#a bit more manageable now compared to fresh off the finale

[sidsinning]

Sin of Pride bc all the pride I have in me as a strong independent woman vanishes when I see him

#absolute brain rot #its like #a bit more manageable now compared to fresh off the finale #bc that was #WOOF #hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #sidrabbles

[creedslove]

RE-ENCOUNTER 🎨

Marcus Pike x f!reader

"I'd rather get divorced while still loving you, than remaining together and risking to hate you"

Summary: you and Marcus had a brief but loving marriage, until it wasn't anymore. Choosing an amicable divorce you both moved on with your lives until destiny made you run into each other once more, with a difference this time: your ex-husband was engaged now

Warnings: mentions of divorce, a little bit of angst, fluff, some jealousy, age gap (their ages are not specified but he's 10 years older than her)

A/N: besties, I'm so happy I finally managed to write something for our husband Pike. I've always wanted to do so, but I knew I couldn't just force myself into it otherwise it wouldn't work properly, and just like that, this idea came up and I couldn't get it out of my mind ❤️ also, I know some people don't like age gap, but I can't imagine reader being Marcus age mostly because reader is me 🥴 and also because it would make sense to the story, so although it's not specified, I pictured them getting married around early 20s(reader) early 30s (Pike) and running into each other again around late 20s/early 30s (reader) and late 30s/early 40s (Pike)

3.9k words

You weren't fond of getting married young, to you, it sounded nothing like madness, as you simply couldn't wrap your head around the fact that people often abdicated from their lives, plans and dreams to get stuck in a relationship. It made no sense to you, especially since you had been working your ass off during all your years in college, the prospect of having a successful and promising career motivated you to go after your dreams. Relationships, marriages, building up families hadn't crossed your mind at all, a little affair with a cute guy here and there were the only things that ever got remotely close to dating, at the same time you only saw yourself as someone who wouldn't settle down.

And that was before Marcus Pike walked into your life.

If someone asked you to explain what exactly happened, perhaps you wouldn't be able to understand it yourself let alone explain it to someone, but that man swept you off your feet. You'd met him during a history of art lecture at campus one Thursday evening. He had just joined the FBI in the art department, fresh in his new job but still assisting his former professor and mentor in college lectures. He was probably ten or so years older than you, and yet, you couldn't keep your eyes off him. He was by far the most handsome man you'd seen in those four long years you'd spent in that institution, there was something so captivating in his beautiful eyes, his breathtaking smile and how smart and sweet he was towards anyone. And he caught you staring; it seemed you took his attention as much as he took yours, and even if you needed that lecture for extra credit, you couldn't give a single crap about medieval art, because that man was everything you could see in front of you. That was so unlike your personality, usually, you'd be focused on everything else, but you simply couldn't look away from that handsome assistant.

When the lecture was finally over, you were sure you'd missed at least half of it, being too busy concentrating on someone else instead of the subject, you still had a few doubts about the matter and you walked to the stage, willing to ask the professor some questions and clarify any doubts you had, and that was the moment you both locked eyes for the first time. The handsome guy that caught your attention, whose name was Marcus, soon found out the moment you shook hands and realized how big his was compared to yours and how truly handsome he was, even more so than you had already noticed when you were a few meters away. He was also mesmerized by you and he couldn't hide it, he knew you were younger than him, but at that moment all he could process was how gorgeous and smart that girl was in front of him. He kept around while you talked to his mentor, being polite enough not to interrupt him but holding himself back so he wouldn't add his own comments. He just wanted an excuse to talk to you, see if he could approach and see where things could go, so the moment he had the opportunity to be with you alone for a while, he immediately threw his charms - and Marcus was a charming guy - in your first conversation you liked how intelligent and nice he was, he made you laugh and when he invited you to have pancakes some dinner nearby the campus, you couldn't say no.

And that was the beginning of your love story.

Everything you believed went through the roof from the moment you met Marcus. He was incredible, the most fascinating man you'd met and whereas he was older than you, that only seemed to spice things up both in the sexual and emotional sense. You had never been treated like that before, he made you feel like a queen, as cheesy as it may sound, that's just how you felt through your relationship with Marcus. He was a gentleman, sweet and he didn't know what to do in order to please you; he went slowly at first, even if his intentions were clear from the very first time you went out to eat, he was a little afraid you would be weirded out by him, and he couldn't be further from the truth. Each time he took you out on a date, it felt like you were living the plot of any sweet but cliche rom com movie. It felt just too good to be true and a part of you feared that it wouldn't work. But it did, for as long as it lasted.

The dates with Marcus were so special, he was thoughtful and he always made sure to take you somewhere nice; it was either a nice restaurant so you could get to know their different menu, or art galleries in which he would show you his favorite works and tell you as much as you wanted to hear about them. He was always afraid of boring you with his subjects but on the contrary, you always enjoyed listening to him talk, it was entertaining, soothing and you could spend hours watching how his eyes sparkled whenever he addressed anything he truly enjoyed. And even if he put some effort into them, your favorite date by far was whenever you two would spend some time just hanging out together in his apartment. Dim lights, old movies on TV and Marcus' protective grip around your body, always pulling you closer and making sure you were warm in his embrace for the rest of the night.

The first kiss you shared with him after you both went to the movies together. It was a classic movie rerun and even if Casablanca wasn't your favorite, you knew he enjoyed it, and seeing it on a big screen was definitely a nice experience. Besides, he promised you that once Titanic hit the theaters in the next classic session, he would definitely take you.

At the end of the movie, you walked out the theater holding hands, you were silent, but instead of reflecting over the story you'd just watched you reflected over your relationship with Marcus; you were falling deeper and deeper for him, deeper and more intensely than you ever thought you would, and when he stopped and placed your hands on your hips you couldn't resist being kissed by him.

It felt right.

The first night you both spent together was right after he took you to see the concert of his former band; he'd left the band when he graduated from college, but he still remained friends with the guys and eventually enjoyed visiting them on stage. And that night he insisted on taking his bass for a last ride and even risked a song on the microphone, all of that for you.

By then, there was no fighting or convincing otherwise, you were head over heels for Marcus; especially when you two had sex for the first time after that. One could think Marcus is too soft, but not when it comes to that; he knows how to act, how to please and how to demand what he wants and after you tried him, a real man, there was no way you could go back to college boys ever again.

Your relationship evolved fast and in less than a year he proposed to you; he was sure you were what he wanted in the future, just as you had thrown away all your beliefs and you'd surrounded yourself completely to the man you loved, so you said yes. Even if your whole life you said you wouldn't get married, not while young at least, not without having a consistent, successful career.

And there you were, fresh out of college, with very little work experience, a job in an area you didn't want but had to take in order to gather experience and knowledge and walking down the aisle in a white dress, feeling as happy as you could be, in order to become Mrs.Pike. The honeymoon had to be in Paris, a few people told you that couldn't be more cliche, and even if they meant it out of spite or if they were actually right, it didn't really matter to you; it felt so right for the two of you. Surrounded by art constantly during the day and making love at night, it was like a dream coming true, and you remember hoping your entire marriage would be like that: light, fun, full of love and happiness. And it was until it wasn't anymore.

You couldn't tell exactly when things started to go downhill, but if you had to guess, it would probably be due to the lack of time you both faced towards the end of your relationship. It just started getting harder after about a year, when the two of you really began struggling for your own careers. You, in your area, and Marcus with the FBI, it seemed to have become an obsession for you both, as date nights, walks in the park and gallery visitations simply stopped happening in order to focus on your extra tasks, overtime, solving cases. At some point it became a looping of excuses and promises to spend more time together:

"We'll go next weekend honey"

"We can have dinner together tomorrow"

"I promise I'll take you with me next time"

Needless to say, they never truly happened.

Just as you two distanced yourselves without even realizing, the bickering also started, adding another venomous sting to your relationship. Suddenly, small things turned into bigger ones, sources of stress and fights; if someone ever told you one day you'd have heated arguments with Marcus over a dropped sock, or an unwashed plate on the sink, you would call them crazy, but when that unfortunately happened to the two of you, you were shocked for a while, not believing you had become the kind of couple to argue over stupid things like those. It was heartbreaking. As you two barely had time for each other, sex was also off the table most nights, being too tired to do anything else other than sleep, Marcus suddenly came up with the idea of having a baby; he had a deep hope of fixing your marriage by getting you pregnant, after all, having kids had always been part of his plan and he was sure it was part of yours too.

At the same time you hadn't really thought it through. Technically, you had. You wanted kids. At some point, in the future, it wasn't rocket science to figure that adding a baby to a troubled marriage could not be the best idea. And yet, you couldn't bring yourself to tell him that, not when you saw the spike of excitement in his eyes, not when he held you and kissed you like in the beginning of your relationship, how he made time for you even if his FBI work was killing him, he still managed to bring you flowers, kiss you and made love to you. Perhaps he was trying to save your marriage, or he was just trying for the baby, you weren't so sure, but you could see the effort. And it was why it broke your heart to know you couldn't get pregnant at that moment, not with your job finally taking you places, the new opportunity of actually building a career and how young you still thought you were, being married was hard, but it was about you and Marcus, two adults who could handle yourselves but a baby? It was way too much responsibility. You couldn't find a way to tell him that, even if you were being a coward, it pained you you felt so hopeless to simply lie to Marcus and tell him you'd stopped taking your birth control pills, and even more so each time he looked at you with those disappointed, sad eyes, month after month of excitement and longing for that baby to be there, just to get a negative test after another. It was eating you up alive and after his insistence on taking you to a doctor - which you immediately refused - he managed to find your hidden stash of pills among your stuff. You tried explaining everything to him; how you weren't ready, you were scared and how broken you'd been at seeing him so upset. You cried, you opened your heart to Marcus and told him you wanted to be a mom to his child, some day, not at that moment, but in the future because things were finally working for the two of you once more. But you had lied to your husband, and lying to Marcus had no turning back.

He had no other option other than asking for a divorce after you lied and broke his heart, he felt upset, he could've forgiven you for many things, but not for playing with his heart when it came to the kids he dreamed of every single day.

You were tired, upset and at some point during your divorce process you'd convinced yourself you didn't love him anymore, but the reality was that you were just so empty you weren't able to feel things, you were numb.

The day you both signed the divorce papers in front of your lawyer and you were questioned whether you two wanted to go ahead with that decision, your heart shattered into a million pieces, more than any fights, when you heard Marcus' justification to why he was asking for the divorce.

"I'd rather get divorced while still loving you, than remaining together and risking to hate you"

When you heard those words, you had a sudden urge to get up and tear those papers into pieces, tell him you were both making a huge mistake, that toyover him and that you could make it work, you wanted to tell him you still had a beautiful future ahead of you, you and the gorgeous family you would have together. And the moment you took a deep breath to finally say all that out loud, you looked at Marcus signing the papers and officializing the divorce.

That was the last time you saw your ex-husband Marcus Pike, you just had no idea the next time you would run into him again would be in a few years later, while he was taking his new fiancee on a date.

•••

Marcus sighed as he could see the lack of excitement in Teresa's face the moment they got to the exhibit, he just didn't know why she agreed to go out with him if she didn't like it, it would be so much easier for the two of them if she was honest and told him she'd rather stay home and read a magazine, that way they would both be happy, and Marcus wouldn't have the feeling he was trying too hard all the time. Teresa liked him, she must have liked him, otherwise she wouldn't have accepted his proposal and moved to DC with him. It was still early, she'd been there for a few weeks but he was confident things would work. He was hitting his forties now, one divorce, no kids and even if he finally got the position he had not only dreamed of but also worked so hard for in his dream job, he still felt something was missing. It took him a failed marriage to realize that money wasn't everything he needed, he simply missed the family he never had.

When he found Teresa he was still trying to pick the pieces of his heart, still trying to make things work on his own and when he saw her - an attractive, mature and intelligent woman, he thought that maybe he wouldn't be alone this time. You'd been the love of his life, he was convinced of that, but you two had gone way too fast and too intense, you were still young, you had so much to live so it made sense to him he would let you go and be free. He vowed himself not to rush into things, but this time it wasn't his choice, he was liking Teresa more and more and even if they weren't compatible most of the time, but when the opportunity of a lifetime came up he had to take his chances and she'd said yes. Still a little unsure and divided between him and Jane, but she said yes.

As they walked through the exhibit, he paid close attention to all the beautiful paintings scattered around the long hallways. He loved that atmosphere, the pictures so beautifully made by talented hands years or sometimes centuries ago.

"So it's just flowers?!" Teresa broke the silence as she looked around unimpressed and dragged his attention back to reality

"It's not just flowers, it's Monet… don't you like it? You told me you liked his paintings on our first date.." Marcus stated confused until the realization that she was just lying so she wouldn't appear ignorant or perhaps try to impress him a little. He saw how she cleared her throat and tried fixing what she just said but he stopped listening the moment he caught a glimpse of someone else crossing the same room and standing next to Rouen Cathedral, admiring it intently. He didn't even need to look twice to know it was you. You, who always loved that painting, even if it wasn't Monet's best in your ex-husband's opinion, you who had a fascination with old constructions such as cathedrals and would always snap several pictures of them, you, who was never exceptional at art but managed to get by and eventually fell more and more in love with art because of Marcus, not because you wanted to impress him or have him thinking you were smart, but because he actually made you see why he had that passion for it. And the moment that you turned around, his heart skipped a beat.

You looked the same, and yet, you also managed to look even more beautiful; more mature, more confident in yourself and for a brief moment Marcus was frozen in time, it was just like the first time he saw you, in which he could only see you in front of him and nothing else. He had no idea you still had that effect on him, it was so unusual and surprising and even if he had stalked your social media profiles here and there over the course of your separation, even if he wasn't proud of it, it was completely different than seeing you right there in front of him. He wasn't sure what to do, should he approach you? Talk to you? Pretend he didn't see you?

However, he didn't time to think any further about it, not when you turned around and spotted him, your eyes widening at the moment you saw him. Much to your surprise your heart also raced at the sight of your ex-husband. Was it your mind playing tricks or was he even more handsome? You hadn't planned on approaching him, but you felt as if you were being taken involuntarily towards him.

"Marcus?! Hi!" You said with a sweet smile as he politely greeted you, expressing how surprised he was to see you and even more so to actually talk to you

"Wow, you look great… So beautiful" he smiled as you blushed softly and giggled

"You too, still very handsome… so what brings you to D-" you interrupted by a woman who walked in and wrapped her arm around his waist. She eyed you up and down, even if she still tried to be polite and discreet about it. You swallowed hard feeling awkward and Marcus turned to the other woman

"This is Teresa, my fiancee and this is my ex-wife" he cleared his throat as he said your name and Teresa simply nodded her head. You returned the gesture and the moment you meant to ask him a question she barged in

"You're his ex-wife? But you're so young…" you could see the light pink spreading through his cheek and groaned at how dumb she really was.

"Yeah, I'm younger than him… and are you a little older than Marcus?" You returned the sting with the same amount of poison and she scoffed, looking at him and groaned

"I'll go to the restroom" she said without looking into your eyes and walked away, making you chuckle as Marcus shot you a questioning look which you just shrugged and went back to the question that was lingering on your mind

"So, what are you doing here in DC? Having a romantic getaway or vacations?"

"Actually, I've moved here after I was promoted to the head of the new art department" he said with his typical smile and you could see how his eyes crinkled, your heart warming up as you expressed genuine surprise and happiness to know that. You were a witness to how hard he had worked for that and it just filled your heart with pride to know he made it. You weren't sure how to act, perhaps it wasn't right, but you had already wrapped your arms around his neck and given him probably the tightest hug you'd ever done. Even if it was brief, you couldn't help but feel how built up he was, how stronger he'd become and his characteristic scent made you so warm on the inside, it felt like you could've stayed forever in his embrace.

"I'm so happy for you, Marcus! Honestly, you deserve it! I know I haven't been the most supportive wife and I'm very sorry about everything that happened, I should've been nicer to you, but well, all I'm trying to say is that I'm so proud of you!"

You said wholeheartedly and even if there were so many other things you needed to tell him, you knew it wasn't the right time and place. He just smiled and nodded, taking your hands into his big ones and thanking you for the support.

"Do you think we could grab a coffee or something? Just catch up?"

"I'd love to, but I don't know if it's a good idea, I mean, I can tell Teresa isn't my biggest fan and being honest with you, I wouldn't like my fiance's ex-wife around very much, but it's amazing to see you Marcus, truly, it makes me glad to know you are somewhat closer" you smiled again but let go of his hands the moment Teresa returned. Once more she just lingered around him, almost territorial as if she wanted to show you who owned Marcus. He also felt that, and it made him quite uncomfortable, so he cleared his throat and looked at you, saying goodbye and explaining they had dinner reservations.

As you watched them both leave, you felt a pang in your chest, thinking of the wonderful place he was probably taking her, the elaborate dates he had planned, the beautiful family they would probably build together. It could've been you, it was you for a while, unlike he might have thought you wanted all that with him, but it took you a divorce to realize it was a situation of the right person, wrong time. Perhaps if you tried again, it would work, you would like it to work, but Marcus had moved on, found himself someone he cared about and you had no right to break his heart and ruin his happiness once more.

____

A/N: my besties, I really hope you enjoyed it! I don't know if this is just a one-shot or if there'll be a continuation but I am so happy how this turned out. I love Marcus and I'm so happy our handsome FBI boyfriend finally got his own piece here! ❤️ remember that feedback is life, I'd love to hear what you all thought of it ❤️

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal imagine #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x y/n #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike fanfic #marcus pike imagine #marcus pike one shot

[upside-garden-of-dreams]

In A Late Afternoon [Hybrid!Jake x Reader]

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none, just some mentions of undressing, kissing, and maybe a suggestive ending? But that ending interpretation is up to you

General info: Reader is kept gender neautral, Jake is a golden retriever dog/puppy boy, English isn't my native language excuse the typos

[More puppy Jake]

Aaaah.... I honestly didn't think this idea would extend like this Anyways, hope you enjoy! 🐶💛

Ears perked at the sould of keys fumbling with the doorknob.

A tail wagged, a nose sniffed, a heart beat faster at the prospect of what will happen next.

As soon as you opened the door to your home, allowing your bag to sling off your shoulders and pop down on the small shelf by the door, your greeting was interrupted by an excited voice:

"Jakey, I'm ho-"

"Honey! Hi, hello! Did you have a good day? I missed you!"

You were instantly hugged by your over-energetic golder retriever of a boyfriend, face nuzzling deep into your neck as he familiarized himself with your fresh scent once more.

Sure, the house was surrounded by your scent, but nothing compares to the one on your actual skin, you know? Or so he says.

Tiredness startled out of your mind, it took a couple seconds to process what excatly happened just now. Instinctively, your arms went to wrap around him in a confused hug.

"Darling, remember what I said?" You pat him lightly on the back to call for his attention.

"Oh! Yeah! Ah-ahem...Sorry, babe." He let you go, a tinge of bashfullness and shame coloring his face. His excitement bubbled down slightly by what his ears and tail showed, flattening against his head and slowing down its wag, respectively.

Jake fumbled with his hands in nervousness, eyes downturned but still taking peeks at you.

He was way too adorable for his own good. A small smile settled itself on your face as you admired the cutie in front of you.

The brunet's entire demeanor changed back to his characteristic joyful self once your hand went on to pet between his floppy ears. Jake stared at you with bright brown eyes, while an equally as bright smile shaped his lips.

Pushing the door closed, you talked again, "While I adore your hugs as a greeting, do allow me to fully come inside next time, luv." Once done with the reminder, you opened your arms expectantly.

The hybrid chuckled and dove into your arms, "Understood!"

"Hello, Jake. I'm home." You completed your greeting from before, burrying your face into his shoulder. The comforting warmth of his embrace permiated your soul, finally relaxing your tense body for today.

Jake turned to place a sweet kiss on your temple, "Welcome back, my love."

You remained in place for a while, neither of you willing to separate.

Alas, it was the puppy boy who broke the hug. Still, he kept his hands on your waist to keep you close.

"Let's get you comfortable, yes?"

Taking one of his hands and walking to you room, you agreed, "I'd love that."

Golden ears perked up once more, an excited yet shy smile coloring his lips, "Do...I get to help you?"

Turning around to answer, you could see his tail wagging slowly and picking up in speed as you talked, "Of course, silly puppy! I have tea to spill! You won't belive what Yuna said to the manager, like O-M-G my girl gives ZERO shits!"

As you talked and completed your after-work routine, Jake listened attentively. Occasionally, he would let out small hums of agreement and sounds of disbelief as he listened to the tale about your friend Yuna and her fight with that nightmare manager your team was cursed with.

His gentle hands helped remove some clothing articles, taking the time to sooth the skin with leftover marks from where your clothes hugged you a bit too tight. Your lover brought you close to his chest, circling your waist from behind, head dropping down to your shoulder to trail tender kisses all the way to your neck and jawline.

Giggles erupted from you due to his affections, hand going up to play with his hair and rub at the base of his left ear.

"Baby~" Jake whined in delight at the petting.

"Jakey~" You mimiked his tone, a breathless laugh at the end. "C´mon, put a shirt on me so we can cuddle on the couch for a while. I need my puppy to truly relax."

You could see the lightbulb atop his head from where he got an idea, "Wait here! I won't take long!"

With a sloppy kiss to your cheek, the dogboy quickly ran to his room.

In a matter of seconds, he came back with a black t-shirt in his hands, "Arms up! I have your favorite~"

Doing as told, you allowed your boyfriend to dress you up in one of his oversized shirts. It smelled just like him.

Bown eyes scanned you up and down with myrth, he loved how you looked in his clothes.

"You're so beautiful," he said, with a lovestruck look in his eyes.

Pecking his lips quickly, you answered, "And you're the cutest ever." Tugging on his hand, you led the way back into the living room.

Finally, the moment you desired most arrived: a moment to wind down and cuddle, catch up on Jake's day, and enjoy some time together.

