#warming my cold oatmeal to me

[everbluekisses]

SUPER!!! LAZY!!! MAID!!! YAKUMO!!! DESIGN??? really. the laziest i could be. yall feel free to do whatever u want with this i'm just too lazy

[cornerstoreclown]

Mornings with Art? I think it’s a cute scene to imagine Art eating while reader comes in (all sleepy and groggy and out of it cause they just woke up), wordlessly kisses him on the cheek, and makes her breakfast

Writing this before bed. So if there’s errors, I’ll get ‘em tomorrow. For now here’s some domestic shit. I did add dialogue though, I hope that’s okay! I was trying to think of how to go about it without words but then I just went wherever my head led me.

F!Reader x Art

———————————

Ever since he’d come home one particularly bad night due to a victim that just so happened to be carrying a firearm, he’d been taking it easy on himself. A few bullet wounds here and there, which you helped him patch up with the standard bandages and gauze, but for the most part he took his injuries in stride, opting to lay low and keep indoors for however long he decided. Dying was hard when you were a supernatural force, which you knew he very well was. You let him borrow the spare room to work on whatever gadgets and gizmos he wanted to create for his next escapade–for whatever that might actually entail.

As long as you’re not at the end of his knife, gun, mace–whatever weapon he decides to use, you’re fine with it. Though you know one day you might end up with one of those weapons lodged in your back or in your skull, you pray that it never happens. The first mistake would be to get comfortable around this man and let your guard down, which you never did.

However, it’s moments like this, when he’s sitting at the kitchen table when you head downstairs for breakfast that really make you want to do otherwise. Especially right now.

Art was sitting right at the kitchen table, eating frozen pizza from last nights dinner, and he’s doing it rather politely, you note. One slice on a paper plate, napkin nearby, and another slice being daintily held with both hands as he quietly and gently chews each bite he takes.

You have to remind yourself he killed someone last month and ate a rat last week. But it doesn’t stop you from tiredly smiling as you watch him through your unkempt hair that obscures part of your vision.

He merely regards you with a look, still munching away.

Fatigue whispers in your ear and urges you back to your warm and comfy bed. But whether you’re burdened by school, work, or both, there’s no rest to be had.

“Hey,” You yawn tiredly, walking your way to the coffee machine. It was either that or tea this morning. Art was a tea kind of guy, so you put on the electric kettle for him.

He resumes eating, almost finishing his first slice. He’s now got one leg crossed over the other as he assesses you in your oversized t-shirt, munching away on the crust. He has an aura of sassiness to him this morning with that body language.

“Yeah, yeah, I look rough, I know. Not all of us are divas when we wake up,” You lean against the counter, folding your arms across your chest. “And pizza? For breakfast? Come on.”

Art just responds in kind with fluffing up his imaginary hair and then flipping it over his shoulder. Bad hair day? Couldn’t be him!

“You got any plans for today, or are you just gonna go back to crafting shit in my spare room?”

Art shrugs his shoulders as he reaches for the second pizza slice, this time ripping off parts of the cold sauced and cheesed up flatbread to pop in his mouth in a very prim manner. He’s been very into letting his whims lead his decisions as of late.

“Gotcha.” You remark, not sure where to continue the conversation immediately, but you don’t need to worry about that as your coffee has finished brewing and the electric kettle has heat up the water. You sweeten your coffee to taste, as well as Art’s tea in a timely manner. He liked his drinks sweet. Anything bitter was an immediate no. With the remaining hot water in the kettle, you use it to make yourself instant oatmeal.

You plant a kiss to his cheek which he allows as you put his drink down near him. You take your seat on the other side of the table where your oatmeal waits, coffee mug in hand, watching him eat. Silence passes between the two of you until you finally voice what you’ve been thinking for the past few minutes.

“Can you rip me off a piece?”

[cherryheairt]

Dragon Dreamer pt. III

tags: @beebeechaos

Daenys avoiding her problems per usual

all feedback appreciated <3, I'm unsure how I want to write this longterm, bc the two will have to separate after the wall scene and idk if people would want chapters with just Daenys and no cregan lol

also appearently cregan's actor tom taylor has heterochromia and i think green/blue eyes but for the life of my i cannot find a clear pic of it </3

Daenys woke from her distant dreams only after the sun had risen. While still snowing and freezing outside, Morningstar had done well to warm the pair under her protective wing.

Cregan sat vigil all throughout the night, no complaints coming from the young lord as he did. Protecting the princess was simply a part of his many duties, he mused to himself sometime in the night while she whispered.

She blinked a few times, eyes heavy and body nearly numb. Though warm, she was still only clothed in house slippers and her night dress. A weight around her caught her attention, knowing that Morningstar couldn't wrap herself around Daenys like that.

"You awake, Princess?" A soft voice asked beside her.

Tilting her head up and squinting, "Cregan?" She whispered, voice horse from speaking all night.

"Good morrow, my lady," was all he said, that secret smile of his plastered on his face. She didn't know how to feel. A million things rushed to her mind; shame, humilation, frustration-

He interrupted her thoughts, shuffling to a crouch from his sitting position. Cregan offered her a hand, which she took without thinking. Leading them both out from under Morningstar, Cregan bowed his head respectfully to the she-dragon.

"She allowed you to come near us?" Daenys asked, in awe.

"Aye, I don't know why, exactly. I'm grateful for it, so I will not question a blessing." He told Daenys, reaching down to grab his sword that had been sitting on the snowbank for hours and shouldering it.

"Shall we break our fast, or would you like to sleep?" He turned to her, attentive grey eyes finding her violet ones.

Biting her cheek, she waited for the other shoe to drop. When would he demand answers from their night? Banish her from his house forever and ridding himself of the Velaryon girl.

"You should sleep, Lord Stark. I have kept you from it all night." She decided, looking at the tired expression pulling at his handsome face.

"Sleep often evades me with my duties, this is only another one. I would never sleep again if my Princess asked it of me." He told her, placing a gentle hand on her arm. "The day is new. Will you break fast with me?"

Daenys followed the lord into the dining hall. It was more active than the previous night, bustling with the activity of the Keep's servants. It only took a minute of sitting before their breakfast was in front of them, some light bread and oatmeal. Daenys greedily drank the cold water provided for her, the relief for her throat that had been burning the whole way to the Keep.

Cregan watched the display for a moment, smiling to himself before politely focusing on his food, not watching her pick at her breakfast like the previous night. "Do you want anything else? If you don't like the food, just tell me. No one will take offense, as long as you're fed."

"This is good." Daenys answered shortly. She took small bites of the oatmeal, pulling parts of the bread to slowly chew. She felt like her body was going through the motions completely on its own, her brain firing in a million different directions yet going nowhere at all.

"..Princess?" Cregan asked again, stirring her.

He had been talking for a while, she thought. Daenys hummed, gesturing for him to continue. His meal was done already, how much time had passed?

"I said I would like to take you to Castle Black, if you would allow me."

"The Wall?" Daenys furrowed her brow, placing her spoon into the half-full bowl.

"It would be a two week trip on horseback, and you can see what your predecessors witnessed all those years ago. A reminder of what the North protects the realm from."

In simple terms, he wanted to convince her to take the least amount of men to arms as possible. She was not dull. Perhaps he thought she was, just like the court men. He was talking like a Southerner, now. All hidden meanings and pretty half-truths. Disappointing, truly, Daenys liked the straightforward Stark better.

"I would not oppose a trip to see the Wall. It would be much faster on Morningstar, but I'm sure your council would oppose their lord doing such a thing." She said wryly. Daenys didn't want to become curt with the kind lord, but her displeasure with his words made itself clear in her tone

He grimaced slightly before straightening up, bowing his head politely. "I have some matters to attend to before we depart. I will have some things packed for you. For now, get some rest, we'll leave in the afternoon." He left quickly, and it was then that she noticed his fur coat was missing. She could make out his body shape now, no longer hidden and cloaked by the massive fur. When had he left them?

The weight on her own shoulders as she stood solved that question for her. The familiar brown furs surrounded her like a blanket, warm yet drowning. Was it bear? Or even wolf? Daenys wasn't sure, but her heart beated harder knowing that he had sat with her all night, keeping her safe and warm despite knowing her dragon was perfectly capable.

Daenys settled into her chambers, forgoing slipping under the furs already on her bed in exchange for the fur Cregan had provided her. It smelled like him, a deep wood and iron scent that might have been too strong and unfitting on anyone but the Warden himself. The comfort soothed her to sleep quicker than she had in many moons.

🗡

Strong hands guided Daenys through the courtyard of the Red Keep. Ser Harwin Strong, her mother's sworn protector, had become more of a protector for herself these past few moons.

When the nightmares started, the Red Keep was put ill at ease with the little girl, avoiding her like the plague. While most took after Queen Alicent, avoiding her and gossiping about how the girl must be a witch, condemning people to horrible fates with her predictions, the bolder ones like her uncle Aegon had done the opposite.

Harassments, taunts, planting some of Helena's bugs into her bed, even getting physical when no one was looking. Who would believe the mad girl besides her own mother? The prince, of course, never received any reprimanding or punishment. He always got away with everything, per usual. He had the Queen herself in his corner, who defended his vile behavior even when multiple servant girls came sobbing to the Queen's chambers.

Rhaenyra couldn't bare to watch her only daughter be so tormented, especially by her own family. She instructed Harwin to keep a close eye on her, as her escort and guardian around the keep. He had no qualms with this, of course. The girl was beloved by him and Rhaenyra deeply, though this coddling did not go unnoticed by the royal family.

Daenys' one credit as a child was her silver hair and purple hues, an image of her mother. Her brothers after her were not so lucky, born brown-eyed and brown-haired. Ser Harwin was said to be the sire of Rhaenyra's army of dragon-riding bastards, to the obliviousness of Daenys.

When she grew older, she realized that Alicent was right in that one thing. Harwin Strong undoubtedly fathered the boys. She was unclear about her own father, but Harwin's affections for her never differed from her brothers.

She found herself not minding. Ser Laenor claimed the children as his own and loved her mother as a dear companion. But Harwin's love for Rhaenyra was different than Laenor's. She saw the look in his eyes as he gazed upon the heir, filled with devotion and love unmatched by any other wed couple in the keep. Daenys had only seen such a love displayed by them. Even long after Harwin's death, when Rhaenyra remarried her uncle Daemon, Daenys never saw that look in another man's eyes.

Daemon's love was passionate but possessive. It scared Daenys slightly, but she was happy so long as her mother was safe.

This day, Daenys wished to watch her uncles and brothers training in the yard. Ser Criston Cole usually overlooked the boys' training, leaving much to be desired in terms of favoritism. Much like his Queen, Criston despised the bastard boys. Though the four trained together, Rhaenyra's sons usually only watched as Aegon and Aemond practiced with their wooden swords.

Harwin left Daenys at the steps after a gentle ruffle of her loose hair, where she quietly sat and observed. Glancing at a bench overseeing the yard, Daenys spotted King Viserys also overlooking the morning training.

Harwin spoke a few words to Ser Criston for a moment, inaudible to Daenys but clearly pissing the Dornish knight off. Cole intructed that the eldest boys be placed against each other, though it was unfair.

Harwin's protests were thus ignored by the kingsguard, Daenys perking in her seat to watch Aegon and Jace spar. Quite a poor match, seeing their age and skill difference.

Aegon easily beat Jace, knocking the sword from his hand but not giving his opponent any mercy, still stepping forward to attack the young boy.

Harwin grabbed Aegon in a firm hold, tossing him away from Jacaerys. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" Aegon screeched like a banshee, never being put in his place like that before. Spoiled brat.

Harwin scolded Cole, ignoring the eldest prince intentionally. After lifting Jace from the floor, Harwin glanced over the boy.

"Are you alright?"

Embarrassed, Jace only nodded with flushed cheeks and dusted himself off. "Thank you, Ser." He mumbled.

But Cole did not leave the matter, baiting the older knight. "You forget yourself, that is the prince." He said, a smirk on his tanned face.

"Is that what you teach, Cole? Cruelty." Harwin spat back, picking up the wooden swords from the dirt.

"Your interest in the princeling's training is quite unusual. Most men would only have that kind of devotion toward a cousin. Or a brother." He smiled brighter, "or a son."

Without skipping a beat, Harwin strong turned and swung at Cole's smug face. Again, and again until the man was on the floor and not fighting back.

Daenys stood and gasped, calling out towards her protector. "Ser Harwin!" she rushed forward, being stopped only by Jace and Luke, who could also only watch.

Harwin was dragged off of Cole, still spitting insults at the younger whilst the blood-covered man laughed as if he had won.

Aegon laughed loudly, now the loudest sound in the yard as both knights were escorted inside.

"Seems like the Strong bastards won't be so protected anymore." He snickered with Aemond at his side, loud enough for only the three to hear. Viserys took his leave, too, most likely to go settle the fight.

"We're not bastards!" Jacaerys yelled at him. Daenys and Lucerys were quiet behind him. Jace, though a year younger than Daenys, had taken the mantle of the protective one of the siblinge ever since Daenys had started getting shunned.

She was grateful for it, despite the nagging guilt she had for never defending herself or her little brothers.

"Just look at yourself, Lord Strong. Brown hair...pale skin..brown eyes. Perhaps Rhaenyra isn't your mother, either." Aegon said, earning a half-hearted laugh from Aemond beside him.

Ever the quiet of the two, Aemond faced his own bullying from Aegon and Daenys' brothers for being the only one of them to not claim a dragon. Typically, this made him stay out of any spats between Rhaenyra's children and Aegon, out of fear that he would be the next target.

Surprisingly, he even left Daenys alone. He spent much time with Helena, just as she did. They happened to spend a lot of time together in their youth because of their mutual bond, but they never gained a bond between themselves.

"You take that back!" Jace demanded, stepping foward and shoving at Aegon's chest. Being so much taller than Jacaerys, Aegon barely stepped back, only growing more amused.

"Jace.." Daenys urged behind him, tugging at his armor. "Let's go inside, I want to check on Ser Harwin."

Aegon turned to her now, "Its a mystery who your father might be. Ser Strong, Prince Daemon, Ser Laenor. I've even heard rumor of Rhaenyra having a tryst with Criston Cole at one time. Perhaps the cunt herself doesn't even know who your-" Aegon was abruptly cut off with a punch to his face so hard that he was sent to the floor. Shocked, he looked up expecting Jacaerys to have been the offender, but instead met the furious face of Daenys Velaryon. She didn't give him time to get up, punching and scratching at his pink face.

The other three stood stunned for a few moments, unsure if they wanted to let her continue or pry her off. Even Aemond stifled a laugh with a hand, turning away so Aegon couldn't notice.

Eventually Aegon grew out of his shock, easily throwing the younger girl off of him by her shoulders. Wiping his face, he stood and snarled down at Daenys, lifting a foot to kick at her while she was down, but was stopped and tackled by her two brothers. Now, Aemond choose to defend his older brother against the boys, albeit slightly reluctantly. The Pink Dread prank still heavily weighed on his mind every day.

Guards noticed at this point that the squabble of princes and the princess was no mere play fight, punches and kicks being thrown this way and that. The four of them seperated by forceful hands, given no time to walk themselves as they were dragged inside.

"Keep my mothers name out of your dirty mouth, līve!" She screamed behind her shoulder at the boy, who seemed shocked at the insult coming from her mouth. Jace and Luke, not versed in High Valyrion yet, didn't react, although she heard a snicker from Aemond as he was taken to Viserys with Aegon.

The other three were taken directly to Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra, quietly resting on her settee with little Joffrey coddled up in her arms, was surprised to see all three of her eldest children in such a state. She stood immediately, "what happened?" She asked the guards, handing Joff to the wet nurse and gingerly cradling her children's bruised faces.

"The princess and princes got into an altercation in the yard. Ser Harwin and Cole have also been sent to the King for their actions." One said, before being dismissed by Rhaenyra.

"I want the truth of it, now." She sternly told them, stress furrowing her brows.

"Ser Harwin beat up Cole." Luke said first, giving no context.

"Because Cole called us bastards." Jace continued, clearing it.

Rhaenyra sighed, putting a hand over her stomach, which Daenys noticed became a habit during her pregnancies as a way to calm herself.

"If Harwin is the one who fought Cole, why are you three all bruised up?"

Daenys avoided her eyes, earning a lifted brow from her mother. Jace stepped in to help, "Aegon started it! He called you.." He seemed to pause now too, not wanting to shame his mother with Aegon's vileness.

The three shared glanced between themselves, not guilty for fighting Aegon but guilty for not defending their mother's honor better. "He called you a cunt. And implied dishonorable actions." Daenys told her, biting her cheek hard after. Her face hurt.

Rhaenyra only sighed, bringing her children to her side to embrace them all. She breathed in to start a surely long speech, but Harwin entering the room disrupted that plan. Daenys was grateful for it.

He closed the chamber doors behind himself, gold Lord Commander's cloak was no longer wrapped over his shoulders. His armor was also off, as if he was taking a leisure day.

"Harwin?" Rhaenyra spoke, confused as to why he was visiting in such a state.

"I am being assigned back to Harrenhall with my father. The King has let me go from my time as Lord Commander." Was his answer. Pretty words for 'fired' from his duty. Just for defending the princes and their mother.

Rhaenyra gasped, hand bringing itself once again to hover over her stomach. "For what offence?" She demanded. Her eyes were glossy with tears, but she could not let herself cry. Princesses do not cry over losing their guards.

Daenys knew then, that they were not merely protector and princess. They were husband and wife, in all but name. Harwin looked down at Rhaenyra with all the softness in the realm. "It is my own fault, I lost my temper." The two stood to the side for a minute, whispering amonst themselves. Daenys respectfully looked away, finding Jace staring them down intensely.

Harwin held Rhaenyra's face for only a moment, tender and bittersweet as they couldn't do anything more to say their goodbyes.

He turned to the children, "Luke, Jace. Keep up with your training, do not let Cole or the princes bully you out from improving. You will be fine knights." He smiled at them proudly, petting each of their heads and turning to Daenys.

Tears welled in her eyes, falling down her cheeks freely. She was not as strong as her mother, unable to control her feelings. "Ser.." She sobbed, barreling into his chest and burying her face into the tunic's material. Gently he held her, soothing her hair down from the mess it had became in the yard. "Don't fret, my dear girl. I will not be gone forever."

The smell of fire invaded her senses as he said that, a suffocating feeling enveloping her as she continued to cry. "I don't want you to leave at all." She told him.

"He must, we cannot change the will of the king." Rhaenyra said from behind her, rubbing her back soothingly. Harwin and Rhaenyra shared another heavy look, both knowing how much Daenys relied on Harwin.

Harwin had to break the princess off of him eventually, pressing a tender kiss to her temple as he did. "I will be a stranger when we meet again.' He told Rhaenyra, who only nodded and smiled solemnly at him.

Harwin Strong took his leave from the Red Keep that day, and never returned to his family.

Jace watched the man walk away, down the hall. "Is Harwin Strong my father?" He asked Rhaenyra stiffly. "Are we bastards?"

Rhaenyra swiftly looked around for any onlookers, relieved to find none. "You are Targaryens. That's what matters," she whispered firmly.

Daenys only stared at the space Harwin had once been, wishing things could stay the same forever.

"I am going to bed," she told her mother.

She wished she had not.

🗡

"My Lady?" The maid from yesterday evening woke Daenys from her deep sleep. Groggily she sat up, stretching out her stiff muscles. The cold affected her more than she thought. "Lord Stark is ready to depart. We have packed all the things you will need for the trip, I just need to get you ready."

Daenys was too tired to talk, only nodding along and allowing the older maid to dress her and do her hair. Pulled in a simple half-up braid, Daenys groaned at the thought of having to do her own braids while in the wilderness. The dress she was put in was a light blue, lined with white fur, softer than any she had felt before.

"All done, princess. He's waiting in the hall for you." She patted Daenys' shoulder in a motherly way, sending the girl off to the dining hall.

Daenys grabbed his fur coat before leaving, finding him standing in front of the hearth silently. He perked up when he spotted her, smiling almost instinctively. "Princess," he nodded. "Ready to leave?"

It was only then that she noticed a giant wolf at his feet, staring at her with bright blue eyes, contasting its brown fur. A direwolf, it must be. Tamed by the Stark? Their sigil seemed to ring true, just like the Targaryen's.

"As I'll ever be." She answered evenly, slightly looking forward to the trip. She'd never been on such a journey, only ever riding horseback for short distances and never once staying outside for more than a night. It would be interesting. "And who's this?"

"Dusk. He mostly stays outside, but I figured we could use his protection on our travels." Cregan gestured to the wolf. He seemed wild in most ways, Daenys would guess that he was when he was on his own, but Cregan being bonded to him and accustoming the animal to human domestication. Quite like the Targaryens and their dragons.

"I'm happy to have him, as long as he can get along with Morningstar." She smiled.

Hopefully she can find common ground with Lord Stark, gaining more men for the Queen.

