitting way. he runs his finger through his curls, the familiar flowery, damp smell escalating off his body which burned your heart. through your peripherals, you see him smiling, a subtle hint of color on his brown skin. you feel the mattress sink beside your legs, as he pushes his legs into the silk duvet you were covered by. his fingers roam over your feet, applying a comforting amount of pressure.

he hums mindlessly under his breath, and you shift under the warmth of the duvet. you flip the book shut, keeping it on your nightstand. you free your feet from james's grasp, sitting up, moving closer to him. you stare at his face as you sit in front of him, knees touching.

'honey?' you whisper, nibbling at your bottom lip. it's like a sudden change of atmosphere, as he places his hand on your thigh, and he's staring at you, his brown eyes scanning yours.

'where were you?' you ask, even though you know the answer. his demeanor changes slightly, as he furrows his eyebrow. he'd told sirius to inform you about his tutoring session with lily. did the prick not tell you, he wonders.

'i was with lily,' he replies. you respond with a curt nod, biting your lip.

'because you needed academic help am i right?' you inquire. he swipes his tongue over his teeth,

'yes m'love,' he responds. you're not sure how to frame your next statement. the air feels stuffy around the both of you, and you intertwine your finger with his curl. his finger draws mindless shapes on your thigh.

'james,-' you begin, a heavy breath leaving your mouth, '-i'm gonna need you to stop these tutoring sessions with lily.' your mouth feels dry as you spill out the words from your throat. his eyes widen,

'i'm in heavy need of help in potions! otherwise i might fail!' he protests. you stare at him, stubborn to not let him dodge your demand.

'you're a fucking illegal animagus. what do you need help with potter?'

'well brewing a sleeping potion- hang on what's all this about?' he inquires, his former statement unheard.

'you know very well,'

'no i don't, enlighten me.'

'god are you really that daft?'

'if you think so, yes.'

'i'm fucking jealous, potter!'

his eyes widen with realization. as if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water all over his face. his hands grasp your face in a swift move, his eyes boring into yours. he's breathless, your confession firing a puddle of guilt into which his heart drowns into. he treats you like a fragile piece of glass as if you'd break if he said the wrong words.

'jealous? because i liked her previously?' he questions, his forehead touching yours. your eyes burn with anger, with a clandestine stab upon your heart,

'yes,'

in a swift move, you're on your back, pinned to the mattress, his lips roaming into your mouth, as his mind screeches screams of guilt, an urge which echoes in his head, to prove to you that he was yours. just yours.

he bites your lip, pushing his leg between your thighs, and you moan, the rough fabric of his trouser providing you a lewd friction against your crotch.

'james,' you slur, huffed breaths leaving your mouth. he furrows his eyebrows,

'god,-' he holds your face closer to his, resting his forehead on yours, 'i'd never date anyone but you,-' he plants a soft kiss over your nose, '-god, i love you so fucking much.' he completes. his confession breaks through soft words, paired with broken breaths.

'i love you too, i'm sorry i doub-' he places his finger over your swollen lip, shushing you.

'let me show you how much i love you? let me show you i'm yours? just yours? let me show you how you have total rights over me?' he questions. you nod your head, and with your approval, he unbuttons your shirt.

*****

your nails rake on his bare chest, as he pushes his cock deep into your sopping cunt. you bottom down on his cock, your cunt throbbing. it was like high, as his hand place themselves on your hips, his rutting into yours. your breasts bounce deliciously within his vision, as he thrusts into you.

you pepper kisses all over his chest as he thrusts into you, his cock hitting your g-spot so perfectly, you feel like you'd drool. you gasp as his finger rubs over your swollen clit, rolling your eyes back, curling your toes as you feel the orgasm within you bubbling with a vigorous hotness which creeps all over your body. goosebumps erupt on your skin as his hot breath gazes over your skin,

'i'm yours, all yours, my girl,' he assures. you bite your lip,

'you're all mine. fucking mine.' you respond. he gasps at your words, and your walls clench around his cock, as your rub your clit. your orgasm bubbles within you, and consumes you from within, tearing into every cell of your body. it's as if you're on fire, as you feel the coil in your stomach tightens. it's as if you're glowing with lust, as your heart beats against your ribcage. it was like a shattering carnal desire to authorize your ownership over him.

'you're all m-mine- i fucking own you,' you moan, your lips meeting his, as you consume him, consume the feeling of his cock, consume the warmth of his touch, consume the cozy feeling of his words.

'only yours, my girl,' he says against your lips.

it's a dwindling mercurial high, a paradise shaking and pacing with your heartbeats, as the both of you release together, the mixture of cum and yours leaking through your sopping cunt.

[adrift-in-thyme]

Anyone up for some ANGST? >:) I started this when LU updated and didn’t get a chance to finish it til now.

Be aware! This can easily be read as major character death BUT I wanted to keep the end ambiguous enough that you could also assume there’s some hope left.

After all, fairies can bring people back to life if they act soon enough ;)

But please, keep yourselves safe <3

Other warnings: blood and injury

————————————————

There is blood everywhere.

It coats his hands, spreads in lazy puddles across the unforgiving ground, seeps from between his desperate, trembling fingers. Twilight presses down harder on the wound. More red escapes.

“‘M sorry,” Time mumbles.

All color has fled his face, making the blue of his eye unnaturally bright, his markings breathtakingly stark. He looks all at once like a being from another world, a deity to be feared, and a small child shivering in the face of something too strong, too terrible to defeat with weapons and courage.

That is not at all how he had looked mere moments ago. That is not how he had looked when he had detected substance in nothingness; when his response to Twilight’s strained query was to shove him aside so ferociously the rancher’s shoulder had collided with the stone wall.

There had been no words. Only a gasp, harsh and sharp as a blade. Then, the whisper of metal penetrating wind, the dull wet shunk of it lodging itself within something alive.

“An eye for an eye as they say,” that cursed lizard had purred as he placed a clawed paw upon Time’s back, holding him with the gentleness of a father embracing his child. And Time had not even had the presence of mind to pull away. He had merely stood there, rigid, as beads of crimson cascaded gracefully down the shattered plates of his armor, trailed down his lips.

“You took something of mine. Now I have taken something of yours.”

Twilight’s throat still throbs from the scream that had torn free. His body still aches from the force with which he had hurled himself at the beast, the force with which it had propelled him away.

“Pup, ‘m sorry.” Time is shaking his head now. His words trip over themselves in their haste to make it past his lips. “You shouldn’t have to take care of me.”

“Shut up,” Twilight chokes. His tears are so hot that they burn his cheeks. Emotions war within his stomach. He is furious, he is anguished; he is confounded, he is sympathetic. “Shut up, Time.” He drags in a breath, suffocates on a mouthful of salt. “You-you need to save your strength.”

He wants to scream. Why? Why did you do it? Why did you save me?

But he knows the answer. He can see it written across Time’s expression. It is in the way he smiles – a courageous upturn of the lips. It is in the way he lifts his hand, places it on Twilight’s cheek.

In the wake of his near-demise, he had thought he was a disappointment. That Time believed him a disgrace. It is only now, at the end, that he sees the love.

And the fear that that love propels forth.

“You need to leave.”

Twilight blinks away the tears, tries to screw up his face into something resembling a scowl.

“No. I’m not leaving you.”

