#this post is about me collapsing as soon as i got home from work

[unhingedgirlythings]

a guide to a goodnights sleep

Tags: fem reader x sleep-deprived post prison Spencer Reid

summary: reader and spencer are on the plane trip home after a long case. reader awakens to find a sleep deprived spencer who hasn't been able to sleep the same since prison and can't help but intervene. (BASICALLY, JUST A CUTE FIC OF READER COMFORTING SPENCER AND HELPING HIM SLEEP TEEHEE CEJDNOREO)

authors note: OMG hi guys I'm so sorry I forgot about this account life got insane for a second there lmao. Anyway, here's a new fic, there will def be a continuation for this one, I've got big plans for this series teehee. I will say that I like to write, NOT edit so if it's rough I am sorry about that ha-ha.

———~~~———~~~———~~~———~~~———~~~———~~

As soon as everyone settled in for the five-hour flight home, you and the rest of the team collapsed in exhaustion.

To be fair, this case had been grueling and relentless. A small girl had been taken from her family home in the late hours of the night. It wasn’t the first kidnapping to occur in the small town of Pine Mountain, and unfortunately for the BAU, the previous case had ended with gruesome and inhumane murders.

No one wanted another child's blood on their hands, so there was an unspoken agreement among everyone that no one would get any rest until she was found alive and returned safely to her family.

You had always hated cases like this.

Yes, they were unavoidable in your line of work, but the thought of a child’s murder always stirred an unwelcome feeling deep inside you. The lingering sense of disgust always stayed with you for weeks afterward despite your attempts to forget, leaving behind a sickening weight in your stomach that persisted. The guilt gnawed at you, constantly taunting you in those quiet moments when your mind wandered.

Maybe it was the sheer exhaustion, or the sleeping pills you had discreetly swallowed before the plane took off, but despite the haunting images of the case replaying in your mind like a twisted personal snuff film, you finally drifted into a deep sleep. Honestly, you could’ve slept through the entire trip home, but unfortunately for you turbulence still existed.

Your eyes snapped open as the plane jolted you awake with little regard for your much-needed rest. A groan escaped your lips as your eyes adjusted to the dim lighting from one of the reading lights

“Spence?" you muttered, your gaze shifting to the boy genius sitting beside you. He had one of his classic novels in his hand, the title too blurry for your exhausted brain to make sense of. His eyes looked sunken, the dark circles beneath them deeper than usual. You couldn’t help but be amazed (and a little envious) at how handsome he looked even when disheveled and exhaustion.

"You're still awake?" you quietly asked, sitting up slightly in the uncomfortably stiff airplane seat, praying you didn’t look too much like a hot mess. Unfortunately for you, the universe had cursed you with bad bed hair and dark bags under your eyes whenever you woke up. Spencer set his book down in his lap and turned his head to look at you, his expression softening.

“Unfortunately," he muttered "How are you not completely exhausted" you asked in a low voice, attempting not to disturb the others' sleep.

Spencer glanced at you, his gaze lingering for a moment. There was something in his eyes, like he wanted to say something but changed his mind at the last second.

“I’m fine” he replied, noticing your not-so-awake appearance. “You, on the other hand, should go back to sleep.” He stated, clearly trying to brush off your concern, but you weren't convinced. After all these years working with Spencer, you knew him well, too well in fact, well enough to tell when he was hiding something.

You leaned in a little closer to him, looking at him with determined insistence in your eyes.

“You don’t look fine to me.”

His body stiffened as you entered his personal space and a deep sigh escaped his lips, finally giving in to your persistence, probably more out of sleep deprivation than any real desire to share.

Before the whole prison event he had undergone, you and Spencer would spend these long plane rides home venting and doing nothing but overshare. It was the familiarity and shared comfort that made you feel a sense of security with him. It was nice, it helped you make sense of the complex emotions these cases stirred up and the trauma that followed.

You had been each other’s emotional support buddy through your early years at the BAU, but now… it felt as if he had pulled away from you.

You couldn’t stand it “I just... don’t sleep well,” he muttered under his breath, as if he were ashamed to admit it. His eyes drifted away from yours, searching for something else to focus on, avoiding the intensity of your gaze. “It’s usually an unpleasant ordeal for me.”

You understood that feeling all too well—the haunting cases that refused to leave your mind, the ones that you could never quite shake off, some things once seen could never be unseen.

It made sense that he couldn’t sleep anymore, though you could only guess what had happened to him in prison. The silence between you stretched on and before you knew it you had shifted your position, turning fully toward him. Your back pressed against the wall behind you to create more space.

“What are you doing?” Spencer's brows lifted in confusion.

“Helping,” you replied simply.

The plane hummed around you, neither of you making a sound or movement. Spencer seemed to not quite understand what you were offering, despite the soft patting on your lap as an invitation. You rolled your eyes at his oblivion.

“What, you scared I’m going to bite?” you teased, smirking. "Come on, Spence. It’s not like I haven’t used you as my own personal pillow before, I’m simply returning the favor. Now hurry up before I change my mind and leave you to suffer."

There was a long-held silence before Spencer broke it, flashing you that familiar smirk, the one that used to make your stomach flutter.

You hadn't seen it in months.

“Fine, I’ll amuse you, but just this once,” he said, his voice softer than usual, almost vulnerable. You could still sense his reluctance, and it stung more than you cared to admit.

Before you could pull yourself together and remind yourself that this was your idea, you felt the unexpected weight of his head gently resting on your lap. He shifted to adjust himself, trying to make himself more comfortable in the cramped space.

Suddenly, everything felt too close, too intimate.

You tried your best to ignore the quickening of your heartbeat as you silently cursed yourself for being so delusional.

It was kind of pathetic how much of an effect he always seemed to have on you, honestly, it was impossible at this point to ignore the pull he had on you.

No matter how much you told yourself that it was in the past, that if something were to happen between the two of you, it would’ve happened years ago, you couldn’t deny it anymore. You were still hopelessly, undeniably in love with him.

So, selfishly, you decided to indulge just this once, promising yourself that you’d put the whole Spencer thing to rest after. For now, you would let yourself just be in this moment. Your fingers rested gently in his thick unruly curls; you let the warmth of his skin beneath your touch ground you.

“Spence, in order for this to work, you need to close your eyes,” you whispered softly, your voice betraying you as a hint of laughter ruined any attempt at smoothness. His brown eyes, still wide open, locked onto yours and stayed there for a moment.

“Right, right. Sorry,” he muttered with a small sheepish grin tugging at the corner of his lips. His eyes finally fluttered closed, and a faint sigh left his lips. You felt his body relax against yours, his breathing slowing.

You watched his chest rise and fall slowly with each breath. Remaining still, you simply watched him, a soft smile on your lips. Your fingers left his hair and fell gently onto his skin, dancing across his features, tracing each line.

Yeah, there was no doubt in your mind—you were officially cooked.

[lostintransist]

Divorcing John Price | Reddit Replies

AITA Part 1

I read through some of the responses from my moment of weakness. I shouldn’t have posted to Reddit of all places but dammit I couldn’t talk to anyone about this. My therapist knew but watching her lock down her muscles all I could see was the ‘don’t react, don’t react, don’t react’ screaming through her mind as I dropped the news on her. Objective would be the only kind of conversation I got from her.

“Is there anything he can do or change that would make you want to stay?”

“Have you thought about couples therapy?”

“Let’s check in, is there any part of you that doesn’t want this?”

Telling any of my friends before I told John felt dishonest and shameful, apparently telling the entirety of AITA forum didn’t hit that same bell though. I don’t plan on replying to anyone, but answer them in my head anyway.

Reddit user/veto58468731247

Dude…are you okay?

Heh, I guess? Finding the choices I made at twenty don’t fit as well in my thirties.

Reddit user/ Vanta (say happy cake day)

Have you thought about talking to him? Maybe if you talk with him and let him know you can start a trail of actions and therapy to show you at least tried. IDK 🤷🏾‍♀️ I also think maybe he married you as a beard of you think he is too friendly with the guys he works with. Have you heard of a lavender marriage?

Well, damn. A lavender marriage wouldn’t be that bad. I would want my own money though, need it. I can’t keep up the tap dance of toeing the line between keeping him happy and making sure I can live and enjoy my life. It would have to be a friendship kind of relationship and not a marriage. A friendship means I can go ahead without having to check on things that truly don’t matter to me but will cause stress if mess with. That would be the only way that I could keep going like I have been. I never had a chance to be a dumb twenty-something; the idea of kissing a girl doesn’t light a spark but I want to try you know? Just to see.

Reddit user/ NotReallyDumb:

Poor guy. This is why men should be careful about who they get pregnant. His wife is complaining about being a fucking housewife.

The slow blink that I can’t stop reading this one pairs nicely with the block button. Making sweeping statements about a situation you only know the grievances about will never be helpful for anyone. Like why the fuck would the jerk type that out? ‘NotReallyDumb’ seems really dumb.

Reddit user/ DontDropTheSoap:

Is this who I think it is? Is John [redacted] who I think it is? 👀👀👀

This one got a reply. I shouldn’t have, but if any of his men were sleeping with him and smiling in your face? That roiled in my chest like a hurricane at sea.

I don’t know, Soap, [please read this with a popping of the p]. Why don’t you schedule lunch with the wife of who you think this is and we can compare notes.

I pop the p on Soap at least once every time I see him. Tiny bits bring me joy.

Reddit user/ therapyisforsuckersandassholes

Husband must not be a real man if he can’t do more than crash after coming home from work.

First off, asshole, my husband does crazy hard work and him collapsing into himself wouldn’t be a problem if he could pull himself out of the funk for anything except his men. If I was important to him, if the kids held a higher hold on his heart, he would at least try for us.

Mentally replying to this one caught me in the neck. Tears started without my permission. That was it. The big issue. John would always find the energy to save his men from anything, but couldn’t find the will to schedule a babysitter or take me on a date. He commanded men all day, a captain. But one annoyed sigh from his strong-willed wife and he crumbled. Fucker needed to step up or step out because I couldn’t hold this teeter-totter still much longer.

Reddit user/sharingcaringandassstuff

Do you have a job hun? It sounds like you’re gonna be needing one soon if not.

Not a full-time gig, no, but soon the kids will all be in school and I can swing getting job that pays more and has more h. I’ve been using John’s pay to clear the debt that hasn’t yet been wiped away. While you want the house I won’t fight him for it. I would happily find somewhere to sleep during the weeks he is home and with the kids. Honestly, keeping it for them would be the best option in my opinion.

Reddit user/8675309999971

Does your husband do anything?

Both too much and not enough. Therapist said he sounded avoidant and that if he can’t face the ninety seconds it would take for his brain to stop throwing panic why would I want to keep trying for this marriage? Can’t I step back and keep him as a co-parent instead of drowning under the weight of my own unmet needs?

Three days later a text from John’s sergeant, Soap, with an offer to go to grab lunch solidifies the fact I cannot stay as I am.

Drafting the options takes several days. There it sits in stark black and white, the end of what we were and the beginning of what we could be.

If he chooses divorce, I won’t ask for alimony. I will fight tooth and nail to be the primary custodian of our children though. Between his job and his long absences, any well-educated person could see that child support payments would be cheaper than a nanny.

However, if he chooses a lavender marriage I want him out of the main bedroom. I get two days free every month to do whatever the hell I want while he gets to be home with the kids. I will treat this legal agreement exactly like what it is. A legal agreement. The thing about contracts is they can be updated, adjusted, changed, if both parties agree.

John will balk, but the man had ten-plus years to buck up and try for something different. I’m not waiting on his inconsistent timing anymore.

Masterlist | Taglist

Shout out to @miss-vanta-likes-to-write and @skeletonsucker for helping me with the reddit replies 😘

[loveesiren]

ℜ𝔬𝔰𝔢 𝔗𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔬𝔬

Kwon Jiyong x f!reader

a/n: I'm sorry I'm so rusty and this is so ass lol but I made my dog listen to this song on repeat on my drive home from work and it just inspired me to write some stupid lil fluff. I wanted to post something to convince myself I can still write. Sorry its bad lol I'm overwhelmed rn. if you enjoy please leave a comment. I will write better soon ugh

song: rose tattoo - dropkick murphy's

wc: 2.6k+

warnings: alcohol, drunk tattoos

“That was fucking awesome!” Jiyong groaned as he collapsed onto the velvet couch backstage, his body still buzzing with adrenaline. He ran a hand through his damp hair and took a long swig from his water bottle, letting his head fall back with a blissful sigh. His black tank top clung to him, soaked with sweat, and his heart still pounded in his chest from the high of performing.

“No one told me Ireland parties so hard…” Daesung said through a breathless laugh, toweling off his face. His hair stuck up in different directions, and his cheeks were flushed with exertion.

“They’re wild out there,” Youngbae added, chugging from his water bottle before plopping down on the floor and leaning against the couch. “The crowd was insane.”

Jiyong’s eyes lit up. “We have to go out tonight! Celebrate!”

Youngbae raised an eyebrow at him. “Celebrate what?”

Jiyong didn’t hesitate. His smile widened, softening in a way only they recognized. “Our last night in Europe. And… we’ve got a whole week off. No planes. No soundchecks. No stage makeup. Just sleep, good food, and—” His eyes turned dreamy. “—I get to see Y/n.”

The others groaned, but Jiyong didn’t care. His thoughts had already drifted back to you. The way your voice sounded on late-night calls. The blurry selfies you’d send when you missed him. The scent of your shampoo lingering on his clothes when he unpacked.

Seunghyun rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. Jiyong had been with you for six months, but he talked about you like he’d loved you for years. And maybe he had—just hadn’t met you yet. Seunghyun had seen Jiyong fall hard before, but this was different. You weren’t just some pretty distraction. You grounded him. Balanced out the chaos in his head.

He nudged Jiyong with his knee. “So what’s the plan, lover boy?”

Jiyong looked at them all with the fire of a man on a mission. “Drink with the Irish!”

-

The bar they stumbled into wasn’t the kind of place that catered to tourists. It was tucked on a side street, warm and dim, filled with heavy wooden tables, worn leather stools, and an old jukebox humming in the corner. Locals filled every seat, pints in hand, shouting over traditional music that played on a loop. It smelled like aged wood, beer, and something hearty simmering in the back.

Perfect.

No one recognized them, not really—not the older patrons, anyway. The bartender, a gruff older man with thick hands and a thick accent, didn’t flinch when Jiyong ordered a round of whiskey for the table. If anything, he seemed to appreciate the enthusiasm.

They downed their shots, the Jameson burning pleasantly down their throats, and the laughter came easily. They recounted ridiculous moments from the tour—wardrobe malfunctions, mic failures, Jiyong tripping over a stage monitor in Berlin and somehow turning it into a dance move. Every story spun them further into a haze of warmth and nostalgia.

Seunghyun sat back, watching his best friend with quiet amusement. Jiyong’s cheeks were pink now, and his eyes had gone soft and unfocused—not from the alcohol alone, but from the way he kept slipping your name into every other sentence.

“Y/n would love this bar,” he murmured at one point, twirling his glass by the rim. “She always says divey places have better energy. She’d probably be talking to that old couple over there by now. She just… connects with people like that.”

A fond smile curved his lips as he stared at nothing in particular. “I’ve been counting down the days to see her. She sent me this stupid video this morning—just her brushing her teeth and humming our song. But it made my whole day. Like, fuck the sold-out show. I just want to hear her laugh in person again.”

Daesung chuckled. “You’re so gone, man.”

“I am,” Jiyong said without shame, lifting his glass. “I’m fucking gone for her.”

-

Eventually, the whiskey had found its way into every vein, numbing limbs and loosening tongues. The bar had emptied slightly, the once-rowdy crowd thinning into pockets of quiet laughter and half-empty pint glasses. Youngbae was slumped forward at the table, head resting on folded arms, barely clinging to consciousness. Seunghyun had wandered outside for a smoke, needing air and space. Daesung was lost in animated conversation with an older Irish gentleman who reminded him of someone’s grandpa—laughing heartily and clinking glasses like old friends.

Which meant, of course, no one had been keeping an eye on Jiyong.

Tucked in the far corner of the pub, half-lit by a dim wall sconce, he sat grinning beside a stranger. The man was from London, maybe mid-thirties, rough around the edges, with inked knuckles and a travel-worn bag that doubled as a tattoo kit. He smelled faintly of cigarettes and antiseptic and was currently dragging a needle across the top of Jiyong’s left hand.

“How long ya been with her?” the man asked, his voice low and crackly as he wiped away excess ink.

Jiyong’s eyes didn’t leave his phone screen. Your face smiled up at him from the lock screen—a silly selfie you’d sent the morning after he left for tour. Your cheeks were puffy, hair tangled, eyes barely open. You were brushing your teeth with his sweatshirt hanging off one shoulder. It had made him cry the first time he saw it.

“Six months,” Jiyong murmured, heart softening. “But it feels like forever, man. She’s… fuck, she’s the love of my life.”

There was a raw, aching honesty in his voice—drunken, yes, but completely sincere.

His throat tightened as he blinked down at your photo. The distance between you wasn’t new, but tonight it felt especially unbearable. He missed your warmth, your voice humming in the dark, the way you’d touch his arm just to ground him. He missed your laugh, the way it shook your whole body when something really caught you off guard.

He missed you. All of you.

His eyes welled again.

“Oi, don’t cry now,” the man said, clearly unsure how to handle it. “Here. Have another shot, yeah? You’ll see her tomorrow.”

Jiyong nodded as he accepted the glass, knocking it back and letting the burn distract him from the knot in his chest. “Three weeks,” he whispered. “It’s been three weeks. And I’ve felt her absence every damn second.”

“Well she’ll bloody love this, mate,” the man said with a smirk, finishing the last strokes of the small rose and your name scrawled beneath it in sharp cursive. The ink was rudimentary—far from professional—but it was clear. Personal and permanent.

Jiyong stared at it with glassy eyes. The skin was red, slightly swollen, smeared with blood and ink. But there it was. Your name. On his hand. Close to his pulse. A promise etched into flesh.

“She’s always with me now,” he said softly, smiling.

“Jiyong, what the hell are you doing?” Youngbae’s voice cut through the haze as he stumbled over. Seunghyun followed right behind, a cloud of smoke still clinging to his coat.

“This is the best tattoo I’ve ever gotten!” Jiyong beamed, lifting his hand like a child showing off a finger painting.

“I’m Luke!” the British man offered with a peace sign.

Neither Youngbae nor Seunghyun acknowledged him. They were too focused on the sloppy mess of ink and blood seeping from Jiyong’s hand.

“Dude,” Youngbae hissed, grabbing his wrist carefully. “This is gonna get infected!”

“No it’s not,” Jiyong argued, clutching his hand to his chest.

“Pour some whiskey on it!” Luke slurred proudly, then immediately tilted the nearly empty Jameson bottle over Jiyong’s hand like he was salting a steak.

“Aishh, shibal!” Jiyong hissed, jerking back in pain.

“That’s it. We’re going back to the hotel,” Seunghyun said, not even giving Jiyong the option. He grabbed him by the arm, and Jiyong let himself be hauled up, still waving at Luke.

“Thanks, man! You’re a legend!” he yelled, flinging a crumpled bill over his shoulder.

-

Back at the hotel, the bathroom lights buzzed softly while steam fogged the mirror. Jiyong sat in the empty bathtub, shirtless, soaked with alcohol and happiness, while Youngbae knelt beside him like a tired nurse, scrubbing at his hand with way too much precision for someone who had been nearly unconscious an hour ago.

Seunghyun paced nearby, arms crossed and fuming. “Why the hell would you let some drunk guy in a bar tattoo you?”

