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#and making out under a pier is one of those moments

ma1dita · 1 month

Note

its 10pm again.... 😈😈

rivals with benefits Luke who makes everything a competition. even in bed. 😼

IM ALSO SO SORRY FOR FLOODING UR INBOX

MDNI

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

a/n: liv we're boxing because i literally could not rest until i got this right,,,, smut. public sex. wrap before you tap. creampie. all the nasty things. fuck man...

wc: 968

“That’s a point for me,” Luke says with a menacing grin. The both of you are soaked to the bone after paddling across Canoe Lake to see who could make it to the other end the fastest, and as you gasp for air while holding onto the wood post of the pier, you can’t help but somehow be convinced that he cheated.

“You’re built like a frog with those long legs of yours, how the fuck was I supposed to win?”

Daybreak spreads slowly across Camp Half-Blood, sunlight kissing where the sky meets the water and Luke thinks he wants to kiss you. Knows it, actually—deep down to his bones that the line between hatred and love must be lust.

He swims closer to you like a predator creeping toward his prey, wet curls stuck to his forehead as he admires how hard you’re breathing. You’re right there, and since you like to make a competition of everything from capture the flag strategies to how many campers you both can get to screech at nightly sing-a-longs, he thinks he has an offer you won’t be able to resist. Luke’s hands glide under your shirt as the both of you tread water, still fighting for dominance even when it comes to who takes up the most space to stay afloat. You lick your lips, fingers tugging at his camp necklace as you look at him curiously and raise an eyebrow.

“I’ve got an idea…”

“I’ll start my prayers,” you smirk, before seeing the hot burning want in his gaze. You can feel it in his fingers as they brush the underside of your breasts, nipples stiff in the frigid water. Shaking your head, a nervous giggle leaves you as your arms circle his neck, bodies separated by your thin, sopping nightshirt. If he touches the rest of you, he’ll find other parts that are wet too, warm enough to brave the chill of the morning breeze that settles upon your shoulders.

“The nymphs might see…” you whisper, even though the both of you know not a single soul is awake right now but time is running out like sand in an hourglass.

“You backing down?”

The kiss you press into his open mouth is a clear enough answer—tongues sliding and spearing against each other, hot and angry and bruising. It’s a fair shot, not knowing who’s going to come out on top.

—

“Oh, gods, please!”

Your hands and knees are scraping in the rocks and sand of the shoreline underneath the pier as Luke pistons into you at an alarming rate, each thrust a blow to your senses. He watches your head bob up towards the sky almost in reverent prayer and he’s grinning, continually sinking into your warmth while the rest of him shudders from the cold. Luke’s cock works inside your slick hole instead of against it, and he laughs at the irony of you finally letting him have his way. Your fingernails dig into the coarse beach, grains of sand making their way through every crevice as he fills your pulsing one with glee.

“Fucking knew you’d behave…” he grunts, one hand pulling at the thin cloth around your waist and the other holds onto your stomach so he can feel himself bludgeon you from the inside. “Can’t fight back when you’re getting your brains fucked out, hmm?”

He watches your pretty tits swing from the stretched out opening of your soggy shirt as you choke out a sob of pleasure.

“Yes…f-fuck Luke,” you whine, reaching back to ease your hand against his abdomen but he pulls it behind your back to use as a better hold on you. Luke puts two of his fingers in your mouth and they prod at the skin of your cheek, spit dripping around the digits.

Despite the intrusion, you’re groaning loud enough over the icy smacks against your skin that for a moment he thinks it might actually wake the forest nymphs, but then he’s distracted by your pussy pushing and pulling him as his hips clap against your ass, leaving them raw for days to come. Light waves crash against the shore with your movements, splashing against your knees and you’re giggling at him with a dazed grin as you push your hips back harder against his thrusts, overpowering his control over you.

He swallows thickly, groaning through the building sensation in his stomach as you rock back onto his cock faster and with the purpose of taking him down and winning. The both of you work in tandem as you writhe against each other in a battle to reach the end, unsure of if you’re with him or against him but gods, it feels so fucking good being under him.

“M’so close…Don’t fucking stop,” you shudder, and Luke shuts his eyes hard and takes a deep breath. Even if all 12 Olympians came down right now to smite him he wouldn’t be able to pull out.

So he doesn’t.

He couldn’t even if he tried—he cums so hard, his front meeting your back as you fall into the sand with a muffled yelp and he’s pumping thick rods of his release into your pussy. You shiver under him slightly until you realize your belly is warm from his efforts.

“That’s gotta be like 5 or 10 points,” Luke pants, nipping at your shoulder before he sits up. You’re laying there, ass up and motionless so he slaps a cheek before you start laughing.

“For me. At least you came,” you drone, having been on the brink of an orgasm.

He couldn’t argue with that. So he flips you onto your back and eats you out (sand and slick and all) until he’s ready again and by the time the morning bell rings, you’ve both lost track of who’s won your so-called competition.

#jo's 23rd birthday bash ⋆｡°✩#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan smut #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo x reader #made by ma1dita ♥︎

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cheesec4kee · 1 month

Note

hi lovely !! i loved your angsty fic with charles. i wondering if you could write a charles x reader based off the the song casual by chappell roan xx

much love

Is it casual now? ⸺ CL¹⁶ ୨୧

you’ve always wanted for it to be more, for it to be a serious relationship. you’ve dreamt of it, but it may be far from ever being serious. it seems like it’ll always just be labeled as ‘casual’.