“Twilight – ”

“No!” He shakes his head so hard liquid flies and his bangs slap his forehead. “No! If you think after that I’m just gonna run, you don’t know me at all!”

“But I do,” Time croaks. “I do know you. And that’s why I want you out of here. A-away from him.”

He leans forward, hissing through his teeth at the agony of the movement, expression brimming with urgency.

“Go, Twilight! Get the others out of here. Get to safety. You need to, you hav-have to…please.”

The last word drags itself forth, desperation weighing it down. Twilight lets the sound of it stab deep into his chest. He looks around at the scene through blurred eyes, at the shreds of bloodied tunic melding with the gore that splotches the ground, at the weapons fallen uselessly, at the too-pale fingers that clutch his, a band of gold embracing one of them.

The next sob takes his heart and wrenches it mercilessly from him.

“No.” It is a whisper, high-pitched from sorrow and lack of air. He collapses forward. His forehead comes to rest on Time’s chest and the hero’s gasping hiccups of breath fill his ears.

“No, no, no! This isn’t it!”

A hand comes up and cradles his head. Once firm, now it shakes with the weight of pain. Twilight breathes in sharply, tasting blood and salt, smelling mold and decay, sugary sweet fairy dust and warm hay and the soap Malon buys from Castle Town.

“I was supposed to change it. This was my chance to change it. To not let you die.”

“You’re not letting me die, pup,” Time whispers. “I chose this path. Do not burden yourself with guilt that is not yours.”

But you will. The thought rushes in, dreadful in its steadfast truth. You’ll burden yourself with the guilt of everything you couldn’t do. Everything you think you ought to have done. And it’ll turn you into a lonely, heartbroken wraith.

Time inhales and the sound is the desperate gasp of a dying man, shallow as the stream that flows through Ordon. Shallow and strangled and thin.

“Twilight…”

“No.”

It seems the only thing he can say now, the only word his trembling lips are capable of bringing forth. It is such a bitter utterance, a word that is all harsh edges and sharp angles. It cuts him on the way out.

“Don’t...”

Don’t speak, don’t waste your breath on a goodbye.

“Please, don’t...”

Don’t leave me here alone, don’t leave Malon, don’t leave…

“Twilight, I’m so…so…proud of you.”

Twilight squeezes his eyes closed. He has dreamt of hearing these words, clung to them as priceless treasure when he has. But hearing them now is a death sentence.

“I’m sorry,” he hiccups through teeth gritted so severely his jaw aches. “I’m so sorry.”

Time cradles him to his chest. His chin rests atop Twilight’s head. His touch is not the firm, unyielding thing it has always been. His body is no longer the unrelenting rampart, capable of being fallen upon in a storm of emotion and never once breaking. Already it has begun to lose its warmth.

“Oh, pup.” It is a murmur, a whisper as soft as a fairy’s departure. It echoes in Twilight’s ears.

It is louder than the pound of his heart, louder than the sobs that tear out of him with feral, merciless violence….

Louder even than the sound of the door, screaming on its hinges, as Time’s chest lowers and doesn’t rise again.

And when something small and determined and glowing with the deep emerald of the forest depths zips over his head and begins its dance with expert precision…he hardly knows it.

[mae-gi-writes]

Finders Keepers | Gally [TMR] - Part 4

In which Gally gets soft for one of the boys in the Glade, only…is it a boy? alternatively; In which Mai disguises herself into a boy to fit in the Glade, only to be suspected by the keen eyes of the Builder's Keeper.

taglist: @edynmeyer1 @ss28 @kurowvie @vaugarkel

Also available on Wattpad.

PREVIOUS | NEXT >>>

-----

Don't look at him.

Gally stares straight ahead, not realizing that he's glowering at the wall where Frypan's apron is currently hanging. It's been three days and he's still not over his crazy theories because somehow his brain doesn't want to shut up.

He's tired, he lacks sleep and he merely wants to take a fat nap despite the risk of missing dinner tonight.

His fork, currently stabbed into a piece of meat from his curry bowl, is left unattended as he keeps on scowling at the apron like it's done something to him, and would've probably continued doing so if not for Alby's hand falling onto his shoulder.

"Gally."

That's when the said young man looks up at his leader, blinking and replying a gruff, "yeah?"

"You alright shank? You've been glaring at this wall for ages," the Leader motions towards Frypan's apron, "Fry did something to piss you off?"

"No," Gally resumes eating with a little too much vigor as Alby takes a seat across from him, "I was going to tell you that we're doing Bonfire night tonight."

"Why?" Gally says through a mouthful of food.

"Because we missed Mai's Bonfire night and I think everyone needs a break."

"Count me out then," Gally finishes up his bowl before he pushes it away, and when his leader's gaze turns stern, adds, "what?"

Alby leans forward just enough for the Builder to catch his eye,"You're a Keeper. How's it gonna look like to your Builders if you don't turn up?"

Gally's own blue eyes narrow, "I'm tired Alby. Just do it without me."

"We can't. We need you, and plus," a smile flickers across Alby's face, "who's gonna beat Mai up?"

Gally snorts at that, "the Greenie'll probably wet himself before he even gets to the circle."

"Is that a yes then?" Alby bumps his shoulder, "c'mon shank. Let's have some fun."

And that's how Gally finds himself mixing up his booze for Bonfire night, grumbling under his breath as everyone around him bustles with excitement. Stacks of wood are piled up high and Frypan's going all out in the kitchen, cooking up a feast for the occasion. Others are chattering his ears off and Gally wishes he can dump everything down the drain and find his hammock.

It is then that a particular blonde, second-in-command, sidles up to him, "ey Gal, you alright?"

"Fine as a ray of sunshine," Gally grumbles out, still not out of his hole of impending doom as he realizes what a mistake this is.

"Come and sit with us when you're done," Newt motions towards the table at the far back where Minho is knocking back a few drinks with some other Runners, "you look like you need a drink."

Gally has to agree with that.

He does need a drink.

As Alby lights up the bonfire and the flames bursts out like a million fireflies, the chatter of Gladers increase tenfold, the night slowly giving way to a much lighter atmosphere filled with hope and fun, an escape from the doom that usually fills their days. It's a different image from their routine and it's like a breath of fresh air, something that they need just so that they can hold on a little longer.

Finally done and ready to hit the sack, Gally decides to stride over to where Newt and Minho are currently discussing matters in hushed voices. He storms up to them, drops his body onto a nearby chair and takes a swig of his drink, relishing in the familiar burn down his throat.

The rest of the Builders are sitting at another table, laughter and boisterous chatter reaching his ears and making him want to walk away. It's in moments like these that Gally wishes he could be alone.

He hates noise, hates it so much more when it's useless.

And that's when the Greenie decides to plop in the seat right opposite him with a beam, "hey Gally!" the slur is evident in Mai's voice, causing the latter's eyebrow to rise up in curiosity.

He tilts his head towards Newt, eyes narrowed in suspicion when he glances over to Minho, "that shank's been drinking?"

"Mai wanted to know what your secret recipe was," Newt shrugs in response, seemingly undisturbed by the fact that this Greenie is literally swaying in front of Gally's face, "I think he likes it."

"That's an understatement," the Builder mutters. He spots Mai trying to swig another mouthful from his cup and quickly snatches it out of his hand before anymore damage is done, "that's enough for you," he snaps more sternly than intended.

Mai pouts, "but it's Bonfire night. Alby said anything can happen on Bonfire night."