Plopping down on the couch, you turned on the TV and let the random channel from last night play on the background.

A look thrown Jake's way sent you both into motion: the golden retriever laid down sideways on the cushions as you unfolded the light blanket hanging on the armrest. Your sweetheart gently guided you down near his chest while you flicked the soft cover over both your bodies.

You sighed happily while nuzzling into his toned chest, humming in delight at the calming atmosphere surounding you two.

Jake carded his fingers through your hair to help you destress even more, tail tumping against the sofa with every volume spike in your hums of enjoyment.

"Missed you so much, Jakey," You mumbled into his chest.

"Missed you, too, my love," He answered back.

As you looked into each other's eyes, the same idea crossed your minds. In silent agreement, you leaned towards the other and gave in to your desire...

With loving passion and delicate sweetness, you locked your lips and indulged in one another to your heart's conentent

[ END ]

Thank you for reading ~!

Feel free to like, share, reblog, and leave comments in tags or under the post (⁠人⁠*⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+🩷

#writing in dreams #enhypen #enhypen x reader #hybrid!enhypen #jake sim #jake sim x reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader #idol imagines #sim jaeyun #sim jaeyun x reader #THIS WASN'T SUPPOSED TO POST UNTIL I WAS FULLY SATISFIED WITH IT WTH TUMBLR #I JUST MADE SOME CHANGES AND SAVED BUT APPARENTLY IT WAS A PUBLISH BUTTON AND NOT A SAVE ONE?!?!?! #....oh well.... i think it's good as it is 🫠

[secretswiftymarvelfan]

Burnin’ Up - Firefighter!Chris AU (Part 17: Bulletproof Vest)

Summary: Following your discovery about your father you begin to close in on yourself leaving Chris stuck on how to help you, give you time or get you to open up?

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: Angst! Language! Alcohol Abuse! Talk of Shootings! Mention of Homophobic Parent!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

Series Masterlist / Masterlist

Chapter 17: Bulletproof Vest

It had been a week since the meeting with your father and you had yet to talk about it. You hadn’t done anything and it was really starting to worry Chris. You had been given emotional leave from your captain so at least Chris didn’t have to worry about that. But despite his best efforts, there was nothing he could do to stop you from closing yourself off to him and the world.

You barely left his bed, either asleep, pretending to be asleep or pretending to watch TV. The only time Chris managed to get you out of bed was when he convinced you to have a bath, him getting in with you, or on the odd occasion he got you to come downstairs to eat. Something else that was really starting to worry him because you barely ate, you spent more time pushing your food around than eating it before saying you were full and excusing yourself.

Chris felt completely lost, and not sure how best to help you. He didn’t want to push you into talking about it until you were ready, he knew you needed time to process everything. He also didn’t want to crowd you and make it feel suffocating so despite the fact that he hated it, he made sure there were times when you were alone.

Even when you were alone or you were just sleeping Chris would find himself leaning against the doorway just watching over you, rubbing his chest when the pain got too much. He’d seen you hurt before, following the RTC and his accident, but neither of them compared to now. The screams of anguish you let out that very first night would haunt him forever, he could barely calm you down all he could do was hold you until you wore yourself out and fell asleep in his arms. He cried himself to sleep that night holding onto you tightly desperately trying to reassure you and protect you.

You’d had more nightmares since, not every time you fell asleep but most. You’d wake up in a blind panic, chest heaving and tears rolling down your face. Chris would hold you and try and soothe you until you fell back asleep. Every time he’d hoped that when you woke back up you’d finally be able to talk about it and every time you just became more and more of a shell of yourself.

Chris was beginning to get desperate, maybe he didn’t know enough to actually help you. He needed someone who knew more about your relationship with your father than he did. So he called Ben, hoping that the years of friendship and partnership would be enough to pull you back to the surface. Maybe a fresh face would help too.

Ben arrived an hour ago, Chris gave him an update on how you were before leading him upstairs to where you were resting. Chris wanted to stay up there with you but if you needed someone else to talk to then he needed to give you that space. So he went back downstairs and tried to kill time, waiting to hopefully see you back to yourself even if it was just by a little bit.

Chris instantly perked up when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. But his shoulders soon dropped in disappointment when he saw it was just Ben.

“How is she?” Chris asked quietly, standing up from the couch as Ben approached.

“Asleep or at least pretending to be to avoid the conversation” Ben sighs shaking his head.

“She didn’t say anything then?” Chris sighs in disappointment, he had really hoped Ben could pull you out of your shell.

Ben shakes his head “Not a single word” he mutters putting his hands on his hips and looking down before letting out a small scoff “I have spent years building her back up after every shitty encounter with that man, comforting, helping and hoping that she’d finally see the light…. I tried everything Chris, every trick I know to get her to talk and nothing worked… I know you don’t want to hear this Chris but I’ve never seen her this bad”

Chris bit his lower lips and nodded “Yeah” he managed to say, his voice cracking before he cleared his throat “Thanks for trying”

“It's okay… I know what it's like to have shitty parents” Ben admits “My mom wasn’t very supportive of me when I came out, I thought I’d never actually speak to her again but Y/N helped and supported me, got me through it so I want to repay the favour”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that” Chris says shaking his head, he’d heard plenty of horror stories from Scott and he knew he was very lucky to have parents as supportive as his.

“It’s okay, it’s getting better now,” Ben says a small smile tugging at his lips “She realised that nothing about me had really changed, I was still the same little boy that she raised”

“I’m glad to hear it and hey my brother and his boyfriend are in the middle of setting up a bowling team, might be something you and Matt are interested in?” Chris offers.

“I’ll pass it on” Ben smiles nodding his head before his smile falters and he looks over his shoulders in the direction of the stairs “I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help”

“No it's okay, I’m sure you just being here helped, and look stop by whenever you want I’m sure she’ll love to see you” Chris suggests.

“I will thank you Chris, and oh I know we’re waiting to see whether she wants to hand over all the evidence but nobody should go into her apartment in the meantime, it's technically a crime scene since we don’t know where he got the recordings from,” Ben tells him.

Chris lets out a long sigh nodding his head “Yeah, I already turned off her phone and removed the sim card, leaving it in the laundry closet so it won’t get anything” he sighs.

“Good, and look what I can do is swing by the apartment, grab anything she could need, throw out stuff from the fridge and lock it all down so if and when CSI go in there it’s as preserved as possible” Ben offers.

“That would be great thank you Benny,” Chris says gratefully.

“It’s nothing anything to make sure he goes down for this” Ben promises.

Once Ben was gone Chris made his way upstairs, quietly creeping into the bedroom. He sighed quietly when he saw you, like Ben said you were pretending to sleep. You were doing a good job and anyone else would fall for it, but Chris could tell you weren’t completely relaxed or at peace. So he carefully climbed into bed beside you, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder his arm wrapping around you, fingers weaving with yours.

You didn’t say anything except let out a deep exhale.

You felt horrible. It felt like your mind was full of cotton, your head felt heavy and everything just ached. You had no energy at all, even rolling over in bed felt like a monumental task.

When you did roll over you blinked your eyes open to see Chris facing you in bed already awake. You could see the worry in his eyes and his brows pinched together in sorrowful concern. It was a sight that made you close your eyes unable to see it any longer, it hurt too much to see him like this.

You hear him let out a long sigh before feeling the bed shift as he got out and ready for the day. When you heard the shower turn on your rolled back over and pulled the covers up further to try and block out the rest of the world.

A short while later you felt the covers being pulled back enough to reveal your face and you could see Chris crouching beside you in his uniform “I have to go to work because we’re already short with Jamie still on her honeymoon” he explains gently brushing some hair out of your face “do you want me to leave Dodger here?” he asks.

You give him a small shake of the head, you couldn’t deal with the responsibility of looking after him today. All you wanted was to stay in bed and just sleep and try and forget everything.

“Okay, well my ma will be over soon just to make sure you’re okay so let her know if you need anything” he tells you softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before standing back up.

Part of you wanted to nod, another part wanted to tell him not to worry that you’ll be okay on your own. All of you were too tired to do either. So you just closed your eyes and tried to fall back asleep, hoping that maybe when you next woke up it would feel like you actually slept.

Some time must have passed because when you next woke up you spotted Lisa quietly making her way into the room “Hey sweetie, how you feeling?” she asks softly as she walks over.

You don’t answer with the exception of a couple of coughs and a few sniffles. You see her brows furrow in concern as she moves closer and rests the back of her hand against your forehead.

“oh sweetie you’re burning up, do you not feel well?” she asks gently tugging down the covers in an attempt to cool you off.

You couldn’t stop yourself from giving her a small shake of the head. You did feel awful and maybe you were sick but it definitely wasn’t the only cause.

“Okay, well we don’t want you getting any worse so what I’m gonna do is run you a bath with some nice oils to help open everything up and we’ll get you into some fresh clothes and bedding okay?” she tells you gently, brushing some hair off your sweaty forehead.

You give her a weak nod of your head before coughing a couple of times and groaning in pain when you felt how scratchy your throat was.

“I’ll get you some meds too, don’t worry we’ll get you back on top form in no time, I have a feeling you’re a better patient than Chris is,” she says with a playful smirk.

You couldn’t help but let out a quiet chuckle because you definitely believed that. You hadn’t seen Chris while he’s been sick but knowing what he’s like when he’s just tired is enough of an indication. His stubbornness comes out in full force while also being incredibly needy.

“That’s what we like to hear” Lisa says smiling softly and it took you a moment to realise she meant your chuckle “I’ll be right back okay?”

She disappeared out of your line of sight, the sound of the bath filling up soon following a few moments later. It wasn’t long until Lisa got you out of bed and left you to relax in the bathtub.

It was probably the best bath you’d ever had, Chris was good at running baths and clearly picked up some tips from his mom, but he hadn’t beaten the master yet. The smell of eucalyptus wafted through the air, opening up your stuffy sinuses and making your head feel less heavy. There were muscle relaxing salts mixed in too to help soothe all the aches you were feeling.

For the first time in days, you actually felt relaxed, you only got out once the water got cold, wrapping a fluffy towel around you. Walking back out into the bedroom you saw that Lisa had completely stripped the bed and opened a window to let in some fresh air. You then spot the pile of clothes she had left out for you, which consisted of fluffy leggings and one of Chris’ hoodies. You lift up the note that she’d left on top of the pile.

I’ve got the meds and everything you need downstairs when you’re ready, a change of scenery will also do you some good x

You let out a long sigh, you didn’t really want to go downstairs but you didn’t really have a choice either. With the bed completely stripped you couldn’t climb back in and bury yourself under the covers. So you got dressed into the clothes she set out for you, breathing in the comforting smell of Chris wishing he was here right now, hating that you wouldn’t see him until tomorrow.

When you made your way downstairs you found Lisa in the living room setting the meds down on the coffee table with a large glass of water “Ah how are you feeling now?” she asks with a kind smile as you shuffled into the living room.

You give her a small shrug of the shoulders as you moved to sit down on the couch, running your hand down your face tiredly as you slumped back, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“well a shrug is better than nothing” she reassures you “Here take some of these to make you feel better, I’ve got some of your favourite movies set up to go for you to watch or sleep to, there’s a blanket if you want it,” she tells you pulling the blanket closer to you “I’m just gonna do some tidying up and make you some chicken noodle soup for later, let me know if you need anything”

“thank you Lisa” you manage to say weakly.

She gives you a sympathetic smile, stepping closer and pressing a motherly kiss to the top of your head “It's nothing sweetie”

For the rest of the day, you spent your time watching movies, periodically falling asleep and eating the snacks Lisa brought you. You’d probably eaten more today than you had in the last few days. It was something you weren’t proud of but you just didn’t have an appetite.

In the evening you were sat on the couch just slowly eating the chicken noodle soup Lisa had made you. She was sat on the opposite end of the couch, occasionally telling you a funny story about Chris or Scott whenever there was an ad break.

You wanted to listen but your mind was just too preoccupied going over old memories of your childhood. Re-analysing them, trying to find the signs and red flags that you had missed.

“Was any of it real?” You asked quietly.

You heard Lisa suck in a sharp breath surprised at your question. You were surprised too, you weren’t exactly sure where it came from, it was out of your mouth before you even registered what you were thinking it. So much so that you didn’t dare look over at her, you didn’t want to see the sorrowful look on her face, the same look everyone wore around you.

“I don’t know…” she finally said “but I think so” That made you instantly look over at her, you hadn’t expected that answer at all. She gives you a soft smile before shifting closer so she could rest her hand on your knee “You know when I told Chris and his siblings the truth about my marriage to their father they all wondered the same thing, whether all those happy times were real or not” she explains softly “and they were real, we were happy despite me and Robert not being together, Robert did speak highly of your father before the accident so just because you now have all this context, it doesn’t change any happy memories you have”

You bite your lower lip trying to stop it from wobbling, you weren’t sure if hearing that made it any better or worse. You wanted to believe there was good in your father and that it wasn’t all some sick manipulative act. But knowing that he could be good made the fact he did what he did hit so much harder. If there was no good in him at least it wouldn’t seem so out of character.

“Hey, hey, hey it's okay, it's okay to cry” Lisa soothes, you hadn’t even realised you were holding back your tears.

“sorry” you whisper shaking your head as you try to wipe away your tears.

“don’t you dare apologise, you have nothing to apologise for” Lisa sighs moving closer to wrap her arms around you “What happened was a horrible and shitty thing and you have every right to be upset, confused, angry what ever it is your feeling” she tells you as she rubs your back soothingly “we’re all here for you when you need it, you’re not going through this alone because there’s so many others that care and love you, so whenever you’re ready to talk whether its to Chris, Benny or me we’ll be right there ready” she promises.

You give her a small nod of your head, you knew talking would help make sense of it all and part of you just wanted to word-vomit everything you were feeling. But you couldn’t. You were physically unable to. Every time you opened your mouth your voice would just disappear, your own body physically stopping you from talking about it. Maybe it was just telling you that you weren’t ready yet, not ready to face it.

“I’m tired” was all you could bring yourself to say, and even then it was barely above a whisper.

Lisa lets out a quiet sigh, her shoulders dropping slightly “Okay” she says “take some meds before you head up and I’ll see you in the morning before Chris gets home”

You give her a quick nod before taking some more meds and heading up to bed. Instead of changing into some of your own pjs you opted to change into one of Chris’ tops. Climbing into bed, facing his side wishing he was here. Instead of falling asleep curled up in a ball, your body was a bit looser with one arm outstretched towards Chris’ side of the bed.

Chris was kicking himself for getting his hopes up. When he arrived back from his 24-hour shift you were still asleep but his mom instantly pulled him aside to catch him up. He felt shitty that he hadn’t noticed you were falling ill on his watch, pissed that he did make you eat more or get out more to fight it off.

His mom assured him that there was nothing he could have done and that you already seemed to be on the mend. The best news he had though was that you had actually talked, not just short responses but you talked about it. his heart did break when he heard what you had asked his mom and the answer she gave, but he was relieved that you were seemingly coming out the other side of it.

As soon as his mom left Chris made his way upstairs to you, careful not to disturb you as he climbed into bed. You were already facing his side of the bed, one arm outstretched your face peaceful as you slept. He gently pulled you closer, smiling to himself when you snuggled in closer to him in your sleep.

“I’m so proud of you” he whispered as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, he knew you were far too asleep to hear him but he hoped that at least you subconsciously did.

He hoped that when you woke back up that it would be finally time to talk about it. That he, his mom and Benny had done enough to comfort you and create a safe environment for you to open up in.

It never happened though.

You went straight back to how you were before he had to leave you, if anything you were worse. Your eyes looked tired and sunken, you hadn’t lost any weight but you appeared frail. You flat-out refused to talk or get out of bed, the only answers Chris could get from you were small nods or shakes of the head.

It carried on for the next couple of days, and with each day that passed Chris got more and more worried and stressed. He felt so lost, and angry he just wanted to go back to your father, drag him back here and show him the damage he’d caused. Chris doubted that he’d really care though, which would just give Chris more ample reason to punch him square in the jaw.

Chris held out hope though, his mom assured him that you just needed a bit more time and it was all about baby steps. While Chris wanted nothing more than to get the fun-loving, trouble-making version of you back, he told himself he was willing to wait.

In the meantime he kept himself busy, checking in on you and making sure you were okay in between tasks. He made sure the house was as clean and comfortable as possible. Ensuring it was a calm, cosy and safe environment for you.

The sound of shuffling and glass clinking together caught Chris’ attention. He paused in his task just waiting for a moment to make sure he wasn’t hearing things.

“babe? Is that you?” he calls out but hears nothing but more clinking of class.

He puts the handful of clothes back in the basket and makes his way back out. He followed the sound out into the living room spotting you stood at the small drinks cart he had in the corner.

“babe, what are you doing?” He asks walking closer.

“Having a drink” you state flatly, not bothering to look over at him as you put the cap back on the bottle of scotch.

“It's the middle of the day” Chris points out as he comes to stand beside you.

“So? It's not like I’ve got anything else to do, I’ve not got work or anything” you scoff grabbing your glass of scotch, one that Chris could clearly see you’d overpoured on.

“I know but I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Chris says gently, trying not to sound as panicked as he felt as he reached out to put a hand on your wrist “You’re not in the right headspace” This was the most you’ve spoken to him in the last two weeks but this wasn’t right, he couldn’t let you go down this road.

You let out a venomous scoff “Oh don’t get all hypocritical on me Evans!” You spit “You were the one who brought the scotch after that RTC” you point out.

Chris sighs shaking his head “That was different, we were talking it through” he calmly points out, we weren’t ignoring it and drowning our sorrows he thought.

“There’s nothing to talk about” you argue pulling your arm free, scotch splashing over the side of the glass as you lift it to your lips for a sip.

“Babe please, this isn’t right and you know it” Chris reasons, his fingers itching to take your glass from you.

“I’m a grown-ass adult Chris, I can make my own decisions” you snap taking another large sip “and right now I want a drink”

“I know that but this isn’t going to help, you’ll only make yourself feel worse” Chris says swallowing nervously as you down the rest of your drink.

You take another step back towards the cart muttering “I doubt that” under your breath, making Chris step into your path physically blocking you from the alcohol.

“Y/N stop. One is enough.” Chris states firmly.

“Chris for fuck’s sake move, I’m fine” You curse trying to physically push him out of the way, trying to push past him when you fail to make him move.

“No. You’re not” Chris argues holding his arm out to stop you from stepping around him.

You glare up at him, pure fury in your eyes. Something he hadn’t seen directed at him for a long, long time. His jaw naturally clenched as he reminded himself that you weren’t really angry at him, you were angry at the situation, at your father and this was just the way you were able to express that anger.

“What the fuck is your problem!” You growl up at him.

“My problem is that you’re refusing to talk to me, we need to talk this all through” Chris answers, he was tired of dancing around it, if you had gotten to this stage, he needed to be direct to have any chance of stopping it from getting worse.

“I don’t need to talk it through!” You snap “All I need is a drink!”

“Why? Why do you need to drink?” Chris presses, snatching the glass from your hand.

“Because it makes it stop hurting!” You scream up at him “I just need it to stop! I don’t want it anymore and I just need it to go away” You rant your chest heaving as tears streamed down your face.

Chris’ shoulders drop as he sets the glass down on the side before wrapping his arms around you, enveloping you in a tight hug as you completely broke down. Your entire body was shaking as you sobbed into his chest, weeks’ worth of pain and hurt finally breaking free in one go. Chris just held you, he didn’t tell you that it was okay, and he wasn’t going to lie to you. He just reminded you that he was here and to just let it all out.

“I know it hurts sweetheart, I really do but this isn’t going to stop it,” he tells you when your sobs begin to recede.

“What will then?” You hiccup.

“Talking, not just to me but to a therapist, someone who can help you make sense of it all,” Chris tells you softly, he hears you sigh and shake your head about to protest “I know you said it didn’t work before, but we’ll find you one that does I promise”

“I dunno Chris” you mutter reaching up to wipe the tears from your cheek.

“Please just one session, that’s all I’m asking” Chris reasons his hand moving to cup your cheeks and wipe away the rest of your tears.

“one session?” you say quietly looking up at him doubtfully.

“one session” Chris promises “I can call the therapist I’ve gone to and try and get an emergency appointment, she’s lovely and won’t push you into anything you’re not comfortable with” he suggests.

He watches as you nibble your lips for a moment in thought, your gaze dropping before meeting his again “Okay, I’ll do it” you concede with a small nod of your head.

Chris smiles softly pulling you closer and kissing the top of your head “Thank you” he whispered as he breathed out a sigh of relief, hoping it didn’t sound as shaky as it felt.

You must have noticed though as you wrapped your arms around his waist and hugged him back tightly “I’m sorry” you muttered shaking your head.

“no, no, no,” Chris says softly as he pulls back enough to look down at you “You have nothing to apologise for, absolutely nothing, we’ll get through this I promise”

Your lips wobble as tears collect in your eyes, Chris was about to apologise and try and stop you from crying but he didn’t get the chance. You reached up, cupped his cheeks and presses a soft barely-there kiss to his lips.

He was so shocked that he barely reacted at all, only just doing so as you pulled away and rested your head against his chest, your arms wrapping around him once more “Thank you Chris” you whispered.

Today was the first time you’d left the house since the meeting with your father, part of you was absolutely terrified, paranoia making you look over your shoulders wondering if a fellow cop was watching you right now, taking your photo. The only thing keeping you grounded was Chris’ hand in yours, his thumb brushing gentle circles against your skin to calm you down.

Walking into the therapist's office you were expecting something stuffy, full of dark woods, bookcases and a long couch you’d have to lie on. But the reception area seemed open and calm, with pictures of nature dotted around on the walls and a lavender scent wafting through the air.

When the therapist called out your name in a soft tone Chris stood up with you, you expected him to come with you but he didn’t “This is something you have to do alone sweetheart but I’ll be out here the whole time if you need me” he promises stepping closer to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Okay,” you whisper glancing up at him before turning towards the therapist.