[ warnings ! ] : gn reader, angst-ish ??, use of y/n like once not proofread

[ a/n ] : words cannot describe how HAPPY I was when I got this req omg, I was giggling n kicking my feet !! thank u sm for this req, I had so much fun writing this !! I hope you like it <33 I’m so sorry if it’s too short (reblogs very much appreciated !!)

⸺ angst under the cut

“remember baby, no attachment.”

his words would ring in your head, loud and clear. and you’d prefer to forget them, you’d very much prefer so. you would’ve much preferred that he never said those words at all, even.

you thought you’ve hit the jackpot, managing to even befriend the monegasque. he was a popular man, a good looking one at that— surrounded with women everywhere he went.

you felt foolish for thinking that the relationship would last, you felt foolish for thinking that he would think of you better. for thinking that he’d consider you as someone he couldn’t lose.

forming a relationship with Charles wasn’t exactly easy. you didn’t know what the two of you were. friends? partners? you were confused, to say the least. you’re still holding onto the relationship, despite hearing so many rumors— that you were just a ‘friend that he bangs on the couch’.

you’d remind yourself every day, every night that the two of you were never together, and never will be. we’re not together, you tried to remind yourself whenever you two kissed, and it hurt, it hurt knowing you weren’t his first priority. you would let the words bounce in your mind as he kissed your cheek, and your forehead occasionally— we’re not together, you’d remind.

and yet, he’ll still brag you to his friends at the pier, he’ll still take care of your needs, eating you out like a starved man in the passenger seat. is it really casual now?

he talks about you to his mom, and you would’ve taken that as a good sign, as his mom invited you to her house on Long Beach— but it pains you knowing that he’s not even committed to the relationship, that’s he’s not even seeking for it. he knows that he’s just using you, and he expects you to do the same— but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. it pains you knowing that he’s talking about you to his mom only for the sake of keeping her happy that her son finally ‘found’ someone.

you’d find yourself dreaming about the two of you, thinking that maybe, just maybe, the two of you would have a shared apartment, decorating it accordingly together— make it feel like home.

and now the two of you are making out on the couch, your arms looped around his neck— his lips pressing onto yours, but his lips tasted bitter. feeling his body pressed against yours made you feel uncomfortable.

he trails down sloppy kisses to your neck, his hands roaming all over your body, finding their way to your hips.

you knew what would happen. the two of you would share an intimate moment, but as soon as it’s over— the two of you a panting and sweaty mess, it always will be “no attachment”.

and so before this would escalate any further, before you would be left with your heart aching— you mustered up the courage to ask him the question.

“..what are we?” you whispered, watching nervously as he lifts his head from your neck to look at you, his eyebrows raised in confusion and surprise on the sudden question.

“what?”

“you heard me.” you sighed, pulling your arms away from his neck, shifting slightly on the couch. the silence was deafening, you needed a answer.

“please. what’s our relationship?”

“you know what it is, y/n.” he sighs quietly, his hand cupping your face— his thumb caressing your cheek, a weak and bitter attempt to comfort you.

“no attachment, baby. it’s casual.”

“then get off of me.”

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stiltonbasket · 3 months

Note

Post sunshot campaign, Wei Ying leaves his ghost jie jies to babysit A-yuan while he and LWJ cleanse the battlefields of resentful spirits!

LWJ is still spooked by the ghost maidens but A-yuan is having the time of his life with them, and since WWX still trusts them more than the Lan nannies, he lets them be. One night, WWX finds LWJ taking notes from them on how to swaddle babies, make the best nutritional baby food etc and he’s melting from all sorts of emotions ;;

On a fine, clear night in the middle of Guiyue, Wei Wuxian wakes at the stroke of yin hour to find his friend's bed empty.

Lan Zhan moved into Wei Wuxian's room when he first came to Lotus Pier, determined not to waste a single moment with A-Yuan, and he was usually still awake when Wei Wuxian began preparing for bed. Once, Wei Wuxian asked his friend why he kept staying up past hai hour; and Lan Zhan had only stared at him before explaining that he could not rest until Wei Wuxian and A-Yuan were tucked away in their warded bed, asleep.

"I spent the entire war fearing that I would lose you both," he said bluntly, putting a hand on A-Yuan's little head to steady himself. "I do not think I will ever cease to fear it. It might grow easier to bear, in time—but not yet."

Afterwards, Lan Zhan even gave up his habit of rising at maoshi and started lingering in bed until Wei Wuxian and A-Yuan woke nearly three hours later; so where could he possibly be at this time of night?

Puzzled, Wei Wuxian slides out from under the covers and pads out of his bedroom, leaving A-Yuan fast asleep in his crib. It shouldn't take long to find him, he thinks, as he wanders down the lamplit corridors in search of Lan Zhan. Perhaps he went out to get a drink of water.

But instead, he finds his errant beloved—and how strange it is to think of him as such!—in the company of one of A-Yuan's ghost nannies, Meng Leilan.

Meng Leilan was the gentlest of Wei Wuxian's dead servants during the war. In life, she was the eldest daughter of a once-wealthy merchant, whose estate was seized by a rival when he reneged on his debts—and Leilan, then eighteen, was sold into marriage as a magistrate's third concubine, while her younger sister entered a flower house as a yiji.

Leilan met her death at the hands of one of the other concubines three years later, after her first child turned out to be a son—and though she remained peaceful for the first few weeks after her passing, content to linger in the shadows of the nursery where her baby slept, she was forced to bear witness to the child's murder not two months after his full-moon birthday.