Jiyong shrugged, eyes heavy and unfocused. “He offered.”

Seunghyun stared. “You do realize her name is on you. Forever. On your hand, Jiyong.”

Jiyong giggled. “Good.”

Youngbae sighed. “You two haven’t even gone public yet, man. If fans see this—”

“Let them see it.” Jiyong interjected. 

“At least he spelled her name right…” Youngbae muttered, pressing a cloth gently over the skin. “Still, this is gonna need a serious touch-up when it heals.”

Jiyong lifted his hand, his vision swimming slightly, and stared at it. The ink was messy, and the rose wasn’t even symmetrical. But your name stood out clear and proud. It didn’t need to be perfect. It was real.

“She means everything to me,” he murmured. “This… this one means the most. It stays here. For eternity.”

And then, with a dopey smile and one last look at your face on his screen, he let his eyes close and drifted off to sleep, your name resting on his heart—inked in his skin, etched in his soul.

-

Getting Jiyong onto the plane that morning was nothing short of a mission. He was groggy, half-delirious from the hangover, and very much dead weight. Youngbae had ended up tossing him over his shoulder like a sack of rice while Seunghyun coaxed a still-chatty Daesung away from a local woman he’d befriended at the airport bar.

By some miracle, they made it to their first-class seats in one piece. Jiyong immediately slumped back into his seat with a deep groan, pulling the blanket over his head like a sulking child.

Seunghyun rolled his eyes and settled in beside him, just as Jiyong’s phone started buzzing in his lap.

“Y/n’s calling you,” Seunghyun said, glancing down at the screen before nudging him.

Jiyong shot upright like he’d been electrocuted, fumbling clumsily for the phone—only to drop it straight to the floor. “Shit—fuck—wait—”

With a long-suffering sigh, Seunghyun bent down and retrieved it, sliding his thumb across the screen. “Hey, Y/n! Your boyfriend is nursing a world-class hangover,” he said, flipping the camera to reveal Jiyong, who was grinning like a fool beneath a blanket, his cheeks flushed and eyes heavy.

Jiyong struggled to bring up his left hand to wave at you, but Seunghyun caught him quickly, pressing it down discreetly to hide the tattoo.

“Baby! I miss you!” Jiyong cooed, voice still hoarse but full of warmth.

“I miss you too, Oppa,” you said through the screen, your smile melting his exhaustion in an instant. “Please try to sleep on the plane, okay?”

“I’ll make sure he does,” Seunghyun promised, flipping the camera back to himself.

You giggled when Jiyong scooted closer, resting his head on Seunghyun’s shoulder just to get back into the frame. His big, sleepy eyes blinked up at you, and you could see just how much he needed rest—but more than anything, you saw how much he needed you.

“Saranghae, Oppa!” you called, and then hung up before he could say anything else.

-

Two flights and what felt like a lifetime later, they landed in Seoul. Everyone was groggy, sore, and over it—except Jiyong. The moment his feet hit the ground, something inside him lit up.

“Hyung, where is he—?” Daesung began, looking around.

“He ran,” Seunghyun muttered, barely looking up from his phone.

Jiyong didn’t care about his bags, his entourage, or even the airport staff trying to usher him through a private exit. All he cared about was getting to you. His heart thudded in his chest like a war drum, and his legs didn’t stop moving until he was in the car, shouting your address at the startled driver.

The entire ride to your house, his leg bounced uncontrollably. He chewed on his nails. Stared out the window. Clutched his healing hand to his chest. He just needed to see you. Breathe you in. Make sure you were real again.

As soon as the car pulled into your driveway, he was out before it even stopped fully, bolting for your front door and leaving poor Jaeho to deal with your personal security.

“Jagiya! It’s me!” he called, pounding his fist against the door.

Inside, you dropped the ladle you’d been stirring soup with, the clang echoing through the house as you tore off your apron and sprinted for the door.

The moment it opened, the world disappeared.

“Ji!” you screamed, launching into his arms.

He caught you easily, wrapping you up with every ounce of longing he’d carried for the last three weeks. His face immediately buried into the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of your skin, pressing desperate kisses into the space where your pulse lived.

“God, baby…” he whispered, voice cracking. “I missed you so fucking much…”

His arms trembled slightly as he held you tighter. It wasn’t just relief—it was a kind of quiet desperation, the ache of missing someone so deeply that you swore your body forgot how to function without them.

You let him carry you to the couch like you weighed nothing, his body pressed flush against yours as he laid you down beneath him. His lips found your cheek, your jaw, your lips, and every sound you let out fueled him like oxygen.

As your hands moved over his body, you noticed something strange—his left hand was wrapped with gauze and medical tape.

“Ji… what happened?” you asked gently.

He paused, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh… that’s actually a surprise.”

“A surprise? You broke your hand?”

“No,” he laughed, kissing your nose. “Worse.”

He sat up a little, cradling your body with one arm as he used the other to gently unravel the bandages. The tape came off slowly, and then the gauze, revealing his tender, still-red skin.

And there it was.

Your name. Inked in bold, crooked lines beneath a simple rose.

“I was drunk,” he confessed sheepishly. “At a bar. Couldn’t stop thinking about you. Some guy had a tattoo gun and… I said fuck it. I wanted your name on me. So you’d always be with me. Even when you’re not.”

You blinked down at the fresh ink, your chest tightening. The lines were imperfect, the skin around them swollen—but it was beautiful. He had carved your name into his skin. Because he missed you that much.

“Jiyong…” you whispered, fingers lightly brushing over it. “You know the whole world’s gonna know now, right?”

A slow, proud smile stretched across his face. “Yeah… and that brings me to my next souvenir.”

He reached into his jacket pocket, digging past his passport and crumpled receipts until he pulled out a small black box.

Your heart stopped.

He flipped it open.

Inside sat a diamond ring, elegant and radiant, the center stone catching the soft light like a promise.

“Will you marry me?”

For a second, the air froze. All you could hear was your heartbeat, and the sound of Jiyong’s breathing. He looked terrified. Hopeful. So stupidly in love.

Tears blurred your vision, but your smile never faltered.

“Yes!” you cried, tackling him back onto the couch, your arms wrapped tight around his neck. You kissed every part of his face you could reach—his cheeks, his jaw, his lips, his nose.

“I love you so much,” you said between kisses.

“I love you more than anything,” he replied, arms wrapped around you like he’d never let go again.

You pulled back just enough to look at his hand again, brushing your thumb over the healing ink. “I still can’t believe you got my name tattooed…”

“Signed and sealed with blood, baby,” he grinned. “Forever.”

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[oikawaisincrisis]

Built on sandcastles ~ D.S.

Pairing: Daichi Sawamura x Suga’s sister!Reader

Summary: He’s always been your brother’s best friend, he’s always been there from sandcastles to high-school crushes. But somewhere along the way, he became so much more.

CW (content warning): Reader is Suga’s little sister (a year younger than him and Daichi), jealous Daichi, very slightly angst, mutual pining, mentions of a physical fight, not much more this is 99% tooth rotting fluff.

AN: Hi guys! So here’s the second instalment on the childhood series I talked about making on my last Atsumu work. Since Daichi is going last on my medieval AU masterlist (a crime in my opinion) I thought about making this to post something for me and the other 5 Daichi’s fans out there! 🫵🏻 English isn’t my first language so I’m sorry if there’s any mistakes. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! :)

Requests are open so feel free to send yours! (you can check the list of characters I write for on my pinned post)

Masterlist

Sandcastles (Ages 4 and 5)

The playground was loud with the kind of wild, half-screamed laughter only kids could get away with. Metal clanged, sneakers pounded on the concrete, and a ball thudded against the fence before bouncing away unnoticed. You sat by yourself in the sandbox, a little island of quiet in a world moving too fast around you.

Sugawara’s friends were over again, he was already in first grade, and that made him cool. Too cool, apparently, to let his baby sister join their soccer game. You didn’t mind, not really. You were only four, and four-year-olds were apparently not old enough to keep up.

So you dug into the dry sand with your tiny plastic shovel, determined not to cry even though your throat felt tight. You’d been trying to build a castle, but it kept falling apart, slumping into sad piles like your mood.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

The voice made you look up. A boy with round cheeks, sun-warmed skin, and messy dark hair stood just outside the sandbox, a soccer ball tucked under one arm. You blinked at him. He wasn’t your brother, but you’d seen him around. He was always with Koushi.

“I’m not.” You said, lips wobbling even though you were trying to sound tough.

He tilted his head. “You kind of are.”

You crossed your arms. “You’re mean.”

“I’m Daichi.” He corrected instead, then stepped into the sandbox like he belonged there. “Can I help?”

You stared at him for a long second, then nodded slowly. His smile was wide and toothy, and you didn’t know it yet, but that smile would become one of your favorite things in the world.

“I’m building a castle.” You explained seriously, gesturing to the sad pile in front of you.

Daichi sat cross-legged beside you and squinted down at it. “It looks more like a mountain.”

You pouted.

“Okay, okay! Castle. Right.” He started scooping up handfuls of sand and packing them into lumpy towers. They were terrible, worse than yours and he kept knocking them over with his elbows. But he made you laugh.

When he managed to accidentally collapse one of your towers for the third time, he dropped his chin into his hands and sighed dramatically. “I’m really bad at this.”

“You’re terrible.” You agreed through a giggle, and that only made him grin harder.

“You know what would make it better?” He asked suddenly. “A moat. Castles always have moats.”

Together, you spent the next twenty minutes digging a crooked, shallow circle around your “castle” Daichi got sand in his socks and down the back of his shirt. You both ended up dirty and sun-warmed and happy.

When Koushi came running over to tell Daichi you were going home soon, you felt a little pang in your chest.

“Bye!” You said, waving your sandy hand.

“Bye!” He said, then paused. “You build really good castles.”

Your face lit up.

That was the very first time Daichi Sawamura made your heart feel a little bit bigger.

——————————————————————————

Skinned knees (ages 6 and 7)

“TAG! You’re it!”

“No fair, I wasn’t ready!”

Daichi bolted across the grass, arms pumping, sneakers kicking up dirt. He was fast, always had been, but the older kids had longer legs, and that meant he had to try harder to keep up. He liked that. It made him feel strong. Grown-up.

Until, of course, he didn’t see the root sticking up in the grass. His foot caught. His body pitched forward, and he hit the ground hard.

“DAICHI!” Koushi yelled.

“I’m fine!” He called back instantly, sitting up fast even though his knees burned and stung. His palms were scraped too, small pebbles sticking to the torn skin. It hurt.

But boys didn’t cry, right?

Still, his lip was trembling a little as he brushed at his knee. There was blood. Not a lot, but enough to make his stomach feel weird. He looked up and saw Sugawara running toward him, panic written all over his face.

And then he saw you, a small blur of pink and pigtails breaking into a run across the grass, your little shoes thudding hard. Daichi quickly looked down again.

“Daichi!” You called, breathless by the time you dropped to your knees beside him. “You’re bleeding!”

“‘M okay.” He mumbled.

But you were already digging into the tiny pink Hello Kitty pouch you carried everywhere. Out came a tissue, slightly crumpled but clean, and a bandaid decorated with sparkly stars.

You dabbed carefully at his knee, tongue peeking out in concentration. “You’re not okay.” You said matter-of-factly. “But it’s okay to cry, you know.”

He looked at you, wide-eyed.

“You’re allowed to cry.” You repeated gently, and then, without warning, you blew softly on his scraped knee.

Daichi blinked fast. He didn’t cry, not really, but his shoulders dropped, the tight knot in his chest loosening just a bit.

You peeled the bandaid and smoothed it over the cut with gentle fingers.

“There!” You said beaming up at him. “All better.”

And he looked at you like you’d just fixed the world.

——————————————————————————

The recital (ages 10 and 11)

Your heart was beating too fast.

You stood just off-stage, fingers twitching with nerves. The recital hall was bigger than you remembered. The polished black piano sat center stage like a challenge, and the rows of folding chairs were filled with strangers. Parents. Teachers. Judges.

Not your parents, though.

They wanted to come. They really did. But Koushi had a fever over 102, and your mom couldn’t leave his side. Your dad stayed too, and though you told them it was okay, your voice had cracked on the word.

You knew it wasn’t their fault but your stomach still twisted with disappointment as your name was called.

The walk to the piano felt miles long. You sat on the bench, placed your hands on the keys, and took a shaky breath.

You started to play. The first few notes were hesitant, your fingers stumbling, but muscle memory took over. You got lost in the melody, pouring your heart into the piece you’d practiced for weeks. It wasn’t perfect, but it was yours. When the final note faded, there was polite applause.

You stood, bowed, and left the stage with your hands trembling. Your throat burned. You weren’t going to cry, not here, not in front of everyone but it was close.

You stepped out into the hallway, wiping at your eyes before they could spill over.

“Hey.”

You jumped.

Daichi stood there, awkward in a button-up shirt that didn’t fit him quite right and jeans a little too long. His hair was combed for once. He held a crumpled bouquet of flowers, yellow daisies and baby’s breath tied together with a string.

Your mouth dropped open. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Koushi said you had your recital. Your parents couldn’t come, so I… figured someone should.”

Your hands curled around the bouquet automatically. “You came?”

“I was a little late.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I saw the whole thing. You were amazing.”

You blinked fast. “I messed up at the start.”

“But you kept going. And you didn’t run offstage crying or throw the piano stool or anything. So, yeah. Amazing.”

You laughed, half-choked and half-sniffled. “That’s a bit dumb.”

“Maybe.” He grinned. “But I brought flowers.”

You stared at the yellow petals, heart warm and aching. The hallway was quiet now, just the two of you. You didn’t say anything for a moment. “Thank you.”

Daichi looked at you, softer than usual. “Anytime.”

And somehow you knew he meant it.

——————————————————————————

Fever (ages 11 and 12)

It was supposed to be just a quick errand.

Koushi was stuck finishing an assignment, and Daichi had come home from the overnight school camp sick, like really sick. Fever, sore throat, barely-talking kind of sick. His mom called in to say he’d be home for at least two days. And with the teachers sending over homework, someone had to drop it off.

So, Koushi looked at you. "Please?"

You grumbled a little, but truthfully? You didn’t mind.

You arrived at the Sawamuras’ place after school, your backpack heavier than usual and the plastic folder of assignments crumpling slightly in your grip. Daichi’s mom answered the door, soft-eyed and frazzled, thanking you a little too many times as she let you in.

“He’s upstairs.” She said. “Been sleeping most of the day, but maybe hearing a friend’s voice will help.”

You didn’t correct her. You weren’t sure what to call it friendship didn’t feel like enough anymore. But it was easier that way. Koushi surely was Daichi’s friend but you weren’t exactly sure what you were to him.

Daichi’s room was warm and dim when you pushed the door open gently.

He looked… awful. His face was flushed, dark hair stuck to his forehead, mouth slightly parted as he breathed raggedly through a stuffed-up nose. A cold cloth lay half-slid off his head, and the blanket was tangled around his legs.

You set your bag down quietly and crossed over to the bed. “Hey.” You whispered. “It’s me.”

No response.

You bit your lip, then climbed into the chair by his bedside. You picked up the fallen cloth and stood to re-wet it from the bowl on the nightstand, wringing it out and gently placing it back across his forehead.

Still nothing.

You sighed, then leaned your chin into your hand and began to talk. About school. About your teachers. About how Koushi nearly got detention for talking back to the gym coach. You told him about the vending machine that swallowed your money and about how your lunch had tasted weird but not bad, and how the clouds looked like mashed potatoes that day.

At some point, you looked down and realized he’d turned his face slightly toward your voice.

You reached for his hand. It was warm too warm, but he didn’t let go.

You stayed there, fingers wrapped around his and words spilling quietly into the air. You didn’t even realize how much time had passed until Daichi muttered something under his breath.

You froze.

“What was that?”

He twitched slightly. A soft, strained sound left him. “...’m sorry…”

You frowned, leaning closer. “Daichi?”

His eyes stayed closed, breath shallow. Then, barely above a whisper,your name. Just your name, drifting out like an anchor in a fever dream. Your heart climbed right into your throat.

“I’m here.” You whispered back instinctively. “I’ve got you.”

He didn’t reply again. But his hand never let go and you swore he held on tighter for a moment.

——————————————————————————

The quiet thread (quiet moments over the years)

You weren’t quite sure when it started to feel like something more.

There wasn’t a single moment, but a series of them, threaded together like tiny lights on a string, warm and blinking and easy to miss unless you really looked.

At his matches, you were always in the front row. Screaming his name when he served, clapping until your palms stung. You learned the game slowly, enough to keep up. Enough to see the way his eyes found you first when he landed a good spike. Always you.

At movie nights with the team, he always saved you a seat. Never said it outright, but it was always there, the spot beside him, the bowl of popcorn between you, the way he’d tilt the box of juice toward you first before taking one himself.

Once, Nishinoya tried to take your usual seat as a joke. Daichi didn’t even say anything, just gave him a look. That was all it took.

Noya grinned. “Okay, okay, got it. ‘Princess’ seat.’”

You rolled your eyes.

Daichi didn’t say a word.

But he smiled when you sat beside him anyway.

On rainy days, he’d offer his umbrella before you could ask. “You can give it back tomorrow.” He’d say, rubbing the back of his neck while the rain soaked his shoulders. You gave it back the next day every time. And somehow… it always smelled like him after.

When your cat died, he walked three blocks to your house even though it was a school night. Said he brought homework from Koushi but he never opened the folder. He just sat with you, quiet, legs crossed on your bedroom floor as you cried. When he finally left that night, your pillow smelled like his hoodie.

There was nothing romantic about it. Not yet. It wasn’t flirting. It was more. It was trust, built soft and slow. It was knowing that you could fall asleep in the middle of a movie night and wake up with a blanket over your shoulders and Daichi’s jacket folded beneath your head. It was brushing hands accidentally in the popcorn bowl and not pulling away. It was watching him laugh and not knowing why it made your chest ache.

It was all the things neither of you had words for. Not yet, but something was coming.

And somewhere in the space between childhood and whatever came next, the two of you had become each other’s safest place.

——————————————————————————

What it feels like (ages 15 and 16)

You never knew that watching someone get confessed to could hurt.

It was spring, and the hallways smelled like too many flowers and teenage hope. First-years were already rushing to get their chocolates ready for Valentine’s Day, and second-years were just starting to get bold with handwritten letters and awkward hallway meetups.

Daichi was tall and broad-shouldered by then Captain material, dependable and easy to talk to, with a smile that made even the teachers melt.

You saw it happen again and again: a girl standing with her hands clenched around a ribbon-tied box, red-cheeked and trembling. And Daichi, polite as ever, bowing his head with that apologetic smile that never quite reached his eyes.

“I’m really sorry. Thank you, though.”

And the girl would wilt a little, whisper it was okay, then rush away.

He never accepted. Not once.

And you didn’t know why it twisted your stomach the way it did. Why your heart sped up every time someone even looked at him like that. Why you caught yourself searching his face for a reaction he never gave. Why part of you felt strangely relieved when he turned them all down.

It made no sense. He wasn’t yours. He never had been. Still, every time he smiled at someone else, even just to say “no”, something inside you clenched like a fist.

You didn’t have a word for it back then. But it lived in you, quiet and constant. A dull, aching gravity.

——————————————————————————

The fight (ages 16 and 17)

It started with a name you’d gotten tired of hearing. Kento Takagi. He was a second-year, he was tall, annoying, way too smug. The first time he asked you out, you were polite. The second time, you were firm.

The third time, you ignored him completely. By the sixth time, you were one deep breath away from shoving your school shoe directly into his face.