She gives you a warm smile before directing you into her office which was a perfect continuation of the reception area. It was open and calm without feeling sterile, you could see various different chairs dotted around the room ranging from bean bags to hanging chairs.

“sit where you’ll feel most comfortable” the therapist directs gently once she shut the door.

You weren’t entirely sure where to go, nothing was really screaming out at you and sitting in a beanbag while talking about a traumatic event didn’t seem right to you. You were about to go sit in one of the armchairs by the window but hesitated when the fear of someone watching you through it hit you.

“nobody can see in, we have a protective film on the glass that allows us to see out but nobody can see in” the therapist explains, spotting your hesitancy.

“like in interrogation rooms,” you say quietly looking over your shoulder at her.

“yes, but I promise there won’t be any interrogation taking place” she reassures you with a kind smile.

You give her a weak smile in response before moving to sit down in the armchair, looking out at the street below. The therapist then sits down in the chair opposite you, leaning back and resting his hands on his crossed legs.

“make sure you’re comfortable, put your feet up if you want, sit as you would at home” she suggests as you sit practically on the edge of the seat, your arms tucked in close to your body, fingers fiddling in your lap.

“I’m fine” you lie, resisting the urge to pull your knees up to your chest and curl up into a ball.

“okay let's get started then I’m Doctor Sally Levine, you can call me Dr Levine or Sally or just Doc, whatever you feel the most comfortable with” Sally explains “All we’re going to do today is just have a bit of a conversation, find out a bit about each other and see where we are, we don’t have to dive into the deep stuff unless you want to”

You give her a small nod to say that you understand, nibbling on your lower lip nervously. You weren’t sure exactly where to start, were you supposed to ask what her favourite colour was? Where she grew up? Did she expect you to tell her the same?

“how about I start? I’m 42 years old, I moved to the Boston area 10 years ago with my husband and two kids who are both teens now and I mean stereotypical moody teens” she jokes managing to pull a small smile from you “The only time they aren’t moody is when they’re playing with the puppy we recently brought”

“What kind of puppy?” you ask trying not to sound too awkward as you nervously fidgeted with your fingers.

“Golden retriever, basically a ball of fluff” Sally smiles warmly “I hope to bring him here once he’s fully potty trained”

“That would be nice” you admit, your shoulders relaxing slightly at the thought of being able to sit here with a pup in your lap as you talked.

“do you have any pets?” she then asks.

“Dodger, well he’s Chris’ dog really but I love him so much, he feels like family” you explain with a shrug of your shoulders.

“what breed is he?” Sally asks you with a kind smile.

“don’t know he’s a mutt that Chris rescued off the streets, but he’s adorable looks like the Artful Dodger from Oliver and Company and he’s so sweet too he just wants cuddles all the time” You smile softly looking down at your hands as you spoke.

“he sounds lovely,” Sally says with a smile.

For the next half an hour or so you continued to just talk to Sally about yourself, any hobbies you had, anything that didn’t mention your job or your father. You hadn’t even realised how relaxed you had become, completely shifting back into the chair, tucking your feet up beneath you.

“Have you been to therapy before?” Sally asks catching you off guard slightly.

You nibble your lip nervously, studying her for a moment trying to work out whether you wanted to respond to that yet. You barely knew her but you felt safe and secure, nothing was going to leave these four walls unless you wanted it to.

“Once, I saw the occupational therapist after responding to a mass shooting and my partner being killed” you finally answer.

Sally takes a deep breath, nodding her head, something you’d seen so many people do when you’ve told them the same thing “I’m sorry to hear that, that must have been very hard on you” she says gently “How long did you see the therapist?”

“Only did a couple of sessions” you answer honestly.

Sally tilts her head slightly “Why did you stop? Did you not get along with that therapist?” she asks.

“No, no she was lovely, really nice I- I just didn’t think I really needed it,” you say shaking your head, looking back down at your fingers which had started fidgeting again.

“And why’s that?” she asks, her tone gentle, curious but not judgemental.

You take a deep breath as you look out of the window, your mind going back to that time and the conversation that made you stop “My- my father told me so, he said I shouldn’t need therapy” you admit.

Sally nods her head slowly in understanding “What did he suggest instead?”

“Nothing… just to put on your bulletproof vest and move on, same thing as he’s always said when I found something difficult… and I guess it worked…” you tell her unable to look over at meet her gaze.

It was silent for a moment before Sally asked “Have you ever been shot while wearing a bulletproof proof vest?”

You were surprised at the question, your head snapping up to look over at her “No” you answer.

She hums quietly, nodding her head “Because I’ve seen the bruises they can leave, they stop you from getting killed but they don’t stop you from hurting and getting bruises on the inside and if you leave those bruises to fester instead of doing something to heal them, they’ll only get worse” she tells you.

Her words instantly hit deep, and you didn’t miss the metaphor she was trying to make, you swallow a lump of emotion as you realised how true her words were. Every time you had to deal with something shitty you steeled yourself and put on your metaphorical bulletproof vest, but it never stopped you from getting hurt, not really.

“so whenever you’re ready, I think it’s time we took that bulletproof vest off and start healing the bruises underneath,” Sally says gently, leaning forward to pass you a box of tissues.

You accept them, not even realising you had been crying. You took a moment to dab away your tears, taking a deep and shaky breath “I’m ready”

For the rest of the session, you spoke about what happened with your father and why you were seeking therapy. You barely scratched the surface but by the end of your session you felt emotionally raw and drained, but also lighter. Sally had been able to help you find your voice so you could get what you were feeling off your chest, and she never once judged you.

When you stepped out of her office Chris instantly stood up from his chair and made his way over to you. you met him halfway throwing your arms around him and burying your head in his shoulder.

“How you feeling?” he asks quietly, his hand gently running up and down your back as he held you.

“Like I’m hungover” you admit with a small sniffle.

Chris’ arms tighten around you slightly as he presses a kiss to your shoulder “That’s normal, I felt the same after my sessions” he reassures you “Do you think it helped?”

You take a deep breath taking a step back so you could look up at him, his hands sliding down your arms to take your hands, thumbs gently stroking the top of your hands “Yeah, yeah it really did” you admit with a gentle nod of your head.

Chris smiles warmly down at you and you knew he was holding back a deep sigh of relief “Good, so shall we go book in a couple more sessions?” he asks, you nodding your head in response “Great and then we’ll head on home, I’ve already got some ice cream for us and we can nurse that hangover together” he promises kissing the top of your head.

“sounds great, thank you Chris for…for everything,” you say with a gentle smile, reaching up onto your tip toes to press a soft kiss to his lips.

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#NiamhWrites #Burnin’ up series #firefighter!au #firefighter!chris #Chris Evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #Chris evans x you

[silverstonesainz-archive]

most likely to trip over their feet and spill wine on you on your first date 🤭

oh god i wanna go the cliche route and say charles but honestly, daniel.

▾ picture this ▾ daniel's hands are shaking. for a man who was rarely nervous, who drove speeds ridiculously too fast for the average person, and is widely known as the most charismatic guy out there: his hands are shaking terribly.

he clutches the stem of his and your wine glasses tightly, taking quick and calculated breaths to calm his quickly beating heart. you look radiant, glowing so brightly he can catch it from across the room. he's glues to the ground, watching as you laugh at something a friend said to you, admiring the way you throw your head back and your eyes squint with glee.

daniel moves through the room with ease, the tremor in his hand forgotten as he makes his way over to you. he smiles at the ones he recognizes, exchanges brief pleasantries with a few acquaintances as he moves about. it's when he clears the crowd, when he has the perfect view of you, do the nerves begin to rattle his fingers. his grip tightens on the glass, offering you what he hopes to be an easy going smile when you finally notice him.

he's only a few steps short of you when the toe of his right foot hits the back of his left, knocking him off his balance and further more splashing whine on your baby pink dress. the red stains his button up too, but he could care less about that.

"i'm so sorry." "no, no it's fine. are you okay?"

daniel set's the glass down on a cocktail table to his left, pulling napkins off it as he tries to pat the stains away. but he knows better, he's worked with wine before, he knows that red wine pretty much stains forever. your delicate fingers grip his wrists, eyes cast up at him as you smile up at him reassuringly.

"daniel, it's fine." "i feel terrible." "don't! it adds... character to the dress."

daniel stares at the splotches of wine on your dress, comparing it to the mere droplets that managed to make it's way onto his white shirt. he reaches over, grabbing the spilt glass with just a bit more than a sip left. he holds it out to you.

"it's only right you get me back." "daniel no." "c'mon, don't be shy. you know you wanna."

you hesitate as you take the glass from him, watching as he takes a small step back. daniel puffs his chest out slightly, arms outstretched as if to tell you to hit him with your best shot.

and you do. a weak swing of the glass, wine sliding out and onto the white fabric of his fancy shirt. a few people watch the interaction, the way daniel so willingly accepted for wine to be poured onto his shirt. it was only the first round of wine tasting, how drunk could they be?

daniel looks down at the fresh splash of wine on his button up, eyes flickering up to see your matching one.

"now we're even." "we look ridiculous." "we look great."

#🏷️ dani hits 3k #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo blurb #the blurb was unintentional hence the awkward wrap up. but i had to. #shitpost study spinoff #most likely to

[cookycherry]

Seeing Red: Park Jimin Oneshot

This is the inspo

There will most likely be a part 2 👀

Pairing- Jimin x reader

Genre- smut, dominating!Jimin, fem!reader, established friendship/work relationship, makeup play?

Warning-smut, dominating, oral sex, fem!receiving

Word count-1,956

Summary-You landed a job as Jimin’s makeup artist and his good boy persona gives you a run for your money.

“Do I make you nervous?”

Jimin looked up at you as you blended some blush on his cheeks lightly, you hadn’t noticed how much your hands were shaking.

You had been Jimin’s new makeup artist for the new tour. For the past few weeks you had been proving yourself to the team time and time again.

When you spent time with Jimin doing his makeup for the promotional material, he was so friendly and welcoming; this continued and eventually you two came to have inside jokes but something about him still made you nervous.

“No. Not at all.” You responded steadily.

You watched as Jimin continued to stare into your soul as you continued with the makeup. The way he looked up at you while you patted rouge lightly on his lips was making it difficult to focus.

Suddenly, the shout from one of the management team members summoning your idol broke the oddly building tension. In a way, saving you.

“Thanks for your hard work. I’ll be seeing you later,” Jimin spoke fondly.

You watched as Jimin stood up and winked at you before proudly walking off to where he was being asked. He looked better than ever. If that was even possible. His hair was dyed a fresh pink that he managed to pull off as if it was natural and he seemed refreshed compared to when you first met him.

Watching him as you put away your supplies you felt your eyes constantly roam over the shirt that hugged his toned arms and torso, then the leather pants that hugged his even more toned butt and thighs.

As if feeling your eyes burning into him he turned around briefly and wagged his brows in a playful manner that just about sent you flying into the vanity behind you.

——

“My apologies, Jimin had an earlier appointment today so as you know missed his makeup test run for the wardrobe change during the set switch.”

You nodded as your supervisor spoke.

“I’m sorry to ask this of you but you’ll need to stay after tonight and meet with him a little later and get this done. We have to make sure the performance is done right for this tour. Send me a picture of his final look so I can log it.”

You took in the words. It wasn’t like you had anything to do anyways. Your new job was what your life was now devoted to, even if you did had some free time this evening it wouldn’t be exploring the sights of Tokyo; it'd be passed out in your hotel bed from exhaustion.

You waited for Jimin watching the clock get closer and closer to 8 pm.

The hair and makeup room was dead silent, everyone else had went back to the hotel or went out for a quick beer and dinner.

Just you were left.

You and Jimin.

It was just three days before the concert, a lot was resting on everyone’s shoulders.

“Don’t look too excited for me.”

You quickly look up and lock eyes with Jimin, he’s smiling in a seductive way that makes your stomach turn in knots.

He was wearing a loose black button down shirt; unbuttoned lazily to expose some of his chest, a pair of black jeans that did little to hide any imagination and his usual Chelsea boots. The way he walked on his way over to you did something to your heart.

You shot up from your seat, “Sorry for keeping you waiting.”

His mouth upturned in a playful smile, “Why are you apologizing for waiting for me?”

In fact, you didn’t know why you apologized.

He towered over you and held your gaze with his dark eyes. “Your hands. They’re shaking again.”

“It’s ok, it might just be nerves because we’re so close to the big day.” You bit your lip and playfully laughed trying to remove the focus off of yourself.

He hadn’t seated yet, remained standing and watching you. You began to dig through lipstick and try to find one that captured what the team was visualizing.

You turned to hold it up to his complexion . “I think this will work.” He didn’t move his gaze just continued to stare at you, bedroom eyes.

“I think something else is better suited. Here let me show you.” He leaned his way past you and grabbed a deep red lipstick; one that was probably your favorite out of the options.

“Let me show you. Ok, sit.” He was in charge now and his demeanor was playful but something struck a chord. He was different. You decided to play along. You gladly took a seat in the makeup chair.

“Ok sir.” You laughed breathily.

You watched as he took the cap off the deep red and moved close to begin putting it on your relaxed lips.

“Jimin, you have to put it on that brush first.”

His eyes didn’t break focus, “Relax.” You felt the cold lipstick pat on your mouth and watched his face as he worked meticulously.

“My favorite.” He pulled back smiling his wicked grin you became accustomed to from him on the stage.

You felt your face heat, your cheeks probably turning crimson. You couldn’t find words.

“Mind if I see what it looks like on me?” Jimin cocks his head to the side, his eyes glimmering with playfulness.

“Yes, of course.” You felt your voice crack wearily.

Soon you felt his full, soft lips pressed against yours.

Your body jolted. Your brain was raising alarms how this crossed the boundary of your job but your body moved otherwise, tangling your fingers in his thick pink hair, deepening the contact. One of his hands snaked to pull at your neck as his lips pushed your mouth open more, allowing access for his tongue. A moan left your body, he suddenly pulled back.

His lips were smeared with the same red, he grinned wickedly as he turned to look at himself in the mirror. “I think this is the color.”

You were dumbstruck.

Jimin then turned back to you, you still seated in the chair in awe watching as he held the lipstick in between his fingers.

“This is my favorite color on someone. I really think it suits you especially.” He moved closer, his breath now hitting the shell of your ear. “I want to hear you moan like that again while covered in my red markings.”

Your hands gripped your thighs while they pushed together, his words alone sit shivers to your core.

A moan mixed with a sigh left your chest.

Jimin studied you, staring down at you as you tried to calm yourself.

“I’m so sorry”-“Open your mouth and sit back.”

Jimin cut you off during your panicked apology.

Your job was on the line if this got out , even more his own public image was at stake; despite those two hanging on thin threads you followed his instruction.

“Hold this lipstick between your lips. Don’t make a single noise.” You were confused but nodded, parting your lips. Jimin was everything you dreamed about. You watched as he pushed the lipstick container between your lips, your pursed mouth holding it in place with your teeth floating near.

“I’m going to give you a preview. If I hear a noise come from you it’ll blow our cover and I’ll have to stop. Got that?” You felt your face get warm, your body felt languid but you nodded eagerly and your hands gripped the armrests of the makeup chair.

Jimin moved swiftly, slowly parting open your legs as he held eye contact.

He then clicked his tongue against his teeth, his knuckles sweeping against your inner thigh covered in sheer tights. “These…,”His ring clad fingers pulled at the thin material,”Have to go.” And with that Jimin took both hands and pulled them easily apart exposing your panties to him. Your eyes widened in shock as he tore the tights down, shredded them.

“Don’t worry I’ll have a new pair sent to your room.” Jimin smirked as his fingers ran along your clothed core. You could feel the wetness pooling.

“So wet for me and we haven’t even started.” Jimin bit his lip before running his tongue along his bottom lip. You felt your lips press down on the lipstick fighting the urge to moan as you felt him pull your panties to the side and dip in a ringed finger. You flung your head back feeling your nails dig into the armrests, then you managed to look back down at Jimin. His eyes were narrowed and siren-like as he sinfully smiled.

You felt him pump and curve the single digit before he added a second. Your legs shook as you fought the urge to moan and ruin all of this.

As soon as he was in he removed himself, you wanted to cry at the loss of contact. You watched, your chest heaving as he pulled down your panties pulling them down your legs and past your heels. “I’ll keep these.” He carefully tucked them into his back pocket and looked back at you. You felt yourself melting under his smoldering stare.

“Remember these marks.” You watched as Jimin dipped his head between your thighs and left light kisses and residue of the red lipstick where he made contact with your skin.

His soft kisses made their way closer to your core. He softly nibbled on your right thigh leaving a much larger red stain.

His dark eyes didn’t break contact as he pulled slightly away, his lips murmuring against your skin, “I wish I could hear you moan right now.”

Your teeth bite down softly on the lipstick in your mouth as you feel him spread your legs further and run his tongue against your slit.

“God, I love how you taste already.” You continue to look down and watch him intently. Unable to hold back you run your hands through his thick hair, urging him to continue.

You felt as his tongue slid into your core and flicked against you.

Your head fell back languidly as he continued to pleasure you. Your hands tightened in his hair as you bucked your hips in an attempt to push him closer into you. You felt him hum against your core, pulling back to blow air. You fought hard against the urge to moan his name.

You felt yourself reaching edge as you felt Jimin nip at your clit lightly, soon he gave in and added back his fingers pushing them slowly into you as his mouth continued to work.

You couldn’t rip your eyes away from staring at the top of his head, the mess of pink strands between your fingers.

You had reached your peak, you felt your body shiver and jolt. Jimin pulled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing the remnants of red against his face. You looked down eagerly, your unclothed center was covered in red lipstick stain courtesy of this unhinged man.

Jimin then stood up unphased with lipstick smeared across his perfect features.

He leaned into you, face to face and pulled out the lipstick container from your mouth with a pop!

He smiled wickedly and tucked the makeup in your blouse pocket. “If you want to continue this, I’ll meet you in the hotel lobby tomorrow night at 10:30 p.m. Make sure to wear this.” He straightened himself up and watched you.

You exhaled all of the breath you were holding.

“Did we have something we needed to do?” Jimin prodded as he used a makeup wipe while watching you pull yourself together.

This man was utterly insane but just what you needed.

Part 2…Yeah I can’t resist🐥

#jimin smut #jimin x reader #bts jimin #park jimin #jimin scenarios #bts scenarios #bts smut #bts one shot #jimin oneshot #jimin bts #bts x reader

[yacinthemorning]

Tailored to Your Liking

Chapter 5

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Summary: Tumble Town attracts all sorts of misfits looking for a fresh start on the frontier, but everyone still needs clothes. Be it extra limbs or high temperatures, Jimmy caters to every hybrid's needs.

Ships: Jimmy/Tango (slow burn romantic), Grian/Mumbo/Scar (romantic), Joel/Lizzie (romantic)

Warnings: Implied traumatic events, awkward flirting

Typically, Jimmy had learned over the past years, carrots could be harvested a few weeks before the sweet potatoes. This year, however, would not give him a break. Late planting, no sun, and then too much sun, gophers, and finally just plain bad luck with growth. He glared down at the pathetic yellow vegetable, hardly two inches in length compared to its towering leaves.

It would be his luck, after he’d bragged about his carrot cake to his house guest, for this to happen. Of course, he could always buy carrots from Martyn, but that wasn’t the point. Jimmy sighed, rolling back onto his behind to stare up at the sky. Did he leave them be and hope they grew a bit more into a usable size? Harvest them anyways? They couldn’t all be so small. There was no harm in leaving roots in the ground, though, if not for the gophers.

The back door swung open, letting out a puff of smoke. Said puff of smoke coughed and shook, until a face blinked out at Jimmy. “Oh, there you are!” Tango chirped.

“What did you do? I hope you didn’t get any of that in my workshop.” Jimmy clambered back up onto his feet, picking up the watering can on his way. Tango shook most of his soot off like a dog before Jimmy was able to slap the dipped kerchief onto his cheek. The blazeborn yelped, hair flickering from the shock and turning the liquid into steam. Jimmy didn’t stop until at least his face was cleared. “Look at you, it’s like you never left the mines.” He huffed.

“A minor incident may have occurred while doing some repairs.” His muffled voice explained while he tried to bat Jimmy away. “But it’s fine, I swear!” He managed to wrestle the cloth away to finish his own cleaning.

Jimmy laughed, “If you plan on working with heavy machinery you should go to a forge.”

“I wasn’t! I was just trying to reshape a part in something hot. See, Scott at the parlour gave me this ice-cream maker that wouldn’t crank, and while I was repairing it I noticed this one piece-”

“Where on earth- Tango did you use my stove for your metal work?”

Tango hunched over with a guilty grin. Jimmy groaned, rushing inside to make sure there was no major damage. His stove was open, a pair of iron tongs left half inside, with a rapidly cooling hunk of metal sitting on a brick on his stovetop. Most of the soot seemed to have wound up on Tango, both to Jimmy’s relief and annoyance. He spun around, hands on hips, and glared. “Are you daft?”

“Look, see, it’s not that bad-”

“You could have burnt the house down!”

“I took the necessary precautions! I just needed to reshape a small piece.”

“Then why didn’t you simply- you know?” He flicked his wrist and Tango’s sparking hair.

Tango’s face twisted, grabbing the hem of his shirt and fanning it. “Because the whole- you know?”

It was certainly rude, but Jimmy supposed the man knew more about his own flames than an avian. With a conceding wave, Jimmy groaned and began walking towards the cleaning closet. “See here, just…” He grumbled to himself as he tried to pull the mop out, only to find it caught on something out of sight. Just his luck. “If you’re going to be doing metalwork and the like then at least build a shed or something for it in the yard.” What all did such a task need? He didn’t know and he didn’t especially care at the moment. Maybe when he calmed down he’d happily listen to an explanation, but right now he was trying to keep his heart from beating out of his chest.