It was then that Meng Leilan realized that she had been murdered as well—for she had previously believed that her death was the result of childbed fever, having died in her sleep two weeks after her baby's birth—and arose as a fierce ghost before killing her husband's second concubine in as gruesome a manner as her tortured mind could bear.

But she spared the second concubine's son, unable to do any harm to a infant even in the depths of her resentment; and after Wei Wuxian brought her into his service and told her that she might do whatever she pleased to any Wen soldier who had killed a woman or child, she settled, and asked to remain in the living world as one of A-Yuan's nannies.

But Lan Zhan cannot rest at ease in the presence of Wei Wuxian's ghostly servants, even those who had never shed blood where he could see it, so what could Lan Zhan want with Meng Leilan at this hour?

Curious, Wei Wuxian makes his way to his beloved's side.

"What are you doing here, xingan?" he teases, nudging Lan Zhan's shoulder. "If you and Leilan were going out to play, you should have invited me!"

"I did not come out to amuse myself," Lan Zhan replies, looking heart-breakingly solemn. "But Yuan'er eats solid food now, and I wanted to know which of the dishes we have at the Cloud Recesses would be best for him. You were asleep, and I was impatient—so I came out to look for Meng-guniang, though I ought to have waited until morning."

Ah, Lan Zhan, Wei Wuxian laments to himself. He's been drinking my blood and eating solid food since the month after he was born. It's just that I don't feed him when you're in the room with us.

"Oh?" he says instead. "And what did Leilan tell you, then?"

Lan Zhan's fine mouth turns downward. "She said that a child born and bred in Yunmeng would fare poorly upon the fare of my clan," he says sadly. "It is fortunate that I asked her, or I might have stunted A-Yuan's growth. But now that I know better, I shall have to learn to cook."

Wei Wuxian's heart melts on the spot. "Oh, Lan Zhan..."

"But then again, I would have learned to cook for you either way," Lan Zhan tells him, rallying at once. "Yuan'er already takes hongyou in his baby food, so we might give him a milder portion of your food mixed with rice. What do you think, my heart?"

In answer, Wei Wuxian puts his arms about Lan Zhan's neck and tries not to burst into tears.

"That I can't wait for our wedding," he says thickly. "That's what I think, Lan Zhan."

At that, Lan Zhan looks so breathtakingly radiant—like a lonely white moonbeam fallen to earth and shaped into human form by the thrumming lingli in Lake Lianhua—that Wei Wuxian cannot help but kiss him, and fall back into the cradle of his arms as Lan Zhan tips Wei Wuxian's chin up and kisses him fiercely in return.

When Lan Zhan finally releases him, Wei Wuxian staggers backward, gasping—and finds himself clasped in Lan Zhan's arms all over again, for his beloved had seized him by the waist to keep him from falling over the side of the dock and into the lake below.

"Two more months," he says softly, smoothing his thumb along the line of Wei Wuxian's eye. "And then we need never be parted again."

He turns to bow to Meng Leilan, who inclines her head and vanishes in a cloud of lotus-scented vapor; and with that, they join their hands and walk back to Wei Wuxian's room.

Lan Zhan climbs into bed and falls asleep in less than half a ke, leaving Wei Wuxian to stare up at the ceiling with his fingertips pressed to his mouth in wonder—for somehow, it had not struck him that he and Lan Zhan will be married by the year's end until that very moment.

And then—

I'm going to tell him about A-Yuan, he resolves. Right after we get back from the discussion conference in Lanling. He'll love A-Yuan just the same, no matter how he came into the world—and he'll keep the truth secret for the rest of his life if I ask, even from Laoshi and Zewu-jun.

And with that, Wei Wuxian closes his eyes, and follows his beloved into slumber.

#wangxian #lan wangji #wei wuxian #lan sizhui #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #cultivation baby sizhui au #my fic #long time no see for this AU!#RIP i just realized I last updated it in 2022 #anyway.....

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wonderfulwonderrful · 6 months

Text

Season of Love (1/?)

+18 | Toto x reader fem!teamprincipal

Summary: One night on a pier in Monaco, while admiring the sea under the night skies, you told Toto, "I came to the conclusion that love is simply not meant for me." That was the answer to a question you have been asking yourself for the longest time. But what if he proved you wrong. Pairing: Toto Wolff x reader team principal. Genre: Romance, comedy, and some good drama. Author's note: Hi, fam! I'm nervous since this is my very first fanfic. I have been following this tag for a while now, and I got so inspired by all the talent here that I went and wrote my own story. Please be kind to me. English is my second language. I will upload chapters regularly - using this hashtag and on #seasonoflovefic. I have been dealing with anxiety the entire year; writing this has been part of my healing process. I hope you like it. (By the way, this story is fun and light-spirited.)

Dances With Wolff Arc Chapter 1: Engines on and hearts off!

Bahrain

It is a hot and sunny day in Bahrain. Golden hour is set, and every single person in the paddock seems to be in a rush. It is the usual chaos every pre-season brings.

Toto makes his way through the sea of people, cables, tire carts, and cameras at his regular pace - which means those toned and long legs going full speed - rocking this year's Mercedes kit and a new pair of designer sunglasses, phone in hand when it buzzes.

—Breaking news: After lengthy negotiations during the break, the De Vos Group acquired Williams Racing - as speculated. New female owner Y/N De Vos will be joining the paddock this season. The team's principal will soon be announced. Check our exclusive first look with her.