"Yeah and if you keep drinking that clunk, terrible things will happen to you, slinthead. So slim it," Gally proceeds to toss the rest of it into his own cup, much to Mai's displeasure.

He makes a noise of protest from the back of his throat, "you're so rude, Gally. I was just trying to have fun!" his hands wave in the air in a dramatic manner, causing Newt and Minho to chuckle at the scene.

"Yeah I think you're right," Newt says, "the Greenie's a goner."

"He's a shucking lightweight, that's what he is," adds Minho.

Nevertheless, Mai is still challenged to a fight in the ring circle, and when Gally adamantly refused to fight a drunkard, is replaced by none other than another one of the Builders who seems all too keen to beat the newbie. A cut lip and a couple of bruises later find Mai sprawled out just outside of the circle, prompting hollers and exclamations of success, some sniggering as they leave Mai on the floor for Newt and Minho to pick up.

Gally's about to turn in for the night -- god knows he really does need that sleep and his hammock is looking tempting right at this particular moment -- when Newt dumps the Greenie beside him, cut lip and all.

"Gal, keep an eye on him for a minute will ya?" Newt says, and before Gally can say anything else, disappears into the crowd.

"Great," Gally mutters as another sigh falls from his lips. He doesn't have a choice but to gaze at Mai, whose face seems to be blossoming with new blue and purple decorative bruises every minute. "you look like shit."

"Gee thanks Gally, that's very kind of you," comes Mai's shaky inhale. Gally watches as the young Glader winces when he touches his face, "everything hurts," he whimpers like a kicked puppy and the Builder can't help but roll his eyes. Pathetic.

Finding a spare napkin that someone had left on the table, Gally holds it out to the Greenie, "here," he says gruffly, and when Mai doesn't respond, proceeds to press it into his palm.

"Thank you," Mai hiccups as he starts to wipe the blood of his face, "thank you very much...Gally."

The glader merely grunts in response. He's not quite sure how to respond to the rush of gratefulness in Mai's voice. He's not used to it, to people saying thank you and looking at him with anything other than disgust or fear.

Mai is different and he senses it. He's just not sure in what sense of the word.

Maybe because he's not what he seems--

Oh stop it, he says to himself. He should not be worrying about someone else's affairs when he has enough on his mind as it is.

So despite his reluctance to leave the Greenie alone with Minho and the rest of the Runners, Gally takes it upon himself to walk away to find the comfort of his hut, telling himself that the Greenie doesn't need him and in any case it's not his problem if ever something happens. He's not his babysitter after all, is he?

He tries not to think too hard about that.

----

The morning has started off on a wrong foot.

First off, Mai had woken up only to find a dark spot along the side of her inner thigh, a sign that her monthly duties are up. She'd scrambled around in a panicked heap as she tugged fresh clothes from her small rucksack hanging from her hammock before making a dash for the shower stalls, thanking god that it was still early morning and the sun hadn't risen yet.

She thought that would be the end of it -- setting a white protective cloth over her underwear and changing out of her dirty clothes -- but what she hadn't been expecting was the pain. It seared through her abdomen, squeezing her lower stomach as she made her way back to Homestead and Mai had no choice but to curl over, breathing loudly through her mouth as pain seized her body.

Great, and with those monthly duties came the consequences. As if she had time to deal with those in a camp full of boys that were not even aware of what she was exactly.

She was mentally kicking herself for not having divulged the truth in the first place when she's suddenly met with a familiar-looking asian.

"Hey Mai," Minho leans down to frown at her contorted face, "are you okay? You look like shit."

Despite herself, Mai forces a shaky smile onto her lips, "yeah, I'm fine. Just hungover."

"Ah, that would be Gally's doing," Minho grins as he falls into step beside her, "you can tell him off at Breakfast."

"Do I look like have a death wish, Minho?"

The latter lets out a bark of laughter, "yeah you're right. Not a wise idea."

Still, Mai has no choice but to feign that she's not that bad, trying her best not to curl over her stomach whenever a cramp would suddenly pulse through her abdomen. Her pelvis was aching and her spine felt so sensitive that every turn and motion had her wince in pain. Frypan took notice around mid-morning before asking her if she was alright, to which Mai reassured him that she was. But not wanting to have her in the kitchen and engulfed by flames for a second longer, the Cook then decides to send her out to the Builders to give them food instead.

"Are you sure Frypa--" he shoos her away with a wave of his hand, "I'll be fine, just go give them their lunch, would ya? These shanks are probably starving."

So Mai does as she's told even if every step makes her want to scream.

She'll need to change at some point in the day, but she's not quite sure how to do that without raising suspicion.

Reaching the Builder's area is like stepping through a different dimension. They're all big and huge and look like they could pack a punch, and Mai swears she feels all eyes on her the moment she steps around the half-built pieces of furniture. Quickening her pace, she finds the table where all plans and drawings are laid out before placing down the sandwich bag onto its surface.

Her brow is filled with sweat and she swears she might collapse, but then spots Gally and a few other Builders making their way towards her, and straightens up, "hey Gally," she says meekly, trying not to think of the embarrassment she'd made of herself last night because of his concoction.

"Greenie," he nods at her, eyes moving to the bag in question.

"Ah, Frypan told me to come give you guys lunch because you have a busy day today," she explains as she unwraps the bag. Handing out the sandwiches to each Builder that give her muttered thank you's, she leans down to get the last sandwich, her figure trembling with effort.

That doesn't go unnoticed by Gally, whose frown deepens tenfold, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," she's quick to dispel his doubts as he takes the sandwich from her hands, quickly grabbing the empty basket and turning around to get away as soon as possible.

Her vision darkens and for a moment she sees stars.

Mai sways, stumbling against the side of a tree and causing all Gladers to react.

"Hey!" Gally's first to grab her, yanking her up and against him, "shuck. I'm bringing him to the Med-Jacks," she hears him say to the other Builders before she's suddenly scooped up into a pair of strong arms and brought to a chest so warm that she almost nuzzles into it. Gally's scent wraps around her like a blanket as he brings her to the Med-Jacks hut. He smells of pine and something like grass after it has rained, an earthy smell mixed in with the scent of boy that he carries around with him and if she closes her eyes, she's sure she can fall asleep to it, burrowed in its comfort.

She's not quite certain of her whereabouts until she hears Gally speak again, his voice rumbling through his chest and resonating through her, "Greenie collapsed a few minutes ago," he seems to be explaining her situation and a second later, Mai is deposited onto one of the beds before a hand is laid across her forehead.

"He's got a fever," another voice says, "we gotta strip him."

But when a sudden pair of hands clasp onto the edge of her shirt, Mai's eyes fly open in realization. She squeaks out a loud, "no!" causing all Gladers to fall back in surprise.

"Y--You can't--" Mai grips her shirt so tightly that her knuckles turn white, "no, no, please--"

Gally's the one that speaks up first, "You're burning up Greenie, we gotta take it off and let you cool down."

Still, she fights off any hands that come close to her, clasping both arms around her middle and curling up her legs in defense, "no," she gasps out, "you can't."

She spots the two Med-Jacks exchanging glances, but Gally is getting impatient, for he snaps out, "stop being a crybaby and let them do their job. We haven't got all day--"

"Please," her eyes land on his own and he curses at the way they're begging him, pleading. Mai's voice drops to a whisper, "please don't."