Cregan offers Daenys his arm, which she takes as he guides her to their readied horses. "I picked out this one for you. He's a young stud, but he reminded me of Morningstar." Daenys felt her heart skip a beat when he said that, the thoughtfulness of the aftion making her smile brightly. She released his arm to pet the horse's snow-white face, greeting it.

"Thank you, my lord. He's beautiful." She said.

"Of course, princess." He kept his eyes on her a moment longer, before offering his hand again to help her mount. After adjusting herself on the saddle, Cregan mounted his own horse, a pretty chestnut mare.

Winterfell gave the two a cheerful goodbye parting, Daenys had to resist rolling her eyes. The same commonfolk who had gossiped about her yesterday were eagerly waving hankerchiefs at her and wishing their beloved princess well.

Cregan seemed amused by her stiff jaw as they walked past the gates. "Do you know what the folk call you?" He asked.

"I could think of a hundred names I've been called. None of them pleasent." She replied, eyeing him.

Above them, Morningstar glided gleefully, happy to be traveling again although she didn't know the destination.

Chuckling, he shook his head. "The Dragon Dreamer."

Stunned, she turns to look straight at him, finding his attention fully on her still.

"I..don't see why." She blushed. Never before had her visions been painted in a positive light of any kind.

"Northerners aren't so out of tune with the magic of this realm, as other kingdoms are. Have you ever heard of wargs?"

"A few times, in fairytales." She sniffed.

He nodded, "do you not believe in them?"

"Anything could be true. In a world where I ride a dragon, who am I to deny other types of magic?" She offered.

"Aye. My ancestors have dealt with magic since the first men. Stuff you wouldn't believe, out beyond the wall."

"What's beyond the wall?"

"Death."

🗡

alicent hightower you ARE the father

Līve - whore

[stevie-petey]

i just think that steve would 100% be stitching bug’s initial into his levi’s like tom holland stitches little z’s into his. it’s such loverboy behavior and i don’t think any thing has screamed steve more

steve and bug are so tom and z coded oh my GOD he 100000% does and here is how bug found out <333

enjoy !

"honey, can you pass me the chocolate chips?" your arms strain as you whisk oatmeal raisin batter. "it should be up on the shelf in the pantry."

"on it," steve kisses the base of your neck and quickly goes to find the missing ingredient. the small act of affection warms you, shielding you from the december cold.

its nearing christmas and youve been spent the last three days frantically baking your annual holiday treats. each year your list grows more and more. alex is a new addition, it had taken quite a bit of begging and pleading before he finally told you what dessert he liked (he hadnt wanted to bother you, which you find very endearing yet unneeded).

however, with the addition of alex comes also the loss of the byers. this year youre only baking two batches of oatmeal raisin, not four, and your kitchen lacks the scent of joyces favorite muffins. you miss them terribly, wills latest drawing came in the mail yesterday and you had nearly cried when you realized he drew a silly doodle of you surrounded by a million cookies and sweets. underneath the drawing will had written, save me some cookies!

"where did you say the chocolate chips were?" steve calls from the pantry.

"top shelf," you respond, blowing a strand of hair out of your face. "next to the sugar."

"i cant find them!"

he sounds distressed, you know steves trying his best to help you, and you cant help but laugh at him. he always does whatever he can to dote on you. setting the whisk down, you walk over to the boy. "here, let me show you."

steve is standing on his tip toes, arms stretched above his head as he looks for the sweets. his frame lithe and long, and his sweater rides up slightly as he strains. "i swear, i can find it-"

"whats that?" your eyes land on the hem of steves jeans. hes wearing his usual levis, the denim taut against his lower body. theyre faded from years of use, and theres something stitched onto the waistband of them that you havent seen before.

"whats what?" steve strains his head to look at you, still on his tip toes.

your fingers graze the stitch, warming his waist. he stumbles at the unexpected touch and nearly falls against you, but you dont notice any of it. all you can focus on right now is that there are small, messily sewn initials on his jeans with red string. it stands out harshly against the denims blue. the messy lines are familiar, the letters resemble the S.H. that currently resides on the sleeve of your cardigan.

"did you..." youre breathless, so in love that it threatens to suffocate you. "did you sew my initials onto your jeans?"

steve looks down, eyes widening when he realizes what youre referring to. he clears his throat, his face reddens a soft cherry hue. "oh, that? i-uh. well, you know. i-i mean, yeah."

he stumbles over his words and tries to step away, but his back presses against the shelf and hes cornered. he hadnt meant for you to see the initials, he nearly forgot about them entirely, if hes being honest. he had sewn them onto a few pairs of his jeans one night, missing you and unable to sleep. he had some spare needle and string leftover from when he sewed his own initials into your cardigan last christmas, he wanted everyone to know that he was yours, too.

and yet a small part of him hadnt wanted you to know about it. he had sewn the initials early into your relationship. steve knows youd never be cruel to him for showing so much love for you, but some days the fear of loving too hard still lingers.

seeing his fear, you grab one of steves beltloops and tug him forward, pulling his hips flush against yours. wrapping your arms over his neck, you bring his forehead to yours. "i love you."

"i love you, too." and hes put at ease. the fear dissipates, steve hasnt scared you off quite yet. he clears his throat again, allows himself to be vulnerable with you. his heart resides in the palm of your hands, he knows youll always be gentle with it, but sometimes he needs to breathe you in. steves fingers tug gently at your sleeve. "wanted to match with you."

you laugh, your entire body opens up with pure, unfiltered joy as your chest revibrates happiness. youre so in love with him that it hurts, that it blinds you sometimes. cheeks burning, you kiss the top of steves head. "youre as sweet as honey, have i ever told you that?"

"once or twice," he shrugs, trying to be coy, but his body radiates warmth and his voice drips saccharine.

you bury your face in his neck, inhale everything that he is. nose pressed to his collarbone, your lips find the smooth expanse of his skin and you kiss him softly. steve shivers at the softness, which you smile at. "think you could sew your initials onto some of my jeans?"

"only if i can get some of wheelers brownies."

"deal."

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

The Cracking of a Cold Heart

Summary: "Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and oftentimes we call a man cold when he is only sad." – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Pairings: Dean x Reader (Reader's 1st person POV)

Warnings: None. Angst. Fluff.

Word Count: 2,804

A/N: So, while watching an episode of Criminal Minds the other day, the above quote by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was at the opening of the episode and it just struck me as very Dean. 😢 So, I had to write him something. Hope you enjoy! ❤️

“You're still awake?”

I asked the obvious question as I walked into the kitchen to see Dean sitting at the table, slowly swirling amber liquid inside a crystal glass.

He nodded. “Yep. You too.” 

“Yeah, I just came to get some water; it's so dry in this bunker, don't you think?”

Dean just grunted. 

“Maybe we could add some humidifiers, or something.” I said awkwardly.

A shrug was my only answer.

Dean's rough, coldness still made me nervous around him sometimes, especially when he was in an overly grumpy or frosty mood like this. Even though we'd been working together for a year and roommates for at least half that time, I always felt like I just annoyed the hell out of him.

I decided I should just go and leave him alone with his whiskey. I poured my glass of water quickly and nodded towards him as I left.

“K, goodnight.”

“Yeah, night.”

I went back to my bedroom, just down the hall from Dean's, and sighed as I walked through the door. I really wanted things to be different. I wanted to make him like me.

Actually, what I really wanted was to make him love me.

But I'd settle for getting more than grunts and one word answers from him most of the time. 

He’d always been gruff with me, never seemed to want me around. It was always Sam that let me know about hunts and invited me along. And every time I joined them, Sam had to fight his brother to let me leave the car when they got out to fight the bad guys.

He clearly thought I was a shitty hunter too. 

So, he'd surprised me with how quickly he'd agreed to let me stay at the bunker when I told the boys about a demon I was dealing with that seemed particularly fixated on me. Sam convinced me it was safest there and Dean had agreed, though he was scowling the whole time. I couldn't help but think he only let me stay cause he didn't want me to die.

Not wanting me to die wasn't exactly friendship, but I supposed it was better than not caring one way or the other. So, I'd agreed to move in. The demon had been taken care of quickly with the boys help, but I stayed on.

I liked it there, and despite Dean's usual attitude towards me, I was happy in the bunker. Sam and Dean were funny and their dark, sarcastic humor, especially Dean's, often made me laugh in situations that would otherwise demand only horror.

It was also the safest I'd ever felt. 

Because no matter how he felt about me, I knew beyond a doubt that Dean would always have my back and look out for me. That was just the kinda guy he was.

If only I could actually make him want me around.

An idea dawned on me as I climbed back into bed. Maybe that was why Dean wasn't warming up to me. Maybe he felt like I was overstaying my welcome there. It made sense; they'd invited me to stay while I was in danger, and then I just never left.

I was embarrassed that I hadn’t thought of it earlier. I would talk to the boys in the morning, I decided, and then fell into a restless sleep, thinking about where I'd end up when I left.

The next morning I walked into the kitchen to see Dean sitting at the table in the exact same spot as the night before, his whiskey replaced with a cup of coffee. 

“Morning.” I said shyly.

“Mmm.” Dean said around his cup as he took a sip. 

I started to get things together to make my breakfast, looking over my shoulder. “I'm making oatmeal, did you want some?”

Dean shook his head. “N’ah. M’good.” He mumbled in his deep, craggy voice, staring at the table. 

“Okay.” I said, sighing at his usual taciturn answer.

I put the water on to boil, salting it slightly, and then turned back to him just as he stood up and walked towards me. He drained his cup along the way and then reached past me to put it in the sink.

I made the mistake of taking a deep breath as he leaned close and I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning. God, why did he always have to smell so good? Why did he have to radiate warmth from his big, broad, flannel-covered chest, so that I desperately wanted to cuddle into him. 

Completely unaffected, Dean turned to leave, but I put my hand out, touching his arm to stop him from going. I could feel an almost imperceptible flinch from him and I pulled my hand back, embarrassed that he was literally recoiling from my touch.

“Sorry.” I said as my cheeks got pink. “I was wanting to talk to you and Sam. Do you know when-” 

Just then we could hear the screech of the bunker door as Sam returned from his morning run.

“Perfect timing.” I said with an awkward chuckle.

I left the kitchen, glad that Dean followed so I could talk to them both at once. We met Sam at the bottom of the stairs. He pulled out his ear bud, still breathing deeply. 

“Hey.” He said with a small smile. He looked back and forth between me and Dean. “What's up?”

“Oh nothing, really.” I said, waving away the conversation's importance. “I just wanted to talk to you guys. I've…well, I was thinking about it and I realized, I mean now that there's no demon tracking me, no one threatening me, I should probably move out. You know?”

Sam scowled and shook his head. “We're hunters, we're always under threat. This is still the safest place for you. Why would you leave?”

I shrugged. “Well, I mean, I've been here a long time.” Sam scoffed at that, but I continued. “And I don't wanna…you know. I just think I should get out of your hair.”

“Don't be stupid. You're not in our hair. You should stay. Right, Dean?” He asked his older brother.

I looked back at Dean and he didn't say anything for a moment, just stared at the ground. Then he shrugged and looked up. His face was the same cold, indifferent mask I'd seen him wear so many times before. 

“If she wants to go, can't stop her.”

I smiled thinly, a small pinch of hurt starting in my chest. 

“Yep,” I said in a cheerful tone. “Can't stop me.”

Sam started to speak, but I waved him away. “No. Seriously, I should get my own place. But I really appreciate you guys letting me crash here for so long.”

I stood on tiptoe to give Sam a kiss on the cheek and then tossed Dean a smile which was all I could manage before taking off, heading back to my bedroom so I could start looking for a new place to live.

About an hour later, as I was on my computer looking at apartments, there was a light knock on my door.

“Come in!” I called, expecting Sam's tall frame to walk through. Instead the door swung open and Dean was there. 

I was shocked and I set my laptop down beside me on the bed, sitting up straight. Not once in the six months I'd lived there, had Dean knocked on my door; nor had he ever sought me out for anything.

“Hi.” I said lamely.

He nodded at me as he walked slowly into the room. 

We were quiet for a moment before I cleared my throat. “Do you need something?”

Dean pushed out his lips and shoved his hands in his pockets, shrugging his broad shoulders.

“I, uh…I wanted to…Sam said that he thought you were…” He rolled up onto the balls of his feet a couple of times as he paused.

I raised a quizzical eyebrow and Dean scowled, pulling his hands out of his pockets so he could cross his arms over his chest. The flannel pulled tight across his shoulders and biceps, thoroughly distracting me. 

But then he spoke roughly and brought my attention back to him.

“Sammy thinks you're just leaving cause of me, so I need you to tell him it's not true.”

I wasn't surprised that Sam had read me so well, he wasn't easily fooled and I often thought he might know about my unrequited feelings for Dean. 

But I shook my head. “No, of course not. It's not you. It's just time.”

Dean nodded and looked away. “K well, tell my dipshit little brother that will you, so he gets off my back?”

He sounded angry and for some reason his anger annoyed me. I was moving out, leaving, just so that he’d be happy, and he still wasn’t. 

“Sure.” I attempted a teasing tone, but it didn’t really work. “I'll get right on it. Right after I find a new place to live.”

Dean scowled at me again, but this time I scowled back. 

Something seemed to occur to Dean and though his voice was rough, he sounded slightly shocked when he spoke. “You are leaving because of me. Why?”

I rolled my eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck like that. “Oh, I don't know Dean. I can't imagine why I'd think you don't want me around when you're always so warm and welcoming. Always so eager to chat and hangout. I must just be crazy!”

Dean's frown etched deeper on his brow. “So you're leaving cause I'm not acting like your bestie? I'm not friendly enough for you?”

“I’m leaving because you hate me and obviously don’t want me around!” I shouted.

Silence rang out and my embarrassment filled it. I stood up from my bed and brushed past him, calling back to him as I left.

“Look, don't worry about it. I'll tell Sam it's not your fault so he leaves you alone.”

I left quickly, but I wasn't sure where to go. I couldn't stay in my bedroom with Dean there, but I didn't want to run into Sam either. So I ended up hiding in the gym, hoping neither of them would find me there.

But that plan didn't work very well, since minutes later Dean strode through the door. I growled slightly in frustration. All I wanted was to avoid further confrontation about this.

My voice was quiet, trying to discourage any more conversation. “Look, let's just leave it alone, okay? It's fine.”

“No it's not.” Dean responded.

I let out a little huff. “I’ll be gone in a few days, and everything can just go back to normal for you guys.”

Dean stared at me. “No it won’t. I don't want you to go.”

I scoffed and stood up from the bench. “Dean, enough. I told you it's fine. I'll make sure Sam doesn't blame you.”

I walked towards the door, aware I was going to have to get past him to leave. I gave him a wide berth but he sidestepped to intercept me. 

“I don't want you to go.” He repeated quietly.

“Yeah, okay.” I said sarcastically. “If you say-” 

In a blink Dean grabbed hold of my upper arms and yanked me forward so that I stumbled into him, gasping. His mouth crashed down on mine and I squealed in surprise.

He kissed me hard and quick, stroking up into the roof of my mouth with his wide tongue and then ripping himself away from me.

He was breathing hard as he stared down at me and spoke in a rough whisper. 

“I don't want you to go.”

I just blinked at him, confusion overwhelming me. “What…what are you…what?”

“I don't want you to go.” He repeated for the fourth time. “But you should go. You should run long and far and never look back.” His voice sounded desperate.

I was so confused. “What are you talking about?”

He cupped my cheeks and kissed me again slowly, sweetly. I started to comprehend what was actually going on and I felt like my mind was going to explode. He left me reeling, my whole world turning upside down in disbelief as he pulled away from my lips to bury his face in my neck and kiss his words into my skin. 

“God, Sweetheart, all I dream about is you; you're all I see when I close my eyes. But you can't stay; you can't love me back.”

I listened to his words as I dropped my head back so he had better access to all the sensitive spots on my neck.

“…you can't love me back…”

My voice was breathless and bemused as I spoke. “But you don’t love me…you can't love me…you don't even like me.”

Dean pulled back to look me in the eye and I was shocked to see that his eyes were slightly glassy. I shook my head again, though I didn't know why I was trying so hard to deny his words when they were what I'd wanted to hear for so long. 

But I continued. “No, it’s not possible.” I said. “You don't like me. You're always angry at me, cold and distant. You think I'm a shitty hunter; I'm a burden and liability to have with you on cases.” 

I was shaking my head. “You leave me in the car!”

Dean closed his eyes and spoke quietly. “I leave you in the car because when you're with us I'm completely distracted trying to make sure nothing happens to you; I can't  do my job properly. And I'm cold and distant with you because…”

He opened his eyes slowly. “Because I know I can't have you.”

For the first time since I'd known him, I could easily read the emotion swirling in his deep, forest green eyes. And what I saw was just immense sadness.

He shook his head. “I can't have you.”

“What do you mean, you ‘can’t have me’? Says who?” I asked croakily, my throat constricted.

His jaw clenched and he looked away from me, over my shoulder. “Every single person that's been ripped out of my life since I was four years old. And the list is long, so very long. They're all telling me over and over that loving you is a selfish, impossible daydream. They're screaming at me from the grave, reminding me that trying to hold on to you is going to get you killed.” 

He was staring past me as though he could actually see the ghosts that haunted him, could hear their words of warning.

“You know,” I said with a sniffle as my eyes and nose started watering, “I think that might be the most you've ever said to me at one time.”

Dean let out a puff of air that wasn't quite a laugh, and he shook his head again. “I don't want you to go, but you should go.”

I swallowed several times, the tears still flowing as I realized that all of this was really happening. 

He loved me. Truly. 

Finally I dashed away my tears and sniffled again. “Not a chance, Dean Winchester. You say you love me? Well, great, cause I love you too.” 

He pulled in a stuttered breath and I could see the fear in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak again and I took the chance to steal a kiss, pressing close to him and winding my arms around his neck. 

He let out what I hoped was a groan of capitulation and wrapped his arms around my ribs, squeezing me to him tightly and deepening the kiss. His tongue swept through my mouth, exploring every inch, pulling soft moans from the back of my throat as I raked my nails through his hair and he shuddered against me.

After kissing me senseless for several minutes, he broke it off so we could both suck air into our starving lungs. He rested his forehead against mine and I could still hear the sadness in his voice and it made my heart ache. 

“If you stay here with me, you can’t ever leave. Okay? Promise me if you stay, if we love each other out loud, promise me it'll be okay. That I won’t have to live without you, that you’ll always be safe.”

He touched my lips briefly with his, and then spoke against them, whispering. “I couldn’t take it. So promise. Even if it's a lie. Promise me anyway.”

“I promise.” I told him with my whole heart, and sealed it with a kiss.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 * @alwaystiredandconfused @jzackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly * @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma @luvr4miya * @arcannaa @viviwatchestv @winharry @ladysparkles78 @kr804573

* @whimsyfinny * Dean Fics Only: @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world @aylacavebear * Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @hobby27 * @waywardcheshire @libby99hb * Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 * @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester * @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96 @stoneyggirl2 @fanfic-n-tabulous

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

Fat Nuggets Redesign! (1/???)

Very quick post for today because it is my birthday! I wanted to draw a character that I actually enjoy and genuinely have like no issues with because he is just a pig. I plan to draw some other pets like Vark but that’ll be more complex and about Vox because Vark will be a seizure alert animal and I want to put a lot of stuff into that post. Fat Nuggets though he’s just. God he looks so stupid. I love this pig man. Fat Nuggets is not a minipig in my rewrite by the way! He is a hellhog piglet and is at least 11 years old, however hellhogs age very very slow and he will not be big for a long while.

Considering he was also previously raised in a bad environment and was in someone else’s possession prior to Angel who did not treat him well at all, there are some things Fat Nuggets cannot do or experience. After his previous owner tried to disbud him for “less hassle”, it has permanently stunted and damaged his horns and spikes so they can no longer grow any longer than they are now. Fat Nuggets is now being well cared for and has not had any unwilling cosmetic procedures performed on him, is happy and healthy, and enjoys eating oatmeal.

If Angel actually signed him up for it I have no doubt he could become a therapy animal. Honestly I may look into the idea, I think a lot of these guys could benefit from a warm pig on their lap. Oh also, reminds me, because Angel is cold-blooded (technically) Fat Nuggets is his main source of warmth whenever clothes or blankets aren’t available or working well. Very good pig!

[emepe]

— Pairing: Eren x Reader, friends to lovers

— General info: series, 18+, modern AU, serial killer AU, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

— Summary: Fate is a tricky thing. Certain situations can’t be avoided as much as certain people’s lives can’t be kept from intertwining. With a serial killer on the loose, and unexpected relationships blooming, how will the universe intervene?

— Chapter summary: A simple dinner party leads to new relations. Eren Jaeger can't keep his eyes off of you.

— Content warnings: mentions of murder, alcohol consumption.

— Notes: I'm so excited to post the first chapter to my new series. I've been wanting to write again for two years now and I finally got hit with inspiration. This is a little different from my usual stuff, but I hope you'll like it. A special thank you to @dreamy-jaeger​ for beta-reading <3 Happy reading, bubs!