So busy attempting to untangle the mop, Jimmy failed to notice the silence behind him. Not until he’d turned to his companion in search of absent assistance and was instead met with wide, red eyes. Something like wonder swam in them, along with far too many other emotions that made Jimmy tense up in his confusion. “You would let me build that?”

An ‘ of course? ’ nearly fell from his lips without thought, before he absorbed Tango’s words. Before it occurred to him the implications of his own. 

Many things in Jimmy’s home had changed in the past two months. A sewing machine and new lights were gifts. Redstone tools and work boots filled spaces that had been empty before and could be emptied at any point. The extra seating in his shop and the new bed in a guest room which was formerly storage were accommodations for a second presence, but they were without character.

But a work shed…

Feathers raised on end. He turned away, focusing back on the mop, though he suddenly felt the energy to clean abandon him. “Or at least go to Impulse’s if you intend to blow up an oven.” He said instead of any of the thoughts darting around his mind. He was not his brother, he was most certainly not his brother. “I’d rather keep my house.”

Tango gaped like a fish, ready to say something, but ultimately snapped shut. He walked up, giving a small nod for Jimmy to step out of the way, and bent down into the closet. Within a few seconds the mop was in his hands and the door was closed. “I’ll clean up.”

Jimmy took a deep breath. “Okay.” A tightness encased his chest. There wasn’t time to think about it. He needed to finish gardening, then he needed to put the last touches on Lizzie’s dress before she picked it up tomorrow. Then-

“Hey, Jim?” Tango called just as the avian reached the back door. “I need to go pick some redstone up from Joe for a job.” His tail twitched, “Do you need anything?”

“Just… Pick up my order from him. And ask him when the next train shipment will be in.” Jimmy said, nearly too quiet, pulling his wings in close to his back. “It should have your nether fabrics.”

-

Woven straw thudded hard against the wood bar counter from the weight of the raw redstone and metal plates within. Tango’s forehead followed, groan escaping as he wrapped his arm around his face. Cold seeped into his skin from the wood for a brief moment before his own high body temperature heated it faster than it could cool him.

Heavy steps approached, and a glass was placed down next to his elbow. “Rough day already? It’s only noon.”

Tango lifted his head just enough to pout at Impulse, who smiled back. He grabbed the glass given, to discover it was only seltzer. Of course his friend would be responsible when he least wanted it. His face twisted. “I think I upset Jimmy.”

“Oh no, what did you do to the poor fellow this time?” There was more amusement than anything in his voice.

“I might have used his oven as an impromptu forge.”

“Tango!”

“It wasn’t that bad!” He knew he couldn’t defend his poor choices. “I just wanted to get the job done as quickly as possible.”

Impulse’s expression softened before he turned back to cleaning a plate, tail sweeping up in sympathy. The saloon was practically empty at this hour, all the miners back to work and most everyone else busy for another few hours. Skizz was off collecting from the brewery and Zed had run off after some bird he’d seen, leaving the two men alone. Thank the heavens, because Tango wasn’t sure he could deal with their energy at the moment. Once Impulse set the plate aside, he asked, “How much do you have saved up now?”

“Not enough.” Was the only real answer. “Less than I made at the mine in a month, and it’s not exactly reliable. I need to find a real job.”

Impulse hummed, glancing down at his bar. “You know if I could only afford it, I’d hire you.”

“I know you would, buddy.” He sighed, leaning back. “And no one wants another redstoner with Mumbo in town, not when they barely need one. The options out here are somehow both limitless and incredibly limited.”

“You could become a rancher.”

“And compete with Beef?” Tango threw his hand in the air, raised his eyebrow. “The man feeds this and every town within several days travel twice over. Best I could do is beg him to be one of his cowboys, and that ain’t exactly better than the mines pay-wise.”

“Then what about a bandit?” Impulse joked.

“Right, yeah. Because I’d be great with a gun, and I don’t personally know bounty hunters who could hog tie me before I ever sniffed a single copper.”

The two men had a good chuckle simply imagining it before the bar fell silent again. Tango fiddled with the seltzer, taking a small sip now again, mulling over his situation in his head over and over. “Maybe I should just go and beg Fwhip for my job back.”

The last clean plate was placed away, and Impulse turned his full attention onto his friend. “Even if he agreed, then you’d just be back in their barracks, wouldn’t you?” He tilted his head with a knowing smile. “You might as well move back east and get yourself an engineering job at a factory.”

Tango turned away, hiding his warming face behind his palm. “Shut it. It’s not like I can live with Jimmy forever, anyways.”

“You might, if you stopped fooling around and properly courted the fellow.”

“But that’s part of the problem!” He hissed, pushing out of the chair to throw his hands out further. “I can’t just court someone I’m leeching from. Jimmy’s real kind, but he ain’t stupid enough to accept a beggar relying on his money and home, who almost blew up his kitchen. Even a blind man can see how bad that looks.”

Impulse shook his head and dipped into a cupboard. “Well, it’s better than being a gambler or an alcoholic.”

“Setting the bar real high for me, there.” Tango slumped against the bar, glaring at his friend’s back. “One step above rock bottom. Real catch I am.”

“Downright irresistible.” A small bag was placed on the counter in front of the blazeborn. Though full, it gave way easily, and Tango suspected he knew its contents before Impulse explained. “Before you go, would you mind asking Jimmy to alter these before the dinner party? Skizz and I ordered them by catalogue but there wasn’t an option for tail or wing accommodations.”

A common story, Tango had come to learn. Catalogues often had several options for measurements and colours, but couldn’t be bothered to offer even the slightest alterations to the actual patterns. Not when they were paying some poor homebody copper on the diamond to make several a day. Normally most folks would do such small alterations themselves on work clothes. Impulse was never one too good with a needle and thread, however, and for such nice clothing it was best to leave it to Jimmy. Tango collected both the bag and grocery basket, downed the last of his seltzer, and dropped a copper before heading out. “I’ll see what he can do.”

“Don’t worry so much about Jimmy.” Said Impulse as he left. “You know he doesn’t see it that way. Take his advice and focus on getting things together. I’m sure there’s a place for you in town, whatever you want to do.”

If only life were that kind.

-

Jimmy had made an irreparable mess of everything.

That was the conclusion he’d come to after all these hours alone. He’d made a fool of himself making a fool of Tango and chased him off for good. Shown his true colours. Chosen his house over his housemate. All but told him to pack his bags and get out over nothing, he’d be surprised if he bothered to return. Which, in all fairness, it seemed he wouldn’t be, given how long it’d been since he left. It didn’t take three hours to shop, did it? 

Well, perhaps on occasion it did, but it wasn’t as though Tango had a long list when he left. A list that, at Jimmy’s request, included the task of checking to see how much longer Tango would be in his hair. No, he had certainly made an utter mess of it all.

It was evening when Tango returned, around when Jimmy was thinking of closing up and returning to his living room to wallow in his idiocy. “I’m back.” Tango declared, distracted with balancing his acquisitions. Jimmy placed down the pattern he was cutting to rush over and help just in time before a case perched precariously fell to its doom. A true heroic moment, given the amazingly tiny gears it was filled with, spotted when they had everything placed down on the table and Tango checked it hadn’t broken open. 

Jimmy didn’t bother peeking at the rest, collecting the few vegetables bought and bringing them to his cleaned kitchen. By the time he returned Tango was already sorting his redstone into the small workspace Jimmy had afforded him. His face had screwed up in concentration. A tension hung in the air for too long, Jimmy’s feathers raised on end as he waited for Tango’s usual chatter. It didn’t appear it would come. “You’re a bit later than I expected, honestly.” Stuttered Jimmy.

Tango wiped his redstone-stained hands on his pants. “I ran into Cleo on my way home. There was something jammed in her printing press. Turned out to be a frog she accidentally gazed at.” There was no need for proof, but Tango produced the small stone frog with a grin. It was, admittedly, very cute. Jimmy let his shoulders ease some, which Tango took unfortunate notice of. “What? Did… Did I miss supper?” 

“No! No, I haven’t even started yet, honestly.” Jimmy assured, reminded once again of his carrot-predicament. “It, um, we’ll actually not be having cake today either. An issue came up with… ingredients.”

He got an odd look, but eventually Tango shrugged it off. “So, what’s wrong, then?” Tension now built in the blazeborn as well, his tail jerking in agitation.

Well, there was nothing else he could do now. Jimmy had been building up the nerves ever since he checked the kitchen and found it spotless. More honestly, it had been mulling in the back of his mind since he last saw Tango. Thoughts that had distracted him while doing careful work and forced him on his feet to pace out the stress. Grian always said he had a habit of shoving his foot in his mouth, but Jimmy never felt so painfully aware of it until now.

“Jimmy?”

He took a deep breath. “I wanted to apologize for shouting at you this morning. I was just… No, I shouldn’t have. There’s no excuse for you to be treated that way.”

Tango’s eyes widened in shock. “Wh- No! What are you talking about, I completely deserved it?”

But Jimmy shook his head, wringing his hands nervously. Oh, he couldn’t keep still. “You absolutely did not. I panicked and didn’t listen to you. I…” He swallowed. I don’t want you to leave. How could he say that? Or any of the other thoughts that had built themselves into mountains in his mind through the day, only to crumble into nonsense now that Tango was here in front of him again? He closed his mouth before he could humiliate himself.

“I’m the one who should apologize.” Tango said weakly. He put down the frog and approached. “You’ve done so much for me, and all I’ve done is dick around, distract you, and make a mess of your house.”

“I like your mess.” The words tumbled out of Jimmy’s mouth before he could stop them. Every pin feather on his head raised, the skin under turning bright red. The universe truly despised him today.

Tango seemed unsure how to react, a nervous laugh replacing whatever he intended to say. He took his time pulling himself back together, a period in which Jimmy only marginally managed to recover himself, and walked back to the table. “I, um, got your order. And Impulse asked me to bring these suits for you to modify before the party.” He rambled, messing with the edge of the cloth.

Jimmy could work with that. He took a deep breath and let his mind shift back into work mode. “Let me see.” The clothes were laid out, both looking over what needed to be done. “Well, alterations for tails is the most common I’ve had to do, after wings.” He mused aloud, tugging at the fabric. “But if it’s for formal-wear we should make it as presentable as possible.”

Tango’s tail curled around himself, bending awkwardly to try looking at his own work pants. “You just leave a gap in the top of the seam, don’t you?”

“For your tail, perhaps.” Jimmy reached out and tugged between two fingers at the tufted end when it waved past. An affronted squeak escaped the blazeborn, his tail yanking itself away from the light grip. “It’s so thin, you don’t have to worry about your undergarments sticking out, or an embarrassment while removing them. You could have a tail sleeve if you wanted to be especially unfashionable.” He chuckled at the mental image. “Impulse’s tail is considerably thicker and less flexible, however. And those scales of his love to catch on delicate fabrics like this. It’d be best to give him a button clasp.”

“Having to make such completely different adjustments even for the exact same limb…” Tango groaned. “You’re a saint.”

“It seems like much more work when you’re unfamiliar with it.” He waved him off, reaching for the needle he’d had Mumbo modify for undoing stitches. It was so far and above using a random needle or razor. Invaluable in this day and age of mail order and mass production, but Mumbo had insisted it was a silly little gift and turned his attention to his more ridiculous inventions, in Jimmy’s humble opinion. Perhaps some other folks could stand to be a bit more reverent about Jimmy’s work like Tango, actually, or at least offer some respect. “Much of tailoring is the same task in different shapes and combinations.”

Impulse had always had similar issues with clothing as Tango- that is, the acidity in the oils from his scales loved to eat through most fibres, so his selection was limited. Wool was the best common option, of which the jacket was at least made of. Better than attempting to find Void-sourced leathers. Trousers, and the base of the tail especially, were vulnerable to deterioration and staining due to direct contact without the protection of undergarments. Jimmy contemplated if he should line it, or if it would ruin the quality. He was no high-end suit maker who confidently placed his stitching on display to the world, and he likely lacked matching material. At least he was not tasked with making hats for the drake.

He moved on to Skizz’s suit. It would be much easier despite requiring entirely new openings. Though he was not an avian, his flightless wings were feathered like theirs, only requiring minor adjustments to accommodate their motions. There was little he could do to get around the awkward way they would distort the outfit’s silhouette when in motion, the current popular fashions were not made with winged folk in mind.

“It seems crazy, with how many there are.” Tango mused, and only then did Jimmy realize he’d been narrating his thoughts while he worked. A habit he’d grown over the last several weeks.

“Yes, well, numbers aren’t especially meaningful when it comes to setting trends. It’s not the common man on the plates they display in advertisements and magazines. It’s required to look presentable, even if their form cannot fit.”

Tango’s tail twitched, his head tilting to the side. “You know, sometimes you talk like you aren’t much of a fan of your work.”

“I love my work.” Jimmy quickly defended, placing the suit back down. “It’s simply frustrating attempting to modify clothes like this to accommodate everyone it was not made for, rather than creating clothes made for them. Most people aren’t brave enough to wear something that might stand out, and I can’t blame them. You would think living all the way out here might help with that, but ‘polite society’ finds its way everywhere it seems.”

Truthfully, he had only occasionally had such thoughts until recently. Most often while working on preparing the patterns for when Tango’s fabrics got in, which had leaked into his time working on Lizzie’s gown, then retroactively in quiet moments when contemplating the work he’d done for Bigb and Ren. Tango had said so himself, Nether clothing had been draped. Why didn’t he make something similar?

Perhaps he’d taken it a bit to heart recently.

Which reminded him…

“You collected my order from Joe?” He asked. Tango perked up and ran over to the cabinet. He brought over a set of vibrant wool fabrics, placing them down spread out across the desk. Jimmy’s wings fluttered behind him.

A rich violet was lifted up by Tango. “I’m surprised you could afford these. I thought this type of thing was expensive?”

“Normally, yes.” Jimmy admitted, sorting through the shades. “These are new, though, made with a special dye. They call this one mauveine.”

Surprisingly, Tango’s eyes shone with recognition and excitement. “Oh, that was in the newspapers and magazines a few years ago. They created it accidentally from aniline. The first of its kind, they’ve started trying to make all sorts of dyes synthetically from aniline now.”

“Yes.” Jimmy replied, a bit dumbfounded. “Well, it’s becoming quite popular, and more than a few people in town are fond of these bright colours. I bought a few I could find to try.”

“They’re the way of the future.”

“That’s what Mumbo says.” He rubbed his thumb into the fabric, eyeing it with suspicion. “I’m not so sure, though. I’ve heard they fade quickly, and how safe could it be? One made recently left burns.”

The blazeborn only shrugged. “I mean, if they’re selling them even all the way out here, these ones have to be safe.”

“Or it’s the only place left where they can scam customers out of their money, like Scar.” Jimmy snorted. “You would be surprised at some of the ridiculous things I’ve seen people purchase simply because it had a lovely advert in the paper, or heard about from their second cousin in the city who insisted it was the big new thing.”

“What can I say, aren’t new inventions exciting? The mistakes are the fun part, anyways.” Came the response, followed by a cackle when Jimmy’s face twisted. “These seem to be fine, though. Your hands are as pretty as ever.”

“I change my mind. Why are you still in my house.”

Tango’s laughter only roared louder until Jimmy could no longer keep the smile off his lips and joined him. When the pair calmed down once more he pushed the mauve fabric to the side. “This isn’t quite the shade I want, though. I’ll save it for Lizzie.”

“This one’s nice.” Tango picked up another, redder shade. Next to him it certainly was, matching the fiery golds of his hair and red eyes. That was all Jimmy needed to make up his mind.

“It is.” He said, taking it from his companion. “I think I’ll use it.”

“For what?”

“Secret.”

Tango made a whine, but Jimmy held strong, only putting his finger to his lips before walking the fabrics back to the cabinet.

“How about we go make supper? Since my oven is now usable again.”

Hands flung into the air with a groan. “You mess up one time! I swear!”

“Yes, yes.” He cooed, shooing Tango off to the kitchen. “Let’s go, my little genius, you can use your blacksmithing skills on the potatoes.”

#jimmy solidarity #tangotek #solidaritek #team rancher #rancher duo #trafficshipping #mcyt #traffic series #hermitpires #alternate universe #western fantasy #fluff #hurt/comfort #slice of life #fanfiction #sharing a slice of cake

[philliamwrites]

SWYAATL 15: Dear Comrade

Pairings: Eren Jaeger x fem! Reader

Warnings: alcohol, young adults being horknee, depression at the end

Summary: “Yeah, I am. I’m glad I found you.” You mumble the last bit, plucking the leftover flowers from your dress until you hold the branch of the forget-me-not between your fingers. “And even though we’ll go our separate ways next week, I’m glad we’re friends. It’s weird … you’re someone I don’t want to forget, Eren Jaeger.” You offer him the flower. His eyes, now a dark green, are nothing like the soft blue—they’re different in so many ways, but you like them. Eren takes the flowers from you, looks at it like he doesn’t know what to do with it, and settles for putting it in your hair, behind your ear. “I won’t just disappear, you know,” he says, an exasperated tone swinging in his voice as though he’s talking to a three-year-old that’s still struggling with object permanence.

Notes: [01] || [14] | [16]

Words: 9k

A/N: Here we go, folks. Arc 1 of the story is over. I've already started working on Arc 2, and I've already noticed how fast-paced it is compared to what I've written until now. That being said, I can't tell when updates will resume, but I'll take a break from uploading for AoT for the time being. Once I'm back in the new year, I hope I can bring you a more regular upload schedule, but no promises.

Thank you everyone who's been on this ride for me, I can't thank you enough. Especially for the overwhelming love people show for Emil (I'm so surprised there are only asks about him on Tumblr than on the other AoT characters).

15: Dear Comrade

Commander Erwin Smith is a tall, impressive man. You’ve grown used to a handful of the other boys looming over you, but nobody manages to quite tower as Erwin does, making you feel small and insignificant even though you’re supposed to be the most important figure tonight. He’s wearing a simple white shirt, the sleeves rolled back to his elbows. With arms the size of logs and shoulders wider than the Walls, nobody dares to stand in his way.

It immediately sobers you up. Now you wish you’d at least worn a jacket or something.

He gives you an elegant, curtsy bow, offering his broad-palmed hand on which a wooden chip rests. “Might I ask for this dance, Maienkoenigin?”

“Uhm”, you say very intelligently. Sir, yes, Sir, is what you should have said. Instead, you blurt, “Should you be out here at all?”

Erwin doesn’t appear bothered by your question—then again, you think more is needed to throw the Commander of the Survey Corps off balance than a skimpy dressed, tipsy woman just fresh out of Cadet Corps.

“Should I and my men not be allowed to join the revelries from time to time?” he asks in return.

You can feel your face ablaze with shame. “I—I’m sorry, Sir, I didn’t mean to, Sir.”

Erwin chuckles. “At ease,” he says. “I must admit, I am out here not only for pleasure. I came to have a first look at the cadets. The Survey Corps is always on the lookout for promising new recruits.” He waits patiently for you to finally settle your hand in his, and turns his head to see which song the band strikes up next. On the other side of the plaza, the two string musicians each begin playing different songs, stop, and laugh at their error. When they bow their instruments this time, there’s harmony and the crowd moves in tandem; amongst all the other faces, you spot Marco spinning Mina, and over there is Ymir forcing another tankard of beer down Christa’s throat. It makes you giggle; you want nothing more than to join you friends on the other side of the plaza and dance with Mina and Marco and kiss them both, and find Jean and tell him how much he means to you and how glad you are that he is part of your life—oh, and the Shiganshina three, the Golden Trio, there’s so much you need to tell them, especially Eren, oh Eren—

“I imagine everyone must be excited about graduation,” Erwin says, easily spinning you out of the path of a boisterous couple kicking up their legs in every direction, and successfully yanking your thoughts away from your friends and back to him. “Has anyone voiced their interest in joining the Scouts?”

Your thoughts go right back to Eren, who burns so bright it blinds you whenever he speaks about the Scouts. Mikasa will follow him, of course. There is little you imagine she wouldn’t do for him. And where Mikasa and Eren go, Armin follows. You feel as though with those three alone, the Scouts are about to obtain a whole squad.

“Some,” you say, and try hard not to flinch when Erwin places his hand at the small of your back, leading you through the crowd. He’s an experienced dancer, and you wonder if that’s a hiring requisition for superior ranks. “Though opinions are split, and not in the Scout’s favour.”

You feel Erwin’s gaze on you. Maybe you shouldn’t have said that. But then he gives a small, crooked smile, and says, “When is it ever? That doesn’t stop us from doing what we have to do.”

“What’s it like?” Your voice is so quiet, you doubt he hears your words. “The outside?”

Erwin is quiet for a moment. Even though his hands don’t stop to guide you for a moment, he feels as though his mind is far away. In the end, he settles for, “There’s still so much I don’t know,” but he speaks it in a whisper as though they are meant for him alone.

The dance goes on and on; everything spins so fast: the music, the laughter, the warmth from living people. Girls and women spin in circles, their hair—black, brown, scarlet, and metal gold—flows like banners in the wind, and amidst them, silver flashes like a shiny coin. Like the moonlight flashing between dark clouds and illuminating the endless, dark night.

You trip over your own feet, staring in that direction. The only reason you don’t fall is because Erwin catches your arm in time, steadying you. “Is everything alright?” he asks, but it seems very far away. You tear away from him and dive into the crowd in search of what you’ve seen—who you have seen, because there is no mistake that only one person wears hair woven from silver starlight.

Dizzy and disorientated, you dart through the crowd towards the fountain, shouldering people aside, using your knees and elbows as weapons. Cheers and calls follow you which you ignore—you want to be invisible to them all, to throw away the crown and run back to the meadow, run across it barefoot hand in hand with—

The band’s song haunts you; the melody, their voices—it is the only thing that you can hear while running towards him.

 

O let the earth a-tumble, love, And humble you withal, Keep running. It’s up to you now, Up to you now, love to

Love run, love run For all the things you’ve done Run for all the things that drum Run for all those pages thumbed

Love run, love run For all the things we wished we’d done Run from all you know that’s coming Run to show that love’s worth running to.