"Alright Greenie, no need to get antsy. We won't do anything," one of the Med-Jacks speaks gently, pressing a reassuring hand onto her shoulder so that she has no choice but to lie back down, "but we're gonna keep you in this room for a little while, 'cause we gotta monitor your condition. Sound good?"

Mai only nods in relief, and the Med-Jack responds with a smile, "good that, Greenie."

"Stupid, stubborn shank," Gally mutters under his breath. Mai's about to open her mouth to thank him, but he's already whirling around and walking out before she can even try to formulate a sentence. She sighs out in exasperation and closes her eyes. Gally is so complicated in all senses of the word, she just doesn't understand where his temperament comes from sometimes. What she's pretty certain of though, is that for one reason or another, he's mad at her. It's clear from the way he's stormed off and in any other situation Mai would've just brushed it aside without caring. But somehow, she can't.

Maybe it's the fact that despite all this aggressive exterior he's been the extra helping hand she needed throughout those few days, which makes Mai guilty of the fact that she hadn't been able to even thank him for being there when he's got loads of other stuff to do around the Glade. She makes a mental note to find him later.

In the end, Jeff and Clint -- the two Med-Jacks-- allow her to have a bit of a shut-eye until she feels better, attributing her symptoms to that of a common cold. By sundown, Mai has gathered enough energy to stumble out and towards the Homestead, just in time to bump into a sweaty Minho along the way.

"You still look like death," he comments, causing Mai to scowl. He extends a hand towards her, "need some help?"

"I'm--" Mai's brain stutters. No, actually. She's not fine, and so quickly replies with, "actually, yeah. Please."

And so this is how she finds herself being supported by the Runner as they make it back to the Homestead just in time for the Dinner bell. After forcing her down onto one of the seats so that she can at least regain some of her strength with Frypan's food, they are soon joined by Newt and the Track-Hoe Keeper Zart, who quickly usher her off to her hammock while stating that they'll take care of her utensils, all while brushing away her thanks.

Mai's heart can't help but swell with gratitude at how eager they all seem to be in helping her, and struggles back to her Hammock where she all but collapses into it. Her breathing is shaky and unsteady and she places a hand over her heart, feeling it vibrating right through her chest.

Maybe she just needs to sleep a little bit more. She knows she's gotta shower -- with her period, it's even more complicated -- but that'll have to wait. She resigns herself to sleep, rolling to the side before closing her eyes.

"Hey Greenie."

Her eyes fly open. She almost jumps up, spotting a disgruntled Gally standing beside her hammock, a towel slung around his neck and -- did she ever notice how handsome he is with just that mere towel?

She clears her throat, swallows thickly, "hey Gally."

He shuffles a bit in place, looking uncomfortable. Silence prevails and Mai blinks at him. It's not in his nature to be so quiet, "is there anything I can help you with?" she asks instead.

Finally, he grovels out, "I'm gonna shower."

"Oh," she blinks once more, "uh--okay."

"You need to shower."

"I--" flames of heat burst through her face, "yes, I do."

He sighs and frowns at her, "Are you coming or are you gonna ask one of these other shanks to stand guard for you like a shuckin' idiot?"

"Oh, right." Realization dawns on her, "you're right, uhm--" but the young man's already storming off at this point. Mai scrambles for her set of fresh clothes and a new cloth pad before dashing to him, almost tripping over her own feet as she does so, "wait, I'm coming!"

He didn't have to, but he did ask. And that's enough to make Mai grin at his broad back. Gally can act all tough and intimidating, but there's no way there's only just that. No, he's hiding behind this cold and menacing exterior for other reasons. But it's good enough to know that deep inside somewhere in the crevices of his heart, he cares in his own way.

[latexb0n3z]

Angry kiss?

The rain poured down in icy sheets, drenching the both of them as they stood in the muddy clearing. Logan’s claws were still out, gleaming under the faint light of a flickering lantern Wade had smashed earlier in a fit of anger. Around them, the wreckage of their mission lay scattered—crates of stolen mutant tech smashed open, a half-destroyed transport truck still burning in the distance, and a bloodied trail leading back to the facility they’d failed to infiltrate.

It had gone sideways fast. Wade, as usual, had ignored Logan’s plan to wait for a patrol to clear before making their move. Instead, he’d charged in guns blazing, only to get pinned down by heavily armed guards while Logan had to fight his way through to cover him. The mission was a bust, their intel lost, and Logan was nursing a bullet wound to his side that was healing slower than it should’ve.

“You’re a goddamn idiot, Wade,” Logan growled, his voice rough as gravel. “You never think! Never stop to ask if maybe—just maybe—you charging in headfirst isn’t the answer!”

“Oh, I’m the idiot?” Wade spat back, waving his hands dramatically. “Big bad Wolverine, always pretending like he’s got everything under control, but what’s your plan, huh? Growl at people until they stop shooting? Real tactical genius there, claws-for-brains.”

Logan’s fists clenched, his claws not daring to slide back into his knuckles. “You don’t listen to a goddamn word I say. You’re gonna get us both in a crock of horse shit one day!”

“And you’re gonna die cranky and alone!” Wade shot back, but his voice cracked ever so slightly on the last word. It was enough to make Logan pause, just for a second, his sharp eyes narrowing.

The silence that followed was suffocating. The rain kept falling, dripping from Logan’s hair and running in rivulets down Wade’s scarred face. Neither of them moved, the tension between them as heavy as the storm overhead.

Wade’s jaw worked, his usual flippant mask slipping for just a moment. “Look, I… I didn’t mean to screw things up. I just—”

“Shut up,” Logan muttered, stepping closer, his boots squelching in the mud. Wade expected him to start stabbing like he usually does, punch him- beat him- start another bloody brawl that would end with neither of them dying and just being exhausted.

Wade blinked. “Wow, that’s real mature—”

“I said, shut up,” Logan growled again, and before Wade could finish his retort, Logan’s hand shot out, grabbing the front of his suit and yanking him forward.

Their mouths crashed together, hard and desperate, hot and wet as the rain showered their already wet bodies. It was kind of kiss that felt more like a fight than an apology or reconciliation. Logan’s grip on Wade’s suit was iron-tight, fisting the red leather so tight his knuckles turned white, barely careful not to cut Wade with his claws. Wade’s hands hovered for a moment, unsure, before settling on Logan’s shoulders. Logan had to tip toe to make contact with him, and Wade had to hunch over just slightly to meet the height difference. It was more so that he’d been pulled, rather than willingly bent over.

It wasn’t soft, and it wasn’t clean. Their teeth clashed, and Wade tasted blood—his own or Logan’s, he wasn’t sure—but none of it mattered. All the anger, the frustration, the unspoken emotions that had been building between them spilled out in that moment, raw and unfiltered. Logan gripped, and felt him up with fervor, shivering with anger, and the cold- and… lust.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing hard, the rain washing away the blood and dirt from their faces. Wade’s wide, unblinking stare met Logan’s, who looked equally stunned by what had just happened.

“Okay,” Wade said finally, his voice hoarse. “That was… something. Not that I’m complaining—love a good ‘shut up’ kiss—but maybe next time we skip the punching and go straight to the—”

Logan cut him off with a low growl, his lips twitching in the barest hint of a smirk. “Don’t push your luck, Wade.”

Wade grinned, and for the first time all night, it felt real. “Too late, bub.”