Links: Read on AO3 | Chapter guide | Masterlist

at first sight

Nobody ever said anything about the desperate cries that could be faintly heard from one of the units in Sina Park. Then again, the surrounding houses were occupied by people well into the age when sound just doesn’t reach them as well as it did even just a few years back.  

Sina Park was known for being a peaceful area. With its small and painterly identical houses, and its gardens full of color and floral aromas, it was a picture-perfect community. It wasn’t embedded into its terms to remain strictly as senior-only housing but the great majority of its residents certainly gave off that idea to any outsider. It was to the point where it came as a surprise for one to find out there was someone under the age of sixty living there. But everyone in Sina was well acquainted with each other, and friendliness was practically the norm between every carefree neighbor. 

That was probably why Mr. Shadis didn’t bat an eye when he was enjoying a cup of tea on his front porch and he saw the youngest of the Sina community step out with a duffel bag that was promptly thrown into the trunk of his car, the same night silence reclaimed its territory in Sina Gardens. 

“A bit chilly tonight, eh Fred?” Mr. Shadis asked from his side of the street, raising his hand in greeting when he saw his neighbor walk out.

The young man tossed a boyish smile toward his elder while reciprocating his wave. 

“Just a bit, Mr. Shadis. You probably shouldn’t be out much longer or you’ll catch a cold,” he replied, still smiling as he slammed his trunk shut and smoothly tossed his car key in the air with his left hand, catching it swiftly with his right. 

“Me? What about you?” Shadis teased.

“I’ve still got good bones,” he joked to which Shadis clicked his tongue, feigning hurt feelings as he shook his head.

“You be careful on the road now, eh Fred?” he said, watching the young man disappear into his car, his hand lagging behind to wave goodbye.

The car peeled slowly from its driveway, out of Sina Park, and onto the main road. As the speedometer needle trembled between steady numbers, music flowed softly through the car’s speakers, barely loud enough to disguise the disgusted voice that murmured “That’s not my name, you stupid fuck.”  

The early autumn breeze pins your skirt against your thighs and playfully tussles your hair as you hurry toward the bakery on the corner of the street. You’re welcomed by the pleasant jingle of the bell above the door, as well as Kuchel’s warm interior that puts a stop to the outside’s disturbances on your clothes. 

A slight impatience consumes you as you wait for your turn to order, but you try to keep your booted feet from tapping against the hardwood floor and settle for tapping your fingers on your wallet as you try to assess the available baked goods from your spot in line. There’s a variety of sweet and salty treats — from jumbo oatmeal cookies to pain au chocolat to rolls — but you’ve only got a single thing in mind. A breath of relief escapes your lightly chapped lips when you get close enough to see a neatly stacked pyramid of lemon bars in the display, and a second one after you have a box of them secured in your hands minutes later. 

A satisfied smirk tugs lightly at your lips as you allow yourself to admire the neatly packaged treats. As you make your way to the door, the bell dings, pulling your attention from the box and saving you from clumsily bumping into the man who just walked in. The exchange is brief; he quickly apologizes for the avoided accident and holds the door open for you with a shy smile. 

You don’t reciprocate his warm smile but opt for politely nodding in acknowledgment and thanking him for the gesture before hurrying out the door, not wanting to prolong his act of kindness more than necessary. You take a sharp turn toward the nearest bus stop, completely oblivious to the lingering pair of emerald eyes that steal one last glance at you from inside the bakery. 

Once again, the wind teases your hair until it finds itself locked out by the shutting door of the bus you settle into. Your hand dives into your purse to retrieve your earbuds as soon as you find a seat, yet no music plays throughout your journey. The box from the bakery remains safely in your lap, the contents being lightly jostled now and then when the bus stops to pick up more passengers.  

From the bakery to the bus and for the twenty-minute commute, you go over the names of the people you’ll be meeting in your head. 

It’s not often that you get invited to a coworker’s housewarming party. It’s not often that you form a friendly relationship with a coworker. In fact, it’s not often that you engage with someone at all unless it’s for work or other impersonal things. But Armin Arlert’s nice. Despite being the kind of person who can’t seem to let the purposely lonely be lonely, you’ve taken a liking to him. 

His friends, you think, might be a different story. It’s not that you expect them to be dreadful people, but socializing has never been your scene. You can be pleasant, laugh at jokes, and perhaps even throw one out yourself, but it’s not in you to pursue deeper connections. You’re more at ease keeping to yourself and observing if anything. However, the hopeful look on Armin’s face during your lunch break last week, when he insisted he wanted you at his party, has been popping up in your head at all hours so you feel as though you have no choice but to go beyond your standard pleasantries.  

Your plan for surviving the evening is simple. Get there a few hours early so you can help cook, clean, or anything else Armin might need help with before his friends arrive. Partly because that’s what your altruistic nature steers you to do, but also because you’re hoping you can get a refresher course on what Armin's friends are like so you know what to expect and how to act. If they’re all friends of Armin, maybe it’ll be worth it for you to put some genuine intention behind your courtesies. After all, being friends with Armin hasn’t been difficult so far. You dare to even call it nice. Maybe it’s time for you to make at least one more friend.

Armin’s kitchen is bustling with energy as he and his friends move from one spot to another, swiftly keeping out of each other’s way in perfect sync to finish dinner preparations. 

“I still can’t believe every single one of you bought me a candle… and the same one to top it all off,” Armin shakes his head in amusement, his mind recalling the small cluster of ocean-scented candles he left on the living room coffee table. 

Despite his constant assurance that he’d take full responsibility for the food and drinks — he was the one to bring up the idea of a housewarming party first, so it only made sense —, all of his friends arrived little by little before noon to help out with the cooking. First was Mikasa who, as soon as Armin opened the door, handed him the gift bag with a smile, congratulating him on the move and saying she hoped her present would help make the place a little cozier.   

Then came Connie and Sasha who, despite being roommates, failed to coordinate their gift choices and only realized they bought the same thing when Armin opened Sasha’s bag first and Connie’s jaw dropped in absolute horror. It only got funnier from there. Jean barely stuck the carefully wrapped gift box toward Armin when Mikasa muttered under her breath “It’s a good day for candle sales”. 

“Well, you like candles, and the ocean is pretty much your brand, dude. Don’t blame us.” Jean shrugs, not bothering to peel his focused gaze from the carrots he’s grating. 

“The last time I even talked about the ocean I was, like, fifteen. Almost ten years ago!”

Everyone knows Armin loves the long-term supply of ocean-scented candles, and what may seem like complaints to outsiders is just another bit they’ve all dragged on from their youth.

But Connie still seems a bit lost. His hands pause from sprinkling rosemary leaves on the potato wedges Mikasa neatly laid out on a baking tray.

“So you’re not fucking with the ocean anymore?” he asks with an uncharacteristically serious expression that causes Jean to sputter a laugh before disguising it as a cough. 

“Ignore them,” Sasha prompts, rolling her eyes. Her lips then stretch into a suggestive grin. “Tell us about the girl you invited over. Before she gets here, you have to tell us for real this time, are you into her? Do we need to talk you up? I’m the best wingwoman, Armin. I will make her love you even if it kills me.” Sasha’s hands fall heavily onto Armin’s shoulders as if to back up her conviction.

Armin furrows his brow in mild exasperation. This was the second time he’d been harrowed with that string of questions, which didn’t seem like much, but it took a while for him to get his friends to drop the topic the first time around. He shakes his head and peels Sasha’s hands from his form, fixing them firmly at her sides.

“I already told you it’s not like that. And I don't think human sacrifice is needed, Sash. We’re friends. I just want her to meet you guys… and Eren, of course.”

Nobody picks up on the short pause before Eren’s name or Armin’s sly expression that he’s quick to hide by turning to face the sink.

“She’s a bit quiet but she’s really nice. I think she’ll be a nice addition to our group. You’ll like her, I promise. Just go a little easy, okay?” Armin pauses as he tugs on a pair of dishwashing gloves to whip around one last time. “And don’t say anything weird! I swear I’m telling the truth.”

“Okay,” Jean replies in a sing-songy voice. Armin turns to shoot him a threatening look upon hearing his teasing tone, only to find Jean pointing a stern finger in his direction, “But if you change your mind, I got you, bro.” 

Armin only smiles in response, not willing to spare any more breath in correcting him, and starts washing the dishes. Before he can finish scrubbing the bowl in his hands, the doorbell rings and he rushes to pry himself free from his dishwashing gloves before heading to the intercom, glancing back to make sure everyone is still keeping busy.

“It’s me,” a slightly fuzzy version of your voice comes through the speaker. 

He buzzes you in immediately and steps into the hall to wait for you.

When he sees you round the corner, his face breaks out into a grin. 

“Hey, you made it!”

Your lips quirk into a small smile. Armin makes way for you to step inside.

“I thought I could get here a little early to help you with the food. I hope that’s okay.” Your voice trembles a bit at the end, and you start to worry when you realize Armin’s grin has faded. 

“Actually, everything is pretty much done already. Everyone got here around noon, and they kind of took over.”

As if on cue, a burst of laughter hits your ears from where you assume the kitchen is. 

You manage to let out a slow ‘oh’.

Your simple plan has officially backfired. Since Armin's friends are already here, and since he's had no shortage of hands to help him prepare for his get-together, there's nothing left for you to do. More importantly, there’s no more window for you to ask questions. You hoped you’d be the first to arrive, and each arrival after that would be spaced out so you had enough time to get a feel on every one of Armin’s friends on their own. Now that that’s out the window, you start to worry the dynamics will be a bit too awkward between you and however many there are of them. It’s a battlefield now. Too many factors, too many things to worry about. Headfirst, no safety net, no baby steps.

Almost as if he can sense your panic through your otherwise expressionless face, Armin smiles.

“Don't worry about it, they're nice.”

Your fingers curl tighter around the box of desserts. There's a permanent knot in your stomach that twists further, reminding you of its presence, in situations like this. Your mind flashes a jumble of different scenarios and all the possibilities for outcomes without letting you actually process or make sense of any of it. 

And in the next instant, you're back. 

“I brought some lemon bars from Kuchel.” You raise the box just enough for the movement to catch Armin’s eye.

His face lights up when he looks down at the box in your hands and he immediately takes hold of it.

“I freakin’ love these! Thank you!” 

Relief washes over your previously tensed features. Of course, you already knew these specific lemon bars are Armin’s favorite. He's always bummed out when you go together to Kuchel for your lunch break and there's no more left.

“I actually got the last batch,” you state proudly, the feeling only growing when his fingers excitedly tug at the ribbon tying the handles together and fishing out a pastry, biting into it with no hesitation.

“No kidding, they always sell out. Come on, I'll introduce you to everybody.” He heads toward the kitchen, waving at you to follow him.

You nervously tug at your turtleneck's sleeves, leaving them to cover your hands in an almost protective manner. 

The fact that all eyes fall on you the second you step into everyone's line of vision doesn't help you feel at ease. Your gaze wanders to a distant place in an attempt to lessen the mental weight everyone's stares bear on you. But Armin throws a comforting arm over your shoulder and gives you a light squeeze as he announces your name to everybody. 

When you look up — because you have to in order to properly link names and faces together — each new person in the room has a warmth to their features that gradually soothes your internal distress.

Sasha’s the first name to be called out. She's also the only one who goes up to steal you from Armin's arms and hugs you excitedly, squealing about how exciting it is to finally meet you. You're taken aback by the sudden embrace, but she’s holding you so tight that you can't look back at Armin for help. You're also oblivious to his warning gaze toward her behind your back. 

Mikasa smiles and nods politely at you from the other side of the counter. It's quite the contrast from the first girl, but her gaze radiates kindness.

Jean's good looks are the first thing you notice from him, and he's got a cool energy to match. He raises two fingers in a salute when it's his turn, paired with a side smile as he casually leans against the bar.

Lastly, there's Connie, who proves himself to be as goofy as Armin told you beforehand, by dramatically posing with one arm against the counter and his opposite hand resting on his hip, muscles flexed, head turned low just so he could look up again and say “the one and only”. 

You purse your lips in response to hide the smile that still manages to slip through.

“Nice to meet you all.”

You stand there awkwardly for what you think is a second too long, silently begging to come up with something else to say or for someone else to pick up the task so everyone can move on. 

Thankfully, Armin swoops in, showing off his box of lemon bars on his way to a seat at the bar. He taps the seat next to him, gesturing for you to sit.

“Impressive,” Jean says, nodding in approval as he neatly folds a tea towel. He knows how much Armin loves Kuchel's lemon bars. 

“It's not a big deal,” you reply, waving him off as you scan the room for something to give yourself to do. But there isn't much. 

The counters have been cleared of any signs of ingredient prep during introductions, there's a timer set for the oven, and there's but a small pile of dishes left unfinished at the sink, which Mikasa is already finishing up. So you settle for sitting at the bar and staying out of everyone's way.

However, sitting still doesn't clear you from everyone's attention. It only makes sense that they're curious about you. And with the oven timer still with a little less than an hour to go, you can sense the start of a conversation where you're the main focus. 

“So…” Jean begins. 

Everyone gathers around the bar.

You brace yourself.

The following minutes are a bit of a blur. You try your best to keep up with everyone's questions. Where you're from, your birthday, your zodiac sign, what kind of music you like, if you've been to this and that place, or tried the food at x, y, and z. They're pretty basic questions, but as long as you're a target you're kept on your toes. After each of your answers, there's an exchanged glance or a nod of approval. You know everyone is only trying to get to know you, yet you can't help but feel as though every question is part of a test and your likability is at stake. That is until the conversation branches out to a story about the best taco truck in the next town over, which, in turn, leads to a story about Connie and Sasha getting food poisoning from a different taco truck they decided to try after their favorite one happened to close early that day. Only then can you breathe a sigh of relief. You even laugh a little at Sasha’s colorful retelling of the taco story. 

“So, basically, don't go to Tito's,” Sasha finalizes, giving you a stern look. “You'll be shitting and barfing for a week.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” you laugh.

After that, the conversation flows a lot easier for you. There's less pressure with the decrease in questions thrown your way, which gives you more confidence to chime in with anecdotes of your own. It's hard to pinpoint when the conversation stopped feeling like a test, but you're grateful for it. 

You realize there was never any battlefield to survive. Not here, not with this group of friends. And it’s nice to have several people willing to fill in any silence and steer the flow of the conversation instead of feeling the pressure of everyone's interest in your hands. 

Just as you take a second to wander your gaze across everyone's laughing faces, finally feeling at ease with your place in the group, the doorbell rings, followed by the shrill sound of the timer. 

“Fucking Jaeger,” Jean mutters.

“Just in time,” Armin grins, hops down from his chair, and makes his way to the door. Jean follows him at his heel, mumbling something about “Jaeger” being late. 

You're distracted by Mikasa's voice calling your name. 

“Could you get me the oven mitts, please?”

You nod and offer your assistance in taking out the chicken.

On the other side of the wall, Armin buzzes his last guest in and holds the door open to wait, shooting a confused look at Jean, who leans back against the wall to wait, too.

As soon as he comes in, Armin yells out, “Eren!” and pulls his best friend into a big hug, forcing him to crouch slightly to accommodate his embrace. They both laugh as Jean stands with his arms across his chest and a disgruntled look on his face.

“Hey, man. Sorry I'm late.” 

“Mhm,” Jean hums, expecting Eren to cower under his gaze. 

He doesn't. Jean is completely ignored as Eren sheepishly starts to explain himself, even though Armin didn't expect him until around this time anyway. 

“I wanted to get you those lemon bars you like from that bakery. But when I got there, they were all out, so I went to their other shop across town, but they didn't have any either, and so then I—”

Armin laughs. 

“Relax. You made it, that's what matters.”

“I feel bad, though. I really wanted to get some for you. I know they're your favorite.”

“If you really wanted to do something nice, you could've gotten here earlier to help with the cooking,” Jean scolds. Then he smirks. “Like I did.” 

Eren rolls his eyes, finally acknowledging Jean. 

He then pulls out a small gift box and hands it to Armin with a smile. 

"I got you a candle, though."

Jean snorts and walks back to the kitchen, leaving an annoyed Eren shooting daggers at his back. 

Armin graciously takes the gift, taking the lid off to confirm that the candle is, indeed, ocean-scented.

"Thanks, buddy. I was running short on these," he smiles sympathetically at his friend, patting his shoulder. 

As they walk into the open space of the dining area, you walk out with a stack of plates in your hands to set the table. Armin perks up upon seeing you and excitedly rushes Eren, saying he wants to introduce him to somebody. 

Armin’s voice catches your attention as you carefully set the plates down. “This is my best friend Eren.” 

Your gaze shifts toward the pair of surprised green eyes already set on you while Armin’s voice goes on in the background, repeating your name to his friend. 

“Hey, it’s you.” Eren smiles in recognition. 

Armin’s eyebrows raise in surprise; yours furrow in confusion. Everyone starts filing to the dining area with food and silverware to finish setting the table. You step aside, murmuring quiet apologies as you get out of their way and step closer to Armin and his friend. 

“You two know each other?” Armin asks, his gaze shifting between the two of you.

Before Eren can answer, he’s interrupted by Mikasa walking over.

“Hey, Eren. You’re late.” She looks up at him with disappointment. You get the feeling he was supposed to arrive around the same time she and the others did.

“Yeah!” Connie whines from the dining table, where he’s setting up wine glasses. “We had to work twice as hard.” 

Eren ignores Connie’s flawed math.

“Sorry, everybody,” he replies, yet his tone is more that of a meek kid who’s forced to apologize. 

He returns his focus to his original conversation. Armin is still looking at him expectantly.

“Oh, right! Uh… yeah, we bumped into each other at Kuchel’s earlier,” he finally explains. He looks at you shyly. “I held the door for you.”

Your furrowed brow softens, and your lips shape into a silent ah! when you recall the brief interaction. You didn’t even remember his face, but you nod along now.

“Come on, guys. Let’s eat!” Mikasa’s voice cuts through the silence, putting an end to your conversation.

Throughout dinner, everyone is a lot more chatty than you expected, considering there's plenty of food to get through. Everyone spills out as many light-hearted anecdotes about one another as the bites they take of baked potato wedges, garlic butter chicken, and grated carrot salad. Their stories are clear to have been brought up between them several times over the years, but they're new to you and you appreciate them choosing to share with you.

It turns out, the universe has worked its magic to make sure all six friends remain close since childhood. The fact is a little intimidating when you find out, but you do your best to push it aside.

At first, you're perfectly fine quietly listening as you eat, your voice only adding to the mix in the shape of a laugh, a gasp, or a question for the storyteller — just enough so they don't forget you're there. 

The entire time, you feel a pair of eyes stealing glances at you from across the table even when you're not talking. Whenever you slowly look up to meet them, Eren quickly shifts his gaze elsewhere. When choosing places at the table, Armin insisted on having you across from one another. He didn't outright say it, but he did rearrange everyone else so that it worked out that way. 

Given that he was the last to arrive and you've barely spoken directly to each other since he got here, you're not sure how to feel about Eren yet. He seems nice enough, but you don't feel as easy even looking at him as you do with the others. It's strange, but his late arrival made all the difference. Somehow he seems like a total stranger compared to the people you met just an hour before him. After your awkward introduction, it’s hard to say if you can make the situation better.

Night has settled in by the time everyone is leaning back in their seats with full bellies, lazily sipping wine every few minutes as the conversation eases into a quieter, slower pace. The serving dishes have been scraped clean. The box of lemon bars you brought over has been split for dessert, leaving just one lonely square that you know a slightly tipsy Armin has been eyeing. 

Eren had turned to look at you with surprise when Armin thanked you for the second time.

“Ah, so you're the one who beat me to the last batch,” was what he said. 

A soft apology tumbled from your lips.

So far, you hadn't proved yourself to be big on smiling but, when you did, it was nice to look at. Consequently, he tried to be the cause of at least one. So when you gave him nothing for his weak attempt at teasing, he shrunk in his seat and decided to keep quiet. 

It's not long before Jean suggests moving to the living room to play a game and you take that as your cue to start clearing the table so there's no mess to come back to later. As you slip quietly into the kitchen, you can hear Jean and Connie arguing over whether to play cards or Monopoly. As Connie argues, he doesn't want to play Monopoly with a cheater, to which Jean says it's not his fault he's the better player.

You carefully place the dishes in the sink, adjusting the streaming water to a warm temperature. As you tug the pair of dishwashing gloves onto your hands, you catch a glimpse of a figure stepping beside you. When you look up, you're met with a boyish grin and shy jewel-toned eyes. He's setting down another pile of dirty dishes on the counter.

“Hi.” 

You're not sure how to respond other than with a polite nod and a soft hi back. There's not much else to say, anyway. Half of you hopes he'll leave; you need some space to recharge your social battery. The other half is curious about the kind of conversation you might have to engage in if he stays. 

You focus your gaze on the soaking dishes, waiting with bated breath to see what he does. 

He stays. 

He offers to dry what you wash. 

There's a nervous tremor in his voice. Like a kid scared to ask for permission instead of an adult offering help. It's so small you barely notice it, but it's there. 