Toto reads on his iPhone after tapping the Sky Sports push notification, slowing his pace a second. He raises an eyebrow and gazes around, noticing many people in the packed pitlane doing the same, slowing the frenzy on the floor for a close bit.

He reaches out for his pockets and puts on the Bose earbuds before hitting the play button. Curiosity is overpowering him - and, honestly, excitement, too - as he looks at the preview thumbnail. A stunning, tan-skinned woman with great, shiny hair and a beautiful smile appears in front of the microphone with a smug smirk.

—God, she's gorgeous —Toto lets out to himself. Continuing his way to the Mercedes garage. This year, it is located one spot before Williams and following Ferrari's.

Finally, something exciting, someone new. After years of dominating the game, trying not to sound too egomaniac, every season starts to feel like routine to him. Toto is hitting a personal low, avoiding calling it what it is: depression mixed with boredom, especially this season and at this moment in his life. Same old tracks, same old challenges, same old people, same old ways, same old Toto.

You answer the interviewer's questions with ease. You are very well-spoken in his eyes like you are used to doing press or public speaking, and you have a cheeky sense of humor. Toto gets captivated, to say the least. He puts his phone into his back pocket and continues walking while listening to your interview, muffling the paddock's noise.

You have a soft voice, a professional speech pattern, and excellent enunciation, reinforcing Toto's idea of you being trained at it. He detects some accent but can't figure out where it is from. He listens to the whole thing; it's impossible for him not to sigh at the stupid questions they ask you a couple of times. The more Toto listens, the more questions he has for you in his mind. He may get them answers later when he finally meets you.

So far, you seem like a breeze of fresh air, and Toto is desperate to breathe you.

And yeah, no question Williams looks different. Toto, as usual, ventures to inspect more than he should - and is allowed to - taking a good peek at your brand-new garage. Knowing quite well, he also is hoping to spot you in person.

The garage looks tech and minimalistic, matching your new modern W logo. Whites, blacks, and touches of grey colors predominated. The lighting, screens, and interior design look so futuristic, expensive, and dope; it's a whole vibe. It is a sexy garage! A phrase he never imagined using. What F1 has done to a man?

Toto can feel the desperate modernity Williams once needed and the resources. Of course, he knew firsthand the Williams family was looking to sell after years of struggling to win races and its economics. Toto remained neutral throughout the process, informed but not too involved. He had felt a little indifferent about the entire ordeal till now.

He hopes not to sound insensitive. Of course, he has a special place in his heart for that team and its people, he first started there, but the businessman side of him knows it is the right call and best for them. Of course, it's sad, but that is the game: evolve or die.

He knows his investment is in good hands because last he had heard, and in Niki's words, it got acquired by a Belgian zillionaire, and Niki reassured him it was a perfect choice. He was respectable and trustworthy, and Toto didn't need to know more. But this sudden change - and announcement - took him a bit by surprise. Little did he know.

Gossip and theories fill the paddock. Supporters and haters - already - are all over social media, typing divided opinions as usual. It is the talk of the town, and you, you are the center of it at this point; there is more to come.

Toto greets his team on his way to his chair, already inside Merc's garage after doing his little on-site research. A couple of pats on the back and hugs later, he makes himself comfortable in his spot while catching up with Bono.

Just as Toto is about to place the headphones on his head, the corner of his eyes caught Samanta, better known as "Sam" - a beautiful, thin, young, pale-skin, platinum blondie - Niki's assistant, hugging you goodbye and walking towards him.

You wave Niki hello from afar and on your way to the W garage.

For the briefest moment, Toto's eyes and yours met. You are more petite than he expects. And you dress very classy and minimal but with a sexy touch. You match the new identity of Williams, or well, Williams matches your style. The Jacquemus "La robe saudade" dress you wear hugs your curves, accentuating your beautiful toned legs and great ass. He couldn't avoid staring you down as you walked past. Sometimes, he was just a simple man.

Toto suddenly feels the Arabic heat rushing through his body.

—Getting up close with the enemy, tearing down its walls, I like your style, evil as I would expect from you —he says to Sam, now next to him, as she takes off her access badge and picks up her tablet from a drawer.

—Bok, dumb. No bad blood! Just a friendly welcome to this testosterone hell, you know, girls being supportive of one another. I'm pretty sure you will like her, and judging by that look you just gave her, I guess you already.

—Začepi, dumber —Toto answers in his usual authoritarian and collected deep voice, but jokingly. He feels his cheeks turning red. —Spill how, when…

—We were roomies a long time ago. I adore her, she's great, strong, intelligent, kind, fun, and so damn hot. That's all you need to know for now, and that's all I'm telling you.

Sam is the youngest daughter of the Dobrev heirs, a very wealthy and old-money Croatian - almost royal - family who owns multiple fleets and half the country, like filthy rich. They are famous for being all platinum blondes, having many scandals, and investing in motor and water sports. They are one of the main Mercedes-AMG sponsors.

As far as Toto knows, Sam doesn't have the best relationship with her family and dislikes talking about it, but he knows she cares a lot about her elder brother, to whom Toto hears her speak on the phone now and then.

After years and years of working and traveling the world together, Sam lets her walls down with Toto, becoming great friends and this sort of family away from family, although she remains pretty reserved on some subjects. He loves her like a little sister. She is pretty younger than him and sometimes reminds him of his own sister. Niki always describes them two as his annoying children, always teasing and bickering at each other when possible. The old man cares so much for them personally and at work, and they do, too.