And just like that, the tension broke, leaving behind something softer, something unspoken but understood.

[sage-green-matcha]

FIGHT OR FLIGHT - ETHAN LANDRY ✈️

“It’s my move, fight or flight?” - Conan Gray

Content includes: gf! Ethan Landry, angst, betrayal…slight mention of reader getting horny ab sweaty Ethan (relatable) 😭

A/n: I literally adore Conan sm! I’ve been a fan of him for years and idk why I haven’t written anything based off his work! Hope u enjoy :)

<3

<3

<3

Well, fight or flight...I'd rather die than have to cry in front of you.

You swore your heart stopped as ghost face revealed himself. Ethan Landry, the so-called love of your life. The signs flashed in your face, but you were too in love to care.

"Y/n, hi sweet thing" You felt too betrayed to respond. All you felt was regret, anger, sadness. It filled every pore in your body and you felt like your heart was being stabbed thousands of times. God, you felt so stupid. You should've known. You shouldn't have let your heart get in the way of things.

Fight or flight?

Ethan knew it probably wasn't a good idea, to make you choose between him or your friends. But he did know you loved him, and he had manipulated you enough for you to think he was the only one who would ever love you.

"Come on Y/n, get the easy way out. It's life or death here" Quinn taunted you with her knife, Ethan watching you with curiosity.

"Y/n, don’t go with them. We can beat them together” Your eyes were watering, Sam’s figure blurry as she talked to you. "I can't, I can't pick" the answers was obvious. You had to pick your friends. But something inside of you told you to go with Ethan.

I'd rather lie than tell you I'm in love with you.

"We're waiting Y/n. Come on babe, you know you love me. I love you, I always will and I always have. Don't tell me all our time spent together meant nothing to you"

You didn’t want to admit it, that you loved him. He meant everything to you, but did you still feel the same after he revealed himself? You weren’t sure.

You knew you shouldn't listen, but it was so tempting. It felt wrong, to feel your core heat up at the sight of Ethan’s sweaty face. He looked so hot with a knife in his hand.

You started to question your sanity. He’s a killer, he killed Anika and who knows how many other people? But…he was your killer.

“What’s it gonna be Y/n?” You stood in between Ethan and Sam and Tara. “Don’t do it Y/n, please” Mascara ran down Tara’s cheeks, her hair and face sweaty.

You glanced back at the sisters before walking towards Ethan, cuddling yourself into his arms. “Y/n? Please, why?” Their lips spilled with cries, feeling betrayed by your decision.

“Shut up” Quinn’s words came out angrily, frustration shutting the sisters up.

“That’s my girl, now sit and look pretty while we work” He placed a kiss on your head and then your lips. The taste of blood in his mouth made you feel sick.

“Fuck you, Y/n. Hope you fucking burn in hell” Sam’s words hurt, but they wouldn’t mean anything after she was dead. This was the only way to survive. Also, you had the one thing you’d always wanted, Ethan Landry.

It's my move, fight or flight?

[ink-siren]

˗ˏˋʚ 𝙢𝙪𝙡𝙩𝙞-𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙗𝙗𝙡𝙚 ɞ´ˎ˗

ᡣ𐭩 A/N: this is like my first time posting on Tumblr (especially smut) so bear with me please - don’t hesitate to tell me if something is wrong or just weird, english is also not my first language :)

ᡣ𐭩 WARNINGS/CONTENT: smut, fingering, love (ig), petnames, vanilla (almost) sex, praise kink

ᡣ𐭩 WORD COUNT: 560 words

He was so fucking in love with you. Everything about you was infatuating. Your beautiful, big doe eyes, your sweet smile, your communicative laughter but most importantly; your oh so hot and melodic little moans and whimpers he could hear whenever he was pleasuring you.

Right now, you were on the couch between his legs, Avatar long forgotten. Your shorts were on the ground so you were only covered by his shirt, wayy too big for you. One of his hands was gently caressing your belly, while the other was slowly rubbing your clit.

“Come on princess, don’t try to be quiet… Just let me hear you.” He didn’t need to tell you twice and you immediately started whimpering louder as your hand left your mouth to grab the blanket next to you on the couch.

“That’s it, that’s my good girl.” You could hear him smile as he praised you. “Let me take care of you sweetheart, you deserve it.” At his words you let out a louder moan, receptive to what he was saying. He knew you were close and stopped his movements. The lack of sensations, when you were so close to finishing made you let out another moan, this time of disappointment.

“Don’t worry love, you’ll get what you want. My sweet girl…” He gathers your arousal with two fingers, running them up and down while you sigh with relief. He slowly, slowly thrusts a finger into you, watching you relax into him and resume your moans and whimpers. As he fastens his motions, he starts kissing your neck sometimes leaving small hickeys, a result of his nibbling on your burning and sweat-coated skin.

“I’m gonna put another finger in… Is that okay love?” Although he already knows the answer, he loves to hear you confirm that you enjoy what he does. You nod eagerly, hoping that he will soon let you climax. “Sweetheart… You know I want to hear you.” He smiles, waiting for you to speak. “Pl- please…” He laughs and stops rubbing your belly to gently grab your face and make you look at him. “Come on princess, I know you can do it.” He kisses you and as you part you whisper to him; “Please, I need more…”

“There you go love, wasn’t so hard wasn’t it?” He kisses your neck again, and carefully slides a second finger in your core. You grab his thigh, accidentally scratching it. He doesn’t mind, it means you like it. He picks up a good pace, comfortable for the both of you.

Soon enough, he can feel your walls fluttering in his fingers, you’re close. Your moans get louder and louder, you stab his thigh with your nails not even hearing him wince. Damn that’s gonna leave a mark -not that he’s not used to it- you’re lucky it’s up his thigh, he’ll be able to hide it.

“That’s it honey, that’s it…” He watches come on his fingers, smiling like an idiot as you pick up your breath. You turn your head to kiss his cheeks, to thank him for being the best boyfriend ever -at least that’s what he likes to think-. “Come on love, let’s get you cleaned up.” He tries to stand up but realizes you’re not moving. “What about you?” He laughs, kissing your head. “Sweetheart, tonight is all about you.”

Katsuki Bakugo, Eijiro Kirishima, Denki Kaminari, Saturo Gojo, Kento Nanami

ᡣ𐭩 A/N: don’t hesitate to tell me what other characters it made you think about <3

[ro-written]

eyes closed - pt. 1 - R.Z

“…now his face became familiar to your agony. A friend to the suffering you endured for so long.”

GeneralTags/Warnings: oH BROTHER, this is heavy, A LOT of physical pain against mc (punches, slaps, burns, kicks, choking, stepping), brainwashing (?), manipulation, OC deaths, blood and violence, ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST and (I cant stress this enough) ANGST

Playlist:

Cop Car by Mitski Drunk Walk Home by Mitski Where Is My Mind? by Tkay Maidza

Word Count: 3.2k

next →

They’d come for you…

CRACK.

They’re your team…

CRUNCH.

Luffy…Nami…Usopp…Robin…Sanji…

“Keep your eyes open.”

SMACK.

Z–...Zoro…

“Look at ya, heh,” the pirate coughed out a laugh from behind the cigar he had in his mouth. He dropped the poster in his hand down from in front of your dazed face. The pain felt never ending, and your strength and unbothered facade couldn’t take it anymore.

“Not so bold and mouthy anymore, are ya?”