You nod. 

You wash, he dries. 

It's quiet save for the sounds of dishes clinking together. 

Then, his voice comes through.

“I didn't mean to put you on the spot earlier when I got here. I just have a knack for remembering faces.” 

An uncomfortable warmth crawls up your neck and pools at your cheeks. 

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm kind of the opposite. I just don't pay attention to faces,” you explain. 

“Oh.” He forces a laugh. “Yeah, no, I get it.” 

He tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, unsure of how to keep the conversation going. It's a bit discouraging for him to see how laser-focused you are on doing the dishes though, and he already feels foolish for making you apologize for not recognizing a total stranger. He tries not to stare at you too much but it's difficult when you're right there beside him. He only hopes you can't make him out looking at you from the corner of his eye.

You, on the other hand, can feel his eyes burning holes into your side profile. Ignoring it is harder than you hope but at least you have something to help. You're not sure if he expects you to reciprocate his efforts in breaking the ice, but you've yet to get a proper read on him. He was mostly quiet during dinner. Whenever a story with him at the center came up, he'd try to sway the conversation in a different direction. He seemed tense and you hate to think he might be uncomfortable with your presence. Maybe he's an anxious person who's easily embarrassed, you think. Or he might’ve thought you were stuck up and rude after you failed to recognize him and that's why the air now feels so thick. That happens a lot. The people around you are mostly a blur until — and if you ever — have a reason to break into friendly territory. 

The next time you hand a dish for Eren to dry, your gaze lingers, carefully taking in his features. His green eyes are striking, but it's not as if the rest of his face falls short of that. He's very handsome. In a more boyish way than you observed Jean to be, but sharper than, say, Armin. His brown hair is neatly cut on the sides, contrasted by the choppy bangs that line his forehead — something that brings more youth to his face. He's got long, thick lashes and plump lips. Faint freckles are scattered along what one might consider to be a perfect straight nose. He's very handsome, indeed. But that's not all. There's a delicacy to his features that blends them all harmoniously, making Eren Jaeger quite… pretty. 

Eren suddenly clears his throat; you take it as a sign to stop staring.

“So… um… how long have you been friends with Armin?” 

You already know the answer, and you didn’t mind the silence at all, but you might as well try to get Armin’s best friend in your good graces. Especially after your dreadful mistake of not recognizing him. It bothers you to think he might have decided he doesn’t like you because of that.

“Since we were six… Um… He had a lot of trouble with bullies back in elementary school and I beat them up for him.”

That part you didn’t know, so you pause your focus on the plate you’re scrubbing to glance at Eren with admiration. 

“I think he might’ve developed a weird hero complex by mistake though,” he laughs to himself. “He wanted me to get into fights every time he saw someone new being bullied.”

You laugh. The sound makes Eren’s chest swell with pride. 

“Did you do it?”

He bashfully nods without ungluing his gaze from the serving spoon he’s drying.

You laugh some more.

“And of course, then he would take them in as a friend. Something about strength in numbers or whatever. To this day he has this thing that he needs to take in anyone who seems vulnerable.”

You laugh through your nose fully aware of the familiarity you feel from Eren’s story.

“That definitely sounds like him.”

You grin as you finish rinsing the plate, excited to have found some common ground to latch onto for conversation. 

Eren admires your happy expression from the corner of his eye.

But when you turn to look at him, he averts his gaze, curling his lips inwards, and he takes the plate from your hands. 

Your lips downturn a bit, thinking you might still have a long way to go before you can make up for your mistake. 

Still, the thickness in the kitchen air dissipates as you each return to your tasks, the corners of your lips perking up in relieved smiles. 

Armin walks in a moment later with the remnants of a laugh on his face from whatever conversation he just left behind. His faded grin resurfaces when he finds you and Eren together, and he catches a glimpse of the pink tint dusting his best friend's cheeks. 

He watches for a few seconds, mildly amused that neither of you seems to notice his presence. Just as Eren finishes wiping the last fork dry, he decides to speak. 

“You didn't need to do that.” 

His statement is directed at both of you, yet his gaze is fixed on you, a warm smile gracing his features.

“You should join the others,” he tells you. “Oh, and uh…” He swipes a bottle from one of the cupboards. “Take this with you.” 

“Let me just help put away everything,” you offer.

“It's okay, Eren and I got it,” he assures you.

You back out hesitantly, only decidedly walking out when Armin gives you a reassuring nod.

Both men watch you leave. As soon as you're out of sight, Armin's lips stretch into a knowing smile. 

“She's pretty, huh?”

Eren's eyebrows upturn in clear worry when he rips his gaze from you to look at Armin. They soften a split second later in an attempt to appear nonchalant before his grinning friend. 

“Um… I guess so… I don't know.” 

He hurries to tend to the dishes waiting to be put away, hoping it's enough to mask the way he slowly deflates.

Plates and forks are stored in silence. An amused Armin keeps glancing at him.

After a while, a soft laugh escapes his lips.

“Relax, I'm not into her.” 

Eren stiffens, unable to remove his hand by will from the cupboard door he just shut, and instead letting gravity take the wheel. 

Before he can reflect on how exposed he feels, Armin's voice comes through again from where he's now leaning casually against the counter with his hands in his pockets.

“But I meant it when I said she's pretty.” He nods along for emphasis even though Eren has yet to look at him.

“She's really smart too. And kind! I mean, she can seem a little cold at first, but I heard some guys are into that. There's just this charm to her, you know? A few guys at work have tried asking her out but they're totally wrong for her.” He shakes his head at the last thought, then side-eyes Eren expectantly.

“If she ever goes out with someone, I hope it's one of the good guys.” 

Throughout Armin's speech, Eren kept his lips pressed together in a tight line, wondering where Armin was headed with all he was saying. At first, he assumed his friend was interested in the new face of the group, which is why he feigned disinterest. But with every word that kept rolling off his tongue, his intentions were blatantly obvious. And yet he still decides to ask, ���What are you trying to do, Armin?”

"Nothing... nothing at all," Armin answers with a shrug, playing it off as if any suggestion is all in Eren's head. He straightens up and starts walking out of the kitchen. There's a pause in his step just before he can slip out of sight. Looking at Eren over his shoulder, he leaves him with one last thought.

“All I'm saying is if you just keep staring at her, she’s gonna get weirded out.”

Eren is left alone, blushing profusely and running a shaky hand through his hair. 

“Come on! That can’t be your most embarrassing thing!”

You shrug.

“That's all I've got.”

“What’s going on?” Eren asks as he takes in the scene. 

It took him a while to reason with himself alone in the kitchen. By the time Eren joins everyone in the living room — nerves finally dormant — everyone is sitting on the floor around the coffee table playing a drinking game. He walks over in search of an open space and ends up nestled between Jean and Connie. Jean throws an arm over his shoulders.

“Jaeger, good. Buddy, tell her about the time you tried to do a one-arm pushup.” From his sleepy eyes and the affectionate term toward Eren, one can easily tell he's drunk.

Eren looks up quizzically at everybody.

“We're telling our most embarrassing stories,” you explain. “Whoever has the worst one wins the round and everyone else has to drink. I think it's just a ploy for everyone to get dirt on me though.” 

You pout at your cup. It's clear you're a little tipsy, too.

Eren softly laughs.

“Whaa– we would never,” Sasha pouts.

“You're getting a deal! You get six embarrassing stories for the price of one!” Connie points out. 

As you start to argue that it's not really fair because it's not like you have anyone to tell, Sasha’s phone buzzes in her pocket and a loud groan rumbles from her throat after skimming through whatever text she just got. Her chin falls onto the coffee table, arms stretched out before her so she can reply. 

Mikasa looks at her with concern and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, affectionately tapping her nose afterward.

“What's wrong?”

“Kaya's out with her friends and she's asking me to send her money for an Uber. I told her to be careful with her money but she just won't listen.” 

Everyone either sympathetically smiles at her or idly watches her send over fifty dollars. You look at Armin, who quietly explains Kaya is Sasha’s younger sister who's a college freshman. You nod in understanding. 

“That's a little sibling for you,” Connie mutters, softly patting Sasha’s head. 

“That's why I love being an only child,” Jean states matter-of-factly. He stretches his arms over his head, rolling his shoulders back before reaching for the bottle of liquor at the center of the table. “Never had to worry about some annoying little runt.”

“I would've liked to have a younger sister,” Mikasa says. “It would've been fun to hang out and teach her things, you know?” 

A touch of nostalgia dances along her lips as she traces the rim of her glass with her index finger. 

“Oh, do you have any siblings?” Her eyes flit in your direction. 

The question is innocent, but the topic of family causes you to shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“No… I don't.” You try to smile, but it's stiff. 

Jean's loud clapping startles you. He tops off all but Connie's and Sasha’s glasses. 

“Oh yeah, single child gang!” He raises his glass in cheers and downs the contents. You follow his lead, hoping that'll mark the end of that topic. But it doesn't. “You must've been spoiled growing up, am I right?”

You lower your gaze, opting to fiddle with your fingers instead of answering. 

Mikasa seems to sense the fragility of the topic from your side because her eyebrows upturn in concern when she looks at you. 

“Hey, not everyone has a mother like yours. Don't be rude, Jean-boy.” She raises a teasing eyebrow as she whips her head in Jean's direction.

“Didn't you yell at her when she brought cupcakes to our class for your birthday?” Eren scrunched his eyebrows together in feigned thought.

“I was twelve! You can't keep holding that over my head. I'm twenty-five now,” Jean whines.

“And I've yet to see you mature,” Eren mutters.

A hushed giggle escapes your lips. You cover it up by sipping your drink. A satisfied smirk tugs at Eren's lips when he catches a glimpse of your smile.

Contrary to his sober self, drunk Jean craves Eren's approval and affection instead of their usual frenemy-like banter. He looks at him with sad eyes.

“Hey, I've made up for it. Mama Kirstein doesn't need to lift a finger thanks to her amazing engineer son.” 

Sasha’s face contorts in confusion.

“Last time I went to Trost with you, she was still working as a seamstress.” 

Jean waves her off.

“She just likes to keep busy.”

“What do your parents do?” Sasha turns to you.

You're trapped. 

From the corner of your eye, you can see Armin leaning forward with just as much interest as the others. In the past, Armin's asked about your family only once. After vaguely implying you weren't close to them, he dropped the topic. But now, in his intoxicated state, he doesn't do much to keep his level of curiosity under wraps. And knowing you're slightly buzzed, too, he hopes you’ve let go of any inhibitions that have kept you from revealing more of your background. 

Armin likes you. He's always admired your efficiency at work, but you seemed lonely and closed off — which is why he decided to approach you in the first place. To everyone in the office, you were a cold stuck-up woman — yet they still refused to stop obsessing over you. To him, you were just misunderstood and lowkey. Sure, you refused to do much to take up space in a room, but through small conversations here and there, he was allowed to slowly unveil your true self. 

But there was always another hidden wall. Armin wouldn't admit it out of fear of seeming like a creep, but that line you expertly draw — allowing someone in without fully giving yourself away — is part of what makes you alluring. That and your keen eye for reading people.

You wet your lips with a swipe of your tongue, looking for a way out inside the clear liquid sitting at the bottom of your glass.

Eren zeroes in on your face, trying to decipher the distant look in your eyes. The weight on his chest lightens when you finally speak.

“I'm not sure what they're doing now. Last time I checked, my mom was a drug addict, and my dad left when I was twelve.”

The weight in Eren's chest comes back heavier than ever.

Silence takes over the living room. Even the darkness outside the window seems eerily quiet as your abrupt statement courses through the gears in everyone's heads.

There's no certainty as to why you blurted out what you did. Maybe it was a sense of security which you now think was a trick of your mind. Perhaps the alcohol is to blame. After all, you didn't feel any need to be a burden on others on an otherwise fun night before. But the words just seemed to push their way out of your mouth. 

A severe scolding rings in your ears.

You always ruin everything!

You don't expect anyone to come up with an answer. In fact, you'll be grateful if someone simply discards your words and steers the conversation in a different direction. But if nobody does, then you'll quietly make your way home. There’s no use in annoying others by begging them to let you stay, promising you won't cause any more trouble. 

“How long has it been since you saw your mom?” Mikasa's voice cuts through the thickness of the air.

The look in her eyes is sympathetic. Not the fake kind that makes you feel pitied for having endured a rough life. It's the kind that simply matches such an ordinary question.

“About a year,” you murmur. 

Jean hums in thought.

“A year, huh? That's almost how long you've been in the city, right?” He scratches his chin as he retrieves the information you shared earlier from his tipsy brain. 

You nod. “Yup… one year.”

Everyone nods along to your answer. Everyone but one.

You nervously blink toward the left, searching Armin's face. He's slumped in his spot, his eyes lost at a blank point. They flash in your direction, and he quickly composes himself, but not quick enough for his expression to go unnoticed by you.

Despite some things here and there, he thought you were close. He never pressured you to share anything you didn't want to. Just getting along and respecting each other would have sufficed — he’s a giver more than he is a taker. But he feels like he failed to support you. He's extremely dumbfounded, but he doesn't make it a point that you never told him the specifics on something so big. He refuses to make you think he resents you for it. 

But the glimpse you caught of his fallen shoulders and clouded eyes still makes you lower your head in guilt. Just ten minutes ago, you felt accomplished for being on your way to gaining new friends and grateful that Armin paved the way for you. You're embarrassed for having thought that you could juggle more relationships when you've barely been open to the one you already have. It's almost laughable that you thought to leave your comfort zone and give this evening a try.

Before you can issue an apology, Jean's loud clapping startles you for the second time tonight.

"Well.” He tilts his head as he splits the last of the liquor into everyone's glass for one last drink. “In any case... if you hadn't moved here, you wouldn't be drinking with the best people you'll ever meet." 

“Hear, hear!” Armin yells beside you, following Jean's lead and raising his glass toward the center. 

Your eyes meet his. He's smiling, nodding almost imperceptibly for you to join your glass with everyone else's. The corners of your lips quirk into a relieved smile. You raise your glass.

The rest of the group cheers as joyful clinks spread through the room. 

Whatever darkness was squeezing at your chest dissipates. Your eyes crinkle in amusement as you allow your giddiness to take over. 

A pair of mesmerized green eyes linger on your face from the opposite side of the coffee table. His lips part slightly to draw in a long breath, followed by a sip of alcohol. 

A beeping phone sifts through the commotion.

Mikasa looks down at her phone. First, with curiosity, then with worry. 

Levi Don't go out at night for a while. Killer on the loose. SN3

She calls out Armin's name.

“Turn on the news on channel 3.”

The urgency tainting Mikasa's usual steady voice has Armin scrambling to find the remote, though with a bit of confusion. Everyone else exchanges quizzical glances while they wait for him to turn the television on.

A male newscaster is halfway through reciting a report on the police department's recent findings. 

“... The twenty-six-year-old woman's body was dismembered and disposed of in a garbage dumpster behind a local restaurant. Police have yet to report any evidence that can lead them to any suspects. An autopsy is ongoing to pinpoint the cause of death but with the initial report, signs point to a possible case of torture…”

The mood shifts yet again. Everyone stares at the screen, but the words no longer reach anyone's ears. Nobody recognized the girl identified on the screen but it's still unnerving when something so tragic and cruel happens in the city one lives in. Being close in age to the victim just makes it even rougher. 

Eren is the first to look back — specifically at the girls.

You all seem lost in thought. His gaze flits in your direction. You're just as distant, nursing your glass in your hands as you chew on your bottom lip. He turns to Mikasa.

“Was that Levi earlier?”

Eren's voice pulls Mikasa from her thoughts.

She nods.

“Who's Levi?” you ask.

“My uncle,” she explains. “He texted me not to go out at night for a while. They didn't say if this was a serial killer but I don't think he wants to take any chances as long as the culprit is out there.” In a lower voice she adds, “he's in the police.” 

You slowly nod, then suddenly remember where you are.

“I need to get home fast, then.” 

Your eyes land on the digital clock beside the TV. It's well past the time to catch the last bus. You swipe your phone from your purse to look up cab numbers, unaware of the nervous glances exchanged all around you.

“I don't think you should leave now.” Eren stops you from dialing the first cab company from your search results, his eyes wide with concern. He doesn't realize his hand is holding onto your wrist until you look down at it.

He pulls away, embarrassed, but remains firm in his statement.

“Eren's right,” Connie agrees. He has a protective hand on Sasha’s shoulder. “Mind if we crash here tonight?” He directs his gaze at Armin. 

“No need to ask. I'll bring out some blankets.”

It's two in the morning. A cluster of tired bodies sleeps peacefully on the living room floor. Lazy limbs stretch out and across someone else's. Light snores and rare mumblings are the only thing that disturbs the quiet. 

The murder on the news had left everyone unsettled. Much so, that everyone felt inclined to sleep together in the same room. It didn’t do much for their comfort given the space, but it gave everyone a sense of safety. 

Eren’s eyelids barely flutter open. They're so heavy, he wishes he could just ignore the uncomfortable fullness of his bladder. But he can't. Begrudgingly, he clumsily rises to his feet and makes his way to the bathroom, rubbing his temples with one hand and feeling around for any walls and furniture with his other while his eyes adjust to the darkness. 

When he gets back, he catches sight of a lone figure sitting out on the small balcony outside of the kitchen.

It takes him a minute to rid himself of the extra warmth in his face. He takes a deep breath and quietly slides the door open to step out.

“Hey.” 

You look up at him from your chair. Your knees are pressed against your chest, your arms wrapped around them for support as your cheek rests on top.

“Hi.” 

“Is it okay if I sit?”

You nod and proceed to face forward, resting your chin where your cheek used to be.

The night is pleasantly warm. You're wearing the sweats and shirt Armin lent you for the night. 

Eren's gaze roams every shape of your side profile. It's the second time you've been alone together and he's racking his brain on what to talk about to balance out the way he's been staring at you all night. He doesn't want to give Armin another reason to tease him. His hands are sweaty and his cheeks start to warm at the reminder.

“Did I wake you?” 

Your voice is gentle and sweet, but it startles him nonetheless. 

“No,” he manages to say. He pauses. “How long have you been out here?”

You shake your head as you look up at the star-littered sky.

“Not long.”

He hums, mulling your answer over. 

If you’re awake at this hour, not bothering to try going back to sleep, something must be weighing heavily on your mind, he reasons. That’s further proven by the way you’re shrinking into yourself, trying to take up as little space as you can. Not that he’s especially knowledgeable about you, but there’s a difference in how your quietness manifests itself now than during dinner. It’s comparable to the way you were after watching the news. 

“Are you okay?” 

He watches you hesitate to give him an answer. Your lips tremble, parting and pressing together a couple of times. It’s as if you’re willing to talk but the words are lodged in your throat.

“You can tell me.”

Still no answer. 

“Is it because of the girl on the news?”

Finally, you look at him. Your brows twist with grief. 

“I just can’t stop thinking about her. Her family must be devastated.”

All evening, Eren’s had a hard time holding your gaze. Mainly because he didn’t want to give himself away, but it’s also hard to admire someone when they’re looking directly at you. Once his racing heart finds a steadier rhythm, he finds it’s actually easy to lose himself in your eyes. 

There’s a subtle glassiness to them — one he’d be more concerned about if he hadn’t noticed it as a natural part of you. Your eyes heavily conveyed every emotion, every little thought. And Eren suddenly felt compelled to learn how to read them.

The way you’ve presented yourself so far — gentle and cautious — gives you an aura of delicate maturity in the eyes of others. But for a brief moment, you seem small. Troubled, even. 

“I know it’s selfish for me to be thinking about this, but sometimes I wonder if I’ll have anyone crying for me when I die. I don’t have many people,” you whisper.

It feels strange to Eren to suddenly feel a surge of courage when he’s been nothing but an awkward wreck around you since you met.

“You have us now.”

You don’t show yourself to be entirely convinced. In fact, there’s a hint of amusement shimmering in your eyes. But you appreciate his words no matter how empty they might turn out to be. 

Eren hesitates to ask you the question that’s been gnawing at his brain for hours now. You’ve been sharing such a pleasant moment, that he hates to think he might ruin it all and end up losing his cool in the process. 

“That stuff about your parents… is it true?”

It’s a leap of faith.

“You think I made it up?”

The raised eyebrow and the humorless smile that graces your lips take him by surprise, even more so than the firm tone of your voice.

“No, of course not!” He chokes on his words, frantic he might have offended you. 

But you laugh, and it soothes him instantly.

“Relax, I was just teasing you.” You look away, warmth pooling at your cheeks upon your failed attempt to be funny. “It’s true, by the way. I’m a child of neglect.” 

A heavy sigh pushes past your lips.

He doesn't pick up on your embarrassment — he’s much too focused on his own.

Despite the bitterness lacing your gentle voice, he can’t help himself from wanting to know more. It makes him anxious. Finding you attractive is besides the point. His mind is scrambling at any opportunity to get closer to you. He wants to keep talking. He wants to hear more about what worries you. He wants to stretch out the night and keep the conversation going — even if he’s caught off guard by your unpredictable teasing a few more times. He wants to know about your past. He wants to know you. But you kill off his chances when you suddenly change the course of the conversation. 