 

When you emerge from the crowd, panting and with your heart trying to break free from your chest, no one with silver hair is waiting for you on the other side. It shouldn’t surprise you, yet you only realise now how much you’ve hoped, how much you’ve depended on the possibility that somehow, by the smallest chance, Emil would appear and surprise you. It feels as though you are losing him all over again—you are an open wound that you have no idea how to close. Tears burn behind your eyes, suddenly the emotions are so overwhelming you feel like you’re drowning in them.

You need to leave. As fast, as far away as you can until you can breathe again, until it doesn’t feel as though you are missing one of your limbs.

You turn and dash towards a narrow side alley—and bump into a solid, hard back. Before you can mumble an apology, a very familiar voice brightens the dark pit in your chest.

“Hey, what’s up?” Eren asks.

You tip your head back to look up at him. Eren used to be your height when you started out in the Cadet Corps, but now he looms over you, almost a whole head taller. Something about seeing him right now takes the wind out of your sails—you’ve searched for a haven and while you haven’t arrived where you want to be, maybe you’ve arrived where you need to be.

“I—I’m okay. I’m okay now,” you respond finally, unable to look away from Eren’s face. He dips his chin a little, as if sensing there is more you’re about to say, but when nothing comes, he gives you a crooked smile and turns to disappear back into the crowd. Something about the sight of his broad shoulders retreating closes up your throat, wedges sharp needles into your mouth.

“Stay,” you say, catching his wrist, feeling his hot skin. Eren stops, turns slowly. “Don’t leave. Please.”

He looks up from your hand to your face and studies it; studies your face for the answers to the questions flickering in his eyes. They pierce through you, hook right under your skin. Usually, you’d hate to lie bare and vulnerable before someone, but it’s different with Eren. Until recently, there was only one person whose thoughts you cared to know—what they thought about you, specifically. Now, Eren has become that person.

Slowly, Eren reaches for your hand and untangles it from his shirt. Your heart drops to the bottom of your stomach, but before you can say anything or move away, he takes your hand and leads you away from the feast through narrow alleyways, hidden away from prying eyes. It’s quiet here, and deeply dark. A few couples have sought that secrecy and are together now, joined at the lips, pressed close against the walls. Another song has begun, but slower.

Eren slows only when you reach the gates leading outside Trost District. He leads you off the path to where the grass fields stretch like silver patches under the moonlight. Immediately, you notice how much easier breathing is out here in this quiet, calm place. You take off your flower crown and drop it behind a crate, and hope you will never have to wear a crown again.

You find an empty spot down by the riverbank and sink down into the grass, the earth still warm from the day’s sunlight. You’re surprised. For the loud mouth Eren is, he can be quiet when it matters. The only light source comes from a big campfire people have put up near the water. It casts Eren in a warm glow that softens the planes of his face. He looks younger—like on the day you met on the first day of training when his eyes looked big for his face. His eyelashes are still stupidly long, stupidly dark—curving like the crescent moon above your heads. Light stubble runs along his sharp jaw. You wonder how his skin would feel to the touch.

You’re certain Eren is aware of your eyes on him, but he keeps staring ahead unblinkingly, waiting for you to fill the silence. He’s putting your back against a wall like that. You don’t know how much longer you can run. From him, from yourself—always towards the past as though Time itself slows to let you play, stealing the hours and turning the night into day.

You let your hands roam over the soft grass, and feel your fingers stumble over leaves and petals.

An idea blossoms.

You pluck the flowers from the ground and begin to weave a crown.

“You know, this means affection and admiration,” you say and show Eren a purple-crowned dianthus. He blinks. “And this,” you continue, presenting a lilac aster right under his nose, “means I will remember you.” You pick up the next flower. “This is Forget-Me-Not.”

“Let me guess,” Eren says. “Don’t forget me?”

“So smart.”

He grins. This grin makes something deep inside you unfurl, like a petal opening up its secrets to the sun.

You return to your craft, fumbling with thin stems and fragile pallets that break off and tear under your touch. Eren watches you struggle for a good minute. When he speaks, the amusement in his voice is like soft wind grazing through leaves. “Need help?”

“I’m good, I’m just—” The stems unweave and slip through your fingers like seams coming unknitted. The sweet smell of crushed petals fills the night. Nothing you do makes the crown hold—and then you realise why.

You let the flowers fall into your lap and blink at them, feeling your eyes grow heavy. “He never showed me.”

Eren tilts his head towards you.

“He never taught me,” you repeat, a quiver to your voice, “how to make flower crowns.”

Eren clears his voice. “Who…?”

“Emil!” You stretch out your hand, showing off his ring, grinning. The crimson sphere flashes almost threateningly like spilt blood.

Eren is quiet for a moment, eyes fixed on your slender finger and the ring. “I’ve heard you mention him,” he finally says, turning his head away. His side profile seems suddenly like a stranger’s, sharp and uninviting. “Who is he?”

“My fiancée,” you announce proudly.

He turns his head so fast and sharp in your direction, you hear a bone crack in his neck.

“You’re engaged?” he asks, but there is a very unfamiliar, un-Eren like tone to his voice that makes you look at him.

You don’t think Eren has ever looked at you like this. As though you are a glass of water and he is dying of thirst, but unable to reach you. As though you are the only patch of cool, green grass in a never-ending stretch of parched, grey land. You have only seen yearning on Eren’s face when he talks about killing all Titans and going outside the Walls. It makes you feel as though you are an exposed nerve, tender and raw to the slightest touch. If Eren would reach out right now and put his fingers to your skin, surely you would combust.

His eyes seem to reach deep into you, hooking into the words buried deep in your chest, and yanking them out painfully.

“He’s dead,” you say quietly, your grin slowly fading. “I think … otherwise, he would be here. With me.”

Eren’s voice is barely audible. “Was it in Shiganshina?”

You nod, and nod, and keep nodding, feeling a thick lump in your throat. You bring your knees up to your chest, your hands wedged in the fabrics of your dress to keep them warm. Only when Eren puts his jacket around your shoulders, you notice your body is shaking, but the moment his warm knuckles brush your collarbones, the cold inside your body dissipates. The fabric is warm from his skin, the collar smells like him. You duck your head, trying to bury yourself inside his jacket.

“You know, not one day passes where I don’t miss him so much it feels that I might die,” you say, quietly, more to yourself than to him. “I don’t know if you’ve ever felt something like this.”

Eren holds your stare. If the silence is bait, you don’t take it. You inhale, slowly. You smell food and the riverbed: mud and spice, with the slight after-taste of human pollution. And sweetness; ripe flowers ready to harvest for bees and insects.

“My Mom,” he finally says after a long moment. He stretches out his long legs, then reconsiders and pulls his knees back up to his chest, mirroring your position. “I saw my Mom die five years ago and the first days after that were like hell.”

You nod. You know what that feels like. Glancing over at Eren, you think about taking his hand and squeezing it—to show that he is not alone in that grief, that you know his pain. But when you look at his hand, you find it already balled into a tight fist by his side.

Weirdly enough, it makes you smile. Of course Eren would not allow himself to break. Instead, he steels his grief into rage, into desperation, into resolve.

“We’ve lost … so much … we’re trapped like fucking cattle ready for slaughter.” Eren forces a deep, shuddering breath inside his lungs. You can see the veins along his arms stand out, and suddenly your mouth goes very dry. “I can’t live like this. Nobody should live like this.”

“You have big dreams, Eren.” You bump into his side, feeling his strong arms hard like walls against yours. He doesn’t budge. “Maybe you’ll set us all free one day.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, but you see the corners of his mouth twitch. “If we ever bring down the Walls, I’ll definitely line up to throw a dynamite or two.”

“And then? What then?” It is a strange feeling, talking about a future you know won’t exist, but there is a quiet place in your heart that tries to imagine a life with no Titans, with no boundaries. It would look like a small Haven of trees, brushes hung heavy with glossy berries, red and purple and black, and small trees hung with oddly-shaped fruits you’ve never seen before and that would be home—you take a sharp breath in. Gone is the smell of green, of living and growing things, of dirt and the roots that grow in dirt, and as you blink away the picture that’s fading behind your closed lids, slipping from your mind even though you have no idea where it has come from in the first place, you hear Eren still talking: “… and after Armin and I see the ocean, I don’t know. We’ll explore the world. Find all the places in Armin’s book he always talks about. And then … I’ll pee in every major body of water on earth?”

“Oh my God.”

“You asked.” Eren bumps back into your side and you nearly topple over. When you straighten yourself, he’s looking at you curiously. Whatever he sees must satisfy him because he turns away, smiling to himself.

“What?” you ask.

“I see you’re feeling better.”

The question surprises you enough that you need two takes to open your mouth and give a response. And then you understand, he’s been trying to cheer you up. Nothing outlandish. Still, it’s like a died-out ember in your chest rekindles a fire.

“Yeah, I am. I’m glad I found you.” You mumble the last bit, plucking the leftover flowers from your dress until you hold the branch of the forget-me-not between your fingers. “And even though we’ll go our separate ways next week, I’m glad we’re friends. It’s weird … you’re someone I don’t want to forget, Eren Jaeger.”

 You offer him the flower. His eyes, now a dark green, are nothing like the soft blue—they’re different in so many ways, but you like them. Eren takes the flowers from you, looks at it like he doesn’t know what to do with it, and settles for putting it in your hair, behind your ear.

“I won’t just disappear, you know,” he says, an exasperated tone swinging in his voice as though he’s talking to a three-year-old that’s still struggling with object permanence. “After graduation, whenever our old Corps meets, I’ll annoy the shit out of you. Don’t think you can slack off in sparring just because I’m not there to kick your ass.”

“Last time I checked, I kicked your ass.”

Eren throws up his hands. “Because Mikasa was distracting me!”

You wave his excuses away, then stave off a yawn. The feast doesn’t show any signs of stopping yet, but you know the second your head hits the pillow, you’ll be out cold. Which is exactly why you lie down in the soft grass, looking up at the vast starry sky above you.

“If you fall asleep, I’ll leave you here, you know,” you hear Eren say, your eyes already closed.

“No, you won’t,” you say, and just to be sure, you hook your fingers around one of his belt loops. Something suspicious like a snort comes from Eren, but his warm presence beside you remains until you fall asleep, dreaming of juniper berry bushes and trees greener than any you’ve known.

 

The land is bare of grass, of plants, of life. It is a vast, never-ending wasteland of rolling sand hills where every grain twinkles like little stars no matter which direction you turn. It is an alien, strange place that feels familiar at the same time. You’ve been here before, but something is missing. Someone.

His name lies on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t remember the feel or sound of it. Sometimes, you think you see someone standing on the horizon, but when you catch up, that person is gone like a mirage. The frustration builds, the taste filling your mouth with copper. When your eyes spy the person once more, you decide to call out: “Er—”

“You see someone more interesting than me?” asks Emil by your side.

You blink, dazzled, and when he offers you his hand, you take it. It feels the same as all those years ago, but nothing about him is the same. Or is it? You close your eyes for just a moment, and he smiles at you, his boyish face still young and round. “There’s no one more interesting than you,” you say, because that is the truth. “It’s just this place. I’ve never seen anything like this.”

Sandy hills and a never-ending starry sky stretch before you to all sides. There’s something else, something very bright and very big, but whenever you try to look at it, it disappears, and you wonder if maybe you’re just imagining it.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” says a voice that isn’t Emil’s. You find that Emil has disappeared, and you are now standing with Eren. It’s the same game: he looks different and at the same time he doesn’t. Older, but also still how you remember him.

“Where’s Emil?” you ask, turning. You see Mikasa with Armin, and Jean who is holding a sleeping Marco in his arms, brushing away ink-black curls from his forehead. Something about Marco seems strange though, as if half of his side is turning into sand.

“What are you talking about?” Eren says. “This place is for the living.” His hands are cool on yours, and you are aware of them in a way you have not been of Emil’s as he turns you away from Marco’s sight.

You narrow your eyes at him. “What do you mean?”

He leans close. You can feel his lips against your ear. They are not cool at all. “Wake up, [Name],” he whispers. “Wake up. Wake up.”

 

You bolt upright in bed, gasping, hair plastered to your neck with cold sweat. Your wrists are held in a hard grip; you try to pull away, then realise who is restraining you. “Eren?”

“Yeah.” He’s sitting on the edge of the bed—how have you gotten into a bed?—looking tousled and half-awake, with early-morning hair and sleepy eyes.

“Let go of me.”

“Sorry.” His fingers slip from your wrists. “You tried to hit me the second I said your name.”

“I’m a little jumpy, I guess.” You glance around. You’re in a small bedroom furnished with dark wood. By the quality of the faint light coming in through the half-open window, you guess it’s dawn, or just after. Your uniform-jacket hangs neatly folded across the back of a chair. “How did I get here? I don’t remember…”

“You fell asleep right next to me.” Eren sounds amused. “Mikasa helped me get you to bed. She also changed your clothes. Thought you’d be more comfortable here than on the cold ground.”

“Wow. I don’t remember anything.” You run your hands over your face, feeling your swollen cheeks from a long, deep slumber. Maybe you’ve had more alcohol than you’d expected. “What time is it, anyway?”

“About five.”

“In the morning?” You glare at him. “You’d better have a good reason for waking me up.”

“Why?” Eren asks, leaning back on his heels, grinning. For some reason this is the exact moment your brain notices you and Eren are sitting on the same bed, and you are very close to each other. He must have changed his clothes before waking you up—gone is the rumpled black sweatshirt and in its stead Eren is wearing a simple white military shirt. “Were you having a good dream?”

You can still feel cold sand between your toes, see stars twinkle before your eyes. You think there were certain people in your dream, people you knew, but the details are blurry. “I don’t remember.”

He stands up. “We’ve got our rifle rehearsal, remember? Shadis sent me to kick your ass out of bed. Actually, Jean offered to wake you up, but since it’s five in the morning, I figured you’d be less cranky if you had something nicer to look at than his horseface.”

“Meaning you?”

Eren’s grin grows tenfold. “What else?”

You throw a pillow after him, but Eren is already up and about, and out of the door before you can grab something else.

Just for a moment, you consider falling back into your bed and pretend the next couple of days don’t exist. Somewhere on the other side of the compound you hear Shadis’ roars, and decide to get up pretty quickly.

Twenty minutes later, everyone stands ready. Rifle in hand, half of them visibly fighting their hangover, the rehearsal goes as smoothly as planned: Sasha stumbles twice, and Samuel and Connie go down with her. For a moment, Shadis looks like he doesn’t want to say anything, but then he simply states you’d be all dead if those rifles were loaded, and proceeds to procure a bucket of water to douse them like filthy street cats.

It gives you a small break where you set out to find Jean. Compared to three years ago when around four hundred soldiers enlisted, only half of that number remains today. Many of them are foreign faces, and you doubt you’ll ever find friendship in any of them since your group has pretty much remained the same ever since the first weeks of trainee days.

On the other side of the plaza you spot Mikasa and Eren. She’s plucking at his clothes, which he is invisibly annoyed about, but it is a different type of annoyed than when he’s around Jean—it seems more long suffering while endearing at the same time, and for a moment you can’t help but just stare at them and realise for the first time that they look good together. They’ve known each other since childhood, and Mikasa is rarely apart from Eren. You wonder what that would be like, to know him in and out and say things that make him laugh, make him blush—just like Mikasa is doing right now, but then from this distance you see her mouth from something that looks like your name and you stare even harder until she must feel you staring like a physical presence and turns.

Catching Mikasa’s eyes, you grow even more convinced that they are discussing you, that Mikasa can read you like a book, can see through to your very soul, and is telling Eren all your secrets. As if you are shouting this aloud, Eren turns at that very moment and looks at you, breaking into an elated smile as he waves his rifle dramatically in the air, and you smile back, waving yours in return, and receive a clap to the back of your head from Shadis for your troubles. As you rub your head in pain, you see Eren laughing in delight, and that alone makes it all worth the trouble.

“Bam,” comes Jean’s voice from your side. When you turn, you see him lower his rifle. “I just shot you.”

Changing the rifle from your left to right shoulder, you follow him back to your positions to restart the rehearsal. “You know I’d come back and haunt your ass. And don’t point it at people, it’s rude.”

You can practically hear Jean rolling his eyes when he says, “Whatever.”

Back in your line, you follow the steps and march in tandem with everyone else. In front of you, Jean continues quietly enough for only you to hear, “We practised rifle handling for this one thing; what a waste of time. It’s not like we’ll ever use them against other people.”

“I guess they’re just making sure to cover the whole syllabus. I don’t like thinking about having to point that at someone else.”

“You sure as hell won’t have to,” Jean says, whipping around, bringing the rifle across his chest to his other shoulder. You do the exact same, staring up at the back of Reiner’s head. From the stiffness of his broad shoulders, you can see he’s very tense. Maybe he’s taking this rehearsal a little too seriously.

You only get the last bit of Jean’s sentence because he unobtrusively pokes you in the back with the end of his rifle. “From what I’ve heard about the MP, you’ll have your occasional thug but actual casualties are very rare.”

“Seven more days,” you whisper back. “Will you be okay without me? Who’s going to pull your ass out of trouble?”

“I’m pretty sure Marco’s got that covered.” Jean turns his head, probably on the lookout for the culprit in question. You go very still, but from the lack of Jean going on, you’re pretty sure Marco has still not found a good time to talk to Jean.

“You know, there’s still time to reconsider,” you say in just the moment the rehearsal reaches the stage where your fake rifles go off and make a deafening bang noise.

Jean turns his head, the ‘Huh?’ clearlywritten on his face.

You pretend you didn’t say anything. Maybe things are progressing the way they are for a reason.

 

From the 344 recruits who started out at the very beginning, only 218 graduated.

On the evening Shadis announces the Top Ten trainees, nobody is surprised to see the ten best lining up before your instructor. You feel immensely proud that both Jean and Marco have managed to hold their ground. But to you, standing in the back between Mina and Armin feels right.

All you care about is the celebration that’s right after that—the last evening you’ll spend with the majority of your friends before everyone heads off. Understandably so, Jean’s constant reminder to ‘not enter the boys’ barracks after’ gets more and more frustrating.

“Why?” you say through a mouth full of steamed potatoes. “Are you guys comparing dick sizes?”

Someone who listens in on the table across from you chokes on their spit.

“We want to have a guy’s night, what’s so unusual about it? You girls do … whatever you girls do. Have a pillow fight or whatever. But don’t come into our barracks, got it?”

True to the nature of your friendship, obviously you barge into the boys’ barracks after the graduation celebration is over. And what timing you have. Swinging the door wide open, you enter at the exact moment Jean declares proudly that in a life or death scenario, he’d totally be down for a threesome with you and Marco.

You freeze. Everyone in the room freezes. Marco unsuccessfully hides the bottle of booze behind his back. It tips over and he shrieks as red liquid spills across the wooden floor. Multiple boys boo at him, and you realise they’re all drunk.

Jean raises his eyes to yours, and you trade a look that feels like a dare. Somehow, you can’t really take a hold of what expression to make—it ranges from confusion to slight disgust to mild interest at how exactly the logistics of such a scenario would look.

Realising there’s only one thing you can do right here, right now, you take a step back and close the door again, willing to forget this ever happened. Three steps is all you’re able to make before the door flies open again, rough hands grab you and manhandle you back into the room.

“You better not tell anyone we got booze here, or I’m gonna dunk your head inside a latrine,” Daz hisses. He’s the opposite of intimidating at any given moment, but now, wobbling on both feet while pointing a shaky finger at you, even a newly born puppy has more bark to it.

You discreetly swipe away the cool spit he’s graciously sprayed over your cheek.

“So, that’s the reason girls are not allowed?” you say, putting on your best Ida-performance to show how disappointed you are. “You’re going to hoard all that and don’t invite us?”

Across the room, Samuel shrugs. “The more people know, the easier Shadis might catch wind of what we’re doing here.”

“Yeah, he’ll skin us alive.”

“I think,” you say, very slowly, “we should get everyone in here and have a final blast before tomorrow.” That didn’t get the reaction you’ve expected, but it is met with less resistance than before. “And we can also,” you add, wiggling your eyebrows, “maybe play some games? Make it exciting.”

Not ten minutes later, the boys’ barracks is cramped. Every open space around the low centre table has been taken by someone as they sit huddled together, shoulder pressed against shoulder. You’ve organised more tankards from the kitchen, and now you’re sipping from the sweet meed Daz has organised somehow. After asking him for the third time and him refusing to explain, you’ve given up and accepted this might remain the greatest secret of Cadet Time.

“So, what games did’ya have in mind?” Samuel asks after the initial excitement has settled down while everyone is nursing their drink. You can feel Jean’s body pressing against your side, clearly interested in what you’ll come up with.

“I got these,” you declare, and present a dozen wooden skewers you’ve helped yourself to, “so we can play the King’s Game.”

A couple “Oooh”s and “Aaah”s later, everyone who wants to participate has settled around the table. Since it was your idea, you can be Queen first, and you’re not here to hold hostages. While swirling the mead in your tankard, your first order is, “Number 3 has to give number 5 a kiss on the cheek.”

When Connie and Samuel rise at the same time, the rest giggles and whistles, but the boys don’t back down. Alcohol is always a nice confidence booster, so Connie makes a big show of smacking a wet smooch onto Samuel’s cheek, earning them a round of applause for that.

“Okay, my turn.” Connie downs the rest of his beverage, then smacks his lips. “I want number 4 to give number 1 a piggy back ride.”

Reiner stirs, showing his skewer with a number 1 carved into the wood. When Christa climbs to her feet, wobbly like a flagpole swaying in harsh wind, the room erupts with laughter.

“I can do it,” she mumbles to herself, her usual pale face a canvas of red—the culprit of it sitting right next to her and cackling like a maniac. Over the last years, Ymir has perfected the art of getting Christa drunk before anyone can notice and stop her. It’s quite funny to her until Reiner offers to give Christa a piggyback instead, and all Hell breaks loose.