You weren’t sure how long it had been by now, waiting for your crew to find you and save you from the new forms of torture they could put you through. You had done what you could to fight, to make it absolutely miserable for them. If they were gonna piss you off, you would make their lives miserable.

But the days kept going. Weeks went by. You were only fed once a week, water barely touching your lips. You couldn’t understand why they were keeping you alive; only knowing that they were just barely giving you enough to keep your body from completely shutting down.

The cut ran deep in your lip, both yellow and purple bruises scattered around the form that might be considered your body. You felt less like a human now, and more like a sack of blood and shattered bones. Every attempt to move felt like a hundred swords stabbing every inch of your body. 

Creaking from the door drew your eyes to the staircase, watching as a scrawny boy walked down and paused at the sight of you, eyes widening at your state. 

“What, what do you want, Pierre?” The man standing in front of you puffed out smoke as he talked, his hand grabbing at your chin to keep you steady. The boy’s face paled as he noticed your eyes on him, and gripped the bannister of the staircase a little tighter.

“I…I– uhm…Captain said it’s time for dinner and wanted me t-to come get you, sir.” He stumbled over his words clumsily, eyes drawn from you to the floor in front of him. You hadn’t seen him before, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered how new he was, seeing as he was shocked about your condition. A silence settled across the room as the pirate in front of you puffs out another cloud of smoke into your face. Finally, he lets go of your chin and takes out his cigar.

“Fine.”

He puts the burning end of the cigar against your thigh to put it out. Your voice, although weak, grunted and cracked from the searing pain shooting through you. The pirate laughed, before leaning in towards your ear, the smoke clinging to him. He dug the cigar even harder into your leg.

“You would think he would be here by now. Maybe he doesn’t actually care as much as you thought.”

The bigger man stepped away, past Pierre, and through the door leading to the outside. The boy stayed in his spot, staring down at the floor, and fiddling with his jacket pocket before heading out. Your head lolled forward and you closed your eyes in hope of some sort of sleep to pass the hellish time here.

You drifted in and out of sleep in the chair you were strapped to. When you weren’t awake and listening to their loud roars above deck, you were remembering the various methods of affliction they had put you through. Burns, cuts, punches, all interspersed with thoughts of him.

You couldn’t understand what their methods were to the torture. The captain, Silver Tooth, had started it all off and ordered his men to follow the same ways – keep your eyes on the poster of Zoro no matter what. It was his bounty poster that hung up on the walls surrounding you. It was there to taunt you, you gathered. The man you always wanted but would die before it would come to fruition. Not like they could know that, but with how close you and he were known to be – fighting back to back in battles – it made sense that they would choose his likeness to surround you with.

And as your vision became darker, fuzzier, you swore you could see slight movement from the corner of the room in the dark. A bit of green.

“Wake up, kid.” The voice.

“Hey, look at me.” I would know it even in a busy market, voices and chatter surrounding me.

“Come on, don’t sleep the day away now.” Just gotta open my eyes, right? He’ll be there.

Your eyes fluttered open to see Zoro standing in front of you, smiling with a toothpick hanging loosely, three swords sitting on his hip and his hand resting on the hilt of the Wado. Your body sprung alive and a laugh of disbelief racked your body. His heavy footsteps came closer to you and he squatted in front of the chair you were chained to.

Why aren’t I free yet?

“What’s wrong kid? Can’t you get up?” His head tilted to the side as he watched your face contort into confusion. Why wasn’t he helping you?

“Get up.”

“I– I can’t, Zo–”

“I didn’t teach you to be weak, did I?”

“Zoro I’m chained to the chair, please hel–”

“Always a weight, dragging me down.” He sighed, walking around your chair to stand behind you. “You know, if you were better you would have been able to get out of this by now. I could have gotten out of this by now.”

“Shut up and help–”

“Why should I help someone as weak as you?” You could feel his breath against your ear now and you turned to try to look at him, but his hand gripped the back of your neck and kept you looking straight forward.

“Zoro you’re–”

“Maybe they should just keep you. Maybe I should just leave you here.” A chill froze your entire body and the fear of him leaving you to these people almost paralyzed you.

“DON’T– ZORO PLEASE–”

“Maybe I should just kill you and spare them the trouble.”

“NO–!”

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU YELLING ABOUT?” A gruff voice called from the top of the stairs. Heavy steps slowly came down the stairs, and you recognized the first mate by his long purple hair braided to half way down his back. 

You looked over your shoulder, not feeling Zoro’s hand holding you anymore. In fact, you didn’t see him anymore either, the poster on the wall mocking your mental stability. Where did he go? It couldn’t have been some dream.

“I…I thought…I saw…” 

It felt so real, though.

“I don’t give a damn, shut the fuck up.” He quickly walked over to you, raising his fist, and bringing it against the side of your head, blackness taking over your vision almost immediately.

You weren’t sure how many hours you were out for. Or days. But when you are woken up by scalding hot water thrown on your body by Silver Tooth, needless to say the time was not your main concern. 

“Wakey-wakey…time to play.” The man stepped in front of you as tears rimmed your eyes uncontrollably, your brain unable to focus on anything except the pain. You grunted and thrashed in your chair, wrists rubbing against the chains keeping them tightly to the chair. He laughed at your struggle, silver teeth on full display.

“I love that you still have life in you after all this time!” He stepped around the back of your chair as you stared straight ahead, the swordsman on the poster in front of you taking up your sights. You felt him lean in beside your ear, wretched breath making you hold yours in order to keep from gagging.

“It makes it so much more fun when I break you.”

A hand quickly shot up to your throat and pressed into the center, right into your trachea. Your air way suddenly closed up, and you tried to shift your head around to get him to let loose. But it was difficult with how he used his grip against your throat to shove the back of your head against his shoulder, keeping you from turning your head any way. Your eyes closed involuntarily, and his other hand came up to slap you across your face, tears falling freely from the lack of oxygen and smarting in your cheek.

“Keep your eyes open, I want you to see your buddy watch your torment – your fear.” Using the hand he slapped you with, he reached up to just under your eyebrows and pulled your eyelids back. 

You saw him. Him. Standing in front of you like he did before you got knocked out. He had that same smug smile on his face again, the toothpick slightly sticking out. His head tilted, and his eyes taunting you. 

“Always a weight, dragging me down.”

“I could have gotten out of this by now.”

His voice echoed in your brain as your oxygen became more and more depleted, rasps of desperate air coming from your throat as you tried to beg Zoro with your eyes to help you. But he didn’t. He stood there…and he stared. Like he was ready for you to be gone. Like that’s why he hasn’t found you yet.

Maybe he would be the last sight you saw before your body gave out. He could be the last thing you ever see on this plane of existence. Your vision blurry and you fighting to clear it so you can see him one last time. 

His name was synonymous to death for many people who had come across his blade, whether they lived or not. And now his face became familiar to your agony. A friend to the suffering you endured for so long.

“CAPTAIN!”

Silver Tooth’s grip on your throat loosened as a yell from above deck called his attention. You took full advantage of the momentary respite, breathing in buckets of air and coughing like you had drank water too fast.

The captain growled as the door opened at the top of the stairs, and the scrawny kid – Pierre – bounded down the stairs and pointed upwards.