“Do I make you uncomfortable?” You look up at him with concern contorting your features. It takes everything in him not to let his gaze drift to your bottom lip that’s caught between your teeth to keep your nerves at bay.

“Huh?”

You clear your throat before explaining and fiddle with your hands as you do. You focus on the moon instead of him.

It’s quite cute for Eren to see you fidget for once.

“It's just that during dinner you barely talked and whenever I looked at you, you would look away,” you explain bashfully. “And then when we were doing the dishes together, you just felt a little awkward. I mean, I don’t expect you to be all chummy with me, but it was kind of like you were forcing yourself to talk to me.” 

Eren wants to smack himself. He had no idea of the message he was sending all this time. All those averted gazes and suppressed smiles must have looked totally different from your end.

“I thought maybe you were uncomfortable with me around.”

Your voice is even softer than before. It might have to do with the people sleeping inside or maybe you're just feeling quieter than usual. Eren has no idea. But it's a nice sound, and his quickening heartbeat isn't lost on him.

The abrupt changes in his system are giving him whiplash. And it’s all because of you.

“I’m not,” he whispers. “I’m not uncomfortable.”

A deep shade of red gradually tints his cheeks, openly defying the pale blue light from the moon. His gaze shies away from you and settles on his lap, where he nervously rubs his sweaty palms just to give himself something to do. When his eyes slowly drift back to your face, he swallows hard. 

It finally hits you.  

Oh, you think. 

Next chapter

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[thewriterwhowritesnot]

To Have and To Hold

Warnings: Yandere!Aliucard, SMUT, creampie (wrap it before you tap it my dudes this is FICTION! Kids cost money), slight degradation, a little bit of fluff. A/N: Yall, please don't judge me. I had a hell of a rough time writing this out because I had to take a break every three minutes to BREATHE lol. I hope the smut is okay. I'm not ready to be that explicit just yet. I hope y'all like this. This is another 2k words and is not proofread. If you want to be in the taglist just lmk! Summary: You travel to Dracula's Castle to help the owner get the place registered as a historical landmark and enter into an overwhelming relationship with Alucard.

Masterlist Chap 1.

Chapter Two

 The next morning you awake to an old chest half your size in the middle of your room. On top of it, there’s a note.         “ I was informed this morning that your bag was lost in transit and they’re unable to locate it. I took the liberty of getting you some clothes to wear while you’re here. I hope they fit you and if they don’t we can make adjustments. 

A. “

A bit bummed at the loss of your clothes, you open the chest and immediately forget about what small things you packed in your bag. The first piece of clothing was a soft pink sundress with white flowers on it. The Queen Anne neckline was lined with white lace and you loved it instantly. Setting it aside to wear it for the day. There were multiple sets of silk pajamas. Pretty nightgowns and fluffy slippers and beautiful shoes (that were all your size). You giggled like a child in the long mirror against the wall, swaying this way and that. 

Granted, in your job description you wore clothes that kept your skin safe from poisonous spiders, cobwebs, and splinters. But the knowledge that Adrian had picked these out to lend you made butterflies spring to life in your belly and you couldn’t resist thinking of what he’d think of you in them. 

Deciding to bathe before you start your day, you enter the bathroom and examine the large tub and new shower head. The place was spotless and smelled of lemon. You turned on the faucet and allowed the hot water of the shower to steam up the room before getting in. Being too tired to shower the night before you basked in the warmth of the hot water washing the days of travel off your skin. 

However, your peace was short-lived because a rush of cold air cut across your skin beckoning a wave of gooseflesh. There were no vents or holes near the shower so you shut the water off and peered out of the shower curtain. The bathroom door was open and you struggled to remember if you’d closed it or not. Surely, you would’ve closed it to keep the heat in, right? 

         Stepping out of the shower you wrap yourself in a towel and enter the room to find nothing amiss. 

Strange. 

You searched the chest for the round container of lotion you’d spotted when you were rummaging through it earlier. After getting dressed, you leave your room, notepad in hand, and find your way to the kitchen. 

Marguerite is there and quickly introduces herself and offers you a full breakfast. Shamefully, you find yourself very pleased with the fact that she’s an older woman. Much too old to be romantically involved with your host. Her grey hair is pulled back into one bun, pulled away from her round face which is free of wrinkles. Her eyes are almost catlike which would appear almost frightening if not for their warm disposition and the childish curve of her features. She looks incredibly young and old at the same time. You watch as she pours you both a cup of tea and puts exactly four sugars into your tea. 

“How is your room?” Her voice is warm much like her eyes. Hoping she hadn’t noticed your staring, you mix your oatmeal in an innocuous figure eight. “It’s lovely. Everything is perfect and the bed is quite comfortable.” 

Marguerite hums with approval. “Wonderful. I put everything to right myself. The little prince would have nothing less.” Baffled, you turn to face her. 

“Little prince?” 

Marguerite’s warm eyes all but twinkle in the morning light. She sips her tea once before getting to her feet. “I’ve got some small tasks to finish before the morning ends. Once you’re done eating, you may leave your dishes in the sink. I’ll tend to them.” She doesn’t wait for your answer before she leaves, cup in hand.

Curious but too excited to think about it for too long you hastily finish your breakfast. Now, you have a system. Always begin at the first room you entered when you’re exploring a new place. It’s crucial to start in a familiar place so that each new discovery is easier to document and keep track of. Following this system leads you to head to the foyer. The room looked much the same as it had when you’d first arrived except for the streams of light that were pouring in from all directions. You’d missed the windows behind the humongous curtains that covered them the night before. Some of the windows were stained glass and you took a moment to examine them.

Each picture showed a man with dark hair in battle, covered in the blood of his enemies, and returning to the gothic castle you now stood in. 

“A bit grotesque, is it not?”         You jump and whirl around to find Adrian standing behind you much as he had the first time you met. “Have mercy! You’ve got to stop doing that!” His eyebrows draw together as he laughs lightly. Today his hair is in a messy braid down his back. The button-down white shirt he wears is tucked into the sleek black pants that sway over his sandy brown boots. “My apologies, my dear. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” His eyes travel from your face down your body and back up again causing those butterflies to flutter up to your heart. Fingers knotted in the dress you wore, your eyes scanned the room nervously. “Thank you for the clothes and the other things. They’re beautiful.” 

“I’m glad you like them. Does everything fit well?”         “Scarily well,” you joke. “I would’ve thought these clothes had been made for me with how perfectly they fit.” His jaw tensed slightly. Confused once again, you opt to examine the stained glass. You hear him inhale slowly.

“I’m told there’s a book in the library that describes the stories in these windows. Would you like to help me search for it?” 

The doors of the library are large. Just as large as the front doors. He pushes them open with ease and leads you into a room full of one of the largest collections of books you’ve ever seen. There are books on every surface. Lining the walls and stacked spaces all over the tables and desks. It was overwhelmingly massive and you took it all in wonder.         “The place is a mess and I haven’t hired anyone to help me organize it all just yet. It’s such a large collection.” 

“Can I help?” The words come out louder than you expect and you can’t see the smile on his lips as he pulls open the heavy curtains of the room. “If it’s not too much for you. I know you’ve only come here to stay a week. Are you sure you’ve got enough time for this?” 

Already eyeing a ruby-red book covered in dust, you nod vigorously. “I’ve got plenty of time. I’m the youngest historian of my group and I’m pretty sure my boss let me go on this trip because he figured it would keep me busy and out of the way of their more important jobs. Jokes on them though, this place is immaculate! I could write a million books about the architecture alone.” You glance over to see him leaning against a table watching you intently. “That is..if you would consent to that.” 

He sits motionless for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t see why not.” Grinning, you begin sorting through the books nearest to you. Several of them are in languages you’ve never seen and you examine them thoroughly. Organizing this library would not be easy but you were reluctant to think about giving yourself a time limit anyway. Judging by the size of this room alone, there was no way you’d be able to sort through it in a month let alone a week. The next three days, you focused on your task while pondering the idea of staying a little longer. 

During this time, you and Adrian had entered a rhythm. You’d wake up in the morning, he’d meet you in the kitchen and you walk together to the library. You’d spent hours in there reading over ancient stories of witches and vampires. All of them fill you with delight. 

You had become accustomed to Adrian being near you throughout this time. Relishing every moment, his skin brushed yours or he leaned over you to read whatever book you wanted to show him. It was on a late night almost identical to the others that Adrian had left without a word and reappeared with a tray with two cups and hot chocolate. 

“You didn’t have to bring me anything.” You replied after many thanks. He shook his pretty head. “Nonsense. After all you’ve done to help me, I won’t hesitate to do whatever I can for you.” He set a smoking cup in front of you before sliding into the chair closest to yours and sipping from his own cup. You watched him as he took a drink and you absentmindedly did the same. The scalding hot liquid bit at the skin of your bottom lip and tongue. You yelped. 

“Shit!” Adrian grasped your chin in one hand and sat your hot mug to the side.

“It’s smoking hot, Y/N. You can’t just inhale it that way.” He all but whispered as his callused thumb gently rubbed your bottom lip. 

“You did.” You mumble. His frown deepened and you watched his face as you impulsively let your tongue slide over the tip of his thumb. His breath caught in his throat. Less than a second later, he slid his thumb into your mouth and you wrapped your lips around it without a second thought. His pupils dilated as he tilted his head, lips parted. You tasted the cocoa on his skin and sighed breathily. 

Quickly, he moved his hand from your chin and pressed his lips to yours. Tilting your head, you leaned into him as he pulled you to his chest and slid his hands down your throat and shoulders. Past your arms and around your waist. Your arms find their way around his neck as you let him slide his tongue between your lips. The sound of your heartbeat and the noises you couldn’t help but make filled your ears. 

Just when you think you might have to lean back for air he breaks the kiss and presses his lips all over your face. Without a word, he lifts you by your waist and you wrap your legs around him quickly. He kisses you again, rougher this time. You don’t know how and nor do you care but soon your back is against the soft cushion of your bed and Adrian is leaving a trail of kisses down your neck and over your collarbones. 

After a moment, he rises and looks into your eyes. You can tell he’s searching for something but is unsure how to ask. The apprehension and obvious vulnerability tug on your heart and you place your hands on either side of his face. You nod, not waiting for him to ask. “Please.” You whisper. He closes his eyes and kisses you again before leaning back on his knees and pulling his shirt above his head from the hem up. You gasp when you see the long scar across his chest. It’s faded greatly, but the outline is still there and you sit up a little to drag your fingers across it. “What happened?” 

He looks to the right. “It was a long time ago.” He said nothing else and you didn’t press him. Gingerly, you pressed your lips to his chest and he shuttered against your lips. Like he’d never been touched there before. In a rush, he slid his hand through your hair held the back of your skull, and kissed you deeply. It was easier for him to undress and explore you without fear now. Eyes on yours, he pulled your panties from around your hips and slid them off. You giggled as he slid his cool fingertips between your knees and slowly spread them. 

You held your breath as his eyes roamed over your body. “So pretty.” He breathed and you whimpered as his hands slid down your thighs and over your pelvic bone. He kissed the bare skin of your shoulder, your knuckles, your thigh, your ankle. He inhaled your scent and you sighed with each touch. His fingertips found their way to the apex of your thighs and slid between your glistening lips. A shuttered moan falls from your lips and he chuckles. He kisses your temple while rubbing slow circles around your clit. 

Your eyes are squeezed shut as you teeter closer and closer to your orgasm. Without warning, he speeds up the movement, sucking the skin of your neck between his teeth sending shivers down your spine as your hips move against his hand of their own accord. In a burst of feeling you tip over the edge. A sharp shriek escapes your lips and it feels like forever before the shocks of pleasure end. As soon as it stops, you huff impatiently. It certainly wasn’t enough to make the heat of your skin cool down and the way he continued to caress your skin was only making it worse. 

He slid between your thighs and lined himself up with your entrance. “Are you ready?” He whispered in your ears. “Yes.” You reply quickly and he laughs at your eagerness. Then he gently presses the head of his cock into you. Both of you moan in unison. The air in the room thickens as he graciously waits for you to adjust to the intrusion. Slowly he edges himself all the way inside of you to the hilt and you fight to breathe. You had guessed he could fill you up but you hadn’t imagined it would feel like this. Your legs were still vibrating with the aftershocks of your first orgasm and you kiss his shoulder before telling him you’re ready for him to move. And that he does. 

Forehead to yours, he pulls his hips away from yours, leaving just the tip inside you before surging forward. The wind is knocked out of you and you squeeze your eyes shut as sounds you’ve never made before push out of your belly and mingle with his own. You lose yourself in the pressure and the rhythm as his hands bring your wrists together above your head. He holds them there with one hand and uses the other to pull your right thigh up higher on his hips. This allows him to reach deeper inside you and your back arches. 

Breath uneven, you raise your hips to meet his thrusts as your second orgasm oh so slowly gets closer and closer. Unable to see and barely able to hear, you beg him. “P-please. Please. Please.” You chant like a sinner praying for salvation. He presses his lips to your ear. 

“Please what?” 

You whimper. 

“Use your words.” He laughs against your skin as he leaves little bite indents on your forearms. The sound of your wetness echoes throughout the room, egging you on in the most obscene manner. All but screaming, you beg him to let you come. He murmurs “Good girl” in your ear and releases your wrists. He brings both of your knees up even higher and your hands grip his biceps as he plows into you. Almost instantly, your body tightens. Your eyes roll as your orgasm finally hits you, causing every part of your body to shake. This time you scream as he presses his hips into yours a few more times before stilling inside you. You watch as he closes his eyes and your name falls from his lips as he comes inside of you. 

Adrian lets your legs slip from his grip and lays down on you. The room is quiet save from the sound of your breathing. You can feel his heart beating against yours and you wrap your arms around him. Hand in his hair, you press your lips to his temple much like he’d done yours and he sighs into you. A smile dances across your lips as you hold him to you. 

“You’re so perfect.” He whispers. “I was going to say the same thing about you.” You reply. He exhales heavily and places a kiss on the inside of your elbow before getting up and entering your bathroom. You hear the faucet water turn on as he hums a song you’ve never heard before. He returns a moment later with a warm cloth and wipes your skin so gently that you feel your heart swell inside your chest. He continues to hum and the sound of his voice lulls you into a dreamless sleep.

Taglist: @hoppershoe. @c-crow-chatters

[southern-gothic-comic]

Page 40

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(Author Notes)

Panel 1-2-3: The next day at her job Imogen is looking tired and overwhelmed, resting her elbows on the counter and massaging her temples against a headache. The voices and thoughts of the other customers in the packed store crowd against her as she struggles to fill orders and she can’t seem to block them out. Everyone is clamoring for remedies, everyone is tense and nervous and angry, and all of them are causing her further pain. After a few panels she is flushed and sweating and on the verge of breaking down.

Miscellaneous Voices, spoken and unspoken: What do you mean, it’s out of stock? — What help is that to me? — laudanum, oatmeal, licorice root, antimonial — No! I said belladonna and chicory root, not licorice!! Are you even listenin’ to me? — Sweet Sarenrae what am I gonna do, where am I gonna get it? — Get a move on, stupid girl! — HOW MUCH for a healin’ potion?? — gods what’m I gonna do if he gets it too it’ll just be me left on my feet — Don’t you go cuttin’ the line, Esther Hayes. I’ve been waitin’ here all afternoon! — I got three sick kids at home! — You and everyone else in town. Get to the back of the line! — What is takin’ so long up there? — Momma, my throat hurts! Momma I wanna go hoooome! — quinine, chicken soup, epsom salts, mustardseed, honey — Two weeks, I can’t wait two weeks! I need it today! — how long is this line? — barley, oranges, throat elixir

Imogen, finally: Excuse me.

Customer: Now where do you think you’re goin’, girl? You’re not done with me yet!

Panel 4: She goes into the back room and leans against a shelf, trembling. Laudna, who is perched on a high shelf counting the dwindling stock, leans over to look at her.

Imogen: L-laudna? Are you in here? 

Her thoughts: I need you.

Laudna: Whatever is the matter, dearest?

Imogen: I’m . . . I’m not feelin’ too good.

Panel 5: She descends and Imogen falls into her arms and buries her face in her shoulder. Laudna leans back a little to support her weight.

Imogen: Everyone is too loud and too much and everything hurts and I can’t block it out and I don’t know why. It hurts.

Panel 6: Imogen leans appreciatively into the coolness of Laudna’s hand as she lays it against her forehead.

Laudna: Here, let me-- Oh, darling. You’re much too warm. 

Imogen: You sure it’s not just that you’re cold?

Laudna: No, you have a fever. You poor thing. Do you feel achy? Queasy? Itchy? Do you want some water? You ought to be home in bed, not out there being shrilled at by that gaggle of harpies.

Her thoughts: gods she is burning up what should I do where to find a doctor all right get her home put her to bed keep her safe but there’s no medicine left what should I do

Imogen: Can’t leave while the store’s still so full. It’s fine. I just need to sit down for a minute . . .

Laudna: You leave that to me.

Panel 7-8: Laudna leaves the stockroom briefly, leaving Imogen sitting on a grain sack. Screams are heard. She returns.

Laudna: Shop’s empty! Let’s go.

[linos-luna]

My Baby (Pt.2) ❣️🔪

Yandere!Bang Chan x Fem!Reader

♡ (Pt. 1) (Pt. 2) (Pt. 3) (Pt. 4) (Pt. 5) (Pt. 6) (Pt.7) (Pt. 8)♡

Warnings: forced ddlg, infantalization, yandere, smut, oral (male receiving), light dub con? , 18+, toxic relationship

Chan treats you like a little kid. To him, you are his baby and he needs to care for you 24/7. At first it was cute but now he did everything for you. From dressing you to feeding you, you had no freedom and the consequences for resisting him were scary… and you unfortunately found out those consequences…

(Pt. 1)

♡ ————————— ♡ ————————— ♡

It’s been two weeks. Two weeks since your sad escape attempt. Things have definitely gotten worse and Chan has been very strict with you. It was terrifying.

You were on the couch with the tv on. You had a blanket over your lap and stared down at your hands. Your wrist was in a brace and you sighed as your boyfriend came into the room.

“Hi baby.” He said while crouching down in front of you, holding up a pill and cup of milk. “Open up…”

“Daddy… I don’t want it…” you said with a tear going down your cheek. “it makes me sick in the morning…”

“Oh baby… I can’t have you leaving me again…” Chan said with a dramatic sigh.

“B-but I won’t… I promise I won’t—”

“Take the pill.” You were interrupted by your boyfriend tightly gripping your wrist, causing you cry out in pain. It may have been 2 weeks since the injury but it’s still hurt a lot.

You reluctantly took the pill and Chan carried you to the bedroom with your blanket. You could walk but it was a little painful and he liked carrying you. He put you on the bed and tucked you in.

Chan left and came back with a baby bottle of warm milk. He sat next to you, extending his arm to hold you against him and put it to lips. You reluctantly drank as he wasn’t giving you much of a choice. Why did he make you drink this every night? You swear it only made you sleepier and not just the regular sleepiness you get from drinking milk.

Soon you were drifting off to sleep while the bottle was still to your lips. You sucked at it lightly until completely passing out.

Chan put the bottle on the nightstand and gave you a kiss on the cheek. He couldn’t help kissing down your neck and chest. God, he was needy. It’s been so long…

He took the sheets off and lowered your pajama pants, rubbing you over you’re panties and even went down to kiss it a few times. Oh he loves eating you out, he wants to it right now. He wants to rail you into the bed and hear your screams. You moaned a little in your sleep as he continued kissing over your panties, ready to lower them.

No. Not tonight. Not right now… he thought to himself and put your pants back on, letting you sleep.

-

You sat on the bed, dangling your legs off the end; they were wrapped up in bandages. All you could do was look down at your hands while Chan was going through your closet.

“How about we wear this cute pink dress today?” He said with a smile, holding up the dress.

“I would probably be cold…” you said, not looking up.

“Really?” His smile dropped as he threw the dress next to you. “You really think I’d let my baby go cold? Of course I’m giving you a sweater too!”

“Sorry daddy…”

“It’s okay.” His demeanor changes back to happy while he pats your head.“You’re just a dumb baby, you don’t know anything.”

You’re not sure if that last comment was really a jab at you or not and you simply sighed.

After getting dressed, Chan carried you to the living room where he sat you on the couch. He got some supplies and started unwrapping your bandages.

God your legs looked awful. It will definitely leave nasty scars. After cleaning them, Chan rewrapped them and took you to the dining room where there was oatmeal waiting.

As he fed you, you started hatching a plan, it was risky but definitely more effective than your last plan.

“Daddy? Can I have fruit?” You asked sweetly. “Baby wants fruit.”

Chan nodded and gave you a banana. He peeled it before giving it to you and watched as you ate it… In an odd way.

Originally you wanted to look baby like, sucking at the banana while holding it with two hands. But you soon realized how Chan was looking you and that he was subtly rubbing himself over his pants.