You were standing just outside the school gates, trying to pack your books into your bag, when he approached again. “Come on, just one date.” He said, reaching for your wrist when you turned away. “You’re not even giving me a chance-”

“Let go.” You snapped.

That’s when you heard the sharp voice from behind you.

“She said let go.”

You turned. Sugawara got there first, stepping between you and Kento like a calm wall of sunshine and thinly veiled menace. “You’ve asked her enough times. She’s not interested. Take the hint.”

You could’ve hugged him.

But it was Daichi who arrived seconds later, face unreadable, steps deliberate.

Kento scoffed. “Seriously? You’ve got two bodyguards now?”

And that was when he grabbed your arm again. That was his mistake.

Daichi shoved between you before you could react, his hand closing around Kento’s wrist like steel. “Are you deaf?” His voice low and cold, “She told you to let go.”

Kento sneered. “What’s it to you? You her boyfriend or something?”

It happened too fast. Daichi’s fist swung clean and hard - crack - straight into Kento’s jaw. The other boy stumbled backward, clutching his face, spitting curses and blood.

“DAICHI!” Sugawara shouted.

Your heart dropped. “What- ?!”

And then the teachers were there, and everything blurred, raised voices, hands pulling them apart, Kento wailing about “assault” and Daichi just standing there, jaw clenched, breathing hard, knuckles bleeding.

——————————————————————————

The walk home (later that day)

Daichi got detention. Of course he did.

One week. After school. Report filed, parents notified.

You waited for him anyway.

You sat on the stone steps just outside the gym, watching the sun dip low behind the school roof. You weren’t sure if he’d even want you there after what happened, but your legs stayed glued to the steps.

He came out just as the light started to fade.

“Hey.” You said.

He paused. “You waited?”

“Duh.” You muttered, standing. “Who else is gonna yell at you for punching a guy like an idiot?”

A smile tugged at his mouth, tired and faint. He didn’t say anything else.

You walked side by side in silence for a while, the wind tugging at your sleeves, leaves skittering across the sidewalk. His hand hovered just a few inches from yours, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off of it.

You didn’t move away.

When you finally reached your street, you caught the way he flexed his fingers, bruised and red, still split at the knuckles.

“Come here.” You said quietly, turning into your driveway instead. “Let me clean that.”

He didn’t argue. You sat him down at the kitchen counter and pulled out the first aid box. He sat obediently, arm resting on the table, watching as you opened the kit with practiced hands.

The light in the kitchen was soft, gold and humming. You dipped a cotton ball into antiseptic, glancing at him before pressing it gently to the raw skin. “This is probably going to sting.”

“I’ve had worse.” He muttered.

You didn’t ask when. You didn’t like thinking about him getting hurt. You worked slowly, carefully, dabbing at the scrapes and cuts, the silence between you thick with things unsaid.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You said finally, voice too soft. “I could’ve handled it.”

Daichi didn’t look away from you. “He shouldn’t have touched you.”

Your chest tightened. “Still…”

He shook his head slightly. “I don’t care if I got detention. I’d do it again.”

Your fingers paused over the edge of a bandage. The weight of the moment pressed between you. You wrapped the gauze slowly, smoothing it flat over his knuckles. Your hands lingered on his, thumbs grazing gently across his skin.

He wasn’t looking away. Neither were you. You could feel his breath, short and uneven. His hand turned slightly, palm brushing yours.

“Daichi…” You whispered.

His eyes dropped to your lips. Your heart stopped. He leaned in-

-and then pulled back, sharp and sudden.

His chair scraped softly against the tile. “Thanks.” He said, voice too stiff. “For… patching me up.”

You sat frozen, heart pounding, mouth still parted like a question. He didn’t look at you again as he stood to leave.

And just like that, the moment passed, too big, too heavy, too much for two people still pretending they didn’t already belong to each other.

——————————————————————————

Realization (ages 16 and 17)

You didn’t realize it all at once.

It crept in slowly, quietly, like a song you’d heard too many times to really hear until one day, it cracked you wide open.

It was in the way he laughed, full and real, the kind of laugh that made your stomach flutter.

It was the way he always noticed when something was off. The way he handed you your favorite drink without being asked. The way he texted you before every exam: You’ve got this. I believe in you.

It was the way he looked at you after matches, chest still heaving, sweat dripping down his temple but his eyes always found you in the crowd first. Always you.

It was in the small things. Because that’s where Daichi always lived.

And one night, alone in your room, scrolling through the blurry picture Suga had taken of you and Daichi at the last team festival, him smiling wide, your cheeks flushed from laughing too hard, you felt it all at once.

You loved him.

It wasn’t loud or dramatic. It just was. And it hurt. Because he had never said anything. He had pulled away from you that night with bruised knuckles and trembling silence. And despite everything you thought you saw in his eyes, he had never crossed the line.

Not once.

So maybe… he really did just see you as Koushi’s little sister. Someone he’d always protected. Someone who had always been around. Familiar. Comfortable.

You told yourself it was fine. That you understood. But the ache in your chest said otherwise.

——————————————————————————

The confession (and it’s not his)

His name was Riku Yamamoto.

He was sweet. Polite. Sat next to you in art class and smelled like peppermint and clean laundry. He made you laugh with his bad puns, and once stayed behind to help you carry paints back to the storage room.

And then one day, after class, heart in his hands, he confessed.

You blinked at him for a long second. “Wait, me?”

Riku flushed. “Yeah. I know it’s kind of sudden, and you probably don’t see me that way, but I just… I thought I’d try. One date. That’s all I’m asking.”

You hesitated. Then you said yes. Not because you didn’t love Daichi. But because he didn’t love you back and, maybe, if someone else looked at you like that, like you were the one they’d been hoping for, maybe it would be enough to forget the feeling of being invisible to the only boy who had ever mattered.

Daichi didn’t find out from you. He found out from Koushi.

It was after practice, the sun beginning to dip below the horizon, everyone sprawled out in the gym, sweat and laughter hanging thick in the air. Koushi was chatting absentmindedly about weekend plans, tossing his water bottle from hand to hand.

“Yeah, I think [Y/N]’s got a date with that Yamamoto kid.” He said casually, wiping his forehead.

Daichi froze. “What?”

Koushi looked up. “Huh? Oh, Riku. You know, from Class 2-C? She said he asked her out and she figured, why not.”

The air shifted. Daichi’s grip on his towel tightened.

“Oh.” He said, flat and hollow.

Koushi paused, brows furrowing. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Daichi lied. “Fine.”

But he wasn’t. Something cold and sick settled deep in his chest, and it didn’t move.

You didn’t hear from him for two days. No texts. No calls. Not even a glance when you passed in the hallway. At first, you thought you were imagining it. But by the second day, your chest was too tight to ignore it anymore.

You cornered him after practice, outside the locker room, where the hallway was dim and empty.

“Daichi.” You said, breathless. “Why are you avoiding me?”

He turned, slowly, sweat still clinging to his hairline. “I’m not.”

“You are. You haven’t talked to me in two days.”

He shrugged, expression unreadable. “Been busy.”

“With what? Pretending I don’t exist?”

He flinched,just barely, but you caught it.

“You’re mad.” You said. “Why?”

“I’m not mad.”

“Then what is it?”

He looked away. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does!” Your voice cracked. “Just say it, Daichi! If you’re upset, then say it! Why have you been avoiding me since Koushi told you that I was going on a date?!”

And then it hit like thunder, loud and raw, shoving out of him before he could stop it. “Because I- ”

But he stopped.

Your breath hitched. “Because you what?”

Daichi stared at you, chest rising and falling. And then- Nothing. Silence. He looked down, jaw tight, fists clenched at his sides.

You laughed, bitter and broken. “Right. That’s what I thought.”

He reached for you instinctively. “Wait- ”

You stepped back. “No.” You said. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to get jealous and act like you care and then say nothing.”

Tears stung your eyes.

“I’ve spent years loving you, Daichi.” You whispered. “And I thought… maybe you felt something too. But you never said anything. You just left me hanging. And now I finally say yes to someone else, and now you care?”

He looked shattered.

You shook your head, blinking hard. “I’m not doing this anymore.” You said as you turned and walked away.

Daichi stood frozen in the hallway long after you were gone, gutted and ghost-silent, realizing too late that maybe the biggest mistake he’d ever made was thinking silence would keep you safe.

——————————————————————————

The fallout (ages 16 and 17)

Daichi was a mess.

He went through practice like a ghost, movements tight, eyes distant. He forgot to bring his lunch two days in a row. He barely spoke unless someone asked him a direct question. When he did speak, it was flat, empty, like someone else had taken up residence in his chest.

He still couldn’t believe it. He’d hurt you. You, the one person he’d sworn to never hurt. And he’d done it not with his fists, not with his voice, but with his silence. It was almost worse.

“Okay, I’ve had enough.” Sugawara said, finally slamming his bento box down during lunch break.

Daichi blinked across the bench. “Huh?”

“You’re miserable. [Y/N]’s miserable. Everyone within a 10-meter radius of you two is miserable. And I’m tired of being the only emotionally functioning person in this hellhole.”

“I- ” Daichi started.

“No. Shut up and listen to me.”

Sugawara leaned forward, voice dropping low, expression dead serious.

“I’ve known you my whole life. You’ve been my best friend since we were basically in diapers. And I knew. I knew you were in love with her before you did.”

Daichi stared, color draining from his face.

“You used to look at her like she was the whole damn world. Still do, honestly. But the second someone else looked at her that way? You freaked. You got scared. And instead of saying something, you broke her heart.”

Daichi swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean to- ”

“I know.” Sugawara said gently. “That’s the problem.”

A beat of silence.

Then Suga sighed, raking a hand through his hair before adding with brutal softness, “You’re my best friend, Daichi. I trust you. But if you make her cry again…” He leaned in, all warmth gone. “I’ll make sure you never have kids.”

Daichi choked. “Jesus- ”

“I mean it.”

“I know, that’s what makes it worse.”

“Now go fix it.” Suga said, softening again. “Before someone else does.”

——————————————————————————

Not him

Riku was kind. He held your hand when you let him. He smiled when he looked at you. He paid attention. He didn’t try to be anything other than himself. He was… safe

But he wasn’t Daichi. He didn’t notice the way you only ever half-laughed. He didn’t know that you hated sour candy but kept a pack in your bag because Daichi liked it.

He didn’t know that the piano pieces you played the most were the ones Daichi had once said made him feel like flying.

And it wasn’t fair to either of you.

So one quiet afternoon after class, you sat on the bleachers behind the school and looked at Riku’s warm, patient face and whispered. “I’m sorry.”

He smiled, sad but understanding. “I figured.”

“No hard feelings?”

He shook his head. “You don’t forget someone like him. I wouldn’t want to compete with that either.”

You laughed, choked and wet and when he hugged you goodbye, you didn’t cry. Because the only person who could make you cry like that… was the one who already had.

——————————————————————————

The doorstep

It was three days after you ended things with Riku when the knock came at your door. You opened it and froze.

Daichi stood there on your porch, rain misting through his hair, his hoodie clinging slightly to his shoulders like he’d run here even though the walk wasn’t far.

His eyes were wide. Nervous. He looked wrecked.

“Hey….” He said, breathless. “Can I… talk to you?”

You nodded, heart pounding. He stepped in, water dripping from his sleeves. He didn’t sit. Just stood there, shifting like he couldn’t figure out how to stand still.

“I heard you broke up with Riku.”

You blinked. “How- ?”

“Suga.” He admitted. Of course.

You wrapped your arms around yourself. “If you came to say I shouldn’t have- ”

“No.” He said immediately, almost desperately. “No. That’s not why I came.” He inhaled like it hurt. “I came because I should’ve said something. A long time ago. And I’m scared if I don’t say it now, I’ll never get another chance.”

You froze. He looked at you then, all soft vulnerability and breaking open.

“I’ve been in love with you since I was eight and you made me those stupid flower crowns at the park.” He said, voice cracking. “I didn’t even know what that meant back then, I just knew that when you smiled at me, I felt like the sun was coming up inside my chest.”

Your breath caught.

“You’ve always been more than just Suga’s little sister to me. You’ve been my best friend, my safe place, my home. And I was an idiot for thinking that staying quiet was somehow protecting you. I thought if I kept things the same, if I stayed in that ‘safe’ space, you’d never leave. But I hurt you instead.”

You didn’t move. Couldn’t even breathe.

He shifted, eyes wide and panicked. “I- I don’t know if you can forgive me. I get it if you’re done. I just- ” He ran a hand through his hair. “I just had to tell you. Because I meant it. Every time I looked at you I couldn’t pull my eyes away because you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And I didn’t know how to say it then, but I do now, and- ”

“Daichi.” You whispered.

He froze mid-ramble. “What- ?”

“Just shut up.” You stepped forward and kissed him.

Soft. Slow. Certain. And he melted.

Your hands slid up to cup his jaw, his cheeks cold from the rain. His fingers trembled as they touched your waist, like he still couldn’t believe you were real.

When you finally pulled back, your forehead resting against his, you smiled.

“Welcome home.” You whispered.

He let out a breath that sounded like a laugh and a sob at once and held you like he’d never let go again.

Later that night, curled up beside him on the couch, the soft glow of the TV washing over your skin, Daichi whispered. “I was so scared you’d moved on.”

“I tried.” You murmured into his shoulder. “Didn’t work.”

He chuckled. “Good.”

You tilted your head to look at him. “What about Suga?”

“I already got the threat.” He said, deadpan. “Something about not having kids?”

You grinned. “Sounds like him.”

Daichi leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Worth it.”

You sighed into his chest. It had taken you years but you were here now. No more almosts. No more silence. Just the two of you, finally.

—————————————————————————

When Suga finds out

The moment you told Koushi, you were terrified. Not because you thought he’d be mad. You knew your brother, he’d probably suspected it for years.

But because Daichi, the captain of Karasuno’s volleyball team, defender of justice and protector of your heart, had gone completely pale.

“Okay, okay.” You whispered, gripping his hand. “He’s not going to kill you.”

“I don’t know.” Daichi muttered. “He did threaten to neuter me.”

“Okay, valid.”

So naturally, when you finally told him one evening after dinner, it went exactly as expected and also, somehow, worse.

You sat him down in the living room. Daichi looked like he was preparing for a firing squad. You reached for his hand and took a deep breath.

“Koushi.” You said gently. “We have something to tell you.”

He blinked.

Daichi cleared his throat. “I… I’m dating your sister.”

A beat. Koushi saw the opportunity of his life and he was going to milk it. His eyes narrowed, slowly, like a cat sensing prey.

“My best friend.” He said. “My lifelong best friend.”

Daichi nodded, bracing. “Yes.”

“My sister.” Koushi added. “Who I have known since she was a literal embryo.”

“Correct.”

He gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Betrayal. My blood. My captain. You’ve conspired under my very nose!”

“Oh my god.” You groaned. “Koushi, please.”

“I leave you two alone for five seconds and suddenly there’s hand holding in my house? Kissing under my roof?”

Daichi was already hiding behind a throw pillow. But then Koushi dropped the act, grinning so wide it made your eyes sting.

“Took you long enough.” He said, eyes kind. “God. You’ve been making heart eyes at each other since grade school.”

You blinked. “You’re not… mad?”

“Please.” He scoffed. “You think I’d have let just anyone get close to you like that? I’ve been waiting for you idiots to figure it out.”

You exhaled, relief slumping your shoulders.

Then he added with a smirk, “But I swear, if I walk in on you making out, I will bleach my eyeballs.”

He did in in fact, end up walking in on you making out.

To be fair, you thought he was out with the team. And Daichi thought the coast was clear.

So when he kissed you against the kitchen counter, slow and thorough you tugged at the hem of his shirt, and he whispered something that made your knees weak-

“OH MY GOD- ”

You both leapt apart like guilty teenagers caught red-handed.

Koushi’s face was scarlet. “I eat there! The counter!”

Daichi was already halfway behind the fridge door.

You covered your face. “Koushi, we weren’t- ”

“You had your tongue in his soul, [Y/N]!”

“Koushi!”

Daichi wheezed. “I’m sorry-”

“You’re dead to me, Sawamura! Dead!”

——————————————————————————

Graduation day (ages 17 and 18)

Karasuno’s gym was buzzing with laughter and soft music, the crowd a sea of uniforms and proud parents. You were practically vibrating with excitement, your camera hanging from your neck, phone fully charged.

You spotted them immediately.

Daichi, sharp in his black gakuran, shoulders broad, smile wide and Koushi, looking radiant as ever, waving his arms dramatically from a distance.

You ran toward them and threw your arms around Daichi first, nearly knocking the wind out of him. “You did it!”

He laughed, wrapping you up tight. “We did it.”

You pulled back only to be immediately seized by your brother.

“Betrayed.” Koushi said, loud and overdramatic. “I’m also graduating, and yet you run to him first? My own kin? Have you no shame?”

You rolled your eyes, grinning. “You’ll live.”

“Will I?”

“You got three flower bouquets, and I saw someone slip you their number.”

“Okay, I’ll live.”

Daichi chuckled, eyes fond as he watched the two of you bicker. Then he slipped his hand into yours, just like he always had. Only now, it meant something.

You leaned your head on his shoulder. You didn’t say it, but he felt it anyway. I’m proud of you.

That night, you sat together on the roof of Daichi’s house, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, the stars just starting to peek out. He was quiet beside you, his hand warm over yours.

“So….” You said softly. “What now?”

He smiled. “Police academy starts in a few weeks.”

You nodded. “You’re going to be amazing.”

“What about you?”

“I’ve got one more year.” You said. “And then… music school, maybe. I want to teach. Or compose. Maybe both.”

He looked at you like the stars were in your skin.

“I’ll be cheering for you.” He said.

You glanced sideways. “Long-distance okay with you?”

“Only if you promise to send me songs.” He said. “And let me visit you on weekends.”

“Deal.”

You were quiet for a while, the breeze soft around you.

Then Daichi added, voice barely above a whisper. “I want a future with you, you know.”

You looked at him, heart stuttering.

“Not just dating. I mean… life. You. Me. Someday.” He kissed your temple. “I already wasted years of our lives because I was too scared to say something, I plan on spending the rest with you.”

Your throat tightened.

“Good.” You whispered, squeezing his hand. “Because I do too.”

He leaned in, kissed you slow and sweet and everything, the years of near misses, quiet heartbreak, ache and waiting,clicked into place.

Taglist is open so let me know if you want to be added for future works! :)

[facefullofsadness]

when succubus!winrina are summoned

g!p demon!jiminjeong x human!reader

smut, 2k wc

happy extremely belated birthday (like can I even classify this as a bday post anymore?) to the most annoying person I know @aliceiwk because she didn't wanna tell me her bday even though I was gonna find out eventually bc I was gonna post this ANYWAY. is late as FUCK (literally an entire month PLUS late omg) bc of school, travel, other reasons wtv, but that wasn't gonna stop me!!! soooo yes mwah mwah lub u enjoy ur jiminjeong threesome!!

when yizhuo and aeri had the bright idea of doing a silly little demon summoning session for funsies, you screamed at them in horror. what the actual fuck kind of idea is that? the two girlfriends' justification was simply for shits and giggles! I mean, that shit isn't real anyway, right? there's no ACTUAL fucking shot demons would come to haunt you guys if you tried conjuring em up!

somehow, someway, yall ended up in a circle with some candles, some salt, a shady looking book, and a dark ass room. being in the actual moment sent chills down your spine, the summer nights being quite cold to accompany such a stupid idea you and your friends were going through with. when your last minute effort to back out, stop, and instead watch horror movies to get their spooky fill failed, the two girls begin flipping pages of the book.

"what aboutttt demon of gluttony?" the small girl asks, pondering which demon to summon.