“Pirates! Strawhats!” He cried out of breath, and not even a second after the words came out of his mouth, a yell could be heard, followed by the sound of a cannon going off. The boom was accompanied by a violent rock of the ship, and Silver Tooth let go of your throat, pushing past the young boy before heading upstairs.

Pierre’s eyes followed the captain, and as soon as he was out the door, he waited to hear him barking orders to everyone before making his way to your side. His hands flew over the chains that bound your arms to the chair, setting them free and moving to your ankles.

It all was happening so fast that you had no time to truly process all of it, only staring at the boy in shock.

“Look at that,” Zoro’s voice came from behind you, but you couldn’t see him anywhere. “Needed some kid’s help to get you out of here. How pathetic.”

“Uhm,” Pierre’s voice drew your attention back to him, as he finished taking the chain off from around your stomach. “This might be a stupid question, but do you think you can stand by yourself?”

Without thinking too much into it, you placed your hands onto the armrests of the chair they laid upon for weeks and attempted to push yourself up. Your wobbly legs were extremely unsteady, and while you might be able to take a few steps, you didn’t know how far you would be able to go.

Another cannonball hit the boat, aggressively shaking the boat and causing you to lose your balance, having to sit right back down in the chair again, a sting shooting through all of your limbs. 

“Shit, I figured as much…I’m gonna have to help you, if-if you d-don’t mind…” He cautiously ducked down to put one arm under your shoulder, attempting to gently bring your arm around him to help guide you. Your hand rested against your side as you tried to push through the pain, knowing your crew was above deck fighting for you.

“W–...Why are you h– helping me?” It felt like a fire was burning inside your lungs when you tried to talk, but the question rang around your mind and you felt like you must know. He looked at you in the corner of his eyes as he walked up the steps with you carefully, taking most of your weight into him to lessen the burning in your limbs.

“I owe some–”

Before he could finish his sentence, the door at the top of the stairs flew open, and your eyes widened when you came face to face with Zoro, eyes narrowed as he looked at Pierre next to you. Suddenly, his foot came up, kicking the boy in the chest down the stairs. With the only thing keeping you steady abruptly taken from you, you followed too, body falling backwards and tumbling down the steps. Unfortunately for the boy, but luckily for you, you landed right onto Pierre’s body, helping to cushion the brunt of your fall.

“What do you think you’re doing?” The man’s heavy footsteps clanked down the stairs, the sounds of the chains on his boots brought you back to your senses. You tried to look around Pierre’s unconscious body for some sort of weapon to protect yourself, but there seemed to be none. With nothing else to do, your survival instincts kicked in, and you pulled yourself away from the boy, trying to create distance between the man walking down. 

“Did you actually think you could leave here?” The voice changed as he finally reached the bottom of the steps. You turned around to see Silver Tooth looking down at Pierre’s face. What the hell?

He turned his head towards you and before smiling gruesomely. With a sudden movement, he kicked Pierre’s head, and you gasped as you heard a crack resound. Blood quickly pooled at the gatorskin boots the captain wore, and you went back to dragging yourself to the closest object you could see. The chair. It still had the chains that kept you stuck to it for so long. If you could get those, maybe you could have some sort of chance. And if he still killed you…at least you went out fighting.

Your hand reached out to grab at the chain that loosely wrapped around one of the legs of the chair. 

CRACK.

Black boots were the first thing you saw. Right before the shooting pain ran through your arm, and you realized you couldn’t feel your hand. 

A guttural cry rang out, and it took you a moment to realize that it was coming from you.

You looked up to find Zoro’s face yet again, and your head spinned at how it was even possible. Just a moment ago you were seeing Silver Tooth, but now your battle partner was here.

Funny thing, it is. The realization that you can’t believe your own brain anymore.

His boot ground more into your hand, and your teeth clenched to keep your cries from coming any more out.

“Silly, silly, silly…” He took his foot off your hand before kicking you in your gut, wind knocked out of you entirely. “It’ll all work out for me, you know.” Another kick.

“Doesn’t matter the outcome of that battle up there.” Kick. Your body was forced onto its back, your rib cage now exposed. You looked up at the crazed look in Zoro’s eye.

“Because no matter what,” Stomp. You heard the rib crack before you felt it.

“You’ll never leave here.” A kick to your temple made your entire world go dark.

“Wake up…”

“Come on…”

“Go find Chop–”

The voices 

are 

so far 

away.

Who 

are they?

“You need to wake up…”

I don’t 

want to.

“Wake up, kid…”

Fuck you.

“Open your eyes, kid. Please.”

Your eyes flew open to see the face you had been staring at for months looking back down at you. Your vision was blurry, completely hazy, shapes not having their sharpened edges as they should. But you knew who it was.

You knew who it was.

“Stay still, Usopp’s getting–” 

Your hands were wrapped around his throat in seconds, body launching at him and knocking him backwards. You were on top of him in an instant, pressing down harshly into his Adam's apple. You weren’t sure where the energy and strength came from, but you couldn’t care. He wasn’t real. He wasn’t your Zoro. He needed to die.

The sudden switch in you gave Zoro no time to react, and he was on his back in seconds as his hands reached up to lay atop yours as he lost breath in his lungs.

“You fucker! You can’t KEEP ME HERE!” You screamed in his face as he felt your hands go even deeper into his neck. His eyes widened at your face, a look of absolute pure hatred painting it. He was used to people looking at him with anger and loathing, yes. But this was different. It was such an animosity he had never experienced…and it was coming from you.

Sanji and Luffy recovered from their shock and were on you in an instant, peeling you off Zoro before you could kill him.

“Stop it! What are you doing? Have you lost your goddamn mind?” Sanji yelled as you thrashed in their arms, fight slowly leaving you, but needing to attack nonetheless.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you! You need to die!” Zoro sat up and touched his throat, watching as Luffy and Sanji dragged you up the stairs and out the door, all while you looked at him like some sort of feral animal. He sat watching the door even after they left out with you, unable to understand all that just happened.

You were his partner. The person he could always trust to be at his back in a battle. You had shared drinks and nightwatch duties countless times. Shared things that he hadn’t even told Luffy. He was the one who did everything he could to find you. And you wanted him dead?

He looked in the corner where the…remnants…of Silver Tooth laid. A smile still plastered across his mangled face. He looked around the room, taking in the windowless, dimly lit area, and it was the first time since he had found you that he noticed the posters around the room. It was just him. His wanted posters, plastered on all four walls, facing the chair that was bolted in the middle of the room.

That wretched fucking chair. Covered in your dry blood and god-knows-what. It lit him with a new fire that he didn’t begin to know how to quell. He couldn’t take it out on Silver Tooth’s crew. He had already mowed the majority of them down.

So he settled on the only thing he could do.

Walking up the stairs and towards the door of the basement, he looked back to Silver Tooth’s face. A part of him wanted to keep his head. To show it to people as if to tell them This is what happens when you fuck with my crew. 

With my partner.

He walked out onto the deck and looked for a lighter.

This was written by @/ro-written and is not to be plagiarized, translated, or distributed anywhere else. Copyright 2024.

All comments, reblogs, and likes are always welcome!

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[sturniololoco]

Stressed Out

Sturniolo Little Sisiter (SLS) x The Sturniolo Triplets.

Warnings: Kinda panic attack & some flufffffff

Summary: You get stressed and take it out on your brothers, but they help you out of it.

SLS's POV

You woke up this morning, already feeling like it was gonna be a bad day; and you were right.