Toto wonders if by "old roomie" she means ex-girlfriend? He has met some of Samanta's "roomies," and… Toto doesn't feel like pushing. He wonders if you may have someone... You know... As team principal, he has to learn about other teams' dynamics, right?

He tosses the thought off and gets in the zone. They have another title to win.

You hug Samanta goodbye and take a glance at the Merc garage. Sam is family to you, and you heard so much about them and F1 over the years, ever since she moved out of the Manor after having that massive fight with her parents and started working for Mercedes-AMG, swearing to make a living of her own and never needing them EVER again, a bit over dramatic reaction but that who Sam is and you love her that way.

She is also your bestie; you two text each other daily. Thanks to her, you knew everything about everyone in the paddock: the good and bad, scandals, and more. Yet they knew nothing about you. For them, you are brand new and the perfect excuse to gossip about.

And there he is, Torger Christian Wolff, the guy Sam couldn't stop gushing you about. Damn, she is right, Toto is gorgeous. You would feel slightly jealous of their closeness if he wasn't Sam's cup of tea. But you can't get distracted; you have a purpose for being there, and nothing will get in the middle. Even if you are dying to meet him, even if you treasure every detail you know about Toto, even if you have been fantasizing about him for the longest time, not to mention being half in love with the man already or the idea of him. Sam made him sound like such a remarkable and caring human being.

Niki waves hello to you from afar, and you wave back. You adore that old man. He is one of the reasons why the Williams family agreed to sell you the team. Without his support, it wouldn't have been possible.

You met Niki two winters ago; thanks to Sam, you explained to him your motives and why you wanted to buy a team, and he fully agreed to support you and mentor you throughout the whole process. He is a badass and one of the kindest people you have ever met. You immediately felt embraced by the Laudas. Along with Sam, they are among the very few people who know your entire story and genuinely know you, the real you.

Back to the present day. You feel Toto's dark eyes set on you and can't resist ignoring them even if your life depends on it, so you look back at him. For the briefest moment, your eyes met. The desert is too hot, isn't it? Uff, what's going on with this heat? Damn you global warming!

So you better hurry yourself away before it is too late and you dare to get closer to him. You reach your new team's garage at the speed of light, so it is fittable for the place you are at. It feels weird saying "your" so much.

Everything is so different from the world you are used to, but you don't feel nervous. You are a woman on a mission, and after all you have gone through in life, you are not that kind of girl. You bear a challenge.

You greet your team. —He hasn't arrived yet? —you ask the aero performance engineer while he is placing green and yellow dots on the left side of the new car. You reached close to inspect the latest upgrades.

The car is beautiful, matte black with a powerful Lamborghini engine. They are your main sponsor and partner and the only one, which is insanely impressive. No million logos, no visual noise - it is something to see due to F1 budgets.

Commotion and gasps come from the outside. While you ask the engineer that question, a frenzy starts in the front of the garages. You watch camerapersons and fans pass by, running crazy. Total mayhem.

Oh, there he is.

Toto's phone buzzes again - in the middle of that circus - "Breaking news; The legend is BACK. Michael Schumacher joins Williams as Team Principal, son Mick Schumacher, and the sensation of the moment, female driver Millie Dobrev joins him along as drivers."

The FIA, in its many attempts to be perceived as "forward" or "woke," has allowed for the first time mixed-gender racing, starting this season - about damn time! Millie is one of the top female drivers and the youngest, achieving a lot at a young age and becoming a serious threat to everyone on her way.

—Dobrev… Dobrev?! —Toto looks from the photo on his phone screen to Sam and back; a very young petite girl - with sun-kissed skin, short platinum blonde hair with pink ends and clear blue eyes, a round face with delicate features - poses in a pastel color outfit doing a Korean heart gesture with her hands, fingers full of expensive jewelry. —Care to explain?

—Yes, did I mention she's my dear niece? —Sam answers, deadpan.

—The fuck —Toto says —Are all blond Croatians your family? —Toto teases.

—Hilariously accurate —she laughs it off.

—Your niece?! You are like twelve, how old is she, two!? Can't believe you are an aunt already. I don't know what to do with that fact..."

Samanta rolls her eyes. "Thank my gross old uncle with a young trophy wife?" she thinks.

—So you keep secrets from me, huh? I thought ours was special.

—You give yourself too much importance. And yes, that's why my hair grew bigger during the break. It's full of secrets! —Sam replies. Swinging her long, straight locks.

—What??? —Toto doesn't get her Mean Girls reference.

—Sometimes I forget you are prehistoric, almost fossil.

They both fulminate each other with gazes in a classic and frequent stare-down. Then Sam proceeds to cross tasks on her tablet, slowly stepping away.

—Don't you dare run away from me! You have things to explain, missy.

—Sorry, I'm so busy right now, unlike you.

—I'm busy.

—No, you are not; you are trying to gossip!

—I'm always busy. I'm this team's principal, to remind you, so yes, I'm important, and maybe… maybe… I'm trying to gossip… a little bit —Toto gestures with his hand.

—Could you two stop?! —Niki calls it quits, half annoyed, half laughing, struggling to hear clearly what the tactics team is trying to tell him, turning around on his barstool and waving his hand at them.

Toto and Sam laugh softly, and Toto makes a small O with his mouth while Sam pretends to adjust her invisible tie before returning to business and being professional people doing professional tasks.