He was needy. You realized that you could use this to an advantage and continued sucking at the banana while making lewd noises.

“Daddy it’s so good..” you added, definitely arousing him even more.

“Yeah? Baby likes sucking at that sweet banana?” He asked with a light tease.

“Yes daddy. Baby likes…”

He bit his lip as you finished the fruit and you sucked the remnants off your fingers.

“Daddy… can I go potty…?” You asked sweetly, snapping him out of his little moment.

“You can go by yourself?”

“Yes daddy, I’m a big girl.” You replied with a cringe worthy giggle.

“Okay babygirl. Go ahead.” Chan said with a chuckle as you got up to make your way over there.

Once in the bathroom, you started digging through the medicine cabinet, looking for something specific. And at the very top you found it. The sleeping pills. You knew that if you took too long Chan would get suspicious so you dumped a few pills out and stuffed them in your sweater pocket. You flushed the toilet and went back out to your boyfriend.

For the rest of the day Chan was practically attached to you. Together you watched some cartoons and you drew him some pictures. It was relatively peaceful.

——— ♡

It was getting close to sundown and Chan had changed you into another dress after you got some paint on your last one.

“Aw daddy… is my dress gonna be okay?” You pouted.

“Yes baby. Daddy just has to wash it.” He sighed

“Okay… but it’s my favorite.”

“Don’t worry, baby. It’s okay.” He said while putting your sweater back on.

“Hey Baby, guess what?”

“What?” You asked curiously.

“Im making your favorite soup!” Chan said happily.

“Alphabet soup?!” You asked

“Yes baby.” He nodded as you cheered with glee. He took you to the dining room and went to the kitchen to make the food. It wasn’t anything too special, it was actually from a can.

Soon he came back with the two bowls and spoons then sat down.

“Daddy, can I get some juice in my favorite sippy cup?”

“Of course, baby.” Your boyfriend smiled and went to go grab it.

As soon as he left, you crushed the pills from your pocket with your fingers and sprinkled it in his soup. You had no idea how much you put in there. 2, 3, 4? Hopefully it doesn’t kill him. You just want him to sleep.

He soon got back and put the pink cup in front of you. Chan sat down and ate rather quickly as you drank. After he finished, he believed your soup was cool enough and was ready to feed you. You complied with him and ate it all.

“All done!” Chan said with a little clap while standing up.

“Yay!” You cheered. “Daddy can we play now? Baby wants to play with daddy.”

“Oh yeah? Of course daddy will play with you.” He thought you were so sweet and quickly picked you up, taking you to the living room.

You sat on his lap and he instantly put his hands on your hips.

You wondered when the drugs would take affect. Isn’t it like 20-30 minutes? How long has it been?

You started feeling around his pants and kept touching his clothed cock which was getting considerably hard.

“What are you doing baby?” Chan groaned. He was starting to feel a light headache.

“I wanna play with daddy…” you replied while unzipping his jeans.

“Y-yeah?”

“I wanna suck on daddy like a lollipop. Baby loves lollipops!” You said with a giggle as you started getting off his lap.

Chan didn’t have it in him to argue. On top of this headache, he’s been incredibly needy and desperate for some touch.

Although it hurt your knees, you got down and lowered his pants. He excitedly pulled down his boxers and sat back as you started licking at his hard cock.

He groaned again. Not only in pleasure but also because of the worsening headache. He was about to say something before you suddenly took him entirely in your mouth and started bobbing your head.

He whimpered and moaned as you did so and you nearly gagged when he thrusted into you.

“B-baby… b-babygirl…” he moaned, barely able to move. Now Chan was dizzy. His headache more intense and vision fuzzy.

You let go just as he came, noticing that he finally fell asleep. You sighed in relief. Finally. You stood up and dug through his pants pocket, finding the keys to the door and car. Thank god!

You put his boxers back on him and went to the bedroom to grab your shoes and a hoodie. You also grabbed an extra change of clothes along with a tooth brush and deodorant. You quickly stuffed everything in a backpack and started making your way out.

As you passed Chan on the couch you stopped and looked back at him. For some reason you felt bad. You went back yo him and put a blanket over him as if you were tucking him in.

You unlocked the door then looked back at him again, pausing for a moment with a tear rolling down your cheek.

After putting your bag down you went over to him. You ran your fingers through his fluffy hair then traced your finger along his cheek. But then you got close and did something crazy. You kissed him. It was a strange thing to do right? Are you crazy? And it wasn’t just a little peck, it was a kiss on the lips that lasted a few seconds.

“I love you Channie…” you said before leaving, getting in his car and driving off… finally free…

——————————————————————

Ko-fi

Sorry it took so long to post! I hope y’all like. I appreciate all your love and support 🥺

[spectersgirl]

i love love love any and all domestic harvey specter posts. i have pots which causes me to faint sometimes (but i love the attention so it’s whatever). what would it look like if harvey had a wife with pots? much love xx

"but i love the attention" I am CRYING LMAO

I actually had to research this a bit because I've heard of it but didn't really know what it was. if anyone else is curious, this is the article I read!

I'm sorry this is so late, I really didn't know where I was going with this so I just had it rotting in my drafts

I hope you enjoy it, I probably was not super accurate but I tried!

Tough Days

Harvey Specter x Reader

--------

The morning sunlight streamed through flowy white curtains as Harvey Specter woke up to find you already stirring in bed. He blinked away the remnants of sleep, taking a moment to appreciate your beauty.

"Morning, gorgeous," Harvey greeted, his voice warm with affection as he propped himself up on an elbow.

You smiled softly, though there was a hint of exhaustion in your eyes. "Morning, handsome."

He could tell it was going to be one of your tough days. You had been diagnosed with POTS a few years ago, and while you and Harvey had learned to manage it together, some days were still more challenging than others.

"Need anything?" Harvey asked, already shifting into protective husband mode.

"Just some water and maybe breakfast in bed?" You replied with a faint grin, voice laced with tiredness.

"Consider it done." Harvey slipped out of bed, tucking the duvet around you and dropping a kiss onto your forehead before heading to the kitchen.

He returned with a tray bearing a glass of water, a bowl of oatmeal, and a side of fruit. Setting it down carefully, he made sure everything was within your reach. Harvey sat on the edge of the bed, watching you eat.

"How are you feeling today?" he asked gently, concern visible on his face.

You sighed, setting the spoon down. "Dizzy and fatigued, but I'll manage."

"You shouldn't have to 'manage'" Harvey said firmly. "You've got me."

You smiled gratefully, reaching out to take his hand. "I know, and I'm thankful for that every day."

Harvey leaned over, pressing a tender kiss to your temple. "Let's take it easy today. I'll cancel my morning, we'll just relax and take care of you."

You snuggled closer to Harvey, feeling the warmth of his presence soothing you. But suddenly, a wave of dizziness swept over you, and your vision blurred. Before you could even voice a warning, the room spun, and your strength wavered. You struggled to sit up, gasping for breath.

"Y/N?" Harvey's voice was laced with worry as he noticed the change in your demeanor. In an instant, he was upright at your side, steadying you.

"I'm okay," you managed, though your words were shaky.

But before you could finish the sentence, the world tilted, and everything went dark.

Panic surged through Harvey as he caught his wife, your body slumping against him. "Y/N! Hey, baby, stay with me," he urged, laying you gently on the bed.

Your eyelids fluttered weakly as consciousness returned. You blinked, disoriented and weak, trying to focus on Harvey's concerned face.

"Easy, take deep breaths," he coached, his voice calm despite the worry etched on his features.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, feeling embarrassed and frustrated by your body's betrayal.

Harvey shook his head gently. "No apologies. You don't have to apologize for something you can't control."

He quickly ran to get a cold towel and placed it on your forehead, helping you sit up slowly. He monitored your pulse and made sure you were comfortable, something he'd done countless times before on days like this.

"You scared me for a second there," Harvey admitted softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

You managed a weak smile. "Sorry you have to deal with that."

"Don't be ridiculous," Harvey replied firmly. "You're my priority, always."

He stayed by your side, ensuring you had fully recovered before he even considered leaving you alone. As you regained your strength, you felt grateful for Harvey's unwavering support.

"Thank you for being here," you murmured, leaning into his comforting presence.

"For you, always," Harvey assured, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

As the morning passed, Harvey stayed by your side, making sure you had everything you needed. He adjusted the room temperature, brought your favorite books, and even ran a warm bath to help ease your discomfort.

"You're spoiling me today," you teased as Harvey helped you into the bath.

He chuckled softly. "With everything you do for me all the time, it's the least I can do."

Once you were settled, Harvey stayed close, chatting about anything and everything to keep your mind off the discomfort. He'd perfected this art, knowing when to distract you and when to let you rest.

Later in the evening, as you settled back into bed, feeling a bit better, you looked at Harvey with gratitude in your eyes. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'll never have to find out," he assured, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "I'll always be here, taking care of you."

And as they curled up together, you felt a wave of love and appreciation wash over you for the man next to you. He always put you first and made sure you were taken care of, and while this felt unnatural to you at first, you'd learned to stop fighting it and just let him care for you.

[the-broken-truth]

Blot-Mates: Yuu & The Overblots [Part 2]

SEGMENT: LEO

Summary: Leo is stressed and irritated, but the Ramshackle Prefect has a plan to calm him down.

[Note: The Yuu Variant is Male with Enma Yuuken's Body Build, Yuuka Hirasaki's Fighting Skills, and Yuuta Mito's Cooking Skills.]

[Note: This Storyline will be written in Script Format.]

Parts: [Prologue] - [Ri] - [Leo] (Here) - [Azu] - [Jami] - [Vi] - [Idi] - [Mal] - [All] - [Epilogue]

[The Morning Sun rises over the horizon, shining upon Ramshackle Dorm, however, that light does not shine in Leo's Room, thanks to the blackout curtains that Yuu set up for that room. Leo lay in his bed, but he was wide awake; his mind was swarming with the screaming thoughts of the past, making his head hurt worse and worse as he started gripping his sheets with a growl until a knock on the door caused his eyes to open and him to gasp. Leo looked at the door before throwing the blanket off of him and walked over to the door, opening it and coming face to face with Yuu dressed in his Cooking Apron.]

Leo: What do you want, Herbivore?

Yuu (Placing a hand on his hip): Good morning to you too, Leo. Breakfast is ready and I don't want your food to get cold.

Leo: Why didn't you bring it to me, then, if you didn't want it to be cold?

Yuu (Holding up two fingers with his other hand): Two reasons: 1. You have no servants here. 2. No eating in the dorm rooms; I don't want bugs up here because I know Jami hates bugs.

Leo (Narrows his eyes): What if I don't feel like leaving my room?

Yuu: Then, you don't eat.

Leo: I don't feel like moving - My room is warm and my feet will get cold.

Yuu: Don't worry. I made these for you. (Reaches into his apron pocket and pulls out some black cotton house shoes)

[Leo watches as Yuu kneels in front of him and places the house shoes on the cold wood floor. Leo looked at the shoes before sliding his bare feet into each shoe; they were very warm, soft, and a perfect fit... This herbivore made these just for him?]

Leo: They... They are warm.

Yuu (Standing up): Good. Let's go, Leo. We need to put some food in that belly. (Starts walking in the direction of the stairs.)

[Leo looked down at his shoes before watching Yuu walk down the stairs - he walked out of his dark room, closed the door behind him, and followed after the Prefect of Ramshackle at a rather slow pace.]

[Leo reached the bottom of the stairs and walked into the dining room before raising his head to see the sight before him: The other Overblots were sitting at the table with a banquet of breakfast foods, such as pancakes, waffles, french toast with cream-cheese filling in the middle and cinnamon on the top with whipped cream, bacon, eggs, pan sausage, and different kinds of drinks.]

Yuu (Walking out of the kitchen with a large serving bowl of oatmeal): I got the oatmeal, everyone.

Ri (Walking behind Yuu with the plates and silverware): I got the plates and silverware, Yuu.

Yuu (Places the Bowl of Oatmeal on the table before turning to face Ri with a smile and rubbing the top of his head): Thanks for your help, Rose Bud! You're amazing!

[Ri smiles at Yuu before setting the table and sitting in his chair.]

Yuu (Looks at Leo): Are you okay? Come and eat with us; you have been sleeping for a long time and need a decent meal.

[Leo looked at the banquet of food and walked over before taking a seat on the other side of Yuu, across from Ri. Yuu says a prayer to the Great Seven and signals everyone to start eating. Everyone (Except Jami and Leo) starts filling their plates with food and their bowls with oatmeal, however, Yuu notices this and pauses from taking a bite of his bacon.]

Yuu: Leo. Jami. Is there a reason you aren't eating?

Jami: I... I am not used to having someone else cook for me. I usually cook for everyone else.

Yuu: You are not a servant, Jami, and refuse to allow you to treat yourself as such. (Looks at Leo) What about you, Leo?

Leo (Looking at the food): I... I just don't know where to start.

Yuu (Points at the second platter of pancakes): Try those. They are Pancakes with bites of pan sausage meat made into them. You might like them.

Leo (Takes 2 Pan Sausage Pancakes, pours syrup on them before cutting and taking a bite out of one - his eyes widen at the flavor): These... These are amazing.

Yuu: Glad you like them. Now, get up - you and I are sparring later.

Leo (Smirks at Yuu): You wanna fight a King, Herbivore? Are you asking to get your ass kicked?

Yuu (Smirks): Let's see if you are singing to the same tone when I kick your ass, Your Majesty.

[Leo aimed his foot for Yuu's face but it was blocked by Yuu's forearm, before he could pull it back, Yuu grabbed his ankle and yanked it, making Leo lose his balance, as Yuu spun quickly and throw Leo a distance away until the Lion Overblot recoiled in the air and landed on his feet before glaring at Yuu and charging at him again, slashing his linked claws at Yuu, who is dodging his attacks as if it was nothing]

Yuu (Grabbing Leo's Fist that was aimed at his face): You're fighting with anger.

Leo: I'm fighting with power - I'm fighting like a KING!

Yuu: If you think relying on anger for power is fighting like a King, then... (Flips Leo over his shoulder, drops him on the ground, and looks down at him) You would be a very pathetic king.

[Leo snarls at Yuu before standing up and running back into Ramshackle. Yuu stands there for a while before exhaling and walking back inside of Ramshackle - he needs to finish something and apologize to Leo.]

[Leo stayed in his room for about 3 hours until he had a taste for Cheesecake. He rose from his bed and walked out of the room, down the stairs, and into the kitchen just to see Yuu standing there with a slice of cheesecake and drizzling caramel on it. Yuu looks over at Leo, who is standing on the threshold.]

Yuu: There you are. I was just about to bring this to you. (Holds the Caramel Drizzled Cheesecake out to Leo)

Leo (Looks at the cheesecake): You... You made this for me? Why?

Yuu: I wanted to apologize. I was rude to you during the sparring match, but I was upset to see you fighting with anger.

Leo: Why? It's not like you understand why I'm so angry.

Yuu: Constantly being compared to someone older and more developed than you for your entire life, regardless of how much effort you put into something is angering enough; and completely stupid.

Leo: You... You know about that?

Yuu: I saw glimpses of your life during our battle, and it reminded me so much of my own. I was the second son in my family and was constantly compared to my brother, who excelled in academics and sports. However, I was only good at household tasks such as cooking and cleaning. The only thing I was better at than my brother was fighting, which made my relatives hate me even more. I was tired of living in his shadow, which is why I left before coming to Twisted Wonderland.

Leo: You... You understand what it's like.

Yuu: Yes, but your situation is worse. You want to be king so everyone will accept you, just as they did your older brother; you are very capable, Leo. Just like the King of Beasts.

Leo (Eyes widen): What?

Yuu: The King of Beasts was the second heir but he gained the love of his people; a love that the first king could never have. He treated everyone fairly and it's because of that he gained the throne. (Looks at Leo) Gain the love of the people, Leo, and I know you would claim the crown; Hell, I know you'd be a better king than Falena, that condescending bastard.

Leo (Chuckles): You can say that again...

Yuu: It's good to see you smile, Leo. Come on, I have something for you.

[Yuu leaves the kitchen with Leo following behind him: The two of them walk into the living room where something is covered by a massive sheet. Yuu walks over to the sheet and grabs it before looking at Leo.]

Yuu: What is a king... (Pulls the sheet off - revealing a throne, carved out of wood, painted gold, with velvet seat and back pillows, and fake gems engraved, but professionally made) without his throne?

Leo (Looking at the throne): You... You made this... for me?

Yuu: I wanted to show it to Leo for his upcoming birthday when he game to visit, but you deserve this trhone too. Happy Early Birthday, My Lion Prince.

[Leo walked over to the throne and sat on it - it was soft and strong enough to hold him. Yuu pulled a golden crown from behind him and placed it on Leo's Head.]

Yuu: There. You look perfect!

Leo: This... This crown is real... Where did you?

Yuu: Kalim gave it to me. He didn't like it but I thought it would look good on you and I was right. (Moves in front of Leo and kneels before him) I name thee: King Leo of Ramshackle! I am at your service, My King...for the rest of the day. WHOA!!

[Yuu is caught off guard as Leo tackles him and knocks him to the ground in a hug. Yuu lays there as Leo holds him, quietly sobbing to himself.]

Leo: Thank you... This is... This is...

Yuu (Stroking Leo's Hair): Shhh... It's okay. You don't have to say anything, Leo. I am here for you.

[Leo continues to hold Yuu, the Lion Prince's New and True Brother.]

[END - TO BE CONTINUED]

[rwby-encrusted-blog]

Ruby: MMmm-MH! Goooood Morning Yang!

Yang: *Brushing Teeth* M'rn Rbs!

Ruby: You're up bright and early. What's up?

Yang: *Spits in sink* Me and Blakey got a whole day planned-*Gargling & Swishing Mouthwash, Spits* We're gonna go for a walk in the park to get some pictures taken and do a little window shopping, then we're meeting up with her parents for lunch!

Ruby: You've got a whole day planned, Huh! Is there something special about to ... day ...

Ruby checks the calender - wednesday, Febuary 14th.

Valentines day

Ruby: Nonono! Not now! I haven't prepared!

Yang: Sorry Rubes! I gotta get dressed, so unless you wanna see me naked again, you should-

Ruby: I'm going, I'm going!

~~~~~

Ruby: Hey Weiss! Blake and Yang are busy-

Weiss: I have Dates planned Ruby! I'm afraid I can't help you.

Ruby: With- I'm sorry did you say 'Dates' as in Dates Plural?

Weiss: Yes I did.

Ruby: Isn't that kind of-

Penny: Salutations Ruby! I am here to see My Valentines for the day!

Ruby: Penny? You're going out with Weiss?

Jaune: I am too! We're going to be switching on and off throughout the day!

Ruby: What.

Penny: Knowing that you identify as 'Asexual' I inquired what romance felt like to Weiss, who was on her way to ask Jaune on a 'date.' Jaune brought up how Polyamorous relationships were uncommon but plausible, so Weiss agreed to spend her time with us both!

Ruby: ... Oh.

Weiss: Yes, and I still need to finish readying up! Please leave so that I may Dress!

~~~~~

Loud Thumping and groaning may be heard behind Ren and Nora's Door, along with slapping sounds.

Ruby: I dunno why I thought they'd be doing anything else.

~~~~~

Oscar: Hey Ruby! What're you up to?

Ruby: Finding you! Everyone else is busy with Valentines, so I figured "hey, Oscar hasn't seemed interested in anyone, and he know what romance is" so I looked for you so we could have a Totally Platonic hangout. Which, for Valentines day would be weird-

Whitley: *Barging in* Hello my Evergreen~ I brought Cinnamon raisin Oatmeal cookies for my most sweet of sweets~

Oscar: Uuuhh ... Sorry Ruby, I'm kinda busy?

Ruby: ￣へ￣

~~~~~

Ruby: *Knocking on Door* HEY UNCLE QROW!

Robyn: *Wrapped in a towel* Sorry kid, He's busy in the Bathroom.

Ruby: ... i though him and Clover-

Clover: I'm here Too!

Qrow: I got a big heart Kid! Now leave and let me bathe with these guys, or I'll tell them about your seventh brithday!

Clover: Now that I wanna hear!

Ruby: You wouldn't!

Robyn: *Holding Qrow's hand* He Would.

Ruby: ... Got it. Have a nice time. Please leave a sock on your handle next time this happens!

~~~~~

Ruby: ...

Emerald: How do they feel now?

Mercury: *Rubbing his legs, crying Slightly* They feel Real. They feel like they're back.

Ruby: Well That's sweet.

Emerald: We're trying. I'd talk more but concentration-

Ruby: And Merc seems like he needs you, have a nice day.

~~~~~

Ruby: Hey Winter-

Winter: ...

Cinder: *On Winter's shoulder* ...