To start off, you woke up late, burned your toast, missed the bus, got your big brother mad at you for missing the bus, and then, to top it all off, you had to suffer the car ride to school in silence sitting next to your grumpy brother.

-

Your school day sucked too. Your friend wasn't there today, so you had to sit by yourself in chemistry, with a mean teacher substituting the class. Then, when she finally let you go to the restroom, you found out that you were on your period, meaning you had to go all the way down to the nurse's office to get a tampon/pad, then walk all the way back to the bathroom to use it. When you got back to class, the sub sent you back down the stairs to the office for taking so long in the bathroom.

-

I suppose the only good part of the day was explaining my whole bathroom situation. He just looked at me in shock after I told him my non-sugar-coated bathroom story.

"Why don't I just call your brothers to come pick you up, sounds like you've already had a pretty hard day," he says, averting my eyes and picking up the phone to call my brothers,

-

just when I thought things were looking up, they went straight down.

Nicked walked into the office. I hopped up out of my chair and practically threw my backpack on my back while he signed me out. Once my brother caught my eye, however, I could tell he was not happy with me.

We walked back to the car in silence, and Nick and I hopped in the backseat. Matt began driving, no one talking, no music. silence.

I leaned my face against the car window, bringing my knees up to my chest. I began to feel the emotion stabbing at my eyes and the back of my throat. I squeeze my eyes shut tight.

-

We pulled into the driveway and I was quick to get out of the car, unlocking the door with my key. Before my brothers even shut their car doors, I was running up to my room and slamming my door shut.

I crumpled in the middle of my floor, finally letting my emotions out. The bottled-up tears were now pouring down my face as I sobbed into my hand, covering my mouth and trying my best to stay quiet.

That wasn't a problem.

My throat was beginning to close with every sharp inhale I took, trying to get myself together.

This has happened before though. Slowly hoisting myself off the floor, I slugged my way over to my bathroom, ripping the drawer open, and pulling out my inhaler. I then re-crumpled onto the bathroom floor and began to get myself together.

Matt's POV

I was upset, to say the least. After hearing about the phone call Nick got from my sister's school on top of what happened this morning! What on earth has gotten into her. She's never been one to make trouble, she's a good kid, always has been.

"God damn it. Okay lets go." I say, grabbing my keys and going to ick up SLS/N.

Nick ran in to sign her out. I sighed and leaned my head against the window. Chris rubbed my arm sensing something was up.

"Chris, I don't know what to do, this isn't like her," I say. He looks at me and gives me a pitty smile.

"Maybe she's having a rough day. we all have those, right?" He replies, still rubbing a comforting hand up and down my arm.

I then see Nick walk out of the building, followed by my sister, so I go back to acting natural.

SLS's POV

Once my breathing has gone back to normal, I stand up, shake out my hands, and wipe the stray tears off my face.

"you're being ridiculous, get yourself together." I tell myself sternly, looking in the mirror.

-

I walk down the stairs and head to the kitchen to get water to soothe my aching throat. I also grab a quick snack and head to the couch.

I can feel three pairs of eyes staring at me as I sit down on the couch and pretend to watch my phone.

Around five minutes later I felt a hand on my knee. Matt is kneeling in front of me, looking at me with worried eyes.

I immediately feel the tears coming back.

"Talk to me baby, what's making you upset?" he says, so soft you would think he whispering.

The tears are present now.

He gets off the floor and sits up next to me, pulling me to him and hugging me, holding the back of my head. I feel Chris and Nick come and sit with me too.

Once I've managed to get my breathing situated, I tell them what's going on. About how stressed I've been lately, and venting about my horrible day. My brothers listen and comfort me as I talk.

"Aw honey," Nick says, moving some hair out of my face. all of my brothers join in on a hug, and I wish I could stay like this forever.

"I'm sorry we got upset with you and you felt like you couldn't talk to us. But I want you to know that we are always here for you, whenever you need us, we'll be there." Matt says, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

"Thaks you guys," I say wiping at the tears in my eyes.

"of course kiddo, we gotcha," Chris says.

Note: Sorry this was a little long! Let me know if yall liked this and want to see more! xoxo

[demonic-charcuterie]

Y/n saving fizzarolli from the fire.

You were a contortionist at the circus. It was you only home and with it your only friend. Fizz. You held his hand. You sat at the table with him. You stare at his eyes.

You held his hand as he ran to Blitzo’s side. You sat next to him while he sat next to Blitzo. You stare at his eyes while he stared into Blitzo’s. You hate it.

You lived for him, you bend backwards for him.

You clapped and cheered as Fizz went over his juggling routine. “Wooo go Fizz!” You cried from the stands. Blitz went after him and grunted in frustration when the balls went flying. You ran up to fizz and clapped. “That was great, you shou-“ you shut your mouth when fizz walked back you with nothing but a wave and a corner eye glance and helped Blitzo off the floor. You squeezed your fist into a ball and strutted away but not before punching the wall and the a crack slitting through it. You stormed away and crawled your way into your hammock and wrapped your tail around you.

Your tears stained your pillow and your claws stabbed your hammock over and over. “fuck…Fuck. Fuck! FUCK! FUCK HIM! FUCK YOU BLITZO!” You wailed.

A month later you were standing on a pole and balancing on one hand. You saw fizz distracting his dad while blitz stole his booze. You spat and climbed down. You bent backwards and crawled like a spider to for switching to walking on your hands over to them. “Happy birthday Fizz.” You said shyly smiled up at him. “Thank you y/n” you grinned and nodded. “Are you ready for your birthday party?”

“They’re throwing me a party?!” He asked then turned to Blitzo and clapped his hands. Blitzo rolled his eyes than glared and walked away.

Jealousy…? You giggled to yourself. Of course he was jealous, Fizzarolli was the best at everything he tried and Blitzo can’t even juggle.

“Anyway! Fizz your gonna love the the gift I made you.” You quickly said before he walked out of ear shot. You switched off of your hands and went back to walking normally. You hurried to your room and kept working on the jester hat you started a month ago. Your sewing was awful and the fabric you use was full of holes and bland. But it was made for the one you loved.

You were walking carrying the jester hat in with sliver Bella in your arms when you saw the green flames engulfing the tent. You screamed in pure shock and heart break. Fizz. Fizz! Where’s fizz?! You thought running and jumping over flames. You ran and coughed up your lungs from all the smoke. You eyes burned but you kept running. Eventually you bumped into Blitzo who’s eye was fucked up. “Shit!” You screamed. You shook your head and kept running but not for long when you saw Fizzarolli’s charred body on the arms. His limbs! H-his horns. Tears ran down from your eyes. You grabbed and ran out of the circus as he skin scorned you. “Y-y/n?” You heard his faint voice say. “It-its me fizz, I’m here now!” You screamed holding him close. “My horns?” You coughed at as you ran your fingers to the broken stumps where if horns used to be. “Gone.” You choked out in pain. You slowly pulled out the jester hat and Greg sliver bells gently rang out.

You gently slid it over his once long horns and held him on your back as you ran away from the fire.

You stroked his head as he sat up in his hospital bed. “He left me…” he whispered. Blitzo left him you thought to yourself. You gasped when he grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips. “I’m so sorry. I never saw you how you saw me.” He whispered.

You shushed him and leaned down and kiss his cheek. “Rest. We’ll talk later.” You said before crawling into his bed and wrapped your tail around him