Next to you, Jean scoffs. “Like animals,” he says, but when you look up at him, he has a goofy smile on his face. You can’t say how much mead he’s had until his glassy eyes drop down to you and he leans into your space, arching over you until your shoulders touch.

“I’m gonna miss you,” he mumbles, his breath soft against your cheek. You feel the pinprick of tears at the back of your eyes and blink against them. He can’t pull that shit the night before you go your separate ways.

Before you can reply, someone is tugging at your sleeve. When you turn, somehow magically a new skewer with a new number has manifested in your hand.

“Seven’s gotta sit on Nine’s lap,” Sasha whispers conspiratorially. She points at you, then across the table, where Eren is looking at you with a very weird expression. “By the King’s order.”

You whip your head around and find Reiner grinning at you. Jean’s presence immediately vanishes when he leans away, looking sickly pale all of a sudden when he stares somewhere else, his jaw held tightly shut as if he’s just bitten into glass.

This is a bad idea, without a doubt—but the other, much louder part of your brain thinks challenge accepted.

You crawl over to Eren who eyes you as though he’s just waiting for the hidden dagger to slash forward and cut him open, and throw one leg over his lap. Good balance so far. You sit more on his knees than on his thighs, which is enough for the first round of whistles and unnecessary remarks from your comrades. Eren has found a very interesting spot somewhere behind your shoulder that demands his complete, undisturbed attention.

“Kids, you gotta do it properly,” Reiner says, and with a slap to your back, he pushes you flush against Eren’s hips. You choke on your spit. Eren yelps.

Reiner grins. “Exactly like that.”

“Okay, okay, we get it.” You try to weasel some space between you and Eren’s pelvis, but the only place of leverage is his arms. It’s different from hand-to-hand-combat practice where touching bodies is inevitable and you’re too occupied thinking about ways to bring your opponent down than worry about girls and boys accidentally touching where they shouldn’t. But this is deliberate, and now that your hands cling to his arms to regain your balance, you notice the strong chord of muscles tensing under his shirt. His solid thighs easily holding your weight. You don’t doubt if his shirt would lift slightly, the sight of firm abs would greet you.

“Don’t move,” he hisses, grabbing onto your thighs to prevent you from squirming. It gets the desired effect, immediately shutting you up, freezing you on the spot. It also does something weird to your body. You want to close your legs, pretend modesty is a thing that you guys still do around here, but you don’t have to be a genius to understand friction is the last thing Eren needs, and that’s why he’s got an iron grip around your thighs.

Why are so many people cramped up in this tiny room, it’s so fucking hot in here. You still don’t meet Eren’s eyes. You’re close enough to feel him breathing, feel the heat radiating off his body. Not knowing what to do with your hands, they just fumble needlessly in front of you, your fingers curling into the hem of your shirt to do something. Someone laughs really loud at the back of the room.

Eren clears his throat quietly. “Nervous?”

Finally, your eyes meet. His seem darker than usual, a deeper green like a lush forest dancing to strong wind picking up before a storm. This close, you could count every single one of his long lashes.

“Why would I be?” You lean back slightly, but the friction is enough to make Eren tighten his grip around your thighs. You can feel his nails dig into your skin through the fabric of your trousers. “If anything, I get the feeling you’re the one who can’t keep up, Jaeger.”

Eren executes an eye roll that must give him a spectacular view of the inside of his skull. No wonder Jean can’t keep his cool. Or maybe it’s just an Eren-thing, infuriating those around him. A match to an explosive barrel.

You’ll give him one.

“Nervous?” you ask with a mean grin that furrows Eren’s eyebrows in question for a second. Then you roll your hips against his once but hard enough for him to feel the heat between your legs. His expression is priceless, absolutely dumbfounded and stupid and laughter rises in your throat—

Eren throws you off his lap, already on his legs and charging out of the cabin into the cool night. Thankfully most of the other cadets are too busy whooping at Sasha drinking loads of beer from an improvised funnel Connie and Samuel are holding up for her. Only Mikasa has paid attention, and is now rushing after Eren while you return back to Jean’s side. He nibbles on a dried cracker and barely spares you a glance.

“What’s wrong with your face?” Jean asks. He sounds impatient, and when he snaps his jaw shut on the cracker, it reminds you of a guillotine slamming down.

“What’s wrong with your face?” you snap back.

“No, I mean if you’ve got a fever or something, go to bed.”

“Just eat your damn crackers, Jean.”

You try to hide your burning face behind your arms, knees bent up to your chin—a small ball of embarrassment because who could have thought your little joke on Eren would backfire so bad. In that split of a second before he threw you off, his neck and face completely flushed an angry red, Eren looked absolutely ready to devour you. Desire is a dangerous look on him.

From across the room, you catch Reiner’s eyes. Mischief glints in them as he raises his cup in mock salute to you, presenting himself to be the true pyromaniac all along.

 

❀❀❀

 

“I’m going to escape these Walls. That’s my dream. Mankind hasn’t been wiped out yet. We deserve to be out there; we are free. We were born into this world to see it.”

When you turned, expecting to see Eren because you so clearly remember him saying those exact words at the graduation ceremony, you saw Emil sitting by your side instead. His eyes were closed, his long, pale lashes resting against his high cheekbones. You remembered how often he said that word, but you didn’t fully understand what he meant.

“What is freedom?” you asked, burrowing your bare toes into the warm soil.

Emil kept his eyes closed. He picked a flower and placed it on his lips. You’d never wished so hard in your life to be able to turn into a flower. He was lying next to you, his fingers resting interwoven on his chest. “It means to do and feel what you want without anyone holding you back or stopping you.”

“That sounds great.” You looked out at the riverbed. It seemed to sparkle more than usual today. “We could get there, one day. It doesn’t sound all that hard.”

“You think?” Emil opened his eyes and looked up at you. His eyes twinkled just like the river. “Look around. All these flowers. Who do they belong to?”

“Hm … nobody? Everyone!”

“Fair enough. Then, pick one that you really like.”

When you looked around, searching for forget-me-not, you spotted a nine-petalled, white flower stretching its small head towards you. “This one,” you said, pointing at it.

Emil made a small sound at the back of his throat. When you turned to him, he was already staring somewhere else, but he looked as though he’d swallowed something sharp. He bent over and ripped the flower out of the ground. “This,” he said, “is my flower now. Even though you really want it. What will you do now?”

“Ask you nicely to give it to me. Because I know you will.”

Emil smiled at that. “Pretend I am not someone nice. Pretend I am someone who is a bad person.”

“Not you.” Your reply came immediately. “Not ever.”

“Then, Marianne,” he continued, and like you knew he would, he put the flower behind your ear, brushing his knuckles along your cheek. “If it were Marianne who took what you wanted, what would you do?”

You pulled a face. “Leave her, I guess. She can have it. But I’d be very sad.”

“Exactly. She is free to do what she wants, and what she wants is to take this flower. And even though you want it too, only stealing it back from her would make you happy. Because you as well are free to do what you want.”

Your head spun from the possibilities. Emil squeezed your hand. “And what if…,” he continued in a voice that was utterly unfamiliar to you, “…what if what you want is to hurt others?”

“It’s wrong.”

Emil chuckled. “Says who?”

“It’s … it’s common sense,” you tried to argue, but it sounded weak and naive even to your own ears.

“Common sense dictates we do not kill, we do not steal. Did you know there are people living underground who have never seen the sky? Who are not allowed to come up here and enjoy the fresh air? Enjoy the feeling of the sun. They kill and steal to survive. Is that still wrong? To do what you need to do to survive?”

You grew very silent. Listening to Emil, he almost seemed like a different person.

“Look at these walls.” Emil looked up. The warmth in his eyes disappeared. “We want to go outside, see the world. But we can’t. Because there are Titans outside. Because there are enemies outside these Walls. It’s unfair, isn’t it?”

“But these Walls protect us,” you shot back. “Without them, Titans would come in and eat us.”

“I suppose that is true. Sometimes, I just wonder … if they as well simply do not have a choice.”

“Which means…” you said slowly, realisation dawning, “Titans … aren’t free?”

The corner of Emil’s mouth pulled up in a rueful smile. His eyes were almost sorrowful. “I suppose … if they feel anything at all.”

“You’re always on top of those things, Emil,” you marvelled, squeezing his hand back. “You’re kind and so full of sympathy for everyone and everything. See, that’s why you could never be a bad person.”

The warmth returned to his eyes, lightening them up to the colour of the early morning sky. “If you say so, then it must be true.”

Before you could forget it, feeling the soft petals of the flower tickling your cheek, you asked, “By the way, what flower is this? I always see it on you.”

And for the first time since you had known him, Emil lied to you: “I don’t know.”

 

❀❀❀

 

You have a feeling the headache pounding at the back of your head the next morning isn’t solely because of the booze escapade the night before. Your body doesn’t feel as weary and heavy as the day after May Day a week ago, this type of lethargy is a different kind. You pin it on the upcoming events later in the day, and focus on your current task organising everything for the cannon maintenance at the top of Wall Rose.

Marco has been quietly helping you with that for some time. The creases on his forehead run deeper than the canyons cutting into the earth south of Wall Rose. Everything points to the source of his concern being Jean, currently occupied checking the gas stock for the cylinders, still, you ask the million coins question: “Have you spoken to Jean yet?”

As though he’s been waiting for you to ask that, his reply comes immediately: “I’ll talk to him later. After the preparations. I asked him to wait for me in the backyard at HQ. Before we head off to Sina.” He shrugs. “Or maybe we won’t head off. I’m not sure how to tackle that exactly.”

You think of how much value Jean puts into Marco’s opinion; how he eats up Marco’s words right up like a starving man.

“I don’t think it matters how. You got this. He’ll listen if it’s you, Marco.”

Marco stays silent. He clears his throat when he notices you staring at him, and gives you a wry smile. “We’re talking about Jean here. He can be as stubborn as you.”

“I could beat him up for you. Make him listen.”

The wry smile turns into a full-blown grin. He puts a little more enthusiasm into helping you secure the crates with ropes onto the wooden platform that lifts you up to the top of the Outer Wall. You like this Marco better than the sombre one. You continue working like that for some time until everything is loaded onto the platform and you give Marco the sign to turn on the mechanism that lifts you up.

“You ever wonder,” he says suddenly, thumb resting on the button. When he looks at you, it feels a little as though he’s seeing through you. “… if what we want and what we need are different things?”

You wait for him to continue when you realise he doesn’t mean it as a rhetorical question. “I think it’s enough sometimes to settle for what we want. We might never know what we need.”

“Maybe,” sighs Marco. “But what if the moment is there all of a sudden and you have to make a decision?” He kneads the back of his neck, then shakes his head like a puppy shaking water off its fur, trying to disperse his thoughts. “I’m talking nonsense, sorry. Today is hard enough on most of us. I’ll see you later for the distribution banquet.” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond and presses the button. With a jolt, the platform rises, and you hold onto a crate, watching as Marco grows smaller and smaller. He salutes up to you by putting two fingers to his temple. You wave back, trying to swallow around the lump in your throat.

Maybe that was his try at convincing you to change your path as well. It would be great, staying together like this for the next few years until it is time to discharge. But somehow you doubt it would be that easy to convince Jean otherwise, and you’ve already made yourself acquainted with Trost’s Garrison unit and its captain, Hannes. Of course, now that you won’t see him for some time, you find a better answer for Marco’s question: That sometimes, you settle for what you can get. That you can’t have it all.

On top of the wall, Connie is the first to greet you. “We got worried you two bailed on us,” he says, immediately tackling the ropes and disentangling them from the crates. The rest of the group is already maintaining the canons and cleaning them up. Whoever was on duty to supervise you, they’re nowhere in sight.

“Sorry, we lost track of time chatting.” You help him carry the necessary instruments and tools. When Mina sees you, her face lights up and she says something to Thomas. He looks over and grins. Sasha looks over and grins, too. It feels as though they’re all in on a conspiracy and you’re the only one left out, radiating a fervent energy that is like a flame jumping from source to source.

“What’s up with everyone?” you ask Connie.

He drops a crate, ignoring the rattling inside it and dusts himself down. “They’re just excited ‘cause Sasha swiped some meat from the pantry.”

“She did?” You rivet your eyes on her until she notices your stare. Holding your hand up in an OK-sign, she grins and throws a hand up in return. Mina squeaks—and maybe that is a little too much excitement for something as simple as that, which should have given you reason to wonder. Connie sniffs indiscreetly. “Oh, and we’re all gonna join the Scouts.”

You drop your hand and stare at him. “You’re joking.”

“Nuh-uh. I guess Eren’s little speech yesterday left an impression on us all.” He shrugs, as though a decision like that is not worth the hustle. You want to take him by his shoulders and smack his head against a wall. By divine intervention or just honed survival instinct, he decides just then to join the others and leave to your crisis.

They must think you’ll join the Survey Corps as well. But this isn’t how it’s supposed to happen. You don’t just decide something like that in the spur of the moment. “What if the moment is there all of a sudden and you have to make a decision?” You wonder if Marco is in on this, and it’s all a huge conspiracy.

You take a step forward to set things right, and maybe give Mina a good shake to remind her this isn’t what you two agreed upon, this isn’t what you two wanted—

The sight is breathtaking.

It is your second time on top of the wall. Cadets are usually allowed only after their graduation because Shadis doesn’t trust you not to kill yourself by stumbling off the edge. Maybe it’s the final step for him to recognise his fledglings have grown into hunting birds capable of soaring through the skies and every year he pushes that as far away as possible.

The sight never ceases to amaze you. All along the horizon, mountains rise and fall in full splendid, covered with forests and cut through my glistening lakes and rivers. Giant, stark-white clouds rise behind them and paint the blue horizon with a severe beauty that has you shuddering with the realisation how close you are to the sky.

This is it. The sight Emil has always dreamt of, that he had longed to see for himself. The endless world; to leave the small cage and see the big world. The thought makes your heart race with wonder and excitement and fear—all after just seeing the possibility.

What if, what if, what if … what we want and what we need are different things?

“Hey, be careful.” Eren’s voice is like an anchor pulling you back to the present. You haven’t noticed him approaching, but now he’s standing close to you.

When you look at him, you blink until the sting at the back of your eyes disappears. “The wind’s really something up here, huh,” you say, rubbing your eyes dry.

Eren’s jaw works for a moment before he turns and takes the world in. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “It’s something.”

It feels like no more words are needed. He gets it.

“You have to tell me,” you mumble. “What you’ll find beyond the horizon. Okay? Whenever you leave to kick Titans’ asses, you have to come back and tell me.”

Eren turns to you. The wind tears at his hair, but he stands firmly. Nothing can throw him off. “Of course I’ll come back,” he says like it’s nothing. He doesn’t know what this promise untethers inside you. Your knees wobble. It feels as though you have peeled back every layer of your hopes and fears and dreams and laid them bare before him. The weight of your heart seems to tear you apart with the words that you wish you could say. And for a time there is timelessness; endless stillness that holds the picture that is you two standing at the edge of the world stretching across the horizon when overhead, lightning in the sky turns the world white and summons the Destroyer of Worlds.

As you stare into the eyes of the Colossal Titan, stomach roiling with panic, you can’t help but notice, distantly, how human its eyes seem.

A/N: Today’s The Amazing Devil’s song I’m shoving down your throats: Not Yet / Love Run (Reprise)

***

Taglist: @arisu003, @brooki, @prttyangelbaby, @honeylmnade, @berriesandcrem

#aot x reader #aot x you #aot x y/n #snk x reader #snk x you #snk x y/n #eren x reader #eren x you #eren x y/n #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #phill.swyaatl #swyaatl

[sunyandmony]

"ꋊꏂꅐ ֮ϐׁυׁׅtׁׅ ….σℓ∂?" |Cato and Reader drabble(?)|

Cato but if he was a… Mer? Fish? Dunno- I'll see what I can do- The design comes first though- So yep- that's why it comes out very badly and late 😔

Just to be safe, I'm gonna add extra trigger warnings..

Tw:body horror(?), implied gore, potty mouth author/reader, self-harm mentioned(ig??)

B̶i̶g̶ f̶i̶s̶h̶ a̶r̶e̶ d̶a̶n̶g̶e̶r̶o̶u̶s̶ no̶w̶- B̶u̶t̶ a̶l̶s̶o̶… V̶e̶r̶y̶ s̶m̶a̶s̶h̶a̶b̶l̶e̶- I M̶E̶A̶N̶ H̶U̶H̶?̶!̶- D̶O̶N̶'̶T̶ L̶O̶O̶K̶ H̶E̶R̶E̶ D̶A̶N̶G̶-

Start reading under cut ⬇

—-------

You were NOT gonna make it out alive, not out of this one, nope, all the instructions did not tell you about a humongously tall half-human and half-fish, dangerous and about to probably rip you into pieces creature who currently had a staring contest with you, scarlet eyes glowing straight towards you, pentagrams sending daggers(?) your way as you prepared for the worst yet to come..

╰•°`°•>3 𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑡ℎ𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒..<•°`°•╯

You finally managed to get out of that ridiculously uncomfortable seat, your mind trailing with thoughts of how your life is changing so fast, it hasn't even been that long since your parents handed out this house to you, and you knew they weren't poor, but neither that rich, you might've been wrong about that- What you're looking for was right in front of you as soon as you looked up from your phone and compared the screenshot to the actual thing.

The house itself wasn't much of a house itself,..a beach house? Could it be considered one at its size? Probably- But you didn't really care, this was now your new home, along with your dog of course, who's been following you all along, practically trying to get your attention to feed them, but you can't right now, it's too much to unpack now and so, she'd have to wait for a bit, you already gave her treats not long ago before getting out of the taxi.

Your dog was mostly fluffy and pretty friendly towards everyone, mostly children and especially you, the owner, the fur on her body being like a rough, colorfully coat. Black, brown and white adding to her fit, her ears dropped over her head as if acting sad from your denial for more treats, slowing down her rhythm ever so often while running off to the docks while you opened the door to your house, a key you almost forgot you had in your jacket that lazily draped over your persona.

This was much better than being locked in your apartment 24/7 working from home for the stupid makeup company your mom told you would be 'best for you' even though you barely liked makeup in general, not phased by it or anyone wearing it, because unlike everyone else, your parents just sent you off and said that it's fine to just retire all of a sudden, and not even bothering to tell you why, just 'waving' you off the best way through a call at midnight.

It wasn't new for them to ask you to do something, but this? You surely haven't expected things to go out this way, not when they planned on you being the one to take over their company when you're older, no not the make-up one, that's just another job you rather forget about now, because you hated every moment being there, not one moment did you enjoy working with uncooperative people at your side and trying to get projects done before they're overdue, so you took it pretty well actually, a chance to start fresh.

You slowly unlocked the door with a click and looked inside, the curtains having been left closed from the last time someone was probably, which you doubted was recent due to how private this part of the town was, nobody even stepping here and just going another way to avoid this place as if they couldn't step on the beach near this house, and you assumed it's your parents who bought this place for sure, because unlike your cousins you're not that easily gonna gloss over it and just, enjoy the kind of wealth? Not quite though, and the beach beside it, how do they have the money? A total mystery you don't ever wanna find anything about.

Ever so slowly, you set your bags near what looks like a desk with many drawers that had already been here for a long time, the dust having gathered onto it, the way this place looked like couldn't be described better then a abandoned house, a whole bunch of old garbage and dust laying around for who knows how long now, bookshelves full of books that somehow fit in the shelves for how many there were, old furniture somehow still intact as well but as everything else here, dusty, but overall organized. Huh, it seems whoever was last here at least left less chores for you to do, you assume that they're more responsible than you are though.

As soon as you hear the creaking of the porch behind you, ever so slowly getting closer, you open the door as your dog, which you so decided to call 'Jua', since the name fitted her pretty well. After she got in, you shut the door closed, making sure to check if it would budge before groaning to yourself, your thoughts running a mile an hour for whatever reason as you slumped towards the middle couch, letting yourself fall on it face first and not thinking twice before closing your eyes, trying to get some good night's rest.

… Turns out that's just impossible the moment you got your phone out and started scrolling through media, again, trying to pass the time and looking through 'Tuza', a popular app today that mostly had everything you could wish for, aside from the hackers, that's something you'd rather not get involved with, yet… At least if it's not necessary..

You didn't realize just how much your eyes hurt until you blinked once, finally coming to a stop from scrolling through Tuza, closing the app and then closing your phone, the screen turning black as you set the said device on the coffee table next to you, closing your eyes and uncomfortably shifting on the couch, trying to find a comfortable position to fall asleep in, but none of the positions helped one bit with your sleepy state, you wanted to sleep so badly, yet couldn't, shifting eve more, as if it would help at all.

You grip your already messy hair and pull on it, the silence abruptly cut short as droplets of water started pouring down from the sky above on the roof of your house and everywhere else outside. You have not watched the news for a while, so you weren't expecting rain at almost 4 AM in the morning, and to say you were tired was a lie.. You were exhausted, spent and done staying up just because of your thoughts, stupid, awful thoughts..

What thoughts were they to be so bad? You don't even know, all you know they're so bad they keep you awake, and a bonus with that constant scratching noise from outside, and you already forgot what you were even talking about a moment later. You slowly loosen your grip on your hair, looking up to be met with the said rain outside that kept on pouring down on your windows. It was actually pretty quiet except the sound of your breathing and Jua's on the floor next to the couch, somewhere in the pitch blackness in front of you.

A deep sigh and you stand up, strolling closer to the window and looking outside, it was all normal. The palm tree ravishing with the violent wind outside, leaves thrown around by the force. You squint your eyes, and then you're met with another, much bigger, much weirder face staring back at you. You scramble back, breathing heavily. What is that? Whatever it is, it's not human, but it wasn't gone even when you looked back out, it started almost right through you.