Ruby: ... I'll be going.

~~~~~

Ruby: Hey Miss Schnee-

Willow: *sweaty and Flushed* Hello Dear! I'm afraid I don't have much time-

Kali: Willow~ We have time for one more round before me and Ghira need to see our Kitten~

Ruby: Just go-

Willow: I can take a break if you need-

Ruby: I'll be fine, i get it-

Willow: Seriously, If you need something-

Ruby: Thank you, but I'm good, all good, go have your fun-

~~~~~

TaiYang: Hey! You've reached the Personal Scroll of Taiyang Xiao Long! At the moment I am pounding someone's ass right now, and Can't reach you! PLease leave a message at the Tone!

Ruby: *Hangs up* Safe to assume that's where Raven is.

~~~~~

Ruby: ... Hey? Hey Torchwick!

Roman: *Sitting at a table at a cafe* Little Red, I'm not in the mood for any of our games today.

Ruby: What do you mean?

Roman: Look, Neo's a free spirit, and on today of all days, she's reveling in Warm bodies rather than cold blood, leaving little ol' me out to dry, just cause the way I get down and Dirty is only ever stylish not sexy.

Ruby: ... yeah, I get that. Everyone I can think of is either being horny or romantic. It's annoying.

Roman: Oh-ho-ho! It seems the little nightmare for all the criminals in Vale is and Ace of Spades, huh?

Ruby: Well ... *Unfurling Crescent Rose as she takes a seat* Wrong Farm tool, but yeah, my flags fly white, gray, Green and Purple.

Roman: ... how about truce for today? I get the feeling if we stay out of each other's trouble our friends and family can have a nice day.

Ruby: No assault, theft from Mom and Pop shops, no murders, no trafficking and no destruction of property.

Roman: ... take off destruction of property.

Ruby: Hostile architecture only.

Roman: *Extending his hand* Deal.

Ruby: *shaking his hand* Sweet.

[roosterforme]

Two to Tango Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley lets you play cat and mouse with him all day long. But at night, it's a battle to find out who is really in control.

Warnings: Adult banter, swearing, smut, angst

Length: 4200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun.

Part 1

Bradley watched you stroll into the locker room like you hadn't just kissed him. You were either totally unaffected by what you just did, or you didn't want him to know you were a little riled up too. He groaned as he pushed through the men's door.

As discreetly as he could, Bradley ducked into one of the shower stalls and started to peel his muddy clothes off. The locker room was already filled with steam from all of the other guys running the hot water, but Bradley wasn't able to focus on getting cleaned up just yet. 

As he removed his compression shorts, he looked down at his erection and groaned. He'd been fine until that little smack to his cheek. You hit him just hard enough for it to sting, and then he thought about you doing that to him in bed. 

"Oh, fuck," he grunted as he wrapped one large hand around his cock. He stumbled toward the faucet and turned on the water, letting the warm spray wash over him as he jerked off. He needed to be quiet; he was literally surrounded by the others in the stalls next to him. He bit his lip and stroked himself at a steady pace, picturing your smug face as you slapped him. 

Apparently it had been too long since Bradley got laid. He was reacting to you like a teenager, which should have been embarrassing; he was old enough that you called him old man. But you were just the type of woman who always got him worked up. He liked them cute and bossy, and it didn't hurt that you had seemed completely disinterested in him before you kissed him. 

And you were cute enough that he'd want you more if you ran hot and cold with him. And now he was thinking about you on the other side of the wall, in the ladies' locker room, running your hands all over your own body.

His hand felt good, but he had no doubt yours would feel better. Bradley tipped his head back and stifled a moan as he came all over his left hand. He felt a little dizzy as he let the steamy water wash over his body, and he started to clean himself up. 

Would you kiss him again? Or pretend this never happened? He was already anxious to get you alone and find out.

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

Bright and early the next morning, Bradley walked with Coyote to the cafeteria, opting to bring his own teammate this time instead of sitting with the Air Force guys. He still wasn't sure if you had tricked him yesterday at breakfast, or if he had walked into that trap himself. Either way, you had been on his mind all evening while he was trying to fall asleep. 

He knew you would be a distraction as soon as he saw you. He'd let himself jerk off to the thought of you, let himself think about fucking you, but now he needed to focus on the rest of this week. Bradley and his teammates had to beat your team. 

"Morning, Tango," one of the Air Force aviators said, and Bradley looked up to see you strolling in wearing your flight suit with the sleeves tied around your waist. You were wearing a black tank top, and when Bradley made eye contact, you winked at him. 

He almost moaned around his bite of oatmeal as you walked past with your chin held high. Coyote smirked. "You like her," he murmured softly. Leave it to Javy, always the quiet one, to call Bradley out on his shit. 

"Doesn't matter. She doesn't like me, man," Bradley replied as he drank his entire cup of coffee. 

Coyote snorted and shook his head. But actually, Bradley wasn't sure how you felt about him. The kiss and the slap were hot, but Bradley was convinced that you were just trying to throw him off. 

Distraction, he thought to himself. He tossed his trash and walked to the classroom with Coyote. He found the spot at the back of the room labeled Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw and slipped into the seat. Then his eyes settled on the name placard next to his, and of course it was yours. And of course he liked your first name. 

A four hour lecture sitting next to you? He might not make it. He propped his elbows on the table in front of him and massaged his temples.

"What the hell is your problem?" Phoenix asked as she strolled past him and took her seat at a different table. 

"Just trying to figure out why I'm being punished."

Phoenix rolled her eyes. "You're so dramatic. We'll be in the air after lunch. You usually enjoy these lectures."

"Mmm," he hummed, because now you were walking into the classroom. You found your spot and sat down gingerly next to him, chatting sweetly with Hangman of all people and ignoring Bradley completely.

"Morning, Tango," Bradley finally said, forcing you to acknowledge him next to you. 

"Old man. I didn't notice you there, sweetheart," you said, clearly pretending you were surprised to see him. "Have you decided what you're going to call me today? Something to complement incompetent and inexperienced?"

"I tried to apologize for that," he reminded you. "Yesterday....outside the locker rooms."

You turned toward him and bit your lip. "Yes, you were very....sincere."

"And you were very handsy," he whispered as the flight instructor entered the room.

You pressed your lips together. "Yeah...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I don't know anything about you... if you have a wife or a girlfriend or something...shit, I shouldn't have kissed you without permission."

Bradley examined your face; you were actually sorry. But he wasn't sure if you were sorry for kissing him, or just for neglecting to confirm if he was single and consenting.

He wanted you to kiss him again. "I'm single. And consenting."

Your mouth opened and you gaped at him before biting your lip again. He watched you grin as you asked, "Exactly how much are you consenting to, old man?"

"Good morning!" Class was beginning, and absolutely everybody was now facing the front of the classroom except for Bradley. He peeled his gaze away from your profile and faced the front as well. 

He opened his lecture booklet and scrawled one word in the corner of the first page. When he nudged it a little closer to you, he watched you lick your lips as you read Everything. 

Then you took your pen and wrote one word in neat handwriting before pushing the booklet back toward him. 

Perfect.

Bradley groaned softly and it felt like all of his blood rushed away from his brain and directly to his cock. 

He was struggling to sit still, paying more attention to you twirling your pen out of the corner of his eye than the actual lecture. Those fingers had been touching him yesterday. Bradley had just given you permission to touch him again. The only problem was, he wasn't sure you and he would even be able to have time alone this week. The schedule was packed. 

He saw you hold your pen up and deliberately drop it on the floor between your chairs. "Oops," you murmured. 

Bradley watched your dip toward the floor, running your fingers down the length of his leg, touching him through his flight suit. He was straining against his compression shorts, dying to touch you. 

Only three hours and fifty minutes of this lecture left. 

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

"Tally! Tally! Bogey, six o'clock, Phoenix!" Hangman shouted. Bradley quickly doubled back to help his teammates. The Naval aviators had taken to the air first, participating in a timed drill. The mission was simple: shoot down the enemy aircrafts as fast as you can.

"Break right, Phoenix," Bradley told her, and he watched her navigate exactly as he had hoped she would. It gave Coyote a chance to eliminate the final opponent from the dog fighting scenario. 

"Yes!" Phoenix cheered. "Nicely done, guys. Although I must say, I really miss Bob. He would have spotted them way sooner than we did."

Bradley smiled as he undid his mask and dropped altitude. He followed the other three Super Hornets down to the runway, and he was climbing out of his jet just in time to see you and your teammates walking across the tarmac. 

"Good luck, Tango," he told you, trying his best not to convey the want he felt when he looked at you. 

"I don't need luck, Rooster," you told him with a smirk, and Bradley watched you start up your ladder while he followed Phoenix to the tower. 

The Air Force aviators would need to beat a time of thirty minutes and fifteen seconds if they wanted to earn more points than the Naval aviators. And when Bradley unzipped the top half of his flight suit and drank some water, he listened to the radio as your team took to the air. It was immediately obvious that although you were most likely the youngest member of your team, you were clearly the leader. 

"Tango! Angels three, two bandits!"

Your voice was strong and commanding through the radio, and Bradley was intrigued. "Hit the firewall, Killer!" 

"Tally two!" 

Your team seemed to work together just as well as his team did, and now Bradley was a little nervous. He could literally see two hundred dollars and his pride slipping through his fingers. But you sounded like magic to his ears. 

"Hit it hard! Final Bandit!" 

And when your team ended with a winning time of twenty-nine minutes, Bradley wasn't even surprised. He had underestimated you just two days ago, and now he was going to keep paying for it. 

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

Bradley took his time on the way to the locker room. You were ahead of him in points, and the Air Force was leading the Navy. And as much as it pained him to admit it, he was dying for more of your attention. All you had to do was look at him, and he started getting hard. Every time you talked to him, he wanted to touch you again. You were so self assured, he couldn't get enough. 

You were walking toward the showers, chatting with Coyote. Javy appeared apologetic when Bradley looked at him, but that didn't stop him from making you smile and laugh. Bradley waited for you to walk past, and you paused when Javy went into the men's locker room. When you gracefully stepped right up to him, you let your fingers rest just below Bradley's belly button. His whole body clenched as you stood on your tiptoes, brushing the tip of your nose against his. He was instantly leaning down, trying to get his lips on yours, but you had pulled away enough that he could see your grin. 

"You're so slow, old man. Let's see if you can pick up the pace later. Three one six five."

Bradley moaned as your fingers drifted further south before you turned and stalked into your locker room. He loved being teased and toyed with; no woman had ever treated him like this before. 

"Oh, shit," he whispered. 3165. That must be your room number. Fuck, he had to walk gingerly into the locker room and pray that nobody would notice his erection. And no jerking off today, no matter how badly he needed it. He'd wait for you. 

So he got cleaned up, did his hair and put on one of his Hawaiian shirts. Then he and Phoenix ordered a pizza and ate it in her room. "Why do you look so nice?" she asked. She was wearing a sports bra and oversize sweatpants. "I'm exhausted and probably going to pass out as soon as we finish eating." 

"No reason," he muttered, folding a slice of pizza and biting off half of it. 

"Ohhhh," she said, when she finished chewing. "It's Tango. I knew the two of you would end up either fucking or fighting. It could have gone either way. But I must say, if you're sleeping with her, you'll definitely lose your bet."

Bradley frowned. "What makes you say that?"

"Let's just say I'm not about to make a wager with Killer anytime soon," she said with a smirk. 

Bradley snorted. "You're hooking up with that big guy? He's like two feet taller than you."

"He's big everywhere, Rooster," she told him, and Bradley grabbed another slice of pizza and left with a grimace. 

Should he wait around a little longer? Or head to your room? Fuck it, he was already on his way up to the third floor. Might as well see if you're actually in your room. 3165. He raised his hand to knock when the door across the hallway abruptly opened. 

"Don't knock!" you said, dashing out and grabbing his hands while you laughed. 

"Huh?" he asked, surprised to see you coming out of a different room.

You were trying to contain your laughter as you pulled him across the hallway and into room 3164. "That's Killer's room. I was just fucking with you. Trying to see if you'd actually show up."

"Seriously?"

You were grinning as you pulled him into your room and closed the door. "You look so cute in your Hawaiian shirt, too. Killer would have snarled at you, showing up like you were his booty call."

Bradley was trying not to laugh, but he could feel his lips and mustache twitching with amusement. You were wearing your black tank top and some short shorts. "You know, something tells me you'd have laughed if Killer threatened to punch me."

You nodded as Bradley backed you up to the wall inside the tiny room. "I probably would have, old man."

Bradley scooped you up, holding you by the thighs and pinning you against the wall. You gasped as he pressed himself against you through your shorts, but you still had laughter on your lips. 

"You know what's not funny?" he asked softly, your hands coming up to grab his shoulders. 

You bit your lip and squeaked as he pressed you harder into the wall. "Tell me," you demanded, still grinning. 

Bradley smirked at you as he lowered his voice until it was rough and raspy. Then he squeezed your thighs and said, "It's not funny how hard I'm going to fuck you."

You gasped and licked your lips. "Tell me more, sweetheart."

Bradley was the one smiling now; your pupils were blown wide as you focused on his words. "You're leading me in points, Tango. I gotta make it so I have an advantage tomorrow. If you can't walk straight or sit right, I think that might give me the upper hand."

"Oh," you gasped, and Bradley lowered his mouth to your neck. He listened to you whine as he teased and then soothed your soft skin with his mustache while he ground his hardening cock against you. "Okay, show me what you got, old man."

Bradley tipped your chin up with his nose and sucked on your neck. "You're not going to be calling me old man when you see what age and experience can get you."

You were whining a little bit as he tossed you onto your bed and watched you start to scramble out of your shorts. 

"There's no rush, Tango," he whispered, watching you as he took his Hawaiian shirt off and draped it across the back of the chair. You were laying on your back on the narrow, twin-sized bed, your nipples straining against your tank top and your tiny underwear barely covering your pussy. He reached down and ran one long finger along your seam through the lace fabric. When you bucked up off the bed, he grinned and said, "I like to take my time."

You moaned and Bradley watched you turn your head to the side. Your cheeks were flushed now. "Please," you whispered, easing your tank top up your torso until your tits were on display for him. 

"Damn," he muttered, stroking your nipples gently with his thumb and making you mewl. "You done being demanding then? You like to switch it up in the bedroom? Let me control you?"

"Fuck," you gasped as he moved his hand lower and dipped his fingers into your underwear. You just looked up at him where he stood and sucked in a deep breath. "You should be so lucky, Rooster. I'll be in charge of everything."

He slipped one finger down along your clit and watched you squirm. "You keep telling yourself that." Bradley eased his large body on top of yours at the same time his finger dipped inside you. He kissed your lips softly, before rubbing his mustache along your tits. 

He worked his fingers, never giving you more pressure on your clit as you rocked your hips up against his hand. Your pussy was wet and silky, and his cock was throbbing now, but he was determined to make you wild for him.

He licked and sucked on one breast and then the other, switching each time you started to really whine. "Rooster!" you hissed, bucking hard as you took a second finger followed by a third. Bradley could feel how hard you were gripping him, and his hand was starting to cramp, but he kept going. 

"You like that, Tango?" He gently took your nipple between his teeth and gave you some pressure there until you were practically screaming and pawing at the back of his head. 

"Yes!" you screeched, your gasping voice breaking on the word. Bradley crooked his middle finger inside you and watched you shake your head back and forth against the pillow. You had your feet planted on the bed, absolutely riding his big hand for everything he was worth. "Fuck!" 

"Yeah, I'll fuck you in a little while," he promised, keeping that same soft, steady rhythm with his thumb. "But first, let's get you off like this." He leaned in close to your ear and licked your neck as you came on his hand, legs shaking and babbling nonsense. "If you like my hand this much, you'll never survive my mouth and my cock." 

"Oh God," you whispered, looking up at him like you were finally ready to let him take charge. He waited until your hips stilled before he withdrew his fingers and tasted you there. 

He smiled. "You taste good," he whispered, and when you parted your lips for him, he slipped his three fingers into your mouth. You moaned and sucked on him, licking between his fingers and dragging your tongue across his palm. 

Suddenly Bradley felt less in charge than he had a moment ago. You kept his fingers between your lips until he was groaning, then you said, "Where's this magical mouth you told me about?" 

Bradley climbed on top of you, tipped your chin back and kissed you hard on the lips. He fucked your mouth with his tongue, pausing only to yank your tank top completely off your body. Your mouth tasted like your pussy, and he couldn't wait to get himself squared away down there for some more. 

You brought your fingers up to tangle in his hair, and Bradley's kisses became more controlled, more languid. He would be damned if he rushed this instead of proving to you that the rest of him was just as impressive as his fingers. 

Your hands felt too good on his neck and and behind his ears, and as he settled his full body weight down on you a bit more, you were thrusting up against him, wrapping your leg around his hip. "Don't rush it," he whispered against your lips and you moaned so loudly, his cock felt like it was going to break his zipper. 

But you grabbed him roughly by his hair and pushed him further down your body. "I want your mouth on my pussy."

"Fuck," he groaned kissing and tasting your tits as you guided him down. Bradley licked your belly and pulled your tiny underwear down, pressing his lips all over your newly exposed skin. 

He looked up your body as he took your underwear down your legs and dropped them to the floor. You met his eyes and bit your lip as he spread your legs wide. "Pretty," he murmured, pressing his lips to your clit. You were soaking wet and your fingers were still tugging at the roots of his hair as he licked the full length of your slit. 

He forced a slow pace, refusing to give in to your tugging and whining. But when Bradley heard you moaning his call sign as he swirled his tongue over your clit, he had to slide one hand down to adjust himself. He sucked on your clit softly until it sounded like you were going to start crying, and then he had to unzip his jeans. His dick was painfully hard, but thankfully you were now moaning, "Fuck me, Rooster. Please!"

"Shit," he almost yelled, releasing you and standing. He took off his undershirt and dropped it to the floor before yanking his cock free from his jeans and underwear. 

"You look good, old man," you whispered, still out of breath as you rolled onto your stomach on the narrow bed.

"I still don't know how old you think I am, Tango." As he toed off his shoes and socks and guided the denim fabric down his legs, Bradley groaned. "I don't have a condom."

You smiled up at him over your shoulder, reaching out to grab him by his dick and pull him closer to the bed. "If you're clean, you don't need one," you whispered, releasing him and getting on your hands and knees at the edge of the bed. 

Bradley was practically panting at the sight of your ass and pussy, bare and ready for him. He grabbed you by your left hip and guided himself to your opening with his right hand, relishing the feel of you and the depraved sounds you made as he pushed and pushed until he bottomed out.

"Oh, God," he groaned. He should have masturbated earlier. What the hell was he thinking? This felt too good. Thankfully you were already pretty far gone, your face buried in the bedding as you got louder with each thrust. Your body looked like it was made for this as he watched his cock disappear into your pretty pussy over and over again, you ass bouncing with each thrust. 

"Harder," you gasped, and with a devilish grin, Bradley slammed into you. 

"You like that? I like it, too. Gonna love it when you can't sit in your cockpit tomorrow," he promised, fucking you hard until you were clamping around him. Your thighs were shaking as you met his body each time he bottomed out. "Fuck, fuck, where do you want me to cum?" he asked. But you were in the middle of your second orgasm now, and there was no way he was going to get a solid answer out of you. So Bradley pulled out, and within seconds, he was spurting his cum all over your ass and your back. 

"Oh," he gasped, gripping himself and looking at the gorgeous mess he had just made. "Beautiful."

You were still scrambling around on the bedding as you more or less collapsed onto your stomach, and Bradley looked around for something to clean you up with. He spotted a travel sized pack of tissues next to your bag and started to wipe his cum off of your pretty skin. 

"Did you make a mess on me, old man?" you asked softly, turning to look back at him with a smile. 

"Sure did. Looks pretty though," he rasped as he finished cleaning you off. 

You just laughed and tried to stand up to no avail. Bradley scooped you into his arms and got you both settled onto the bed with you halfway on top of him. "You can cum inside me tomorrow night if you want to."

Bradley grinned and kissed your forehead. "You want more of me, Tango? Enjoyed that, didn't you?"

You just laughed and said, "Okay, I'll admit it, you're a good lay."

Bradley narrowed his eyes at you. "Just a good lay? I thought we were kind of having fun here. You know, all the dirty talk. All the tension."

You looked at him like you weren't sure what to say, but you swallowed hard and whispered, "It's just sex."

Bradley felt like he'd been hit in the gut. "Right," he grunted. "Right." Shit, he needed to leave before you could tell he was annoyed.

You stretched out and yawned, and Bradley slipped out of your bed. He got dressed quickly, avoiding looking at you as he zipped his jeans. He threw his Hawaiian shirt on and headed for the door without buttoning it. "See you tomorrow night?" you asked, sitting up completely naked in bed. 

Bradley glanced your way one time and then left without a word. As far as he could remember, he had never done the walk of shame. He'd sent girls packing in the middle of the night before, so he supposed this must have been how they felt. But it was barely nine o'clock now, and he had to sneak back to his own room and think about how cheap you'd made him feel. 

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

Oof. Tango, he is clearly into you! Hope you guys enjoyed this part...more to come soon!