Toto looks once more at his phone screen. —Impressive —it's all he lets out. Toto can't wait. He can't wait.

It's been a long time since Michael set foot on the paddock, after years of being retired and living almost exclusively to recover - after his infamous accident - and trying to enjoy being a father and a husband when possible. He became this mythical figure that existed in F1 and people's minds but is nowhere to be seen, making him feel like a ghost. Nowadays, he is doing way better but was getting bored of being a recluse at home waiting for the right moment, for that one sign that make it all start over for him.

And there she is, in front of him, doing a fake courtesy.

—Welcome back, Kaiser —you joke with him.

—Hi, boss! —Michael greets you with a thick German accent and sweet voice. —Sorry about that! —He pushes you aside as a photographer flashes photos. The lens almost hits you in the face while two other cameramen bump into each other. —Better if we go inside. There's lots to talk about and to get ready to start testing. This is bonkers! —he finishes saying, looking at the circus surrounding you two.

—Okay. Let's go then, Schumi —you reply to him.

You feel ready.

The testing goes out smoothly for Mercedes. There are just a few sensor improvements and small details to fix, but only a little to worry about. Lewis and George seem happy with their car's performance, and the team feels optimistic.

As for Toto, his day was stressful; he felt exhausted after many meetings and people asking him questions all day, demanding his attention at all times. The hours went at an alarming speed. Somehow, the day is done, but the amount of work has just started. He blinks and is dark already, and the chauffeur is now driving him to his suite in a high-end hotel.

Tomorrow is a crucial day for the team, and his schedule is full of press, too. So he needs a good night of beauty sleep; at the moment, he looks like trash and feels like it. Toto likes to keep it real. He loves the attention of being under the reflectors and calling the shots but still isn't a massive fan of media day.

Speaking of the devil, he takes out his phone and opens his news app. Toto relaxes in the big luxury car seat. He has bookmarked several sites that cover F1, his long, unhealthy habit. He likes to stay current, even if he has "briefing" and a person in charge of doing that.

Even though he doesn't want to feel like a stalker, he pretty much is acting like it. Toto refreshes the app to read the latest news about Williams and you. He learns all he can of you from the newly released press articles; there is little about your background, past, or in general; all he keeps reading appears to be PR-approved since it is constantly reprised on different platforms, which feels weird.

Google doesn't offer him much either, just a couple of articles with photos in which you appear in various charity events related to children's foundations. It is like you don't exist online.

Toto reads your most recent interview and Michael's, and you both appear in good spirits about your car performance. He hates losing but loves a good challenge. A good old-fashioned on-track battle. For a change.

The bellboy opens the suite's double doors for him and carries Toto's things inside. It is a massive entrance and makes him feel tiny in comparison. Toto notices a small LV suitcase in front of the large door, next to a big antique wooden carved table, in the middle of the foyer under the soft dim coming from a stunning Tiffany's chandelier, which lits the room and reflects on the exquisite tile walls. The Arabic architecture and interior design of the place are breathtaking.

It means Susie has stopped by. Their relationship is in a weird spot, in one of those hiccups they face occasionally after dating forever and from a very young age. Their relationship at the moment feels monotonous, and love is lacking, which is slowly killing him. He still loves her very much but could sense he is losing her. Especially since they started seeing each other less and less - although he wouldn't blame anyone who has to bear with his crazy schedule - they almost stopped texting and talking to each other, too, and sex is nonexistent. So many red flags.

—Hi, schatzi —Toto greets her.

—Hi, Toto —she gives him a quick kiss. —You look tired.

—I am, but I'm happy you are here —he says, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his temple on hers. Soon after, he lifts Sussie from the ground into a tight hug. There is a clear height difference.

—I know. I'm happy to see you too, even if it's for a brief moment. I was hoping you got free sooner. Our jet has permission to take off in an hour exactly.

—I'm sorry, today was crazy —Toto apologizes.

—I can imagine. I tried to communicate with you earlier, but it was impossible to reach you; it was almost like you were avoiding me.

God, she knows him so well. Yes, he has been avoiding her - although not today, he honestly had a crazy day - but since they had that awkward and hurtful conversation at their New Year's Eve reception at their house in Oxford. Not because he is angry at her or scared, he misses her a lot. It's just he has been unable to decide and come up with an answer to the situation.

—I wanted to clear things out between us before the start of the season. I'm aware that from now on, you only get busier and more challenging to reach, and my schedule this year is also insane, Sussie says.

—Yes, love. Tell me what you need?

—Your thoughts.

—On what? —Toto pretends to be confused and not get what she is referring to.

—Come on, Torger. Would you like me to remind you of our last conversation at New Year's?

Silence.

The last time they saw each other in person was months ago. He panicked after that conversation and left for Austria, calling it a business trip and a visit to his sister to spend time with his nephews. She didn't follow him around. Because it was clear he was running away and needed time alone without her.

—So... as I mentioned to you that night... You wanted to try for children this year, and I let you know I didn't see that happening this year or any year. And that I have been feeling increasingly lonely since you spent most of your days away. Honestly, every day, we spend more time away from each other. My career keeps taking off, and I'm not raising children on my own amidst it! I can't even imagine the idea of being pregnant to start with! Plus, you said there's no way you are quitting your job, and I'm neither, so...