You gave it a small wave, more out of curiosity than anything, and it returned the gesture, much to your horror. Yep, so it could see you through the darkness from a distance of at least a hundred yards away. Great. You understand why your parents had so many books about mythical creatures now, given one is staring at you. You come back to the present and skip back to your room, picking up a few clothes and changing into them. They were soft and somewhat comfortable on your cold skin, but it wasn't time to think. You put on the hat and then throw a raincoat around yourself, plucking the buttons on it close and putting on the hood before putting on some much needed boots and putting your phone in your pants pocket under the raincoat before running outside, bursting the door open and then closing behind yourself.

If you were gonna see a creature, you would see it up close to make sure it is real and not a trick or your imagination. Humid and wet sand crunched up under your feet and the wind blowing past you so rapidly made it impossible to concentrate on the current mission. Mostly because you forgot to bring a flashlight, so you had to base yourself at the bare minimum that you could see outside in the rain with the bare moonlight slipping through the heavy clouds.

A particular hard swoosh of the wind almost knocked you off your feet, but you grounded yourself, breathing heavily under the collar of your shirt, trying to warm up your breath somewhat before continuing on. You weren't seeing anything as of yet, given how low you are on the ground at the moment, and it felt like forever but you hit somewhat of a checkpoint, a rock in the middle of the beach that you sat down behind to rest on the sand, the wind not as effective now as it was before.

Were you seriously risking your life just to prove a thing to yourself? While it would satisfy your curiosity, it could also satisfy your death wish. A shiver ran down your spine. No, you were not going to die, if it was dangerous you knew you could run, some creatures of the ocean couldn't always stay on the ground before needing to go right back into the water. But given the rain right now, it didn't count, but they could still be out given the chance, and you weren't taking a 'no' as an answer from your brain.

A few more deep breaths and you got off the ground, steadying yourself with the help of the rock given at hand before walking around it and continuing your adventure towards the rocky hill, trying hard to not fall over because of the rain picking up and the wind blowing past you becoming much, much colder and harder to ignore.

A particular area nearby the rocks started rocking along with the wind, and the moment you got too close to it, the wind picked up and the boulder on top fell over, rolling off its spot.

You were so focused on it that before you knew it, darkness ate at your eyes and you collapsed completely under the boulder that continued to crush your body. You were too weak, too stupid to defend yourself against a rock, much less an unknown creature. It ate at your thoughts.

. . .

And suddenly, you took a deep intake of breaths as something heavy was lifted off of you as simply as a feather, you shot up and held a hand over your heart, trying to calm yourself. Your back was most likely not gonna help you, and neither were your most likely broken legs, well, not that broken, you still could move them, given your stupid attempt to get up off the ground.

A harsh gasp came from you, and you sat back down, feeling with your free hand at your ankles and lower leg, trying to see if it was fractured. On the inside it felt intact, on the outside however it felt like it was all scratched and bruised, for both legs had the same problem, but your right leg aches more given the weight that was put on it the most. More thoughts came about and then you raised your head, looking up to be met with what you could describe only as some sort of mer or even, leviathan. It couldn't be put in words at how silent it was, it was leaning close and stabilized with two hands on the ground, holding its body upwards.

You couldn't help your curiosity growing even more, despite the dread you were feeling, knowing that you were probably just prey in its eyes. It inched closer to you, and you had to hold back the shiver that ran down your spine once its immense, wet face was right in front of you, blocking out everything else, all you could see were the obvious scarlet, glowing eyes. To say you were one second away from running wasn't a mistake, but even if you tried, your legs would've given out the moment you get up, given just how much damage has been done already to your body.

The moment you took in a deep breath, it seemed to back away just the slightest bit, you were sure it was more scared of you then you were of it, even though it obviously had an advantage over you in most things. The first obvious one is the height, given you're about the size of an ant to it at this point. You weren't sure what to do, this was just a long staring contest between the both of you.

While most people would've run for their life or fight back, even do as much as flinch, you barely even took in a breath when it inched much closer to you than before. Not to mention it had an unreadable expression on its face, which, from your point of view, looked like a crescent moon and the variety of curves on its face couldn't give it away better than that. You wish you knew more about…Whatever this thing was, so as to know at least what would trigger its fight or flight response.

More harder given how dark it still was right now, and the fact it was still raining, but the creature's body somewhat loomed over you so much it blocked out the rain drops, it was probably trying to trick you into thinking it wasn't dangerous and then just finish you off without a second thought.

It was more than frustrating to think you would be done so easily, given all your life built up to this point, the silence is deafening, it's not a good sign, neither is the way it's inspecting you so closely. You forgot you were still in danger, given it hasn't moved a single bit, well, except for its head, but its body was as still as ever. Was it having some sort of debate on what to do with you? Okay, stop thinking that way, this creature is definitely not as dumb as you thought it would be, it's more like the smart type amongst its species. It's weird to say that too, you don't even know what it is.

It then shifted, leaning away all at once, and you once more had to hold back your breath, though that didn't prepare you for it to smirk at you. The sharp, razor teeth didn't help the matter much. It literally looked like it was about to eat you alive, not like it would be different from when you tried to do it to yourself, but glossing over that- You squeaked the moment the ground left you, and your raincoat not being helpful anymore, given how far off the ground was, you didn't dare look down knowing it would make it worse.

A sound revertabrated from its chest as you didn't move a muscle in its hold. It was so, SO, slippery and wet, yet it had such a hold. The grip around you tightened and your breath was taken away. It slipped closer and closer to the water, using its other hand, clawed tips dragging along the sand, dragging you along against your own will. A momentary midair view of the stars and then darkness.

Water surrounded you the next moment almost instantly, luckily for you, it wasn't as cold as you thought it would be, it was actually pretty warm water. Would be logical, given how hot it was outside not long ago. You blinked several times, adjusting your vision and looking around your surroundings, yep, confirmed you're being dragged deep into the ocean. It wasn't so hard to guess, seeing as many fish started to appear the more your vision cleared, yet your lungs didn't appreciate being so abused, bubbles left your mouth in an attempt to breathe.

Wherever you were being dragged to, it wasn't your home any longer. You covered your mouth with your palms, not doing much but giving you some sort of feeling that gave just the slightest bit of hope you wouldn't drown while being carried away. Was this really a reality? Or is it a dream? It feels too real to be one. The thing holding you was more than real, given that it looked at you from time to time. Your lungs didn't last long, and you started to lose consciousness, your vision blurring out most things around you. It was too much silence.

Wherever you were going to get dragged to, you just hoped it would have some air pocket space. This was the least you could think about before everything suddenly went dark, a warm embrace amongst the sudden cold in the deeper sea. It felt…Comfortable… The light was getting far too close for your liking….

𓆝~°^•*`°•End of prologue⌕`*•°^`•𓆜𖤐

@artistkeval , your blorbo.

FEESH, am I right? 🤔

#sunyandmony writes #Mer!Cato & Reader #Cato and Y/N's wonderland series #Keval this is your blorbo #mer / leviathan creature of nature idk-😭 #fnaf oc #artistkeval :0 #writing #fnaf #dca fandom #started this 2 months ago don't blame me😨😨 #cw implied body horror #cw implied gore #cw implied death #cw implied self-harm #potty mouth author 😶 #cw self-harm

[sunspray-peak]

Ch. 51: Pathetic

MONDAY - WINTER 1

Achilles had spent the last day of Fall in bed, rising once to use the restroom and once to clean out Voltaire’s litter box. 

Shane had come a-knocking in the afternoon—to collect the last harvest of the season, no doubt—but Achilles, half-asleep, had only tossed the cigarette he’d been smoking into the ash tray on the floor and punched his pillow. The man needed neither him nor his approval for whatever farm-related task was at hand. Shane knew what he was doing, better than Achilles ever did, that was for sure… 

The fresh start Fall had once foreshadowed had petered out, to be replaced by a terribly drastic decrease in both temperature and mood. Achilles had already wasted his second day of being 28, and was quite a bit inclined to waste another. But plans and promises made by a more functional Achilles of seasons past were now waiting to be fulfilled, and he had little choice but to drag himself out of bed before the dawn of a late rising Winter sun. 

Today was to be his final visit to Meteor Elementary and his somehow still-stubborn pride wouldn’t allow him to let Penny down. 

Besides, perhaps it would be good to get out, right? Be… somewhat productive. 

Right. You tell yourself that… 

After deciding he didn’t really need to shave, he tugged on a scarf, grabbed his messenger bag from the back of his chair, and hurriedly made for the kitchen to scoop some more food into Voltaire’s automatic feeder before heading out. 

“Meow.”

“Yeah, yeah, go meow yourself,” Achilles grumbled, chucking his early morning cigarette into the sink. “Chill, I’m not bringing it to the school, who do you think I am?” 

To emphasize his point to the cat, he withdrew the lighter from his pea coat pocket and slid it across the kitchen table. It was just a plastic little thing, part of the “mental breakdown emergency supply kit” that he always kept under the bed (it was also where the cigarettes had come from), and it ricocheted off the edge of the typewriter that he and Alex had placed there three days before. 

It was still in its packaging. Still untouched.

Achilles paused to study the box, a small frown on his face. 

And then he left, slamming the door behind him. 

*****

The children had been sorry to see him go.

Earlier in the Fall, he had offered to have the students’ stories professionally bound by one of his old contacts in the industry, but the slim paperbacks would be mailed directly to the school, and so today’s visit was to be his last.

It had been tough to sound alive, when all he wanted to do was return to his bed. But he sat himself down on the stool at the front of the classroom, feeling like an open wound and yet plastering on a smile. He even managed to flash a thumbs up to little Jacob Carney who complimented his six day old stubble, and answered any final questions from the enthusiastic crowd with as jovial a tone as he could muster before handing back his final edits and notes to each of the students. 

They had been sweet. Had gifted him a small, potted crocus flower, a handwritten card, and a bevy of hugs when it was time to go. He would miss them, he was sure. But the brief elation those clamoring kids had inspired was quickly soured by a new thought. 

Really just can’t help but miss even the tiniest bit of attention, can you? Pathetic. 

*****

Take the bus back. Grab food. Go home. Three bullet points to check off in his brain. Simple. Easy.

He flung up his hood as he shuffled into Pelican Town. It was scarcely past noon and already getting much too cold for his comfort. He’d done his research, he knew Winters in Zuzu could be tough… at least, compared to those in Hyacinthia and Monstera…

Soup would be nice. Maybe a grilled cheese… Did Gus make tuna melts? Ooh with a slice of tomato… sourdough bread and extra sharp cheddar… 

“Achilles! Oh, how are you holding up, my dear?” 

“Ah.” With a start, Achilles turned to his right—he hadn’t removed his hood when he’d entered the Stardrop Saloon, and had to fully pivot to make out Evelyn standing beside him at the bar. “I’m… doing well. And yourself, Evelyn?” 

“I’m doing very well, dear, thank you for asking! Oh, and how lovely it is to see you up and about, George and I were just so concerned after Spirit’s Eve, now, weren’t we? Alex had mentioned the maze had been an awful fright for him this year. Now I’ve said this to Lewis before and I said it to him again…”

Achilles smiled wearily and turned back to the counter, but Evelyn continued to prattle on.

“…now George and I have got a rare evening alone tonight! I thought it might be nice to surprise him and order something special for dinner. No one fries mushrooms better than Gus.” 

“Oh? Is Alex not around? I was thinking of—” He cut himself off. What was he thinking of? Surely nothing. Must’ve been a slip of the tongue, something out of habit. To be honest, he hadn’t allowed Alex to occupy much of his thoughts lately, not since Spirit’s Eve. 

“I’m afraid not, dear. He likely won’t be back until quite late, he’s got a big date of his own tonight, I believe! Were you looking for him?” 

A big date? 

Gus had returned with the rather large order Achilles had placed, but as he clutched the steaming boxes, he found he hadn’t much of an appetite; the plastic containers burned his fingertips, but the pain felt strangely distant. 

“Oh. I see. No, that’s quite all right—”

“I can let him know you were looking for him—”

Achilles cut her off with another tight-lipped smile. “It’s nothing important.” It was nothing at all. “Just… was simply thinking of going for a run. Thought he might want to join.” 

“Oh, yes, you boys and your runs.” Evelyn patted Achilles’ hand as Gus returned to the kitchen. “He can’t join today, but you stay warm, dear! And do stay safe—the paths can be quite slippery in the Winter, especially the bridges.” 

“Of course. Thank you, Evelyn.”

He nodded curtly, left the saloon, and returned home. 

Check, check, check. 

#llnks #sdv fanfic #my fic #stardew valley alex #stardew valley oc #sdv farmer

[quickhacked]

🖊️💯🤔 for ambrose!!

oc asks!

🖊️ BALLPOINT PEN — does your oc have any tattoos? do they want any (more) tattoos?

vibrating at a very normal velocity right now i've been WANTING TO TALK ABOUT THISSSS THANK YOU ok so ambrose has several tattoos >:^)

the oldest one is a scythe on the inside of his left wrist. it's something he got when he was known as "the reaper" at arasaka but ended up kind of hating it because he finally realized that he wanted to be more than just. reduced to a weapon by everyone around him basically? his status suddenly didn't feel like something he was proud of anymore and just felt like a burden :( that's why he ends up adding a bunch of flowers around the scythe, not really to cover it up but to kinda put it to rest if that makes sense!! he doesn't want to completely get rid of his past as the reaper because it's such a vital part of his life but he wants to be able to move on from it and the addition of flowers to the tattoos symbolizes that :D

at some point he also would've gotten a tattoo of flowers (which ones to be determined) covering his left side + the left side of his thigh >:^) mostly just flowers but it's got little details added to it as well, mostly insects and herbs and stuff. he likes bugs :)

brings me to the next one which is a butterfly behind his ear! a very simple one compared to the other two but he liked the idea of it, it marks a fresh new start for him at some point in his story when he starts leaving arasaka behind him and tries to build up a better life for himself and his daughter

and with that his last tattoo: the name of his daughter, rei, on the inside of his right wrist :D would've gotten this one before the butterfly tattoo still when he was still forced to work for arasaka so he could like, carry her with him every day despite being away from home so often

💯 HUNDRED POINTS SYMBOL — share three random facts about your oc that others may not know.

ambrose is a very good cook! was taught how to cook from a very young age and all the older people from the community he lived in taught him their best recipes which he's adjusted slightly over time to his own liking and has perfected nowadays >:^) he's got more time for it again nowadays with his retirement finally closing in (and eventually when he's retired from arasaka he actually starts working part-time in the kitchen of a restaurant!) and he's missed it so much. he's having the time of his life again now

he's also a GREAT singer but basically never sings. he's too cool for that nobody's allowed to know. but he Will sing in the shower when he (thinks he) is home alone and he will do it loudly and it will be very good but also if he realizes he was Not in fact home alone he Will die of embarrassment LMAO

and lastly he is Basically a cowboy. basically. he used to work on the farms of his community a lot when he was younger and would help with all the farm animals AND he was a horse girl. do with this information what you will

🤔 THINKING FACE — what are some of your oc's quirks/mannerisms?

ambrose can be found talking to himself a lot but it's always just a mumble. good luck trying to figure out what he's saying even if you ARE able to hear it there's like only 50% chance it will make sense to you SHGFDKGDFJG

nail biter too. used to be very very bad because everyone always got on his nerves back at arasaka but he's managing a lot better nowadays :) when he Does start biting his nails again he's insanely stressed so if anything that tells those around him that he needs like a several week vacation at the earliest opportunity

he also makes the most godawful dad jokes you've heard in your entire life but he does it So effortlessly. especially he and rei bounce off each other very well in conversation, sometimes it really just sounds like two standup comedians both trying to do their bit at the same time but it WORKS

#asks #mutuals #devilbrakers #ask:ambrose #oc asks #THAMK YOUUU he is. the most specialest old man of night city #after retiring he would also go back to his roots a bit and he'd probably start helping at one of the farms again!! #his community mostly scattered after he went to work for arasaka because of financial issues and like #several corporations were trying to pressure them into moving their camp away so they could build things there #so there's not a lot of them left there anymore but i like to think they'll regroup at some point with ambrose's help :)

[keeper-of-the-lost-dadwin]

The pain of remembering is worth the danger of forgetting

@creetchure I was your secret Santa

Elwin was forgetful. He had been since he was born and would continue to be until his wanderling had sprouted. He could forget just about anything.

He would forget whether or not he had grabbed his schoolbooks. He could misplace things resting in his hand. He would repeat actions over and over again, caught in an endless cycle. He had tried to overcome it; little scribbled notes had once surrounded him. Alas, they weren’t much help when he ended up putting off and consequently forgetting to write down his reminders.

So, he went on being as forgetful as ever, gradually adjusting to it. He resolved to look on the bright side, there was no harm in double checking after all. He had an eternity to live, five minutes searching for a tunic was merely a blink of an eye.

When moving to splendor plains, it was easier to manage. His official doctor stuff was organized throughout the manor. His personal belongings were kept in a separated, homier wing. This meant nothing traveled too far.

One thing he still forgot about was food. He forgot to eat most nights, usually spent refining some remedy or other. This habit was quite enabled by the arrival of one Sophie foster. Even if he ate three meals a day, his food would spoil long before he had reached the end of it.

Food wasn’t sold to be eaten occasionally by questionably healthy bachelors. It was sold to be eaten by families with many stomachs to fill. So he let it rot, only getting rid of it once the odor became unbearable. As neglected as anything else in his home.

Then came a certain Keefe Sencen. He was just a kid, no more than a baby really. His seventeen years were nothing compared to Elwin’s centuries. Yet those 17 years had been filled with so much pain.

None of which he deserved. He was a great kid, as full of mischief as he was. He was kind and smart, despite what his parents had told him. He deserved the world, but Elwin couldn’t give him that, despite how much he wanted to. What Elwin could give him was a gentle, loving home.

And so he did. A home filled with soft words of praise, filled with love and safety. A home where Keefe wouldn’t need to worry about being good enough, where he could just be himself.

Part of that included giving him good food. Fresh fruits and pastries that would fill him up. There would be no more days of forgetting to eat, not with a kid to take care of.

He had come home early one evening, not having to tempt bullhorn from anyone that day. It was the least stressed he’d felt in a while, without the looming threat of death hanging over one of his kids.

He passed keefe getting a snack as he went to his room to change. He glanced at his plate and immediately knew something was off. He ignored it, thinking it was nothing urgent.

He took off his work clothes and put on comfy pajamas. He had no expectation of going to bed anytime soon but getting comfortable a bit early never hurt anyone.

He went to the kitchen to make himself a snack, willing to put off making dinner that much longer. He sat down with his food and greeted his son.

He took a better look at what he was eating. There were bits of mold on the edges of his food. Keefe wasn’t eating with his eyes closed, so he had to have known it was there.

Elwin felt queasy. How long had keefe been eating rotten food? How much had he eaten? Even if he hadn’t gotten sick didn’t mean there wasn’t a risk now. How horrible of a parent did he have to be not to notice it? Why would Keefe be eating rotten food even after Elwin had made sure there was always fresh food in the house?

He realized he had zoned out for too long. He shook himself out of his stupor to actually fix the problem. Worrying wouldn’t help Keefe, wouldn’t make him stop.

“There’s mold on that, darling,” Keefe finally looked up from his plate, startled by the sudden breaking of the comfortable silence. 

“You’ll get sick if you eat that”

He looked like a cornered animal, a guilty expression painted on his face. “I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to eat the rest of the food in the pantry. The kind that wasn’t rotten. I thought you would get mad,”. He looked sheepish, as if this was in any way his fault.

Elwin couldn’t believe it. Keefe thought that Elwin would get mad at him for eating. Eating the food Elwin had specifically gotten for him. How could Keefe believe that? Who had made him believe that taking care of himself was something bad? 

He knew the answer to that of course. He knew all too well how Keefe’s “parents” had treated him. It sickened him to even think of anyone willing to do that, especially to their own son. 

“Did Cassius and Gisela make you eat spoiled food?” He spat out the names, as if that would fix all that they’d done. 

“Yes,” Keefe whispered, as if to keep Elwin from hearing. He curled in on himself, as if trying to hide himself from Elwin’s fury. That only made him angrier, how could Keefe believe he was the one Elwin was mad at? As if Elwin could ever actually be mad at him.

“My dad made it clear that whenever I was grounded, I wasn’t allowed to take food from the pantry. I would keep a small stash of food hidden under my bed. I didn’t know if you would be okay with me taking your food, I figured you wouldn’t care about what you couldn’t eat.” 

Elwin was horrified. “Your parents let you starve?”

“Well, not really. I was smart enough to learn how to get food anyways. Besides, I was only ever grounded for a couple weeks at a time.” He blurted it out so quickly he almost tripped over his words. Whether he wanted to explain it to defend his parents, or just to make Elwin less angry, he didn’t know.

“That’s not okay honey, no matter how easily you were able to actually get food. Your parents can’t starve you. They can’t just not let you have food.”

Keefe nodded, apparently finally understanding. "I’m sorry for worrying you”. 

And back to square one. 

“You have nothing to be sorry about. I should have made it clear that you were welcome to everything in my house, what’s mine is yours.”

Elwin invited Keefe to join him on the couch to watch a cheesy human movie and eat some popcorn. Once the movie finished, they went to bed, having forgotten what had transpired just a few hours earlier. 

That was the end of their food struggles, they managed to fix one of the kinks that came with building your own family. And if Elwin made sure to throw out any food that had gone bad from then on, well, it never hurt anyone to be on the safe side.