PART 3

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[weepingchronicles]

Hey! Do you mind me requesting platonic yandere for both Joel and Ellie? I was literally imagining like what if reader was a part of an enemy group that maybe kidnapped Ellie but like over the course of like maybe a couple of days they became friends until you know Joel comes to get Ellie out of there

platonic yandere joel and ellie with enemy reader! (unedited)

tw/cw: yandere, manipulation, violence, mentions of death, immolation

word count: 1,755

thank you for requesting! for this i went with a reader whose a little bit older than ellie just because it made more sense in my head! hope u don't mind

"Let me go, let me go!"

The pitiful cries of the prisoner next door were hard to ignore, I wince and continue making her meal.

It's been a day of non-stop yelling and screaming, we had to tape her mouth again and again to not attract anyone, especially the man we first found her with. My higherups had told me it was probably dead since he was very injured when they found them and probably succumbed to his wounds, especially in this rough winter. But the prisoner wasn't too convinced, or maybe she was trying to convince herself who knows.

I enter the room and see the girl, sympathy fills my chest as i see her cradled up, still tied to the pole and within a large metal cage. I begin to unlock it, holding the warm oatmeal in my other hand. Her eyes pierce throughout my body, like a blood-thirsty animal trying to spot my weakness.

"I made you breakfast." I say with a weak smile, my higherups told me that this girl deserved this, she was caught stealing food and pulled a gun on them. Besides, we hadn't intended to hurt her but we couldn't exactly let her walk freely either.

"I don't want it." She says, a scowl on her face as she refuses eye contact with me. I sigh and put down the bowl next to her.

"You haven't ate and it's cold down here," I shove the bowl closer to her. "Please."

I see hesitation in her face for a moment but she relents. "Fine, just untie me."

I smile happily and go to untie her. Once both of her hands are free, she elbows me in the nose, knocking me down on the ground.

Blood rushes down from my nostrils from the hit and the prisoner runs out the cage. Trying to find a way out, she runs to a door leading outside.

"No, wait!" I scream, trying to stand up. Two guards who were standing watch outside push Ellie to the ground. I scream, running to them. The guards pull a gun on her, ready to shoot.

"No, don't!" The girl has a wild scared look on her face and I don't even care if she hurt me, wouldn't I have done the same?

The guards look me up and down, "This bitch hurt you! Besides we can't have her escaping again, we should have killed her when we first found her-"

"No, please, she's just a kid! I promise, if she escapes again kill her but not today." I put myself in front of the gun, the girl looking between me and the guards.

One of the guards tsk and lowers his weapon. I let out a sigh of relief and the guards drag her to the cage again, locking her inside. She gives me a look before I'm dragged off somewhere. The look was unrecognizable but it almost looked like trust?

I come back again the next day. "What happened to you?" the girl asks, staring at the next deep scar in my cheek.

"I was the one who almost let you escape, remember?" I say, and the girl looks down almost apologetically.

"So.. why did you do it anyway? I mean, let me live."

"I would have done the same in your position. You're like me."

A few moments of silence pass until the girl speaks again.

"Ellie."

"What?"

"My name is Ellie..." Ellie utters, she doesn't look at me but it's clear she is being vulnerable.

I smile, "I'm (Y/N), how old are you?"

"Fourteen."

"Wow, I'm only a couple years older than you. So.. why did you steal food anyway?"

"I didn't know anyone lived near! And Joel needed medicine..."

Curiosity sparks in my head, "Is Joel your family?"

"Ugh, no! He's just kinda.. looking after me. I'm the reason he got hurt." Ellie lets out, refusing to say anymore.

"Oh. I know how that feels, to have someone you care about get hurt protecting you," I say solemnly.

Ellie doesn't say anymore so I try to change the topic. For hours and the next couple of days we become closer, we learn we like the same comics and music. Ellie has seen stuff that I have never even known about. She often pleads to help me escape but there is only so much I can do, if they find out I helped I would be killed or kicked out to die. Ellie says I can join her and Joel but I'm not sure if I'm ready to leave..

I'm sleeping peacefully until I am woken up by silent shaking. I open my eyes groggily, fully widening once I see Ellie standing over me while shushing me.

"Ellie..? Wha-" "Shh, I'm going to get you out of here."

"What..?" Ellie forcibly pulls me up, hurriedly putting on my boots and coat for me as I stand in confusion.

"I don't understand- how did you get out and why are-"

Ellie hisses in frustration and grabs me by my shoulders, "Listen! The infected got in and there's no time to explain. Joel is waiting for us, we have to leave now!"

My head is swarming with thoughts and anxiety and before I know it I'm rushing out the door into the cold air with Ellie gripping my hand.

"Where are we going!?" I yell, stumbling a bit in the thick snow.

"C'mon!" Ellie yells, not answering my question as she drags me along further, seeming to head nearer to the woods.

In the distance there is smoke and fire, I can hear the faint noise of glass shattering and gunshots. I gasp, hearing the screams if I listen closely enough but I choose not to.

We reach the fence protecting us from the woods, and Ellie throws her backpack and mine over.

"Okay, you're gonna have to jump over. Joel is going to meet us there."

I hesitate, looking back seeing my whole community go up in flames. In a quick decision, I start climbing the fence falling onto the snow once I make it over. Ellie does the same and we both grab onto our backpacks and head further into the woods. Darkness surrounds us, the only thing lighting the world being the fire illuminating the sky into a bright orange. We run in the woods until we can no longer hear the gunshots. It is silent except for our panting breaths, until there is a sound of a branch cracking.

I don't react fast enough, a Runner charges at me with lightning speed. I scream but before it reaches me Ellie tackles it to the ground, using a dagger to stab at its head.

"Ellie!" I rush in to help her, lifting her off the corpse when its finally dead.

"Ellie, your hand." I point to her, and she looks down to see a ring of teeth marks aligning around her wrist, blood already dripping down from the gash.

I begin to break down, my only friend is infected and it was all to save me. I curl into a ball, sobbing. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm-" "(Y/N), no, I'm fine! Look, I'm immune!" Ellie lifts up her sleeve showing a months old bite mark.

"What.. how?" I look up at her, tears still welling in my eyes. "I don't know how, it just is. But all that matters is that you're okay." Ellie hugs me tightly, I relax in her hold finding comfort in the only friend I have that I don't even notice another set of footsteps approaching.

"Ellie!? Ellie!" A man with a Texan accent comes up rushing to us. An instinctual fear creeps up on me as soon as I see the man, he is bloodied and carrying a shotgun. It is clear he has had some kind of training even before the apocalypse, and him being alive nowadays is enough reason to not fuck around with him. Despite all that, Ellie goes rushing to hug him, seeking protection but all I feel is bad feelings coming from him.

"(Y/N), this is Joel, the man who I was with."

"Hi.." I stammer out the best I can. I don't know if I'm shaking from the cold or in fear.

"Hello," Joel says roughly, he extends his hand to hold my shoulder and I try my best to not wince.

"Ellie said you're comin' with us, so let's get a move on before more trouble comes."

I nod and Ellie locks her arm with mine following Joel further away to my burning home. As we walk, I can't help but question everything.

How did Ellie escape? How is Joel seemingly fine although he was injured and needed medicine? Why do I feel so suspicious of Joel?

More and more questions ambush my thoughts and I can't help but seek confirmation to them.

"Ellie, you never answered my question before on how'd you escape..?" I notice Ellie tighten her grip on me slightly which immediately raises red flags in my head.

"Joel found me."

"Right, but I thought Joel was injured but he seems fine to me." Joel stops leading the way, halting in his tracks.

"You sure ask a lotta questions, kiddo."

"Then give me the answers to them!" I plead, I want to believe Ellie and Joel, to believe I didn't just abandon my community to die by itself. Ellie stammers urging Joel not to say something, but he sighs and says "You really want to know? I was never injured in the first place and I knew Ellie was here for awhile now but we planned an attack today because she wanted you."

"Me? Wait, you killed those people? Most of them did nothing and now they're dead because of you!" Tears are streaming down my face now, my only friend has been lying to me, pleading for me to let her go when she could have done it this whole time.

Joel's eyes darken, "I know, so you better come with us because I didn't do all that shit for nothing!" I back up, trying to plot a run from Joel and Ellie even though I have nowhere to go. "No, I'm not going anywhere with you both!" Ellie suddenly grabs me arms, pinning it to my back. I struggle but the smaller girl is more stronger than me, Joel steps closer, pulling something out of his pocket and WHAM, I feel a pain in my skull and the world fades to black..

a/n: sorry if this is bad and i know it took long, i was struggling with the ending and it also just didn't seem yandere enough? constructive criticism is welcome. also i know joel was just kind of mean in this but i feel he'd be a slow kind of yandere, like he wouldn't start to RLLY care about you until way later but yknow

[andreafmn]

Running in Circles | Chapter 10

Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: mentions of death, religious trauma

Summary: (Y/N) Rossi is following in her father’s footsteps by joining the BAU team as a profiler. The girl genius knew almost everything but she could have never predicted falling for Aaron Hotchner, her boss, and her father’s friend. in their world mutual feelings are not enough to push them together. Will all the adversities and obstacles they face pull them together or push them apart forever?

A/N: a few days behind is better than a whole year 🫣 anywho very sentimental chapter ahead

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Winter had come at full force that December, and maybe that was the first sign of all that was to come. But for (Y/N), it only signified the anniversary of her mother’s death.

Just like she had done every year before, she had taken that day off, knowing her mind would be elsewhere, and her body would want to be there. Even if it fell on a weekend, she had to be sure that no calls would disturb the day. The monsters could wait one more day.

She looked herself over in the mirror. The turtleneck she had chosen felt particularly choking, her pants hung too low for comfort, and her mother’s necklace stood out too brightly against the dark clothing. Nothing was right. Nothing would ever be right. She pushed her hair behind her shoulders and sighed. That was as good as it would ever get.

She slipped her coat on before she left her house, and she wondered what her mother would have thought of her home. Would she have wanted her closer to the family home? Would she have liked the décor? Would she have poked fun at how messy the house could sometimes get, or would she not have cared at all?  Those were answers she would never get. At least not from the one person that mattered the most.

Her father’s car was waiting outside for her, his face wearing a similar solemn look to the one she had. It was the same routine every year. He’d come to pick her up, they’d go to the cemetery, and when David would tell stories of Iris, she would listen. Because she had none to share of her own. She had no memories, no stories, nothing to know of her mother that was her own.

“Hey, dad,” she said as she jumped into the SUV. “It’s a cold one today.”

“It really is,” he chuckled softly “I brought you some coffee and a butter croissant. Something tells me you didn’t eat breakfast today.”

“You know me too well, dad,” she snickered, taking the warm cup between her hands to heat her freezing hands. “Did you eat already?”

“Had myself a bowl of oatmeal with berries and bananas like your mom used to like,” he replied. “Washed it all down with some coffee and came here.”

“That’s good,” she croaked, forcing a smile. “Were you able to get the flowers? My local shop was closed when I went by yesterday.”

“Yeah. I’ve got the bouquet back there,” he smiled. “Peonies, irises, roses, lilies, and baby’s breath. All the ones she liked.”

Every time her father said things like that, her heart broke just a little more. He didn’t know it. She would never say it. But the fact that he had lived a life with her mother when she didn’t even know what she sounded like hurt. It pained her to miss a person she never had a chance to remember.

“Do you know it was your mom that would call you little bird?”

“Did she?”

“She said you were always jumping around and fleeting from flower to flower when you were outside, just like a hummingbird would. That’s why she got that necklace made for you,” David chuckled at the memory. “Even when you were just a little baby, you always seemed to calm when you were with her in the garden.”

“Well, her garden has to be the best one in all of Virginia. Even to this day.”

“You have Emile to thank for that,” he laughed. “If it had been up to me, it would have died so many years ago.”

“And I guess I inherited your lack of a green thumb.”

“That you did, little birdie,” he said. “But you did inherit her good taste. For your third birthday, the last one with your mother –may God have her in his glory—you insisted on having a garden fairy party. Iris asked you what flowers you wanted everywhere, and you said peonies. Well, at the time, you called them peenies.”

“I… I don’t remember that,” she stammered. “I wish I did.”

“That’s okay, little bird. We have the pictures, and I’m sure there’s a VHS somewhere with the video. Just have to check in storage, which might take a bit more than it should.”

“It wouldn’t if you let me organize it, dad. I’ve told you many times that you need to set up a system so things don’t get lost in all the junk you still have from the olden days.”

“Hey! You learned a lot from those olden days,” he pouted. “Those olden days paid for everything we have.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not disorganized.”

By the time they had reached the cemetery, they were a mix of laughter and sadness, coupled with the most beautiful bouquet they’d brought to date. There was a thin blanket of snow covering the ground, a cold breeze whistling through the air. It was a horrible day to be out, but they wouldn’t miss it for the world.

(Y/N) was expecting the bad weather. And although her coat did nothing to warm her against the wind, she hugged it closer to her body. What she was not expecting was to find Hotchner and Jack waiting on a bench right in front of her mother’s grave.

“Aaron,” David called out with a smile that alerted the father and son to their presence. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Once they were near enough, Jack took off on a soft run toward the woman. “(Y/N)!” he called as he reached to hug her. “You said we could come, remember?”

“Of course I do, buddy,” she smiled softly. “I’m happy to see you.”

“This is your mom, right?” The boy led her to her mother’s tombstone by the hand. “Iris Jensen.”

“That’s right,” she said. (Y/N) knelt down and ran her hand across the picture of her mother, tears already building in her eyes. “This is my mom.”

“She’s very pretty.”

“She is, isn’t she?” (Y/N) chuckled as her body betrayed her. Tears fell down her eyes before she could stop them, warming her skin before turning freezing under the weather. Jack quickly reached into his jacket, pulled out a blue handkerchief, and handed it to her. “Thanks, kid.”

“Jack, why don’t you join me on the bench, and I can tell you about her?” David said. “I’ve got some great stories.”

“Is that okay, (Y/N)?”

“Of course, Jack,” she smiled. “Go ahead.”

As the kid ran to her father, Hotchner wrapped his arms around her. Normally, she would have grown flustered at the interaction, but at that moment, she needed the comfort. “You okay?” he asked quietly. “This must be so hard.”

“I don’t know why I’m like this,” she muttered. “It’s been years already. I barely even knew her.”

“She was still your mom, (Y/N). It’s only natural that you feel this way.”

“I don’t even remember what she sounds like,” the woman sniffled. “I don’t even know what kind of mom she would have been growing up.”

“I… I’m sorry, (Y/N). I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s okay,” she smiled softly as she let him go. She got on her knees and started cleaning the tombstone, removing all specs of snow regardless of how futile it may have been. “There’s not much to say.”

“All I know is that I wish I had met her.”

“Yeah,” she chuckled. “Me too.”

Aaron left her by herself then, allowing her the space to tell her mother about the year that had passed. She told her about her cases, told her about her friends, and even told her about her ever-growing feelings for an unmentionable person. But, most of all, she told her about how much she missed her.

But it didn’t go over her head how she missed someone that much without really knowing who they were. She carried inside an emptiness that wasn’t easily filled, and as hard as her father tried, never would be. And David tried, in his own way. He had his own grief to carry, and she knew that. She knew he hurt and wished Iris was still with them. But he’d found solace in the time he had shared with her while (Y/N) yearned for even just a second more with her mom.

“I wish you were here, mom,” she cried as she stood. “I see videos of you, and I can’t tell if that’s what you really sounded like or if your voice is too distorted by the camera. I wish you’d had more time, mom.”

“You and me both, little birdie,” her father said as he joined her. “But she’s in God’s glory now.”

(Y/N)’s blood boiled at that moment. She had never been religious, much to her father’s dismay. More than just the deity not fitting into her scientific mind, she couldn’t believe in a god like her father did. Normally, she didn’t mind his religious interjections. They were a part of who he was, and she didn’t want to belittle his beliefs. But that day, something inside her couldn’t stand it. Much less when he started to mutter a prayer.

“I’ve asked you to please not pray aloud when we’re here, dad. Do you mind?”

“Honey…”

“No, dad. I really don’t want to listen to you talk about your god or ask to have mom in his infinite mercy. I don’t wanna hear about it!” Her tone came out harsher than she intended, but she couldn’t contain herself. Years and years of bottling up her feelings had her at her limit, and it was that moment that they had chosen to spill over. “Just, keep it in your head.”

“I don’t understand, (Y/N). You never minded before,” David muttered. “There was a time you used to believe in God. You even used to ask me to pray with you.”

“Jesus, dad, I did that for you.” As she exclaimed Hotch told Jack to wait for him in the car, that (Y/N) needed a moment to herself. Hesitantly, the boy followed his father’s instructions and walked the short trail to the van. All he could understand was that (Y/N) was upset. Once Jack was gone, she continued. “How could I ever believe in a god that took my mother away before I could even remember what my name sounded in her voice? I only went along with it because it seemed to make you happy, but I can’t anymore. I can’t listen to another word of how your god is merciful and how it was all his plan. He took my mother from me. How could I believe in a god that would take a mother from a child? All the memories I have of her are from behind a screen or moments lived by other people. I don’t remember anything about her that’s mine only, dad. You always tell me how you would love to have a second chance with my mom, and I didn’t even get one.”

(Y/N) crumbled to the ground once more and suddenly felt arms around her. Instantly, she knew who it was and found herself sinking into Hotch’s embrace. He tried his best to calm her, telling her that everything would be okay and that she wasn’t alone. She was normally the strong one. She was always the one who kept it all inside and helped others. But too many years of that had her shattered on the ground of the cemetery.

It took a few minutes for her sobs to finally subside, Hotch’s soothing circles on her arms working overtime to calm her down. They had ended up sitting on the cold ground, the snow slowly making its way through their clothes, but neither seemed to care. All that mattered was the comfort and the presence. Nothing else.

“You okay?” Hotch whispered as she finally seemed to calm. “Feeling better?”

“I don’t even know,” she chuckled weakly. “Your pants are dirty now. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, I have a washer,” he joked. “But how are you feeling? I know this must be a very overwhelming situation.”

“I don’t know what I’m feeling, honestly,” she sighed, sinking into the warmth of Hotchner. “It’s the first time I’ve ever blown up like that toward my dad, and I don’t know why I did. It’s been over twenty years that we’ve been coming here, and I’ve never acted like this.”

“I think it’s safe to assume you’ve been bottling up all these feelings for all that time. They were bound to come out one day or another.” 

“Don’t profile me, Hotch,” she pouted. “But you’re right. I mean, he lost the woman he loved, and even though I lost my mom, I felt bad for him because he’s the one who had all the memories with her. I never wanted him to feel bad or guilty for the fact that I had to grow up without her. Still, every time he says something like her death was god’s plan or that he has her in her mercy, it just sets me off.”

“Have you ever thought that religion is the way that he copes with her death? Maybe thinking that she is in heaven or that it was her time is his way to come to terms with the fact that she is gone.”

“I guess a part of me does understand that. But there’s a side that doesn’t want to,” she sighed. “But I guess I have to apologize for the tantrum.”

“Your feelings are valid, (Y/N). It’s just the way you express them that could be hurtful to others. But your dad’s a big boy,” he chuckled softly. “He’s at the car with Jack. You ready to go over there?” 

“As ready as I can be.”

Hotchner got up first, waiting with his hand extended until she needed it. And with another glance at the tombstone, she took the hand and stood up as well. The man walked beside her the entire time, his presence alone was enough to keep her grounded. As much as she wanted to break down and fall apart, she needed to keep it together.

“And she could spend days in her studio just painting, forgetting that hours passed. She would just lose herself painting and painting,” her father smiled as he talked to Jack. “She would have been there the entire day if I had let her.”

“Do you have any of her paintings still?”

“Of course! All over the house,” he chuckled. “Would you like to see them, Jack?”

“Yes! Can we, dad?” Jack asked as he noticed his father’s approaching figure. “I wanna see the paintings.”

“If it’s alright with Dave, then it’s alright with me.”

“Of course!” the man exclaimed. “The more the merrier. We’ll see you there.”

David and (Y/N) walked to the car in silence. Not saying a single word until they were inside. “I’m sorry, dad,” she finally muttered. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like I did. You don’t deserve that.”

“I’d say it was long overdue, kid,” he smiled softly. “You like to keep the peace and keep everything in. I’m surprised it hasn’t happened before. You have nothing to apologize for, little bird.”

“But I do, dad. I shouldn’t have yelled at you regardless.”

“Your mother used to say that yelling is the way the soul speaks,” he said. “When you can no longer keep anything in, it comes out fast and unmeasured. Words come out with thorns and spikes. And much like a flower, they don’t mean to hurt you, but it is in their nature to protect themselves. It’s okay to let it out once in a while. Doesn’t matter how it hurts. If my beliefs hurt you, mia bella, all you have to do is tell me. I will try my best to keep it to a minimum.”

“And I will try to talk about how I’m feeling instead of yelling it,” she smiled, taking her father’s hand in hers. “I love you, dad. And I’m still sorry.”

“I love you too, little bird,” he beamed. “And you can make it up to me by helping with dessert tonight. We’re making your mom’s favorite.”

“Tiramisu,” they chorused.

Next ->

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