—I didn't say that. That's not how it went —Toto feels his head hurting now. He rubs his forehead, exasperated hearing Sussie's Director's Cut version of the events. "It went more like this: I don't get your full attention at all times like before, I'm not able to control you as I once did, and every time you ask me to spend time together, me traveling to you or you traveling to me, if it's not the way I want it I always come up with something to avoid it. Plus, I never mentioned to you before that I didn't want children, not once in the thousand times we discussed family and raising kids together, ah! And I always blame your job as the reason why things aren't working between us." That's how it happened, Toto thinks.

—The point is... —Sussie ignores him. Throwing him a look. —We didn't reach a middle ground but chose not to break things off immediately because none of us felt sure.

There is a pause and a big exhale from her.

—That's why I suggested exploring having an open relationship. We would establish rules and limits. I know you are more traditional and don't envision this for us, but I wanted you to think about it and give it a chance, not to run away and avoid me after suggesting it. I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to be with someone else behind your back because I still love you, and I want us to work. I feel we both need someone who is present in our lives to touch us and hold us when we feel like it.

Toto feels crushed. All he wants is to settle down, start a family, and become a good father - as his father was to him - he never expected Sussie to go in the opposite direction. His intention has never been to make her choose between a career or kids. This isn't the case. It is going to be a two-person job. Besides that, they have all the privileges, resources, and support to successfully achieve being both parents and having careers simultaneously. —This isn't the right moment for this conversation. I had an...

—It's never the right moment for you! Christ's sake, Toto! I..! —Sussie starts losing it and gets emotional. He can't avoid feeling miserable. Suddenly, Toto felt the day's weight on his shoulders and back, which was killing him now; he needed a soft mattress to lay down so desperately. He doesn't want to make the drama bigger.

—Okay, easy, love —he hugs her. —I will think about it and give you an answer this week.

—You promise? Won't you run away from it anymore?

—I promise. I won't.

—This week, Toto! —Sussie wipes her tears, hugs him once more, and kisses him goodbye. —Let me know.

—Yes, this week. I will.

She grabs her suitcase and exits through the doors. Toto drags himself to bed with the remains of his energy, tosses his phone on the wireless charger nightstand, and lets himself drop on the mattress, face down. As he drifts away, a new notification red dot appears in the news app.

Now, an open relationship looks like an acceptable idea.

He falls asleep.

The view from your suite is impressive. Bahrain's entire skyline of modern skyscrapers is lit under the night skies, and the desert surrounding it looks beautiful through the floor-to-ceiling panoramic windows.

It isn't your first time in Western Asia, but your first time traveling so far from home on your own. This hotel is insanely expensive, and the suite is humongous for you by yourself. If you weren't so used to inhabiting a massive, almost empty Manor with you as your own company, you would have felt anxious in such an isolated, huge, and quiet space.

It is already late at night to text Samanta and meet her to chat. You both have work tomorrow and need to rest. But you have so much to catch up on - since yesterday? - No, but seriously, a lot had happened during your first day at the paddock.

As you are relaxing in the bathtub - you chose a bath bomb made of sea salt soap and local herbs with delicious scents - you let your mind go through all the day's events. You can't stop thinking of that pair of dark eyes going all over your body. You wanted to do the same. You wanted to admire him all.

You have created many scenarios of what it would be like to meet him. But it went so differently than what you pictured. He doesn't even know who you are or doesn't even care about you. You two could become friends in the future, but for now, your feelings for him are all over the place, and you don't wish to let your heart shatter, not again. Besides, he has Sussie - of course, you have no idea what those two are going through - and you, well, who would want to be with you and your whole "situation"? Your chances with him are zero minus a hundred.

You do your skincare routine before sending yourself to bed - for sure, you will be visiting the hotel's spa in the following days - already dreading tomorrow, a day full of meetings and interviews, you are slightly nervous about what the press is going to ask you, even if Michael does the heavy lifting for you in those matters, everyone seems so curious about you.

You turn the lights off and pray for a good night of sleep, free of the frequent nightmares you experience.

The following day, the driver's parade happens inside walls, while all drivers gather together in a small meeting room - a very office-looking space with sad, white-empty walls, gray carpeting, and way too lit up. Cold lighting is the worst! No F1 glamor on sight - this is part of one of the new progressive and "brilliant" ideas from the FIA.

Chaos is unleashed as everyone looks for a chair with their name tag.

—Did everyone see her? —Lando asks loudly to the entire room - filled at the moment just by drivers - He is sitting backward in his chair, on the front row, facing the rest. He is wearing his McLaren kit and cap, which is worn backward.

—Yes, we all did. Unless you live under a rock, you have missed that circus, but coming from you, it wouldn't surprise me —Checo answers, joking.

Lando purposely ignores him and throws him a dirty look and a kiss. —Then, ladies… From 1 to 10, how hard would you bang her? Starting with you, Seb —he asks everyone.

—Seriously, mate? So… sexist… —Vettel answers.

—Come on, bee-guy. What? It's just friendly chit-chat among us drivers, as the FIA would love to remind us, "This meeting's purpose is to establish communications between all teams drivers, their principals, along with the FIA representatives to build relationships and sportsmanship among-"

—Stop reading from the sign, idiot —Carlos says, following Lando's gaze to the sad poster pin crooked on the open door.

—Fine, but let's be honest here: she's the most exciting thing to happen to us in a while, not to mention the most recent. It's not like we are going to admire new guy Yuki's hips. All here have excellent vision, and she looked so FINE like you pervs didn't notice.

—Speak for yourself —Pierre answers jokingly, coming through on his way to his chair, passing in front of Lando in that reduced space, trying not to step on someone. Everyone laughs.