@song-tam

#kotlc secret santa 2022 #my writing #angst #hurt/comfort #dadwin #elwin heslege #keefe heslege #look at me writing #canon compliant #based on that one tumblr prompt

[dojae-huh]

it's that time of the week to talk abt lastart :D

i wonder how did they come up with the song choices? lucifer managed to get some attention from the general public but U was not interesting enough. thought i applaud their performance, especially the vocalists ryu and minjae. that one guy in the judge panel was totally like their dad, he's so proud of every trainee which is so heart warming to see. he really cares about them.

riku is so cute, i cant help but compare him to yushi they look really alike. he has more charms to me than yushi for now, he shy pop dance got me squealing i think he has gained a solid fan 🤣 i can't wait to see their performance for TVXQ-Why next ep, with the new trainee (heh another DY). riku would slay the rap for sureeee

i'm kinda annoyed by how it's halfway through the show already and we still don't see them performing any nct songs 🤣 this unit is supposed to be the last nct unit, and there is no correlation at all to me. idk what direction sm is going with this nct japan unit, but 4/5 eps in i cant see the neo. the closest i can see is kassho for his visuals that would fit the kwangya concept, and he has a certain charm. and maybe anderson, he just stands out to me.

sion trained with riize members i think, they were spotted together with wonbin. there are rumors thag wonbin trained for 6 years, and he was put on and off with his debut :( riize has all the outstanding trainees imo, and they would fit to be the last unit. funny how riize and the smrookies and of similar age but their image is entirely different.

wonbin with sion and other trainees -> https://x.com/won2binz/status/1688965935816708103?s=46&t=m039VaKV8OZmu71_7XkSMQ

wonbin trained for 6 years -> https://x.com/riize_net/status/1690239143521947648?s=46&t=m039VaKV8OZmu71_7XkSMQ

the lastart trainees are not ready to be in nct, really. they're still young and fresh, and with the japan showcase coming up sm is really just throwing them into the waters to be devoured by sharks 😭 the fanbase is going to be so cruel and these trainees dont deserve that :( i hope they will debut with a concept that suits them and also the neoness of nct.

Link, Link2

Maybe U was popular in Japan? SuJu and other groups being represented on the show helps the show and the future NCT unit help tractioin. Koreans are all about hierarchy. NCT is the latest bg group, it shouldn't go before their seniors, and the neos who will guest should see the more progressed trainees (you know, the final line, the sight of the prize (NCT members as the co-members) for the contestants).

It will be hard for the unit. WayV and 127/Dream are already a bit distant with members having their own individual bonds (Kun-Chenle, Ten - 127 hyung line, YY-Renjun, XJ-Taeil). With the Japanese unit there will be the age gap, the experience gap and the lack of memories/interactions. I hope SM comes up with some bonding show.

[agentnico]

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 (2023) Review

This film features the MCU’s first use of the F-bomb, and I must say its inclusion works for a great joke. However Marvel fans better be prepared, as this is nothing compared to what Deadpool is going to bring to this cinematic universe. Don’t you dare PG Deadpool! Disney don’t you do it!!

Plot: Still reeling from the loss of Gamora, Peter Quill must rally his team to defend the universe and protect one of their own. If the mission is not completely successful, it could possibly lead to the end of the Guardians as we know them.

Fresh off the heels of their very entertaining Holiday Special that gave us the gift of Kevin Bacon singing Christmas songs, the Guardians return for what is pitched as their final outing for this version of the team, as well as the final time James Gunn directs them before fully embracing his new head-of-DC duties. Look, we all love these characters, so of course even though the Marvel Cinematic Universe itself is stuck in a bit of a rut at the moment, there was no chance I was going to miss this final hurrah for these galaxy saving a-holes. 

I’m happy to report that Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 is a very enjoyable superhero flick and a very satisfying conclusion for its heroes. What works for this movie is what Marvel itself currently lacks - focus. There are many characters here to balance yet Gunn manages to give each and every one of them a moment in the spotlight, whilst also delivering a tale filled with emotion, humour and heart. In a way it’s like the recent Thor: Love & Thunder, only it’s not a pile of crap. Unlike that movie, Guardians 3 manages to find a perfect stability between its comedy and dramatic heft, and the result is a super entertaining movie. 

Naturally the big focus is on Rocket and his tragic backstory, and yes there is some animal cruelty involved so be warned, but that dark element really rose the stakes for this film and made you really care and understand why Rocket is the way he is, whilst also providing the perfect motivation for our team to proceed. In terms of the backstory, yep, it can be at times hard to watch. But also the animal characters are really adorable. A scene between an intelligent raccoon, a rabbit with artificial legs, a walrus with wheels and an otter with metal arms really got to me in a way I didn’t expect. My heart of stone was touched. What was also effective in relation to the backstory and even the present story was the villain. Chukwudi Iwuji was fantastic playing a truly despicable and downright horrible antagonist who had no moral compass. All too recently Marvel has been trying to give all its villains an element to root off, so it was nice to see one that was simply a bad guy full stop. And Iwuji infused this character with terror and evil. And look, he was much more menacing than Majors’s Kang who is supposed to be the MCU’s new big bad. 

As mentioned prior, all characters get their moment to shine. It was nice seeing Chris Pratt return back to the goofball teenager attitude, as the character of Star-Lord was kind of ruined in the Avengers films and even in the Holiday Special he seemed off, but here Pratt makes Star-Lord once again the loveable idiot, and it was great seeing him back. Also his rapport with Gamora was very interesting, as following Endgame the original Gamora had died and was replaced by an alternate universe past version, so she doesn’t recall her romance with Star-Lord, so he is stuck longing for something he can never have which leads to both emotional and humoristic moments. Dave Bautista’s Drax and Pom Klementieff’s Mantis continue their fun banter following the Holiday Special, and Groot is, you know, still Grooting. At least it allows Vin Diesel to take a little break in between his endless Fast & Furious movies. Karen Gillan as Nebula brings her solid deadpan delivery, Sean Gunn’s Kraglin gets more opportunity to enjoy being part of the main group now, as Maria Bakalova voices Cosmo the Dog, and Cosmo is great. Just don’t call her “a bad dog”, she doesn’t like it. 

Visually this is one of Marvel’s best looking movies, especially since even though there is green screen used, it is pretty smooth. What’s more there’s a lot of practical effects used too, and I even read on IMDb that this film sets the record for the most makeup appliances used in a single film, having more than 23,000 prosthetics used across more than 1,000 actors. And I’ll always pick practical effects over CGI. In terms of negatives, there aren’t many. Will Poulter is introduced as Adam Warlock, and he seems the most shoehorned in, as his arc and inclusion feels very pointless and inconsequential. Will Poulter himself is solid playing yet another baby-minded caricature, but I feel like Warlock should have been saved for later or maybe introduced in an earlier movie. Also the soundtrack - it’s by no means bad and there are a few bangers, but it’s got nothing on Awesome Mixes Vol. 1 & 2. 

James Gunn emphasises yet again that without him Marvel is going to struggle, especially when it comes to continuing the storylines of some of these characters in the future, but nonetheless Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 is a wonderful ride and a great caper to Gunn’s trilogy, bringing lots of great humour, character dynamics and emotion, and gets you hooked on a feeling...one last time. Oh, and Gunn finally managed to properly show Nathan Fillion’s face in a Marvel movie, and that in itself is a win!

Overall score: 8/10

#guardians of the galaxy #marvel #mcu #disney #james gunn #superheroes #action #adventure #comedy #fantasy #science fiction #guardians of the galaxy 3 #guardians of the galaxy volume 3 #chris pratt #bradley cooper #sean gunn #zoe saldana #dave bautista #pom klementieff #will poulter #karen gillan #chukwudi iwuji #maria bakalova #nathan fillion #vin diesel #movie reviews #2023 #film #movie #2023 films

[clatterbane]

Things I maybe should have left for tomorrow, since I did put it off so late: trying to culture more kefir-ish from the little bit left in that carton.

I would really prefer using proper grains again, but haven't gotten hold of any here yet. Besides the more complex (and carbonated!) taste, it's also handier being able to just keep using the same culture indefinitely unless you somehow manage to kill it off or get rid of the grains. And those colonies are pretty tough. Major reason I got going with the kefir in the first place, tbh.

But, the way more limited uniform powder culture commercial stuff I finally bought does taste pretty good. And they substituted a bigger carton of fresh milk than what I ordered earlier. So why not give it a shot? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I've gotten long lasting--and improving over time!--cultures going with commercial buttermilk/crème fraîche, and also filmjölk from what was left in a carton of the sour cream version of that back on Plague Island. (Basically Scandinavian buttermilk, with a little different strains. Also unsurprisingly less easily and cheaply available there.) Don't see why this would be much different.

Normally, you don't need to scald the milk for established room temperature cultures like this, unlike yogurt. Also a big plus, tbh. But, trying to get a new one going with the dregs of a half-dead commercial carton is a little different matter. Better limit the competition as much as possible, right off the bat!

(Just planning to funnel the milk into the mostly empty carton, shake it around well to rinse as much goodness out as possible, and then pour it all into a ready scalded pickle jar.)

So yeah, I got the genius idea of doing this in the wee hours since I didn't remember earlier, so those friendly little critters could get a head start on working their magic while I'm asleep. And now it's time to wait until that comes down closer to lukewarm, before I can hit the sack. 🙄

Ah well, not that much longer to go! It also still feels much later than it is, with as early as it's been getting light here. Even compared to London where I never really got used to it. Just as well we didn't end up in far northern Sweden! So far, at any rate.

#personal #food #dairy products #kefir #sort of #clatterbane's middle of the night cooking show #clatterbane's kitchen experiments #this latitude though #only about even with york here #but still #i grew up on a level with Sicily

[angrywrasslenerd]

The Angry Wrasslin’ Nerd’s Wrassleviews: Aftermath 2023

Aftermath is traditionally the biggest show on the SWA calendar, the big "season finale" where everything comes together. Tournament winners challenge champions,  blood feuds culminate, hatchets are buried, and new chapters begin, both for wrestlers and for the promotion itself. This is the most exciting time of year to be an SWA fan.

At least, that's the idea. If you've been an SWA fan as long as I have, you start to notice that sometimes, Aftermath fucking sucks. Sometimes the challengers are unexciting, the matches are unsatisfying, and everything just feels like it's in a holding pattern waiting for the fresh blood that typically comes between Aftermath and Emergence. So, where did 2023's show land us? Was this an exciting climax to the year? Or a mammoth-sized turd in the punch bowl? Let's get right to it.

Connor Cipris, Lina, Shannon Fulmar, and Regina Ibanez vs. Aaron Wolff, Valkyrie Jameson, Brianna Dalton, and Raven Briars

I've said my piece a number of times about these pointless low-card tag clusterfucks. They don't move anything forward, and they're just there to get names on the card and fill out matches. The scale for them usually goes from "ASS" to "Meh".

That said, for what this was, it was decent enough. Lina and Valkyrie, in particular, were highlights of the match, and Lina continues to show off her now-legendary toughness every chance she gets. This woman does not wrestle like someone who wants to still be walking in 5 years, let alone wrestling, and fuck me if it isn't entertaining as hell. Every feat of strength Valkyrie could pull off, every crushing lariat or devastating slam, Lina got right back up and asked for more.  This feud has legs, and managed to drag what would otherwise be another dull tag clusterfuck right up into decent territory. If only they would get time for a singles match on a PPV. I seriously don't get what SWA management's deal is regarding Lina the last few years. 44 really isn't that old, and when she's still going at a level like this, why the ass aren't they featuring her more?

The rest of the match was... well, it was fine I guess. Everyone looked good, and nothing stood out as bad. But I was always just waiting for Lina and Valkyrie to get back in the ring. The BHB team emerged victorious when Connor and Shannon both locked in their big submission finishers on Aaron Wolff at the same time (which looked fuckin' vicious by the way), and that was that.

The Nerd's Rating: Watchable/10

El Rey Dorado, Fabio Silva, and Javier Valiente vs. Chad Jackson, El Halcon Loco Jr., and Kara Stern

I don't think Javier Valiente really fits in Los Diablos. Sure, he's a bit of a prankster, but he just doesn't have the kind of inherent shitheadedness that the rest of the faction does. Any time he was in the ring, this was almost a normal wrestling match, with a few shenanigans and pranks here and there. Comparing it to what was going on when El Rey Dorado or Fabio motherFUCKING Silva (who was back to the ring earlier than I expected goddammit) was in the ring reminded me why I used to fuckin' hate these guys so much. Referee misdirections, double-teaming, bullshit on the outside, this match was a greatest hits of Los Diablos' most hatable crap, right down to a completely needless beatdown on Chad Jackson after they'd already won, a beatdown that I note Javier didn't participate in. Don't be surprised if he drifts away from the faction in the coming months.

The Nerd's Rating: Ugh/10

Armel St. Martin and Hanami Watanabe vs. Jake Adair and Lexi Heart

This one should've been a banger. Hanami Watanabe and Lexi Heart's dislike for each other isn't fading at all with time, and they were quite eager to beat the shit out of each other here. Meanwhile, Armel St. Martin seemed motivated to take down Jake Adair after losing to him in the World Open, and Jake actually pulled some rarely-seen anger out of Armel. Jake was quick to tag in when Hanami was in the ring, but just as quick to tag out whenever Armel came after him, and that frustration on Armel's part boiled over into some of the nastiest strikes we've ever seen him throw. Meanwhile, Lexi steadily got tired of Jake's shit because she wanted to be the one fighting Hanami. This led to blind tags and argument on that side of the ring, which Armel and Hanami took advantage of to secure the win.

Jake's bullshit really weighed this match down. He can be a great wrestler when he puts his working boots on, and he's spent years trying to live down his 2018 Inside Wrasslin' "Most Hated Man in Wrestling" award, so you'd think he wouldn't stoop to this shit. Maybe he's afraid of Armel's vengeance after that roll-up win over him in the World Open, but c'mon man it's Aftermath. Get your shit together.

The Nerd's Rating: Disappointing/10

Jim Tarler and Tess Tarler vs. Tommy Powers and Olivia Powers

I'm usually one of the first to complain about nostalgia acts getting big PPV spots, but to be honest, this was actually pretty good. The Powers' had their game faces on, and were dead-set on trying to isolate the 65-year-old Jim Tarler, but he was having none of it. Both sides made frequent tags, and both sides worked together well, with frequent double-team maneuvers and last-moment pin breakups.

The Tarlers really impressed me in this match. Jim fought like hell, and if it weren't for his appearance, you'd be forgiven for mistaking him for a younger man. Tess coordinated well with her grandfather, pulling off matched moves with him, or doing the old signature spots that he can't do anymore. Which is good, because I don't know about you, but I don't fuckin' need to see a 65 year old man doing diving elbows and probably breaking something in my wrestling. Anyway, the Tarlers finally gave the crowd something to really get loud about, and the double Blast Bomb finish was exactly what we needed after a mostly unimpressive undercard.

After the bout was over, Tess grabbed a house mic and teased that she might come back at some point in the future. As I understand it, she's still considering contracts from multiple organizations, and has a busy schedule of matches for a variety of promotions in the coming months. I'll be watching with interest to see where she lands.

The Nerd's Rating: Palate-Cleansing/10

Matt de Leon vs. Aguijon Tachibana

Sometimes, all you need is some motherfucking lucha libre. The Tarlers' match aside, this show had been pretty tepid up to this point, and what we really needed was something to up the pace and really get us to care. Leave it to these two guys to deliver exactly that. The first ten minutes or so of this match were just pure lucha, with lightning-fast hold exchanges, technical pin attempts, and a good dose of high-flying as well. Though I guess the rest of the match was also pure lucha in its own way, as they got steadily more pissed off and brought out the heavy striking. This may have been a mistake on Matt's part, as Aguijon is a more adept kicker than him, and was quick to show this fact off with some absolutely blistering examples. Matt held his own, though, and actually pissed Aguijon off enough with his own kicks that Aguijon went and got a chair. Referee Nadine Mathis tried to talk Aguijon down, until Matt solved the issue by dropkicking the chair into Aguijon's face, where it then flew out of the ring.

Overall, Aguijon fought well, and surprisingly clean, sneaky little fucker that he is, other than the chair. However, Matt's momentum was just undeniable, and after 19 minutes of non-stop action, Aguijon simply didn't have an answer for Matt's Phoenix Splash.

Some of the miserable fuckers that like to clog up my social media feed will probably say that this being my MotN is more a comment on the quality of the overall show than the match itself, but honestly this would've been a pretty great match on any card, and past this point, it was all pedal to the metal anyway. Congratulations to the new Aftermath Champion; with a performance like that, it's richly deserved.

The Nerd's Rating: Fucking Perfection/10

Gold-Blooded vs. The Divine Imperium

I think this is the match that we'll remember as when the cracks started to show for The Divine Imperium. Don't get me wrong, it's not like their act is getting any less funny. But tonight they came as close as they ever have to losing the tag-team championships. Gold-Blooded are just too tight a team to be going up against them without cohesion, something that, as I've mentioned, The Divine Imperium are seriously lacking.

This match ultimately came in kind of a weird place, squished between two absolute killer singles matches. It wasn't bad, and was certainly better than the tepid undercard, but it suffered for being sandwiched between two matches that were far better. Once it was clear that they were actually under serious threat, Akiko and Mizuki did what disciples of Samael do best: They resorted to being absolute monsters. Of course, Cerise and Leticia being members of Los Diablos, they're no strangers to a good old fashioned street fight themselves. You can imagine how things went from there.

I'd say a good half of this match took place outside of the ring, and even when it was inside, things were in full-bore anything goes mode. Tables were broken, chairs were smashed over heads, turnbuckle pads were removed, kendo sticks were produced from somewhere, and while I don't speak Portuguese or Japanese, I'm pretty sure that whatever Leticia was screaming at the top of her lungs violated some kind of broadcast standard somewhere. Referee Nadine Mathis visibly gave up trying to keep any of this under control, and was just content to count the final fall. After all was said and done, The Divine Imperium squeaked one out here, but they clearly underestimated their opponents' capacity for violence, and were on the back foot for a decent portion of the proceedings.

The Nerd's Rating: Violentastic/10

Mieko Suzuyama vs. Gabriela Espinosa

These two are a known quantity at this point, with a number of matches against each other over the last several years. Familiarity can be a double-edged sword for a matchup; while two opponents who know each other well can build up a series of counter-plays that make for exciting matches, a matchup can also just get stale over time because we've seen all this shit before.

Thankfully, this was a different set of circumstances than we've ever seen before for these two women. Since the last time they locked up, Gabriela became Joshi Champion for the first time in her career, and she was as motivated as I've ever seen to hold onto her gold at any cost. Mieko, meanwhile, has been three years away from the title at this point, and it was clear that every day away from the title scene had been eating her up. The match we got from that peculiar alchemy was pure asskickery, only narrowly edged out in my consideration for Match of the Night by the Aftermath Championship match. And sure, Gabriela pulling out all the stops meant a bunch of sketchy rollups, feet on the ropes, all that shit, but when the intensity is this high, and when Mieko absolutely was not having that shit for even a second, and rewarded every shenanigan with pain, I can't be too mad about it (even if the amount of cheating bullshit is a decent part of why I didn't make this my MotN).

When her bag of tricks ran out, though, that's when Gabriela really kicked things into gear and this match got serious. Vicious kicks and chops flew back and forth wtih abandon. Gabriela was jumping off of every surface she could to add momentum to her attacks. Mieko pulled out her old Miracle Third finisher for a near-fall. Both women locked each other in signature holds and I swear I thought it was over a bunch of times. Finishers were countered. By the time Mieko finally managed to nail the Final Hidden Miracle to lift the Joshi Championship for the third time, I was exhausted just from watching.

The Nerd's Rating: Damn near perfect/10

Kazuo Saji vs. Ultimo Cielo

I had really high expectations going into this match. Ultimo Cielo has been steadily growing on me over the last year, producing some really excellent title defenses. Meanwhile, Kazuo Saji has never looked so focused in SWA. Kazuo had an absolutely incredible goddamn World Open this year, putting in tons of match time, giving amazing performances, and of course getting his first ever singles victory over Armel St. Martin. Given Cielo calling that he would be the first SWA Openweight Champion to ever defeat the winner of the World Open way back in February, not to mention putting his mask on the line, there was a real unstoppable force meets immovable object feeling about this matchup that was tantalizing to say the least.

Ultimo Cielo made a promise on that SWA TV back in February, saying that he would come into Aftermath alone, without any backup. What he never promised us, though, was how the shows leading up to this were going to go. In preview tags over the past couple weeks, Murderer's Row made sure to spend as much time as they could isolating Kazuo Saji and working over his leg. I guess Cielo got spooked after seeing Saji completely fucking obliterating people with the Chrome Splitter during the World Open. It barely seemed to matter, though, because Kazuo wasn't interested in trying out the Splitter in this match - he didn't attempt it once. Maybe he was wary of how effective it would be after all the legwork, or maybe he wanted to prove that he didn't need it. Either way, he ended up using just about every other aspect of his game to take the fight to the champion in a match that would've easily been one of my top matches of the night were it not for one teensy problem.

See, at about 23 minutes into the match, Kazuo Saji countered his way out of Ultimo Cielo's Angel Killer spinning tombstone piledriver. That must have panicked Cielo, because that's when everything went to hell. From that point on, a match that had been cleanly fought and really exciting became shenanigan city. Cielo did everything he could to keep referee Toby Russell distracted (not that distracting Toby is hard) so he could go for low blows and dirty pin attempts. When that didn't work, he threw Kazuo straight into Toby so that nobody with authority to stop the match would see him blast Kazuo full on in the jaw with a set of brass knuckles. To Kazuo's credit, he kicked out AGAIN after the brass knuckles shot, and even started to mount a comeback but he was unable to do anything about the second Angel Killer.

A match like this is really fucking frustrating. A complete turd of a match that stinks out the joint is one thing, but a titanic fucking miscarriage of justice like this is an entire other sack of shit. To think Cielo was winning me over with great performances as recently as Crescendo. Fuck this ending and fuck Ultimo Cielo for ruining what could have been one of the greatest matches of the year with his horsefuckery. Was it really worth it, Cielo? Throwing away any credibility you had with the fans just so you could say you're the first champ to turn back the World Open winner at Aftermath?

Fuck.

The Nerd's Rating: FUCK. MY. LIFE/10