"there's not a lot of things to do with that," the taller girl replies, one arm propped up behind her girlfriend, checking her nails on the other hand.

"demon of wrath?"

"we've all got enough anger combined to need that one."

"demon of sloth!"

"fuck does that even mean?"

"ooohhhh!! y/n desperately needs this one, demon of lust."

"oh, perfect!"

"hey wait what is that supposed to mean?!" you butt in.

"now now, it's okay to badly want head! we're just helping you out!"

aeri raises her hands up and reaches out to pull you into the chair placed in the middle of a pentagram surrounded in candles. you put your face in your hands, shaking your head at the reality of what was currently happening.

"now just sit tight and soon enough you'll stop complaining about your celibacy!"

performing the ritual was goofier than you expected it to be. with the accompaniment of yizhuo's unserious reading of the spell, aeri's cackle everytime her girlfriend stuttered, and forgetting to pause the music, having txt's blue hour playing in the background, it was hard to take anything seriously. having to go through with the summoning ritual twice because the first time was so botched, thinking doing it again would make sure it "worked".

unsurprisingly, nothing happened. ning was disappointed, to which aeri had to kiss away her pout, but you were relieved because what the fuck would have possibly happened if it worked? you sent the girls home after making them clean the stupid ritual up, collapsing on your mattress and passing out.

in the dead of night, two figures emerge from the shadows, the darkness of your room enveloping the strangers. you're completely asleep, your peaceful breathing and spinning ceiling fan the only white noise to mask the echoey voices across the room.

"what are you doing here?"

"I was summoned, I could ask the same question to you."

"why would I purposefully go somewhere you are?"

"it's simple, you're obsessed with me or something."

"not as obsessed as you are with me."

the shadowy figures huff in the darkness before staring back at your slumbering body.

one of them smirks and scoffs, "horny slut must've summoned both of us."

"how fascinating, I was worried it was gonna be a man again," the other figure tilts her head to the side, observing your sleeping face.

"ugh, one thing we can finally agree on, men aren't nearly as fun or tempting as women."

the being observing your face brushes a strand of hair out of your eyes, "girls are just so delicious."

the two look at each other and exchange a sinister smile, almost agreeing to be civil through eye contact.

"then let's have our fun tonight yeah, winter?"

"only if you share, karina."

you were awoken to your body being thrown around, your back sinking into the mattress, wrists pinned on either side of you, eyes shooting open with a gasp, shaking you out of your sleep. foggy sight clearing and eyes adjusting to the darkness slowly as two figures come into view, women (?), or as your mind would rationalize them to be.

two shadowy women with rustic obsidian horns growing through their skulls, dark tails swaying behind them, black leather-like wings spanning out from their backs, and dark red orbs emanating aura from their eyes. you're frozen into place, your eyes doing all the talking as they observe the figures pinning you down with their talon-like claws, skimpy leather outfits hugging the pale women's milky skin.

you want to scream, thrash, do something, but all you can do is stare at them, eyes darting back and forth between the dark-haired and blonde creatures.

"awww, look at her, such an innocent little thing," the blonde coos, her voice reverberating, almost as if she had a filter over it.

the dark haired girl replies, voice heavy with reverb and seduction, "but she's not, she needed to be fucked senseless by two of us, isn't that right?"

you're speechless, mouth opening to answer but no noise escaping. no way... was this a result of that stupid summoning ritual you guys did earlier that night? it... worked? BOTH TIMES???

"can't speak, can you? do humans not understand what consequences of your actions mean? didn't your people come up with that saying?" the darker one pouts, pulling back from your face to straddle one of your legs, knee slotting itself perfectly between your thighs.

the blonde one giggles, her sinister tone sending shivers down your spine, "fuck I cannot wait to consume you, you're extremely enticing."

somehow, you speak, voice heavy with confusion, fear, and exhaustion, "what the fuck are you?"

the two exchange a sly smirk, looking at each before turning back to you, "exactly what you asked for, demons of lust."

succubus, it had clicked in your head as you further observed their features, feeling their nails digging into your skin, the pain confirming you were in fact not dreaming.

"don't worry little one, we'll give you everything you want."

the blonde demon's tail wraps around both of your wrists, the dark-haired demon releasing you from her grip, letting the other pin your hands down and back above you. the blonde settles next to your head, her crotch emanating heat in front of your face. she takes a handful of your hair and grips the back of your head, pulling your face up and lowering herself to meet you, your scalp stinging in her hold.

"be a good fucking whore and let us do what we want with you, you'll enjoy every second of it."

she pushes your cheek against her crotch, her addicting scent filling your nose, feeling her hard appendage press against your face. meanwhile, the dark-haired girl between your thighs digs her knee against your core, whimpering at the pressure, having only worn panties and a t-shirt to bed.

the taller girl's cold hands grip your exposed thighs, digging her nails into your skin, making you hiss. she trails her hands under your shirt, ghosting her fingers over your waist and dragging her claws across your stomach. her hands are greedy, moving at a moderate pace but every touch is so intense and rough, knuckles now rubbing against your soaking underwear, friction brushing against your clit.

everything happens so fast as you swear you black out every few seconds the more their touches advance on your body. before you know it, you're choking on the demon called winter, the other succubus grinding her knee against your bare pussy being karina. you moan against the blonde's cock as she thrusts mercilessly into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat as tears spill from your eyes, the pleasure from the dark-haired girls needy hands on your hips forcing your body to roll against her knee with your panties pushed to the side, cunt leaking with your juices, making the movements slick, your eyes rolling back at the sensation.

"yeah little slut? like that big cock in your throat? can't speak huh? fucking whore," winter degrades above you, holding your head with both of her hands to control just how relentlessly she ruins your throat.

karina chuckles darkly below you, watching her pull away and lower her face to your pulsing core, "she is a whore, just look at how fucking wet this bitch is. she's practically a waterfall of cum."

through blurry, tear-filled eyes, you watch as karina's split tongue circled your hot clit, feeling its unforgiving movements dance across your aching slit as it flicks against your bud and hole simultaneously somehow. not that you question it, falling into an inevitable sub-space, your mind completely broken just as quickly as they had started fucking you.

you feel winter's member so deeply down your throat, it bulges in your neck, her rugged panting and breathing making the onslaught of your body worth it. all your noises are choked and silent however, karina's skillful mouth maneuvering your burning insides and throbbing outsides, the hums from her throat vibrating against your entire pussy. the sensation of winter's creamy cum flowing down your throat makes you roll your eyes back, not needing to swallow as her load slides down your esophagus easily.

"couldn't you be at least a little patient?" an annoyed karina pulls away from your pussy to complain, tugging your limp body up against her chest, winter's cock slipping from your swollen mouth.

the blonde's heavy breathing is accompanied by a reverberating chuckle as she responds, "don't be jealous, you get to taste the bitch's pussy, I should be the aggravated one."

the taller girl replies with a grunt, "fine, but I'm cumming in her cunt first."

"oh no, we're sharing that fucking hole," you feel the other succubus' body heat on your back, pressing her front against you, her still hard monster cock tapping against your ass.

"you are so fucking annoying," karina mumbles before pulling out her hard dick and slipping it between your folds, collecting your slick, pushing into your tight hole as you scream painfully at the intrusion.

she immediately sets an unforgiving pace, mercilessly pounding her throbbing member into your aching heat, holding you against her chest by your waist, your face in her shoulder as you sobbed in pain, the pleasure slowly creeping in. the girl behind you spits on her dick, spreading the saliva before forcing herself in you too, joining karina's relentless thrusting. tears flow from your eyes as bloodcurdling screams escape your already sore throat, the two demons' lengthy and girthy cocks tearing your tight cunt apart, drool leaking from your mouth as your brain abandons consciousness, completely broken and ruined from them fucking you.

winter pants against your ear as her hands sink into your hips, drilling you from behind, "you're gone now, aren't you doll? you've become our little cumslut to treat like a toy, haven't you?"

her words don't process in your fucked out head, nodding mindlessly to her question.

karina against you moans as your pussy squeezes around both of them, pushing in as winter pulls out, "taking us so well, little whore. that's right, be the good fucking slut you are and take it. take all of it."

they continue to absolutely annihilate your insides with their aggressive ramming, never stopping as they used your body like a sextoy, throwing you around like a ragdoll, pounding into you like you were just their property. the sound of wet skin slapping together and their loud, frustrated breathing filled your barely functioning auditory senses as you feel both of them stiffen against you, hot cum filling you, stuffing you full of their seed.

your lifeless body slumps against karina's front, winter holding you up as someone, unsure of who due to your barely conscious state, breathlessly comments against your ear, "we're far from finished, little one."

and they keep their word, not stopping the entire night, their split tongues working in tandem on each of your nipples, lapping at both of your holes as they seep pleasure, their cocks exploring every inch of your greedy orifices, letting you feel every bit of lust they harbor towards your mortal body. they fuck you until you break, until they ruin every part of you, until your begs and pleads grow silent, until time ceases to exist, the only thing in your sorry brain you can possibly process are karina and winter. and maybe when you're free, you'll thank aeri and yizhuo.

a/n: yeah their cocks probably have ridges and stuff but I didn't think about that while writing it, maybe next time <3 #welovemonstercock !!! can this even be classified as a short like this shit is long, oh whale

[astracora]

Cold Metal, Warm Sensation

Characters: Poly!LADs x gn!mc, Caleb x gn!mc (Caleb POV)

Warnings: Spoilers for Caleb's story.

Word Count: 3363

Written: 18th February 2025

Notes: Established-relationship with gn!MC with all LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. Unnamed MC, but using my personal MC's basic appearance and adjusted backstory. I take some liberties with what the game offers me. Ok I finally got this done, amidst the pain... This is pre Caleb joins Polycule fully, but it's post Caleb stops trying to lock MC in a box. (Unless they ask nicely). Polycule understand the agony of not being able to touch your loved one, lucky (and unlucky) for Caleb.

Now Playing: I'm With You, by Avril Lavigne

Masterlist AO3

The first time his arm comes up, is after he says goodbye to you one morning. You have a mission with Xavier in the Fusion No-Hunt Area, so as you say goodbye to everyone, Caleb takes your right hand in his own.

It's become something of a routine for him, or a ritual, he thinks. He can't feel the metal of your prosthetic against his unfeeling right hand, but he can squeeze without worrying about hurting you. He looks down at your clasped hands, and watches as you squeeze back. Your other hand goes to his cheek and then you press a kiss to his skin.

It's fleeting, and quick, as you release and race off to follow Xavier. Yelling a final goodbye behind you, Mephisto follows on a gust of feathers.

He sits back at the kitchen counter, staring down at his hand, raising it to his cheek, and exhales a sigh.

No matter how much he touches you, it never seems to be enough. Like he is always missing something. An unending yearning or greed he can't sate properly. He can touch you with his left hand all he wants, but he still cannot stop feeling the loss of emptiness in his right like an eternal agony.

"You should let me take a look at it, if it bothers you that much tin-man." Sylus speaks from the side, glasses perched on the end of his nose as he reads through some documents the twins have handed him.

Caleb is trying not to chafe around your polycule. He is, he tells himself. Even if he glares or huffs, faking smiles when you're around to not hurt you. They care about you, almost as much as he does, he supposes. So they'll do, for now. If nothing else than shields if things get bad.

If EVER want access to you, they can get through these four first.

Instead of responding to the N109's king, he turns away, grabs his coat and leaves.

He isn't their tool to experiment on. He's only ever a tool in your hands.

The second time it comes up is much later, he was injured in a fight, throwing himself in front of a Golem to protect you. Taking the things fist to his raised arm. He'd pushed through the pain, even as his arm was mangled in the process. Firing rounds into the thing's head.

As soon as it was felled, you'd pulled him to the side, furious and agitated. He'd laughed, "I'm fine." He promised, even as he felt the fever rising up through his body. His body failing him as the agony ripped through his system.

He vaguely remembers collapsing, hearing you call his name, and then talking to someone. When he wakes, he's back at your home. Their home. His home? In one of Sylus' rooms where he tinkers on Mephisto.

Spread out over the table, as the man works, humming along mostly in tune to a song Caleb has heard you singing to.

He feels like he's floating, and it's hard to speak, when his body feels so dreadfully heavy. The flash and heat of a soldering iron as parts are repaired, is familiar, though not comforting. Taking him back to cold lab walls, and agonising electrical storms through neurons.

It is one point of heat in his left hand, that tells him he's not there. Your head is on the table next to him, asleep as you grasp onto him like he'll disappear without your hand anchored to his.

Caleb thinks for a moment, that he probably hasn't given you reason to believe he wouldn't.

"They didn't stop crying until you stabilised." Zayne speaks as he enters the room. Mugs on a tray, as he places them down out of the way. "At least your recklessness hasn't changed, Caleb."

There's something quite disconcerting about the disapproval he sees in Zayne's cool eyes. There's a familiarity to it, one he's seen multiple times growing up, as the man had tended to wounds he'd gotten trying to impress or amuse you.

Climbing trees, jumping off a roof, trying to fly with his EVOL, standing up to bullies.

Any manner of reasons that had ended up with him with torn skin or bruises, that Zayne had then sat him down and tended to. Bandaged with careful, and far too steady hands for a child.

Zayne goes to hand him a mug, before realising he has no free hands, smiling softly down at you with warm eyes. Caleb feels his heart and chest twinge and twist. For all the ways he knows you better than he believes anyone else has, that he is the only safe harbour for you… he feels like he's banging up against the wall of realisation every day.

It feels like he's been sent out without coordinates for where his home base is. Waiting for you to walk away and leave him behind.

Not needing him, where he knows he still needs you.

Is he so easy to replace?

"You're thinking stupid things again, tin-man." Sylus speaks, pausing his work to reach over for his drink, and to tug Zayne down by his tie to place a kiss of thanks to his forehead, "Always staring like you're waiting for the doors to close in front of you. Loving someone isn't easy. It's a choice."

Caleb wants to snap, that he doesn't need lectures from a criminal, but truthfully what part of his hands aren't caked in blood that marks him one too. Battering against the realisation that every choice he has made, has made him someone you argue with, struggled with. That your heart is kinder than his is, because he only cares for you, and you care so much for so many.

Even though his heart aches, as he goes to pull his hand away from your tight grip, you stir. The three watch as you blink awake, one eye opening to look up at him. A sleepy, soft smile tugging scarred lips up into endearment, as you tighten your hand again. You exhale a 'morning', on an airy voice, and then nestle closer, "I'm glad you're ok Caleb."

He watches as your eyes close and your breathing evens out again, exhaustion clear in the lines on your face, but the strain softened by relief, and feels the deep urge to cry.

"Maybe you should give us a chance to help you. Instead of continuing to close doors on yourself." Zayne offers, indicating where Sylus has resumed his work, fixing Caleb's arm.

Despite himself… the man's work is clean, and careful.

He files it away to think about, but not now. When your hand is so warm in his.

The third time, is when he's watching Rafayel paint your prosthetic. Occasionally, you flinch under the brush, laughter spilling out. When he questions it, you smile at him, mismatched eyes twinkling. "It tickles."

He watches as the fish gets gleeful at this, dipping it back into the metal-safe paint and swirling it up and down your arm. Your laugh escapes you in a boom, and you pull away from him, "Raffy, stop!"

Xavier's head is jostled out of your lap, and you fling yourself forward, to take the brush from the man's hand, painting over his nose, then his cheeks, then his throat. When you're satisfied, you pull away and nod, "What a good piece of art I've created." Sticking your tongue out at him.

Rafayel pouts and pokes your nose in retaliation, taking his brush back to draw a heart and then a fish on your cheek, "But you've smudged my masterpiece." He indicates the smeared paint on your prosthetic.

Caleb has watched this routine several times, every now and then, you need to get the casing of your prosthetic properly cleaned, not just wiped down. When this happens, the 'decoration' Rafayel paints on, has to be replaced. You say this like it's of the utmost importance, and he doesn't really understand.

He would never have thought about decorating his own, hiding it away often, because that's easier. It's better. If he doesn't see it, maybe he doesn't have to think about it. Even if the abyss of sensation reminds him every moment.

Still, he has seen you look down at the finished paintings, turning your arm to smile at them, and the way your eyes soften.

So that day he asks why, why is it so important? While Xavier complains about being disturbed, and finds his way to Rafayel's lap, who uses one hand to brush through his hair, and the other to clean up the mess of your arm.

You look at Rafayel, then back at Caleb, reaching out with your left hand to brush strands of hair away from Xavier's eyes.

He watches the way you tilt your head, the way you flex your fingers, and then the way you turn to look back at him. Serious, and considerate. Like you'd never actually put it into words before, just felt it.

"I didn't like it originally, my arm. It was a reminder of failure, a reminder that I was different." The words ache in Caleb's chest, like a dagger through the heart. He wants to pull you into his arms, tell you you're perfect, but he watches how carefully you hold your arm for Rafayel's work and stills himself. "When Raffy first painted it, it looked pretty. I wanted to look at it." Caleb watches, as the fish takes your metal hand in his and places a kiss to the wrist, before resuming his work.

The brand has gotten softer over time. Less painful.

He doesn't grate and ache and burn, to watch them hold you. He's not sure when he changed so much.

"Over time it just became a routine, it made me like it more. Like my body more, to decorate it. Now I can look at it without the art and not hate it, but I still like to see Raffy's art on my body." You kiss the man in question's head.

"I have a good canvas, cutie."

Xavier nods against Rafayel's lap, "Pretty." is mumbled against his legs.

You look over at Caleb then, eyes bright, hopeful. Warm. He's always likened you to the sun, and every moment you grace him with your presence is a moment he's too lucky, too blessed and too spoiled. "I bet it'd be nice on yours too?"

He notices the fish's eyes flicker to him, sees the careful observation, and forces a laugh through a tight throat, "Maybe." Is all he can offer.

Because truly, wouldn't it be too good for him, to be given the right to love the thing that helped make him a monster.

The fourth time, he brings it up himself. He's watching the stars on the balcony, as Xavier and Sylus play a game of kitty cards they're both far too competitive with. As Zayne reads and Rafayel sketches.

You're in his arms, staring up at the sky, eyes flickering closed as you become more and more drowsy.

As Caleb looks at you, he reaches his right hand, to entwine your metal fingers with his own. Running his thumb over your hand, the ache deep in his bones to do it with his left hand so he can feel it.

He wants to feel it with both. He wants to hold you in both hands and feel complete again.

Instead of staring and willing himself to suddenly know the heat of your skin under his right hand again. Instead of seeing agony in your face when he's in pain, and that's the only time his right hand responds to the sensation of you.

His throat is tight, when he speaks, turning his head slightly to the others, "If you can fix it, then do it."

Caleb is not used to asking for help, or letting anyone see his weakness. He has always been told all through growing up to protect you, that you need him to be strong, that you need him to keep you safe. If he was weak, how could you ever want to rely on him?

He's had to learn through yelling matches, and doors closed in front of you. Through bitten off insults and frustration. Through you leaving and threatening not to come back. Through days of struggling to get himself to breathe, to see you again. To listen to what you were saying, before he could let you walk next to him.

Even if his heart still won't relax. Even if he still thinks about that maze he wants to build, that world just for the two of you.

He doesn't want to capture the butterfly and watch it die in his hands.

He thinks if that happened, he truly would hate himself.

When eyes turn to him, including yours, blinking in disbelief, he turns to face forwards. "If you can, anyway." His voice steady, he forces his heart to be stable, his emotions to stay level. Every part of him is trembling under the weight of being watched by people who see more than he wants them to.

"Sure tin-man. You can trust us." Comes the chuckle from the side.

"I'll get in touch with some specialists." Zayne adds, placing a bookmark in his page and leaving the balcony.

You turn in his arms, so you can sit facing him, hands releasing his, and moving up to hold his cheeks. He's sure there's a blush colouring his cheeks at the way you lean in, small smile twisting and press your lips to his forehead. "You can trust them." You affirm, nestling against his neck, when he finally wraps arms around you. A lump in his throat he fights back, "You can trust me."

He knows, above all other things in this world. Caleb knows he can trust you.

He always has.

He sits through testing, but instead of the kind of tests he'd faced with the Fleet and EVER, you are there. A warm familiar presence that reminds him he's not a lab rat. A weapon. A tool. He's Caleb, he always remembers he's Caleb when you're there.

He sits there while you talk to him, and he follows along with the specialists Zayne has called in, while Sylus and Xavier work on his arm.

Both far more adapted to technology than he'd have known.

It's a slow process, as they adapt and change his circuitry. He sits and he tries to be patient, gritting his teeth through when the pain is clawing, and tries to remember what he's aiming for.

It's always easier when you're holding his hand.

During the time he grows somewhat used to the more constant presence of the others.

Zayne seems to fall back into old habits, of taking care of his childhood friends, though you often now sit him down to make him tea, instead. It doesn't stop him asking questions, 'Are you alright', 'where does it hurt most', 'do you need anything?'. The guilt at how he'd reacted to Zayne on their reunion bites at him most when he sees real warm concern in the man's eyes.

He's been offered snacks by Xavier, while he sits through tests. While it had never crossed his mind to question the safety of them, it was odd being offered the kindness. He isn't sure when he last was.

Rafayel mostly pokes his head in to snipe at Sylus as he works, and occasionally comments on Caleb's 'really bad poker face', as he tries not to respond to the taunt. He always comes with some water though, shoving the glass into Caleb's available hand, and then leaving.

Sylus' idea of comfort is singing while he works, and Caleb often wants to remind the man that doesn't comfort anyone but himself. You sometimes join in though, and he bites back the retort. It's not that out of tune, anyway.

He finds himself face to face with a lot of things, he doesn't feel he has the capacity to process in these moments. Pushing them down to deal with when the agony isn't great, and he's tired after long days.

On the day they finally finish, he feels as though he wants to sleep for weeks afterwards. He's drained and worn and though the tests and the refittings had been nothing as bad as under EVER's hand, it is tiring nonetheless to be changed.

Despite himself, however, he is glad for the careful hands. Though he would never admit this too loud to them.

When Xavier and Sylus step back, putting tools down and do one last check over with the screen next to them. You sit nearby, your leg shaking up and down as you wait, none too patiently.

He's seen you like this before, excited, nervous and stressed. Waiting and waiting and waiting. All the energy built up, ready to be released.

He can't say he doesn't feel the same.

"Ready?"

He nods, but he cannot make himself speak. He's waiting for this moment for too long. When the electronic voice rings out with 'rebooting', he doesn't feel anything. No change, no adjustment, his arm doesn't feel any different.

There's a drop in his stomach, like he's waiting for the realisation that it's failed, that nothing can help, that he'll never feel like anything but a robotic tool for EVER again-

Then there's warmth, as a hand slides into his, squeezing.

His heart jumps, and his throat becomes impossibly tight. Eyes moving to where your hand is inside of his. He can feel the pressure, and as he goes to squeeze, he has to remind himself to be careful, because you're flesh and blood. Warm skin, soft and real against his metal.

You're familiar and you're warm and you're there.

And he can feel you. The weight and the reality.

You wrap your metal arm around him to pull him closer and he cannot release your hand no matter what, because he finally, finally, finally, feels you. Careful cool fingers wipe the tears spilling from his eyes, as you hold him, smiling against his cheek as you pull him as close as you can, as he hiccups.

When he finally releases your hand, it's only so he can run his fingers over every part of you, letting you adjust yourself onto his lap, so that he can run fingers through your hair, over your cheek, your nose, across your lips. When you part them, to exhale, the gust against his hand makes his shoulders jump.

So he places his hand around the back of your neck, and kisses you. Salted tears and gasping desperation, as he traverses metal over the column of your throat, absent through the air he's stealing out of your lungs. Over your arms, that steady yourself around him, over your ribs, feeling every dip and every roll, he squeezes at your thighs to feel the weight in his hands, and gasps. Pulling away only because he needs to, as he rests his forehead on your shoulder.

You run fingers through the back of his hair, over his neck, as he tries to stop shaking. To stop shuddering at all the feeling of you in his arm, your skin against his hand. It's overwhelming and too much, and everything, but never enough. Like his brain could short circuit and he'd die in bliss.

Like he finally found everything he wanted again.

Like he feels whole.

He's acutely aware for the audience, as he sits overwhelmed on the table, so wrapped around you, he doesn't want to ever be two separate people again, and this time when he looks at his metal arm. Where his hand rests on your skin, where he can feel you alive and under his touch, where he sees the flesh give under his grip and can feel it once more.

Maybe he understands why you love to have yours painted.

Maybe he thinks about how he'll let Rafayel paint his own, if he wants.

Maybe he chokes out a thank you to the people he isn't sure he hates anymore.

Maybe you've led him back home once more.

[deusluxuria]

almost all my major jjba headcanons so far, in one long inconvenient post

Putting these in order from what I assume are, roughly, least-to-most disturbing/triggering overall, including the details. Starting with the ones that have wholesome anecdotes and then getting... idk bad. Please note that I don't consider Disability or anything LGBT+ to be disturbing, but it's the other details in those headcanon paragraphs that are.

{ Content Notes: Transphobia, homophobia, ableism, self-ableism, endosexism/oppression towards Intersex people, pregnancy, pregnant while Transmasc, abuse, child abuse, stalking, domestic violence, smoking, substance use, suicidal ideation, eating disorder - no numbers, body horror, gore. }

{ Spoilers: Part 3 / Stardust Crusaders, Part 4 / Diamond is Unbreakable, Part 5 / Golden Wind, Part 6 / Stone Ocean }

Kakyoin is legally blind after the events of Part 3. His eyes only healed temporarily after N'Dour's attack, and then he lost his vision gradually over the course of two years. It got to the point where he uses a white-tipped cane, and sees shapes and colors without details, unless they're in an image that's blown up to be about the size of a wall in a small apartment bedroom. He draws and paints a lot more often than he used to, since he finds his new view of the world interesting from an art perspective.

Jotaro's wife, Vanessa Cantillo, is a woman from Colombia who moved to the U.S. to start her own funeral home. She was a mortuary student in Colombia to a man who was very jaded and irresponsible with the corpses he worked on. Learning that the U.S. as a whole isn't much better than that teacher with their approach to corpses and their perspectives on death actually just made her want to open her own practice even more. She owns a funeral home in Florida and also started a non-profit that helps low-income families have the funerals and send-offs they want, with a lot less harm to the environment.

Johnny is Transmasc. His father was absolutely horrible to him about this as soon as he found out. Nicolas secretly would let Johnny try on his clothes and would say he looked much happier in them. George was against Johnny riding horses from the beginning, saying it wasn't "lady-like," and had Johnny in ballet classes. Which, Johnny didn't dislike, but he certainly liked riding horses a lot more.

Jotaro is Autistic, and doesn't tolerate ableist bullshit from anyone. Also Autistic: Jolyne, Giorno, Shigechi. While Jotaro was in Morioh, through Josuke and Okuyasu, he observed how Shigechi wasn't being accepted by his peers. He became sort of a mentor to Shigechi and helped him to be more confident and self-accepting. Shigechi's death broke him, but he didn't really process that until after he told Shigechi's parents what happened to him. After that, he got back to his car, held back for as long as he could, and then broke down sobbing.

Giorno has asthma. He firmly believes that he wouldn't have it if Shiobana hadn't forced him to grow up in such a filthy environment, and if Shiobana and her new husband hadn't smoked indoors with the windows closed when he was a child. He told Bruno about this early on in his recruitment into Passione. He only had an attack around Bruno's group once: after the incident with the snake venom in Pompeii. Abbacchio didn't yet know that Giorno had asthma, but he recognized the signs of an attack from some of his police training: the death rattle wheezing, and the skin around Giorno's neck slowly collapsing around his bones like shrinkwrap. He quickly got everything constrictive away from Giorno's chest and looked for an inhaler and helped him use it. When the attack stopped and the rest of the group showed up, Abbacchio of course showed his relief with misdirected anger and cursed Giorno under his breath, hissing stuff like, "Why didn't you tell me, why the fuck was your inhaler in your goddamn shoe and not a pocket or something," but Giorno just had this grin on his face 'cause he knew Abbacchio was glad Giorno didn't die.

Pucci's father was abusive and homophobic towards him, as well as abusive to Pucci's mother. The first time Pucci truly stood up for himself against his father was when, one night when his father demanded him to do a late-night bible study session, Pucci grabbed the heaviest bible in his father's office and struck him so hard across the face that he broke his nose. Pucci had reached a breaking point.

Abdul is Intersex. As an adult, he doesn't really care what gender people perceive him as. His parents accept him completely, but that doesn't mean the world does. He grew up in a conservative society, and was bullied horribly in school (not just for being Intersex). People didn't like that they "couldn't tell if he was a boy or a girl." When he got to his late teens and early adult years, this discrimination became dangerous because he tried to be in romantic relationships a few times. Abdul is only interested in men, and they would typically follow through with whatever sex they assumed him to be. More often than not, they would become abusive when they found signs of him not identifying with a specific gender or that he didn't have the body they were expecting. One of these relationships, when he was nineteen, was so particularly violent that Abdul went to live with Joseph for a while (Abdul couldn't bear having his parents see him in shock or with any of the visible results of that relationship). Joseph broke down crying at some point at Abdul's bedside while thinking Abdul was asleep, and unconsciously admitted that it was very hard to see him like that because he thought of Abdul as his own child.

Doppio and Donatella are both Trans, and Doppio was the person who gave birth to Trish. He almost died from this, because he went into labor from the sheer amount of stress from the fire starting in his home village and his adoptive father dying. He gave birth to Trish alone, on the beach, with no anesthetic or anything. Donatella hadn't even known Doppio was pregnant, as their relationship was basically a random fling during a drug bender. So it was a huge shock to her to find a lone baby on her doorstep wrapped in a blood-stained sweater, a few days later when Doppio had the strength to climb back up to the town. He knew he couldn't take care of a baby, considering he'd just lost his only guardian and home, and already hadn't been coping well with his mental health problems and substance addiction. After passing out from blood loss and dehydration, he woke up in a hospital in a town untouched by the fire and smoke. He had to have surgery and remain hospitalized for his untreated injuries, and seemed very confused where said injuries had come from. The Sardinian police also came in to start harassing him when he was lucid enough. He kept insisting on speaking to his adoptive father. He had completely lost his memories and was extremely freaked out when hospital personnel confirmed he had given birth recently and when police accused him of abandoning a baby.

Giorno's parents are both women (besides Jonathan if we're including him). Dea (fem!Dio because more women please??) was the one who gave birth to him, and Shiobana, who's Transfem, sired him. Dea and Shiobana had a toxic, obsessive relationship. Surprisingly, Dea was actually a wonderful mother to Giorno, and had Enya, Vanilla Ice, and Terrence help take care of him. She wanted him to have a better childhood than she did. Shiobana hated children, but at one time when the sun was up, she stole Giorno away and moved back to Japan. No one knows why. Insurance money? Dea was absolutely devastated, so much that she became more fierce and evil than ever before when it was time to fight the SDC group. Her sadistic motivation to kill Jotaro came down to, "I want to make someone else feel the pain of losing a child."

Kakyoin has epilepsy. He didn't want to tell the SDC group about it because he assumed it would make him seem "weak." As an adult, he takes rotten care of himself, out of loneliness. Medication for epilepsy was ineffective at the time, at the very least, to being poison at the worst. He'd often stop taking it, turning to substance abuse instead, which made his seizures more frequent.

Doppio and Diavolo don't have DID. Diavolo is an obsessed stalker from Sardinia who had cosmetic surgery to make himself resemble Doppio, even getting the same tattoos, and he gradually brainwashed Doppio into believing they were the same person. Doppio was so effectively manipulated by him that their relationship became obsessive from both sides.

Johnny was assaulted by a group of other jockeys sometime after he got shot. They nearly killed him. The only reason he survived was because Diego witnessed the assault, and took Johnny to the hospital. Johnny had no idea how he got to the hospital, but he later heard that the group of jockeys had been murdered. At some point during the big race, Diego told Johnny that he was the one who killed them. But he made sure to tell Johnny, "I didn't do it for you. I did it for myself. I already hated those pigs, but I was abused, too. I needed something to take my anger out on. It was fun. So don't get all sentimental on me. We're not friends."

Jotaro's father was physically and emotionally abusive to him, and Holly never knew... mainly because Jotaro didn't want her to know. He never wanted to allow anything to compromise Holly's happiness. Sadao showed a different side of himself than the one he showed to Holly when he was alone with Jotaro. Jotaro knew he would have to wait for Holly to die in order to do anything against Sadao. And even then, what would the law do? Sadao was internationally famous and beloved. He stopped abusing Jotaro once he became an adult, but Jotaro still wanted repercussions for how much Sadao had fucked up his life, and he worried what Sadao's behavior might be like towards some of his fans and that he could be using his influence to abuse more people. In adulthood, Jotaro had already been gradually losing his grip since being called to Morioh in 1999, starting to lose a significant amount of weight due to an eating disorder that flared up terribly due to the stress and from quitting smoking. But once Holly died around 2006, and he and his wife were getting closer to deciding on a divorce, Jotaro started to become almost unrecognizable. He had started smoking again (after he had quit in the 90s for the sake of his wife and daughter), and eventually he was up to a few packs a day. It was at Holly's funeral, though, when everyone witnessed just how badly he was coping with everything. He had left the funeral a multitude of times to sit in his car, smoke, drink, and blast music. The last time he went back in, he glared coldly at Sadao, stamped up to him, and started beating the shit out of him. If Jotaro's wife hadn't gone up behind Jotaro and put her arms around him, Jotaro would've killed Sadao for sure. Sadao was so badly beaten at that point that his eyes were swollen shut, his nose was broken flat against his face, his teeth were on the floor, and all the fingers on one of his hands were bent the wrong way. Jotaro was covered in almost as much blood as he was. Jotaro had told his wife about his father's abuse, including all the sordid details, and the only reason she stopped him from killing his father that day was for Jotaro's sake.

[klwrites]

Little Talks- Ellie Williams x reader Prologue

Summary : y/n had run off from her home for her safety, which led her to run into the Miller brothers who decided she was trustworthy enough to come back with them. Plus they were straight curious about your situation. Reader is a scar btw. I started this awhile ago and posted it on ao3 when I came up with the plot. I forgot what that plot is some I’m posting what I had and I’ll try to remember from there ?

Looking into the eyes of the demons before me led me to a chilling certainty I’d never felt before. Was this sick, demonic body still someone’s home? Was there a soul left to mourn beneath the surface of its decaying flesh? One day would my flesh decay the same?

A deafening wail echoed from the demon before me as it collapsed. I felt an immense sense of relief, finally being yanked out of the relentless state of mind that followed me the second I left home. A gnarled hand extended towards me, revealing the face of an older man. His eyes scanned my face, and upon observation he stuck out his weapon threateningly, the sharp edge of his axe hovering just inches from my nose. Yet, in the midst of the fear, I couldn't help but notice the humanity left in his eyes, as if he reluctantly clung to the weapon, but burdened by its presence.

He stared at me longer, persisting his unwilling stance. I couldn’t help but let a tear fall from my eye, but that worked in my favor. The ruffed man surrendered the axe to his belt, mumbling how I was just a kid.

“Get up.”

His voice was a harsh echo of the other outsiders—gruff, authoritative, the kind that commands fields and flocks. I scrambled to my feet, urgency surging through me despite the throbbing pains throughout my body. With my heart hammering against my ribs, I whirled around to bolt in the opposite direction, until the man yelled again.

"M' not gonna hurt you. What're you doing all the way over here? I ain't seen your people out here before."

Truthfully, I didn't know where I was, or how far I had fled. Fear had been the only thing guiding me after I ran off. I wasn't sure what to say. Could I trust him? Was he still going to kill me?

"It's just me here," I stuttered, my voice trembling with uncertainty.

"Alone? Ya got any clue what's how many more of those things flood these forests?" he shot back, his voice laced with anger.

I gave him a blank stare, as most of me was still frozen in fear.

The man continued to fill the silence “I’m here with my crew to handle it, but that ain’t gone be all that easy…” he observed me, his eyes moving up and down.

“..:Forget it.” He sighed before turning the other way.

That was my first encounter with that man. My second one came soon enough when I realized what he was talking about. Demons had come to be everywhere, and I was not equipped to fight them. Injuries scattered all over me, so I resorted to taking cover. Unfortunately, it’s never that easy. I happened to pick the most rickety building I could’ve chosen. So when I finally found the perfect spot to rest, the floor beneath me gave out. Various wooden planks stabbed, hit, and bruised me.

After what felt like forever, he came back with a woman named Maria, and it turns out the man was her husband, Tommy. They mentioned having a nearby town they wanted to take me to. I agreed knowing if they wanted to kill me it wouldn’t matter, because I was already going to die here.

It’s now been a long time since everything changed for the better for me.

Next part

[buckgasms]

Ok I did a bit more thinking about this post

Naturally I got very carried away and added some romantic smut towards the end. Sorry not sorry. Enjoy ✨

So let's say your Witcher Bucky is invited to some fancy event at a palace, and you beg him to take you because you've never been anywhere like that before.

And even though he thinks those events are more trouble than they are worth, he can't resist the way your eyes shine and you squeeze at his arms as you playfully pout at him. So he relents.

You venture into town for a dress for the occasion, and whilst nothing really feels right you end up picking a dress that makes you feel good, matches your eyes and when you twirl a little it swishes around with you.

It takes a few days to travel there, but you are happy to spend time together. He tells you stories about places you come across, some are funny, others are a bit like something from a horror story. You definitely snuggle up closer to him each evening, worried about monsters finding you. But he keeps you safe, letting you press your body into his. He doesn't mind that at all.

A problem arises when he sees you in the dress. He is gobsmacked at how beautiful you look, and he has no interest in leaving the room for a stupid party when you look like that. He growls as his hands slide over the soft fabric, squeezing at your waist. You giggle and pull him in for a kiss, promising him that he can do what he likes with it after the party.

Once you get there, you both keep to the sidelines, watching all the fancy people gliding around the room, laughing loudly and making a show of who they know. Some people come up to Bucky with quiet respect, shaking his hand and complimenting your dress. They say things like, "he saved my life" or "I owe him everything for what he did for me..." When you are alone again you link your arm into his and pull him down to kiss his cheek. Pride swells in your chest as a faint pink tinges his skin.

I'm going to say something happens. Like a mini disaster. Maybe an uninvited guest arrives and starts threatening the other partygoers, or makes a threat to the royal family. Chaos descends and you get separated from him. It's just a clash of swords and blood and shouting that sends you fleeing to a dark corner, praying it all ends soon.

Married life is quiet and safe. This is not that.

When the madness ends you are discovered by Bucky, his face pale and full of worry.

"Are you hurt?" You both say breathlessly as he takes you in his arms. You say you're fine and he indicates no damage as he pulls you from your hiding place. But as you look at the carnage your legs stop working and you are frozen in place. You can't walk through that.

Without hesitation he lifts you into his arms and you bury your face into his neck, gripping his hair between your fingers as he paces out of the room. He's muttering how everything is ok and he has you, the sound making his chest vibrate, oddly soothing as you cling tighter.

Finally you are back in the room of the little inn you are staying in. You'd both like to go home but it's a two day ride and that's out of the question with the state you are in.

Moments after he sets you down you notice a cut on his arm and spring into panic/action mode. You fly around the room babbling apologies for making him carry you and hunt for your little pack of bandages and medicine.

It takes him grabbing your face and making you look at him to stop your panicked babbling.

"I'm ok sweetheart, it'll heal itself in no time..."

The softness of his voice immediately sends you into a flood of tears, collapsing into his chest, telling him how much you love him and how you don't know what you would do without him. He chuckles softly, stroking your hair and occasionally wiping away your tears.

When you calm down a little he sets you on the bed and pulls off his filthy clothes, tossing them in a corner before kicking off his boots. You kneel on the mattress and he comes to you, letting you help him remove his shirt, exposing his broad, hairy chest to your soft fingers. His hands reach for your body and he tuts.

"Your pretty dress is ruined"

You look down and see the marks and dirt on it before meeting his eyes.

"Take it off?" You ask and he obliges, pulling at the skirt until it glides over your head, leaving you almost bare in front of him. Having forgone a bra, as none of yours suited the dress, you are immediately exposed to him and his hungry eyes. You were worried about it this morning, but you didn't care now.

He pulls you in, cupping your cheeks and pressing soft but desperate kisses to your lips, travelling over your cheeks and throat. You return what you can, letting your hands explore him, sighing when he kisses those certain magic spots.

More clothes hit the floor before he nudges you backwards, slowing guiding you to lay on the mattress, his huge form towering above you.

He grips your ankle and pulls it up to his lips, before trailing along your shin and placing more kisses to your knees. He alternates before sucking gently at your soft thighs, peppering them with little marks of devotion. Your hands grip his hair, trying to guide him to where you want him most, and he obliges, although painfully slowly.

He pushes your thighs wide, holding them open with ease, still kissing the soft skin there, tantalising close to your folds until you groan his name.

"Please... Please do it..."

He chuckles, always enjoying your shyness at asking and he grins up at you.

"Ask me properly my love. Don't be shy..."

You groan and feel heat burn your body as his smile gets wider. More teasing kisses are given as he waits patiently for you to relent.

"Will you....can you....kiss me....here?"

You spread your legs a little wider as an offering and, taking pity on you, he relents. You tried your best and he's happy to help you work on that later. For now he dives in, kissing and sucking at your folds, his tongue expertly torturing you in the most perfect way. You cry out in relief as the pressure starts building, writhing under him as he spoils you.

He slips a finger in as he sucks hard on your clit, groaning at the way your body reacts to his actions. You whimper at the sensation, digging your fingers into the mattress. The coil in your belly tightens to breaking point as his fingers curl and his tongue flicks enough to send you over the edge.

As you catch your breath he continues his path, more kisses to your hips and stomach, making you giggle as it tickles. He lavishes attention on your breasts, sucking and nipping at your impossibly soft skin.

When he finally reaches your face you are a wreck. Eyes glassy with emotion, lips swollen from biting them and your hands gripping his face so tight he wonders if you are scared to let him go.

"I'm here darling. I'm here and I'll never let you go..."

You emit a little sob as you pull him to you, kissing him like you might die if you don't. You wriggle a little until you can feel his hard cock line up with your heat, still kissing him and holding him tight to keep you grounded.

He groans as you make contact, jolting a little as feels your wetness drag across his cock.

"Bucky please..."

He pulls away the slightest amount to allow him to sink into you before he's back, pressing the full weight of his body into yours. He's barely moving within you but you both pant and moan as he stretches you, the sensation enough to make you see stars.

"I love you"

Both of you whisper it, between kisses and bites and groans. His pace increases and your legs shake, tears slipping down your cheeks as he reminds you of who you belong to, and what he would do for you.

"I've got you baby, just let go..."

"No one's ever gonna hurt my girl, my wife...mine"

"Fuck...you feel what you do to me? You see how you make me crazy sweetheart...."

It all adds to the heady atmosphere and as he fucks you harder and deeper you feel the coil snap again, harder and longer than before.

He curses as your climax sets of his own, holding you still as he fills you up, kissing and praising you for taking him so well.

You curl up into his body after he collapses next to you, his arms scooping you in closer still and you swap lazy kisses and gentle strokes to his cheeks and chin.

You start to drift off, exhaustion finally settling over you but you whisper one more 'i love you' which he easily returns, and he starts counting down the seconds before he can take you back home...

[hearts4golbach]

Picture Perfect. // Chapter 9.

TBP!Gerard Way x AFAB!Reader.

A/n:

sorry for the little break, I had to lock in for finals. NOW im locked in on here (hopefully. im trying to get back on a normal posting schedule)

Warnings:

Drinking, cursing.

Word count:

1.2k

"I need to talk to you about something," you lowered your voice, looking at Frank. He sat across the table from you, fidgeting with his cup of coffee.

He raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Me and Way kissed," you chewed your bottom lip as you attempted to read his facial expression.

He didn't seem even the slightest bit shocked. "Okay, and?"

"It was the night I spilled my drink on him, you know? He came home with me for whatever fucking drunk reason and we made out. What the hell do I do?" You hid your face in your hands.

"Well, you know what they say," He smirked. "Drunk words are sober thoughts."

"Well, it wasn't really words it was actions." You corrected.

"You know what I mean!" He argued. "Did you like it?"

You pursed your lips together. "You want the truth?"

"Always," he rolled his eyes.

"Yeah I fucking liked it," you whisper yelled. "I didn't want to. I can't have a crush on him, Frankie. He's my partner."

"So what?"

"If something bad happens or we break up, how am I supposed to work with him? I can barely do it as is."

He shrugged. "Exactly. So, what would it change?"

He had got you cornered. You muttered a low fuck under your breath. "I don't know."

He slurped his drink. "Fuck it, Y/n. Go for it. He obviously wants you to."

"I don't want him," you argued.

"You do, and that's fine. There's nothing wrong with that, you know." It was a childish argument, especially on your end. Frank couldn't help but laugh.

He had already canceled out every other argument you threw at him. It proved to be useless at that point. You gently shook your head, staring down into your drink.

"You really think he does? Even after all of the shit we've said to each other?" You recalled the countless times you had insulted each other. 

"Honey, the sexual tension is there." He laughed. "He does! I don't know what else to tell you."

"I don't believe that."

"Believe what you want," he smiled. "I'm just trying to help."

"Well, you're not. You're actually making it worse. I don't want to want him."

"That sounds like an ish-you not an ish-me." He sassed.

"Fuck that."

The conversation ended at that. You changed the subject, asking how him and his wife were doing. He filled you in on his life, sounding like a teenage girl gossiping.

You and Iero had sat at that coffee shop for well over an hour before it had started to get late. It was around 9 when you got home after you ran to the grocery store to restock your home. You changed into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt as soon as you got home, thankful to be out of your work attire.  You threw a TV dinner in the microwave before curling up on the couch to watch whatever bullshit news was on the TV. You couldn't help but let your mind wander to Way. That damn smirk, the way he kissed-

3 loud knocks on your door startled you. Somehow, you knew exactly who it was. You took your time making your way to the door. You opened the door to see Way leaning against the railing with a cigarette dangling out of his mouth.

"Why are you here?" You asked, your irritation seeping through your words.

"I didn't know where else to go." He put out his cigarette and walked closer to you. You could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"I- okay." You let him in, giving in to that voice in your head and leading him to the couch. He collapsed into the soft cushions, letting his head rest on the back of the couch. "Why didn't you go home?"

You grabbed him a glass of water as he spoke. "I can't. I can't be alone. All I can see is their faces." He choked, slurring his words. He kept his eyes closed.

"What faces? The victims?"

His eyebrows furrowed. "Y-yeah. Every time I close my eyes, that's all I can see." His voice cracked as he spoke. His tone was different than it usually was. He was soft spoken, some of his words were nearly incoherent.

"How does being here help that? I don't understand."

"Because I'm with you." His gaze finally met yours as you sat on the couch next to him. "I just can't be alone. Not tonight."

You hesitated, trying to form the right words. "Okay. You can take my bed, I guess. I'll sleep on the couch."

He immediately shook his head. "No, I don't wanna take your bed. I'll sleep on the couch."

You gave him a soft smile. "It's alright, I usually end up falling asleep on the couch anyway."

His gaze softened. "Okay." He looked as if he was about to protest once more but didn't. He simply shut his eyes, leaning back once more.

It was back to silence. Your gaze alternated from the TV to Way, who stirred occasionally. It was clear he wasn't sleeping, just deep in thought.

He was in his usual work attire. Some sort of funky tie, which was loose around his neck, a white dress shirt and black dress pants. His forehead was beaded with sweat, but his expression had softened. He looked peaceful, which was the complete opposite of how he turned up on your doorstep. He looked beautiful.

You carefully got up off of the couch, careful not to disturb him too much. You walked into your room and got him a pair of pajama pants and an old hoodie that you knew would fit him.

You walked back into the living room. He was sitting up now, watching whatever was on the TV at that point.

"I have some clothes for you," you tossed them over to him. "You probably don't want to sleep in that."

He thanked you quietly and asked where your bathroom was. You told him and watched as he left the room to go change. You sighed heavily, running your hands through your hair.

His reasoning made sense, but it was also kind of stupid. Since the photo incident, you hadnt opened your curtains, but you didn't understand what made him feel safer at your house after the events of the weekend. You didn't even feel safe. It just didn't click.

He walked back into the living room. His hair was even more of a mess, and there were faint dark circles under his eyes. "I think I'm gonna go to sleep." He muttered.

"Okay," you replied, matching his soft tone. Fuck, maybe you were falling for him.

You lead him into your bedroom, shutting off the lamp on your nightstand. The room was dimly lit by the moonlight pouring in.

He crawled under the covers. "You need anything?" You asked.

He hummed a quiet no. You turned to walk away, but he gripped your wrist. "Wait, don't leave."

You turned back around, and his grip on your wrist softened. "Why?"

"Stay with me. Please?"

You couldn't say no to him even if you wanted to. You laid in bed next to him, rolling on your side to face away from him. You felt an arm slither around your waist, pulling you closer. Your breath hitched as you felt him rest his head in the crook of your neck. He took a deep breath, and you felt his muscles relax. You melted into his touch, your eyelids growing heavy.

Looks like he'd be riding to work with you in the morning.

[sevasey51]

I hope you are feeling better and get back to posting soon! ❤️

I would love a protective Connor fic maybe involving POTS🥺

Maybe a really busy day at work or maybe at home and has a day with a couple episodes.

Thank you and I hope you are okay💞

When the Body Says Stop

Summary: Y/N’s POTS symptoms flare up at work, and despite her best efforts to push through, her body can’t keep up. Connor and Will notice her struggling, and things take a turn when she collapses from SVT during a busy shift. Connor and Will rush her to the ER, where Ethan works on stabilizing her. Afterward, with her brothers and husband being incredibly protective, they take her home for a quiet, restful evening to help her reset.

It had been a long day at Chicago Med for Y/N, one of those days where everything seemed to be moving at lightning speed. Back-to-back surgeries, consults, and a steady stream of patients had kept her busy all day. Y/N hated showing signs of weakness, especially at work. She had learned early on to push through her POTS symptoms. Whether it was the dizziness, the fatigue, or the occasional heart palpitations, she had become an expert at hiding it, not wanting anyone to worry about her.

But today, the weight of the shift was catching up with her.

The first signs had been subtle—tiredness setting in faster than usual, a slight tremble in her hands, and a bit of dizziness when standing. She tried to power through it. After all, there was no time to be weak. There were surgeries to finish and patients who needed her. But as the hours ticked by, she felt her body starting to fail her. Her heart rate began to rise, and she could feel it skipping beats, a constant reminder that her body wasn’t keeping up.

Connor had noticed. He was in and out of the trauma bay, assisting with surgeries, but his eyes kept darting over to her. He knew when something was off. He had been married to her long enough to recognize the signs. She was trying to hide it—focusing on the task at hand, but he could see her swaying slightly when she moved and the pale color creeping into her cheeks. His heart clenched. She was pushing herself too hard again.

“Y/N,” Connor said softly as he approached her during a rare moment when she was alone in the hallway. “Hey, are you okay?”

She quickly masked her discomfort with a smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m fine, Connor. Just a little tired. I’ve got this.”

His eyes narrowed, but before he could say anything, Will walked by, noticing the concern on Connor’s face. Will’s protective instincts kicked in, and he stopped, glancing at Y/N.

“You sure, sis?” he asked, his voice gentle but firm. “You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine, Will,” she repeated, but her voice wavered slightly. She could feel her heart rate accelerating.

Will wasn’t convinced. He looked at Connor, who exchanged a quick glance with him. They didn’t need words. They both knew what was happening.

“Alright,” Connor said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “You can’t keep pushing yourself like this. Take a break, I’ll cover for you.”

Y/N opened her mouth to protest, but before she could say anything, she felt the room spin. The dizziness overtook her in an instant. Her vision blurred, and her breathing quickened. Her heart began to race, pounding against her chest with alarming force.

The world around her seemed to tilt, and she collapsed to the floor, her hand instinctively clutching her chest as her heart went into SVT.

“Y/N!” Connor and Will shouted at the same time, rushing to her side.

Y/N tried to focus, her breath coming in short gasps, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak. The pain in her chest was too much, and the feeling of helplessness was overwhelming.

“Stay with me,” Connor said firmly, kneeling next to her. His hands were gentle but urgent as he checked her pulse. “You’re gonna be okay, just breathe.”

Will was already calling for help, his voice sharp and commanding. “We need a crash cart! Get Dr. Choi, now!”

It wasn’t long before Ethan was by her side, quickly assessing the situation.

“Y/N, I need you to stay with me,” Ethan said, his voice steady as he worked quickly. “We’re going to get you back to normal. Just hold on.”

Connor and Will hovered anxiously, watching as Ethan worked. It was clear that they were both terrified, but they stayed focused, never leaving her side.

“SVT, 160 bpm. Administering adenosine,” Ethan said as he carefully worked on getting her heart back into rhythm. “Come on, Y/N, we’ve got you.”

The seconds felt like hours as the adenosine took effect, and slowly, her heart rate began to return to normal. The color slowly started to return to her face, and her breathing steadied.

Once she was stabilized, Ethan gave a nod. “She’s okay for now, but she needs to rest. We’ll monitor her for a while. Get her to the ER, and let’s make sure there’s no damage.”

Will and Connor both helped Y/N sit up, still hovering protectively. She looked at them, embarrassment flashing across her face.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

Connor brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his expression softening. “Don’t apologize, Y/N. You should’ve said something earlier. You pushed yourself too hard.”

With careful hands, he helped her to the ER where Ethan would continue to monitor her. They could both tell she was exhausted—her body had reached its limit.

“Y/N, you need to take it easy,” Will said gently, helping her get settled into a bed. “This isn’t just about today. You’ve been pushing too hard for a while now.”

“I’m fine,” she protested weakly. “I’ll rest.”

“You’re not going anywhere until you’re fully recovered,” Connor said, his tone firm. He pulled up a chair beside her bed, taking her hand in his. “You’re not lifting a finger. Will and I are taking care of everything.”

Y/N gave a small smile at his protective nature. She knew he meant it. He’d always been there for her, but today, she realized just how much he truly cared.

After a few hours of rest and monitoring, Connor helped her get into his car. He had insisted on driving her home, knowing she wouldn’t be able to do much for herself.

Once they arrived home, he tucked her into bed with Charlie curled up beside her. He kept the lights low and the atmosphere peaceful, knowing that she needed a quiet environment to heal.

He sat by the bed, his hand resting gently on hers. “You’re gonna be okay. I’ve got you, always.”

Y/N smiled weakly, feeling the weight of the day lifting from her shoulders. “Thank you. For taking care of me.”

Connor leaned down and kissed her forehead, his voice soft. “You don’t have to thank me. It’s my job to take care of you.”

With Connor by her side, the world seemed a little easier to navigate. And for the first time that day, Y/N finally felt like she could rest.

[therandomhalfrussian]

Ronnie Petersons Chronicles #7

Ronnie Peterson together with Graham Hill at the 1972 Race of Champions (Brands Hatch).

Guess who is back! Everything went well for me even though it was stressful but I am very excited to post this. Either this chronicle is longer than the others or I am just tired. It took way more time to translate than the other ones. Might be because Ronnie writes like any person born in 1944 would and uses a lot of Swedish phrases/words that hardly can be translated without sounding really weird. But I have tried my best!

I like that picture a lot. A young Ronnie sitting next to the experienced Mr. Monaco himself! I wonder what they talked about, or honestly if they talked at all! It mostly looks like they are receiving information. Do note the sideburns and somewhat matching hair, even if Ronnies hair is a bit messier.

Do excuse any grammatical errors, English is not my first language. “(italics)” is my explanation of things.

Chronicle 7 below:

“Things are getting hard for Peterson now”

(Early April, London, England)

“I’ve driven two races since you last heard of me. The first one was a Formula 2-race at the short but fast Mallory Park-track in England, the second race was the Race of Champions at Brands Hatch outside of London.

You already know how it went at Mallory Park, even if I do not want to call that runoff a ‘crash’ like some newspapers are very excited to do. At Mallory we had problems with the car from the start. There are new rules for Formula 2 this year, you can now use 2-liter engines now. This far into the season it is really sparse with 2-liter engines, it is practically no one who has managed to finish developing them from the 1600-cc motors.

The 2-liter engine I got for Mallory Park soon got tired. It protested against being so full of holes. And that you would probably have to have some understanding for, a few of the metal walls are hardly thicker than a half rotten autumn leaf!

The reserve motor had to make do

So I had to continue practising with a reserve motor and that also went well since nobody else has a real 2-liter engine either. The fastest practice time and the best starting position was the result of Saturday's practice.

The race was in two sessions. None was particularly successful for me. In the first one the fuelhose came loose, so there I stood in the middle of the track and tried putting it on again while David Morgan, who won the race, Carlos Reutemann, Niki Lauda, Mike Hailwood and the others flew past.

When I managed to get driving again I drove really fast, as the lap record showed , but that joy did not last long. The fuel pump collapsed. Very much an end to that session for Peterson. The mechanics managed to get the car ready for the second session and I had to start last since I retired on the first. So I just had to hang on and overtake as many as possible before the field spread out too much.

I got three laps. Just as I was supposed to drive myself up to ninth I got into a mudpile a Formula Ford-car had thrown up when rejoining the track at an earlier session.

…and then the back wheels lost their grip

The backwheels lost their grip in the mud and I went off the track and smashed the nose of the car and broke some struts in the front. So it was just for the mechanics to roll the car into the bus and start working with it.

I went home to my new rowhouse outside of London. It is the first time during this wandering life that me and Babro have acquired a place to live in, of course excluding our parental homes. It is actually really nice to have a solid place somewhere when you move around like I do.

The house is in a nice suburb near the airport (possibly Heathrow, but I might be wrong) so that I can easily leave for races. Tim Schenken lives a few houses away from me and that is very nice. We can go over to each other and talk from time to time.

But I did not get to spend a lot of time home last week. My new Formula 1-car took most of the time. During the Tuesday we had a press-viewing in London and I had never driven the car.

New cars are nerve-wracking

The car rolled for the first time at Silverstone during Thursday. It was a little bit nerve-wracking testing it for the first time after all the work we have done on it during last autumn. There was not a lot of driving. In the beginning of a test you have to do so many small adjustments of all the bolts that have something to do with the wheel alignment, check the hose coupling in the kotor etc, so there is not a lot of time over for a proper drive.

But the car felt right and I was pretty happy with it. The guys from Teknikens Värld was there when we tested the car for the first time so you guys will have to read more about in their article (which I unfortunately have not found). I have promised them to not steal their story. Journalists are so sensitive about that.

So then it was time for the Race of Champions at Brands Hatch. We did not go there with the new car to win, rather to practice. Well, of course I always try to win, you always do, but there was hardly anyone in the team that thought of victory.

I did not get to practice much

During practice we had quite a lot of adjustments to make so I did not get to drive a lot. Got 12’th position on the starting grid and that is not exactly good. The race itself was neither exciting nor fun.

Emerson Fittipaldi drove ahead of everyone already at the start, and then he held his position until the finish line. The guy is simply a good driver. Real good. I have a feeling that he will be one of the guys at the top when it is time to count the world championship-points.

I got to stay lonely and drive at the back. Got to twelfth place after a while. But I am not all that disappointed. We got a lot of useful experience from the car that will be useful for the Spanish Grand Prix.

The F2-car is fast

The Monday after the Race of Champions, which was the 19’th, I went to the Thruxtontrack to teat the F2-car which had been fixed since Mallory Park. It went really good and I managed to break my personal record with a whole second and that is a lot on that track!

And now it is time to go to Sebring in the USA to drive the sports cars-world championship. Then I am going to do a small detour in the middle of the week to drive a Formula 1-race in the middle of the week with my old car in Brazil. And on Good Friday I will drive Formula 2 at Oulton Park.

It will be a hard time for Peterson until you hear from me again. “

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

You can find the original chronicle (in Swedish) here.

It is very impressive how many races Ronnie manages to drive! He sounds quite tired to be honest, at least with the testing and practices.

Yes Ronnie, Emerson will be at the top of the world championship, the absolute top to be exact! Emerson would later be described as Ronnies best friend in Formula 1, I wonder if they already were friends? They at least knew each other at this time.

Thank you for reading, if you notice anything wrong or have anything I can improve on please tell me!

[mono-no-aware-stuff]

perchance, what is the likelihood of a sneak peek of the oneshot

You cannot just say "perchance" (·•᷄‎ࡇ•᷅ )

Here's a short draft! For context, Senku is in his early 20s and is training to be a physician under a senior doctor (Kubo) in Kure, Japan, which was a naval port city. It was very important during WW2, as this was where the legendary Yamato battleship was built!

In this scene, he's riding a train to Hiroshima with Byakuya to meet the MC for the first time as his patient. („• ֊ •„) Senku’s attire was much simpler, but nonetheless dignified: a white button-up shirt, dark and pressed straight-leg trousers, polished leather shoes, and a double-breasted wool coat. He made sure to wear his gloves this time, and even brought his scarf for good measure. Kubo was strait-laced when it came to maintaining appearances; as a man with an important place in society, one must never be seen looking unkempt. Especially when you were meeting patients. 

A few years ago, Kubo told him, “What separates a good doctor from a great one isn’t just skill. Half of it is looks.” 

They were standing outside of Kure's municipal hospital, and the older man had a lit tobacco in his fingers. Senku was lightly chastised when he showed up with a crooked tie that morning, and apparently, his lecture on grooming had yet to finish. He let out a slow exhale, the smoke slipping out of his wrinkled mouth as he stared somewhere far. 

“Tell me, Senku—would you let a man treat your wounds if you knew he had dirt under his nails?”

“I wouldn’t,” Senku had replied back then, shuffling slightly away from his mentor. He didn’t like the smell of smoke, especially when it clung to his clothes. “That’s calling for several infections.”

“Such as?”

“Tetanus, fungal, and foreign matter seeping into the bloodstream.”

Kubo nodded a few times. “Mm. You forgot the big guns," he said. “Streptococcus pyogenes, for one. Leads to aggressive tissue infection. Sepsis turns into multi-organ collapse."

He took another drag, this time longer. Smoke curled from his nose.

"And then—death. Man's most formidable opponent, and unfortunately, inevitable."

“Well, I would’ve said them next,” came Senku’s defense. He’d only been studying pathogens for a week. 

Kubo reached out to lightly ruffle Senku’s hair. 

“Right, right,” he said. “Keep cracking open the books when you’ve got nothing better to do.”

And he did. For the next few years, on top of several others. He spent a great deal of his adolescence within the four corners of his study in their home, where Byakuya and an electric radio kept him from truly being alone. He had set aside potential friendships with his peers in secondary school and medical school as soon as he stepped foot in Kure.

Byakuya and Kubo alone had an extensive network of connections. Following their footsteps was enough—for now.

I've been putting my energy in writing this oneshot these last few days to keep up my momentum. Its audience is definitely more niche than my other works, but I love the research I'm doing (WW1 and WW2 are few of my special interests). I'm hellbent on period accuracy and recontextualizing DCST characters in this setting.

I aim to gradually get back to updating my current works on AO3 as soon as I'm in the headspace for them again!

(Hopefully I didn't jinx everything by posting about it, may the AO3 gods have mercy.)

[moonlightphilosopher]

1.3 mafia? Never or so I thought…

Hi my cupcakes I came at late night with an Idea so I hope you enjoy reading and maybe you even write it, if you do I would appreciate if you send me a link to the post. Thanks

Reblogs, comments and Likes are appreciated. I do not give my consent that any of my work is Reposted, Translated or given out as their own, here on Tumblr and on any other platform.

Tim Bradford x fem!Reader

R= Reader

Triggers warning: violence

R. Is kid of the leader of the leading mafia in LA. She doesn’t know about those businesses, even though she is 29 she still lives in LA. The businesses are kept secret from her. But one time she say one of those „businesses“ well that one didn’t end well,  since someone a lower ranked mafia guy saw her and after her not knowing who she was and kidnapped her, and instead of bringing her to his leader, he locked her in his basement and kept her for his own „amusement“ (if you don’t understand what I mean your to young) mean while her father started a gang war with a lot of deaths, thinking she was kidnapped by others, but it wasn’t the main reason Ofc the war was actually about power demonstration, territory and money, and the plan was to marry R away to the son of another mafia leader. (R worked first in the Aircraft but was shifted to the navy seals and got high ranked, after the Kidnapping she will soon quit military and go to the police force) any way one night the kidnapper forgot to lock the door, just she was cuffed was a problem but she found near by a nail in the wall and somehow managed to uncufee her and even through she is drained weak and energyless from all the his “amusement”. Ofc her didn’t gave much food or water. Still knowing that it’s her only chance to escape, so she run out of the door and just runs for her live as the kidnapper chases after her. 

Meanwhile at the station Nyla got the case of the victims of the gang war. 

Back to reader who ran, got like a minute lead, she feels that she gets slower and weaker, so she runs to the next door and knocking on the door and ringing the bell in panick, and it’s to see in her face, 

Angela and Wesley are at home when they wake up (because of R.) Angela grabs her gun and looks through the door spy, but as she sees R’s expression , the fear the panic, and hears the screaming and also sees a silhouette coming form behind, so she lets R in. After she closes the door puts the gun away and told Wesley what happened (meanwhile R passed out duo the strains) then they hear a loud bang and see R collapsed on the floor, so she called Tim, who was on a station party, so Wade, John, Aaron, Nyla (and the rest) also heard so all together they went there,

After some time R. Wakes up and Angela starts to question her, but as R is still weak and in a panic mode she just said all the time (RL=Reader’s Lastname) “RL, mafia help”, after some time the rest arrives

Here you take over and I would recommend that James and Nyla are a dream team and Angela and Tim act more like siblings

maybe you also can check out my posts, I will do my best to tip my ideas, as I want to share it with you. But if you want me to build a storyline up for a generous topic feel free to ask chat request or comment, and I would be happy about feedback, things I can do better or things you like about. 

[agentjazzy]

The Evil Dead Dashboard Simulator

🧍‍♂️ groovyhousewares Follow

YES I got my girlfriend a pretty pretty necklace from a gumball machine and when she sees it she's going to give me so so many kisses :)

(411 Notes)

🐟 fishwantmemenwanttokillme Follow

man, fuck tourists, I was heading to my spot when a car came up and honked at us, all friendly like, so me and buddy waved bc there wasn't anyone else there, but then they YELLED at us???? we were just walking?? wtf did we even DO

#i hope the bridge collapses i hope they all DIE #vent

(4,079 Notes)

🎲 kingofstupidbitches Follow

unethical life pro tip: if you overhear your professor talking about their family cabin that they have, and they have open office hours posted, it's your RIGHT to go check that shit out

they're not gonna be there!! they have papers to grade and other shit to deal with!!! free cabin!!!

🌋 thehillsalsohaveanniceass 📛 Follow

op what are you going to do when you roll up and they're just sitting there

🎲 kingofstupidbitches Follow

lmao his ass is NOT going to be in that cabin 😂 he just got back from a vacation with his family or something (dipshit couldn't wait until break) he's supposed to be at his office and he does NOT have the vacation days to be leaving so soon

(151 Notes)

🌹 pressedflowerpetals Follow

fml my older brother asked if I wanted to tag along on a trip to a cabin and I said sure bc it beats staying at home w/ dad

BUT IT'S A COUPLE TRIP

HE'S BRINGING HIS COWORKER/GIRLFRIEND THAT HE DOESN'T SHUT UP ABOUT, HIS FRIEND IS BRINGING HIS GIRLFRIEND, WHYYYY DID THEY INVITE ME

#if i knew i would've said no 😭 #he didn't even invite his Actual best friend #which SUCKS bc then we could've fooled around when no one was paying attention #huh who said that 😳 #cheryl posting

(4 Notes)

📜 anthroapologist 🦀 Follow

haters will hear you scurrying underneath the bowels of your home and freak out like HELLO where else am I supposed to scurry????

(1,288 Notes)

🔮 shessellingseashells Follow

you ever feel like people Immediately forget your name upon meeting you :(

#i might be too high but i don't think any of these people know my full name #i mean I'm Definitely high #and tried moonshine for the first time #but like. really feeling like an outsider rn

(0 Notes)

🎲 kingofstupidbitches Follow

it's so hard being the only chad amongst nerds, like, I GET IT, you're too much of a pussy to investigate the creepy fucking cellar, the LEAST you can do is let me listen to the tapes I found down there, they're cool as fuck

🎲 kingofstupidbitches Follow

okay and now they're all yelling at me bc a stupid tree broke a window right when the tape got good 😑

🎲 kingofstupidbitches Follow

fuck it, here's a recording of the tape, I hope none of you guys are cowards like all my friends apparently are, have fun bc I can't

(206,089 Notes)

💀 theevilacrosstheland Follow

when someone plays your song you can feel that shit in your SOUL catch me coming towards you at 15mph awoken from my eternal slumber if I hear that first note fr

(6,282 Notes)

🔍 peachycraftsection Follow

my boyfriend spent $14 in quarters attempting to get a magnifying glass necklace from one of those gumball machine toy capsules at work bc he knows I LOVE mysteries and detective stories and I need to [redacted] him in the [redacted] right NOW 💖💖💖

(432 Notes)

🌹 pressedflowerpetals Follow

everyone's making out rn which is REAL inconvenient bc there is Absolutely Something Outside

🌹 pressedflowerpetals Follow

should I check it out

🌹 pressedflowerpetals Follow

there's no one online to tell me no so.....

📝 charcoalfingertips Follow

op you haven't posted in an hour are you okay???

🌹 pressedflowerpetals Follow

I'm Irrevocably Changed Now 👍

(104 Notes)

🌹 deadite420 Follow

I'm just a silly goofy guy if I happened to have killed and maimed and bite and stab that's just who I am and how I show love ^_^

(5,724 Notes)

🔮 deadite68 Follow

coyotes are SO right, if youre trapped somewhere or someone grabs ya, just bite your limb off, no hesitation, show superiority, it's not like THEY'RE gonna do it

(2,051 Notes)

🧍‍♂️ groovyhousewares Follow

whhy is there so muchh blood everywhere........

#help #i accidentally kept my mouthh open and blood got in it :((((( #my head hurts sso bad bookcases kept falling on me

(5 Notes)

🔩 deadite883 Follow

heehee i love crawling through pipes and electrical outlets

(207 Notes)

🎶 8tracksarebetterthancassettes Follow

I logged onto Tumblr and wtf why am I following so many people with deadite in their username? is it a reference? did I miss a meme? are we mishapocolypse-ing again?

🌿 dirtissoyummy Follow

I think it might be a virus transmitted by bots but idk I'm too scared to interact

🤡 thespareshemp Follow

okay I investigated to see if it was a bot swarm or people having fun SO

for the first cluster of blogs, all their IPs are logging from the same location, which usually means a lazy bot swarm BUT I went through all their archives and most of them, before changing urls, interacted with one another naturally and stuff, @-ing one another and junk, and they seem to know each other irl

so it's just friends having fun!! and then people joining in on the fun!! feel free to reblog without fear!

#they're all still posting original content so that's kinda a giveaway #even though it's all 'deadite'fied and all #i wonder if theyre doing an arg thing

(1,004 Notes)

🔍 deadite81 Follow

when men are SOAKED with blood 👌😍🥰😘💖🥰🥰💖😍👌😘😘😘💖💖😍

(20,983 Notes)

🤡 deadite6091 Follow

JOIN US JOIN US JOIN US JOIN US JOHN US JOIN US JOIN US JOIN US JOIN US JOIN US

🛏 honkshoomimi Follow

🤡 deadite6091 Follow

You Will Be Dead By Dawn

(5,732 Notes)

🐟 fishwantmemenwanttokillme Follow

man, fuck tourists, I was heading to my spot when a car came up and honked at us, all friendly like, so me and buddy waved bc there wasn't anyone else there, but then they YELLED at us???? we were just walking?? wtf did we even DO

🥐 evilpillsburydoughboy Follow

hey you live near the state line right? can you check the news real quick

🐟 fishwantmemenwanttokillme Follow

uhhhhhhhhh

🐟 fishwantmemenwanttokillme Follow

WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE BRIDGE IS GONE

🐟 fishwantmemenwanttokillme Follow

fml if any of you need me i'm going to lay down in the cold and let the forest take me

(4,079 Notes)

🛏 deadite7390 Follow

if you were to break me down to my pure essence you would be left with pure, unfiltered evil

also grits

mmmmmm grits

(2,561 Notes)

🎥 deadite3023 Follow

falling down the stairs is the most efficient way to go down them :)

(941 Notes)

🎲 deadite69 Follow

y'all ever open the window and AUGH OUGH UGH UGH UGH AAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAA THE AGONIES and then you adjust to the sunlight and you're fine

(8,091 Notes)

🧍‍♂️ groovyhousewares Follow

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA FOR THE LOVE OF GOD SOMEONE HELP ME

(3 Notes)

[imjustasimpxd]

My Angel (Part Two)

➬ Reiner Braun x Fem reader

Part One | Part Three | Masterlist | Blog Home | Aot Masterlist

Summary : Reiner was always taught that the devils of Paradis were vicious creatures, but what is he supposed to do when he soon finds himself reluctantly falling for one? Or when he is forced to go back to Marley and leave her altogether?

Word count : around 5, 200 words

Warnings : Again, very angsty. Reiner feels guilty about what he’s done, reader is angry with him. Crying, mentions of heartbreak. Spoilers for season 4 part one.

Author’s notes : reblogs are appreciated!! I appreciate all feedback on my writing so that I can know what you guys liked and what you think I should improve on😊

Disclaimer : this is a work of fiction and should in no way, shape, or form, be taken seriously.

Side Note : this fic, and everything else I’ve written on my blog, is mine and only mine. I work very hard on everything I write so do not, under any circumstances, modify, copy, or steal my work.

❗️Important Note❗️

There will in fact be a part three! While I was writing part two, it ended up becoming so long that I just decided to split it up. That’s why this chapter leaves off on a cliffhanger (and that’s also why it took me so long to post this one). But I thank you all for your patience. If anyone else wants to be tagged for part three then let me know in the comments! :)))

“Can I please ask where exactly we’re going?” Reiner questioned, his voice lacing with a hint of annoyance as Falco gripped his arm, anxiously pulling him towards the city’s back alleys.

“I told you it’s a surprise! A friend of yours wants to say hi before the show starts!” Falco explained, glancing backward at his superior with a cheerful smile as he continued to pull him in the opposite direction.

“Is that right?” Reiner spoke sarcastically, scoffing quietly to himself as he took in the boy’s words.

What was Falco really up to?

Surely the whole “a friend wants to say hi” explanation was made up; because Reiner Braun wasn’t exactly a man you would think of as having friends.

Sure, he was surrounded by people a lot of the time, and he even had allies with whom he got along pretty well with. But even so, Reiner knew he was nothing more than a comrade to them; nothing more than a vessel to wield the armored titan.

But that was okay, because they were nothing more than comrades to him.

With being born Eldian as well as being a warrior for Marley’s military force, Reiner Braun didn’t exactly have the time, luxury, or frankly, the mental strength to seek out any social interactions beyond strictly work-related ones.

Well, at least, not anymore.

He made that mistake once, and in doing so, it cost him the demolition of a poor woman’s heart; as well as his own.

In fear that opening up to another person again might cause that beating vessel in his chest to truly see itself past repair, Reiner Braun had decided to close himself off from others, refusing to repeat those tragic events of his past.

So, with that in mind, who exactly was this “person” that Falco was happily dragging him by the arm to see?

It couldn’t have been anyone he was genuinely close with; there wasn’t anyone like that for him, not anymore at least. Any authentic connections he once had with people were now severed, collapsed by the calamity he caused back on that forsaken island.

So who on earth was he being forced to see?

“It’s just in here!” Falco said excitedly, his finger pointing toward a wooden door as they rounded the corner; one that lead to a basement stationed under an older apartment complex.

From the outside, the place looked dim and run down, its location secluded to a quiet and unfrequented street.

The very sight had Reiner scratching his head in confusion. Of all places, why here? Why pick such an isolated area to meet with him? Not only that, but why would this person send a naive little boy to escort him to this place instead of just contacting Reiner directly?

Was this a trap he was walking into?

Should he leave?

Like a flame set to brush, panic began spreading through Reiner’s veins. His free hand was gripped into a strained fist and his eyes darted in all directions, watching out for any surprise attacks.

If this really was a trap, if someone was anticipating charging at him, then he’d be ready for it.

Suddenly, the wooden door opened. Loud groans from the beat-down hinges filled the air, followed by the sound of footsteps; footsteps that belonged to a dark, hooded figure.

Reiner’s eyes widened at the scene before him, an eerie feeling twisting in his stomach as he watched the mysterious person walk out the door; heading in his direction.

Whoever it was, he thought about fighting them off, even going as far as raising both his hands in the air to assume a defensive stance.

However, that’s when he caught a glimpse of Falco next to him. The little boy had started to head towards the figure, almost as if he was acquainted with the human; if it even was human.

“Falco wait!” Reiner quickly followed in the boy’s footsteps, gripping his arm before he could walk any closer to the person. “We should leave.” He suggested, anxiously tugging on the boy’s limb in hopes to urge him back in the opposite direction.

“It’s okay Mr. Braun,” Falco smiled, quick to reassure his superior. “This is where he said to meet him.”

Who’s he? Was it that person lurking around with the cloak draped across their face? Or was there someone inside as well?

Reiner didn’t have any answers, nor did he have a definite resolve on how to react in this situation. Should he trust Falco’s judgment and allow this “meetup” to happen? Or should he grab the boy and run while he still had the chance?

The latter seemed like the best option, especially considering the fact that Falco was just a child, and therefore could’ve easily been manipulated into something dangerous.

He wanted to trust Falco’s words, but it was too risky. If something happened, the boy’s blood would be on Reiner’s hands; and he couldn’t bear the weight of any more sorrow, or any more guilt.

“We’re leaving, Falco!” Reiner insisted, readjusting his grip on the boy’s arm to forcefully pull him away from the situation.

Although, just as he’d turned around to take those first few steps, he heard something that made his body freeze, and his heart clench.

“If you’re done arguing you can go on ahead. He’s waiting for you inside.”

That voice. Reiner knew that voice.

It was the same one he used to hear nagging at him to wake up in the early mornings. The same voice that used to comfort him whenever he was feeling disheartened.

It was… the same voice he never thought he’d have the pleasure of hearing ever again…

All he received was one simple sentence, but that was all the verification he needed. There was no doubt in his mind, the voice he heard: belonged to you.

“Y/n?!” His body immediately turned around to face the hooded figure. His eyes then squinted, trying to see more than just the gentle silhouette of a pair of lips and a jawline that was exposed by the moonlight’s glow.

The figure froze at his words, saying nothing in response; almost as if they didn’t anticipate being recognized.

“Y/n, is that you?” Reiner asked again, hoping to earn a response this time.

However, there was none; at least, not a verbal one.

All he gained was a sudden flinch that occurred once he spoke that name a second time, followed by the subtle shaking of fingertips that poked out from the sleeves of the cloak.

You must’ve been scared, embarrassed; perhaps even both.

And who would blame you for it? The last time you saw him he had slaughtered more than half of your comrades. Who knows what he’s capable of now after four years have passed?

“Falco?” Reiner finally broke the silence, glancing down at the boy he was still holding on to. “Why don’t you go on inside, I’ll be with you in a minute.”

However, before the boy could open his mouth to speak, he was quickly interrupted. “There’s no reason for him to leave! I’m not staying to chat.” A stern voice echoed past the cloak covering your face, but that didn’t phase Reiner.

He knew it was you from the moment that first syllable left your lips, even more so now that you’d spoken a second time.

Your tone was serious, added with a hint of aggression in order to scare him off, but he wouldn’t be turned away by that. Not when this was the chance he’d been silently praying for ever since he left that island four years ago. The chance to finally see you once again, even for just a moment.

Now that this chance was finally here, standing in front of him, there was no way he’d let it slip away; regardless of the tone you used with him.

“Just a few minutes?!” He insisted, taking a few steps forward in case you were preparing to run away. “Please?” He asked in a much quieter tone, his eyes practically begging for you to give in, to grant him even the smallest portion of your time.

Even after all these years he still knew how to persuade you, didn’t he? He must’ve, otherwise, your mouth would’ve never opened to let out a frustrated “Five minutes and that’s it!”

Reiner’s shoulders quickly relaxed at your words. His head then turned towards Falco subsequently, giving him a quick nod of his head: which apparently was his signal to “get going.”

Falco’s gaze switched between Reiner and the person he was apparently dying to speak to. The boy was unsure of what was going on, or who that unidentified person even was, but nevertheless, Falco knew better than to argue with his superior; so he’d comply with the orders given to him.

“S-sure…I’ll just, be inside then…” Falco spoke hesitantly, slowly backing away to walk toward the wooden door. He stopped momentarily after placing his fingers on the handle, almost as if he was waiting for Reiner to change his mind. But after receiving no signs of a change of heart, Falco reluctantly opened the door and stepped inside; closing it behind him.

The moment that wooden door shut, an unpleasant silence filled the air. Instead of partaking in the “conversation” you were supposed to have, the two of you just stood in silence.

You didn’t dare speak up. Reiner was the one who made you stay after all, if anyone should be the first to start this conversation it was him.

Your eyes were fixated on him with a calloused glare, your lips refusing to part even the slightest bit.

Reiner on the other hand, wore an expression more timid and anxious than yours.

He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, fingers fidgeting with each other as he contemplated the best way to start this conversation.

“I uh…” He tried to speak, but the words fumbled in his mouth, leaving just as quickly as they came.

It’s ironic, just a moment ago he was begging for you to stay so that he could have the chance to talk to you, but now that his chance had finally arrived, he couldn’t think of anything to say.

As he stood there, overanalyzing a potential response, he noticed the way you scoffed, clearly annoyed at his delay in response.

You were growing impatient with him, and if he didn’t take the opportunity to speak with you now, you’d most likely never allow him another chance to waste your time again.

So, after what had seemed like hours of silence, when in reality was more like 1 minute, Reiner finally spoke up.

“Can you take off the hood?”

Your eyes quickly narrowed in confusion at his odd request. Out of everything he could’ve asked, everything he could’ve apologized for, this is the first thing he says?

“Why?” You questioned, still unsure of his intentions on the matter.

“I just…” He began, but his words quickly started to fade out, almost as if he felt unworthy to be asking in the first place.

Nevertheless, you were persistent.

“You just what?!” You snapped, frustrated at his apparent dedication to withhold information from you; a recurring dedication at that.

“I just…” he inhaled shakily before speaking, “I want to see your face.”

You paused at his words, taking a moment to process what he’d just said. After expecting something pitiful, or perhaps even bitter coming from him, it was quite a shock to receive this: a fairly tender request.

He wanted to see your face? Why? What difference would that make?

It’d be the same one he saw four years ago, nothing’s changed; at least, not to you.

Despite asking for something which would require him to look upwards, Reiner kept his eyes glued to the ground, as if he felt undeserving to see you again. It wasn’t until he heard the heavy sigh that jerked past your lips, along with the quiet “fine” you gave in response to his request that made him finally look up.

As his gaze lifted, watching you pull that gloomy hood off your head, Reiner was met with a flashback of memories.

It all reappeared in an instant: the sound of your adorable laugh, the way your hair looked when the sun glistened across it, even the small little habits he’d discovered about you as time went by; they were all coming back, recollecting in his mind clearer than if it all happened a day ago.

Reminding him, painfully, of a time when things were simpler, when he was happier, and, most regretfully, a time when he had you.

Pulling off that hood allowed him to finally lay eyes upon a face he hadn’t seen in ages. A face he used to watch soundly sleeping next to him at night, placing gentle kisses all over when no one was around.

It was the same face he used to stare at in fascination; taken back by the beautiful way your lips would curve upwards into a smile, or even the way your eyes radiated the most alluring shade of color when the sun shone across your skin.

That face was one he had desperately longed to observe once more for the entirety of four long years, and coincidentally, it was the same face that now stared him down with an irritated glare.

Absent was the sparkle your eyes once held for the man standing before you, and gone was the loving countenance you were never hesitant to grant him.

Now your face lay still, your features refusing to move even the smallest bit in case it were to form some sort of pleasant expression towards him accidentally.

Who was this woman?

If not for the fact that he had easily identified her face, Reiner wouldn’t have recognized her.

Where was the kind and loving woman he fell in love with? Was she not the one standing before him now?

No, this woman was different. This one seemed to hold an inkling of abhorrence towards him, easily provoked by just his presence alone.

Was this… the product of his own making?

Was this… what he’d turned you into?

As if he wasn’t tormented enough by his decision, now he was witnessing the consequences of his actions unfold before his very eyes.

“How.. how are you here?” Reiner stuttered, still in shock over the fact that you were actually standing there; that for whatever reason, his prayers to see you again had finally been answered.

“I’m only here in service of a friend; nothing else.”

Your response was so vague, so cold; nothing like the endearing way you used to speak to him.

“Which friend?”

“It doesn’t matter,” You replied forbiddingly. Your tone sounded so distant, so unfriendly towards him.

To think, the last time he heard your voice, it had told him “Goodnight, I love you.” But now that voice was harsh as it spoke, probably regretful of saying those very words after waking up to find out he’d abandoned you that next morning.

The difference in your tone was beginning to eat away at Reiner, straining that beating vessel in his chest more and more with each look of your indignant expression. As if you’d just picked up a shovel and started digging, deepening his guilt further than it already was; if that was even possible.

“Your minutes are up by the way, and I have to leave.” You suddenly spoke, hoping your statement was bleak enough to end the conversation, meaning you could finally leave; finally be free of him.

“Wait!” Just before you could escape, Reiner quickly reached forward and grabbed your wrist, clinging to it as if his life was hinging on it. “Wait please, don’t leave…”

“That’s rich coming from you.”

He deserved that. Honestly, he deserved more than that.

Call him whatever names you could think of, and he would let you, he’d allow every single one of them, no matter how excruciating, because he knew they were true; because deep down he knew he deserved them.

“I’m not interested in what you have to say, Reiner.” Your words were like knives to his heart, causing the already aching organ to shudder yet again. “Whatever it is you should’ve said it four years ago.”

Was that true?

If he really did explain it to you before he left, would things be different now? Would you have understood his situation? Understood why he had to do it?

Why he had to leave?

“Please,” he implored, desperately maintaining that grip on your wrist. “Please, just let me explain it to you.”

It was pathetic, how he was begging like this, pleading for you to stay and hear him out as if he wasn’t the one that left you in the first place.

“Nothing you say will change what happened.”

He knew that was true, but in spite of that, he still refused to let you go again without telling you, without apologizing at the very least.

“I know,” he admitted, a glossy haze shimmering in his eyes as he looked at you. “But please, I want you to know the truth.”

A part of you wanted to leave, to deny him any further chances to cause you more pain with an explanation. However, another part of you wanted an apology. You wanted to hear his side of the story; to hear whatever excuse he had for abandoning you. No matter how twisted, or pitiful, his reasoning was, you couldn’t deny you had questions you wanted him to answer.

“Fine then. Tell me.” You quickly adjusted your posture, staring at him with your eyebrows raised; a gesture he remembered you only used when you were serious about something.

“Why did you betray us?”

Here it was, the moment he had been waiting for since this conflict arose: his chance to finally be understood, to be seen as more than just the traitor he was made out to be.

“I was given orders,” he started, retracting his hand from your wrist now that you’d clearly abandoned the option to run. “I had no choice but to follow them.”

“And what were your orders?” Your voice sounded heavy, almost as if it was hurting to bring all this back up again; like a wound that was still fresh, still desperately trying to heal itself.

Reiner’s mouth remained shut, his head lowering as he closed his eyes, not wanting to answer your question. He knew he’d be made to look like the villain no matter what he said, no matter which way he worded it.

Did that mean he really was the villain?

In your eyes, maybe.

Perhaps you’d never accept his side of the story, never be able to see past the wretched sins he’d carried out. But regardless, even if he never got the forgiveness he so desperately wanted from you, he couldn’t hide from the truth any longer. It was time to embrace it, all of it.

“They told us to sneak in and make allies first, that way we had the people’s trust and no one would suspect us.” He sighed, his eyes refusing to look up at you in fear of the face you’d make upon hearing his confession. “Once the time came, we were ordered to steal the founding titan by whatever means necessary. And if anyone tried to stop us, we had permission to silence them, using whatever tactics we deemed fit.”

Reiner’s heart felt tight as he let those words out, his shame growing stronger now that he was remembering it all, remembering what he’d done.

How did things end up like this?

He was just trying to do what he was trained to do: save the world from ruin; that’s all. But here he was now, that mission an embarrassing failure as he reminisced on his actions; the same actions that caused such sorrow for so many people, including himself.

And as if things weren’t bad enough, as if Reiner wasn’t feeling guilty already, he heard a sudden change in your breathing that could only mean one thing: you were beginning to cry.

“No, wait!” His head quickly lifted to look at you, instantly regretting it as your distressed face came into view. “Please, don’t cry.” He begged, using his thumb to wipe away the liquid collecting on your skin; which you surprisingly allowed him to do without putting up a fight.

“Don’t cry, okay? Not for me.” He demanded, despite his own eyes welling up with tears as well.

He just couldn’t bear it, knowing he was hurting you yet again.

It was almost as if nothing had changed, even after all those years. As if he was reliving those horrors of his past once more, reliving that anguish he saw imprinted across your visage when you found out he was the armored titan; the same armored titan that had killed so many of your friends.

You didn’t understand it, even now.

Was the man who used to dote on you really the same person as the one who carried out such violence and hatred against your people?

How could that be true? How could he have done such a thing, committed such betrayal against the woman he loved?

What changed? Was it something you did?

Or perhaps a more gut-wrenching explanation: he never loved you to begin with. Maybe that’s why it was so easy for him to give you up, maybe, this was his plan all along.

“What else?” You asked, your voice trembling in the process.

Reiner’s face quickly scrunched in confusion, unsure of what you were getting at. “What do you mean?”

“Were those your only orders?” Tears quickly began trickling down your face faster than Reiner could stop, your gaze looking more despondent than ever. “Was there really not anything else?” Your lips parted to let out a stinging sob, one that seemed like it’d been held in for too long.

It was obvious you were waiting for some sort of answer from him, and every second he delayed with a response was only tormenting you further.

But, even so, it didn’t change the fact that Reiner didn’t understand what you were asking of him; or what you wanted to hear so badly.

Your eyes stared at him in sorrow, more tears absorbing into your skin before you asked your question one last time; phrasing it differently now.

“Was falling in love with me a part of your mission too? Was I just another means to accomplish your end goal?”

Reiner’s heart convulsed at your words, his mouth agape to let out a pained gasp.

Did he just hear that right?

A tool?! Is that really what you thought? Is that really all you assumed you were worth to him?

As if you could ever be such a thing.

Granted, he understood how you may have assumed that, given the matter of his betrayal and all. But, despite that, he never expected such an absurd accusation.

There was a wide range of names you could’ve called him: a traitor, a liar, a monster; anything, and he would’ve accepted it; He would’ve owned up to it.

But this: questioning whether or not his affection towards you was genuine; that was one accusation he’d never admit to.

You were never a tool, you weren’t even a part of his plan to begin with. Falling in love with a woman of Paradis wasn’t exactly one of the orders he received when he was assigned to that mission. In fact, getting involved with you went against the sole purpose of him being there; the sole purpose of his assignment.

He was sent there to exterminate the Eldian race, to wipe out every last one of those despicable beings so that the world could finally be safe.

Falling in love wasn’t an order laid out in his job description at all, much less with a woman of Paradis. And yet, he did.

Reiner was a strategic man, he wasn’t one to easily abandon orders, no matter how difficult they may be. That in itself should’ve been enough to prove his affection toward you; because he never would’ve done such a thing had he not felt it was worth it, had he not felt you were worth it.

Nevertheless, here you were, teeth gritted in frustration as you impatiently awaited his answer.

Your face spoke only of torment, and it pained Reiner to have to witness it. The way your eyes were slanting together in an unsuccessful attempt to subdue your tears, your fingers curling into fists to help better contain your irritation, all of it was a clear sign of the repercussions his decision to abandon the woman he loved had caused.

It was just like the last time, you were falling to pieces over him once more, and Reiner couldn’t stand the sight of it.

Your gentle cries may not have been as loud and mournful as they were four years ago, but it didn’t matter; the fact that you were even crying in the first place was enough to make that twisting sensation return to his stomach; possibly becoming permanent at this rate.

Reiner stretched his arm out to grasp your hand, hoping to console you, however, you quickly backed away, refusing to let him touch you.

“I don’t want your pity!” you spat, your fragile body trembling from both the anger and suffering fueling inside. “I just want the truth! Did you ever love me?”

Was that even a question?

Yes, he was fully aware that it would’ve been hard to believe the authenticity of someone who’d abandoned you; someone who so easily decided to turn against you, as if doing so didn’t phase them in the slightest.

But regardless, ignoring the heinous crimes he’d committed, did you still believe he never loved you?

Were his actions before this messy conflict never enough to convince you of his sentiments?

What about all the times he’d hold you in his arms, whispering to you about how happy you made him feel? Did you really not believe any of that? Was he pouring out his heart’s inner-most secrets for nothing?

Or what about the times he’d surprise you with food, despite rations being low? He almost got caught stealing food for you so many times; which was unwise of him considering the fact that it could’ve possibly had him kicked out of the survey corps: meaning his whole plan to infiltrate the military would’ve gone up in flames.

Or, perhaps how he’d always try to keep an eye on you during missions, making sure you never encountered something too dangerous for you to handle. You always complained that he was being too paranoid, but it was only because, unlike you, he was aware of the kind of power titans held; the kind of pain they could’ve, he could’ve, inflicted upon a tiny human being.

All he ever wanted was to protect you, to do what was best for you. Did you really never realize that?

Even after he made Annie and Bertholdt promise not to lay a hand on you during their countless fights with the survey corps, even after all the times he put your saftey before his own mission, was it still never enough?

Even when he left you behind, did you really never consider the fact that he could’ve been doing it because he thought it’s what’s best for you?

You would’ve never been safe with someone like him, so he spared you from that danger by leaving.

Even though he caused you much pain by doing so, did you still never put that together?

“I understand if you don’t believe me when I say this,” Reiner began, “But I never stopped loving you.”

Even before any words left your lips, the doubtful look stringing along your face was enough to tell Reiner that you didn’t believe him; or were highly skeptical at the very least.

“If that’s true, then why wasn’t that enough for you to stay?”

He’d asked himself the same question so many times before. Why didn’t he just give up on his mission and stay with you? It’s not like he wouldn’t have preferred that option in comparison to the one he chose.

Why didn’t he just let the Marleyans presume him dead, forgetting his life in Marley and starting a new one with you on Paradis?

He wanted to, he considered it even. But there was one factor he was forgetting that made all the difference; one tiny reminder that convinced him to abandon that option in the end: you deserved better.

If he stayed behind like you would’ve wanted him to, like he would’ve wanted to, then he would’ve been living a lie; deception would’ve been rooted at the heart of your relationship.

He would’ve never been able to fully open up to you because doing so would mean he told you the truth about his past, about where he’s from and why he came here in the first place. He’d have to fabricate every detail about his life up until this point; tricking you into believing he was born inside the walls just like you. He’d need to have an excuse for everything: why his parents weren’t around, where he was born, what his home life was like, everything.

Nothing about his life would be real anymore, from the moment he’d wake up, to the second he drifted off to sleep at night, he’d be living a lie.

Every time he’d look at your innocent expression he’d be reminded of the secrets he was keeping from you, the lies he was tricking you with; and he couldn’t live like that. He refused to live like that.

“Staying would’ve only put you in danger, so I left, taking the danger with me.”

“I see.” Your voice was strained, as if you were having trouble processing everything. The shock from seeing him again so unexpectedly still hadn’t exactly worn off yet, and with the addition of all this new information piled on top, you didn’t necessarily know what to say; or how to react.

So, instead, you remained silent, hoping some ideas might materialize inside your head as you waited.

However, you weren’t kept waiting for long because Reiner quickly took an initiative to speak once again, asking something that left you stunned,

“Is it okay if I kiss you?”

Your head quickly flung upwards to look at him, contemplating whether or not you heard him right.

“What??” You asked, aghastly, desperately hoping you misheard his question.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” He repeated, unfortunately proving that your ears were working just fine, and that you did in fact hear him correctly the first time.

He only meant it as a farewell, nothing more.

He knew this might very well be the last time he ever saw you again, so, with that in mind, he wanted to leave you with something pleasant to remember him by.

He had every intention of letting you go, he’d walk away and you’d never have to see him again afterward.

Just one last memory with you, that’s all he wanted. One last moment to reminisce on the merriment of his past before he let you go for good.

That’s what he wanted at least, but, when you finally uttered a response, he realized it might’ve been too much to ask for.

“I’m with someone else now, Reiner.”

Part One | Part Three | Masterlist | Blog Home | Aot Masterlist

(YES THERE WILL BE A PART THREE. So comment below if you want to be tagged).

Tags : @thebadbatch @mvteria @nervouslad @ah-finally @usagikookiejams

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