—She is so out of your league anyway; why bother? —Max mentions from the corner, sitting stretched out, his back against the wall, legs on top of the chair beside him. —And I agree with Pierre, Yuki's hips are immaculate, by the way.

—If someone cares, I think my vision is starting to fail me. I will need glasses soon —Nando jokes.

—Don't you worry, abuelo! It's just you getting even more ancient —Pato adds.

—I thought this meeting was for drivers? I mean real ones —Alonso jokes back.

—Oh, mate, low punch! I saw some of her interviews on telly; she is cheeky —George adds, drinking from a Merc bottle and standing near the door.

—Couldn't sound more British if you tried —Bottas adds.

—He is your Royal Highness, Prince George —Lewis jokes.

—More like your Royal Ass-ness —Leclerc adds amidst laughs.

—I saw her interviews too! It's like Ricciardo got female, but was actually funny and hot —Lando replies.

—Fuck you, mate —Daniel answers, laughing. —You know, she could breastfeed you.

—I wouldn't mind —Lando kids, hitting Dani - sat beside him - on the ribs with his elbow. Today, he is set to act like a naughty boy.

—Lando!! —four drivers say in unison, in shock.

—You're so gross, mate, I swear —Lewis adds simultaneously, palm on his face, half laughing, half wanting to rip his own ears off.

—I'm pretty sure that would be so illegal. I don't want to go to jail, Mr. Officer! —you say, entering through the door. Everyone turns to look at you. You overhear that part of the conversation; it doesn't feel mean-spirit. Then Lando's face matches the red color on Charles' shirt as he slowly turns around on his chair and sits - the proper way - quiet and still. It's a hilarious scene.

—I'm not into minors, but I could change your diaper and read you some bedtime stories to make you fall asleep. "The Little Orange Tin" you would love —you joke to break off the tension.

Michael follows you inside, laughing under his breath. You two take your seats and start chatting casually, two places away. You are seated next to Lewis - to your right - and to an empty chair with no tag to your left by the end of the row.

You are already a fan of Lewis. And again, you know so much about him because of Sam. Now, he is her favorite person on earth. You feel slightly hurt by that fact, but he sounds lovely, so honestly, it doesn't bother you.

—Hi, I'm Lewis —he offers you a fist bump.

—Hi, Lewis. I'm Y/N

—How is F1 treating you? All good? —Sebastian asks you, popping out from Lewis's right. Both their attention to you. Heavens, those are some beautiful eyes. You can't figure out if they are green or blue, but you don't want to stare too long.

Sebastian's actual chair is next to Charles, some rows at the front, but he sits next to Lewis because he feels like it. Messing the order. An anarchist at heart.

—All good, thank you —you answer. —It's been chaotic, but I'm enjoying it. And I'm eager for the first race.

—Me too. I always miss driving during breaks —Lewis tells you.

—I agree —Seb adds. —It is the best feeling in the world, so it's hard to let go.

Then Millie enters the room - pink cat-ears headphones on, rocking the new Williams kit: A minimalistic stretchy sports jersey, a white tee with black seams, and the W logo in black print at the center of the chest. It is a fully fitted silhouette with a high neckline and short sleeves, paired with some sleek black sports slacks.

Michael and you point Millie to the chair next to Michael - with her name tag - she gets there fast and takes off one side of her headphones.

—What up! —Millie greets. —Hi, Sebs!, Hi Lew! —she says extra sweetly and high-pitched tone, waving a hand while facing them. That girl is like a walking cartoon. She looks extra petite and young among those guys.

—Hi, Millie!!! —both of them answer in unison, with the same sweet-pitched tone. It's a cute moment.

Then, the room starts to fill up. And the FIA representative enters, meaning the meeting is about to begin.

A very rushed Mick gets in, also wearing the team's kit. Millie raises a hand and waves it, catching his attention. He moves very fast to his seat. And behind him enters Mattia and Toto, chatting with each other.

Holy shit. The fact that Toto would be there didn't cross your silly mind. And since Seb swapped chairs. The one where he sat belonged to Toto. So the chair next to you is empty and available for the Austrian. You see Mattia sit on the last free spot at the front, and Toto glances around, confused, till he spots the space to your side. You see him walk towards you almost in slow motion. And you set your mind to "if I pretend to not notice him, it means he's not there."

You sense him sitting only inches from you, his arm skin almost touching yours. While you keep your eyes locked straight ahead, point to the FIA guy without daring to move. He stretches while trying to adjust himself to a comfortable position. He is tall and muscular, and these chairs are a joke. His knee moves dangerously close to yours. For a moment, you see the inevitable contact coming. And your heartbeat starts to rise. But it doesn't happen. Damn, he smells so good! How on earth are you to get focus?

And then the meeting begins.

The whole thing is lame. You and Lewis laugh several times at Seb's under-his-breath comments and jokes about what is happening right at the moment. The German has excellent timing and good puns and one-liners. Those two seem like besties, Lewis being the "serious" of the pair; go figure!

The open mic section starts and the FIA guy offers the microphone around. Lewis instantly and discreetly crosses an arm over Seb's hands, and Vettel raises his eyebrows. —Freedom of speech, much? —Sebastian jokes.

—What are you going to ask? Seriously? —Lewis tells him.

—I have a genuine question!

—Why I don't believe you.

—Like why? You don't trust me?

—Oh, I do, but...

—But then... let me grab the mic.

Lewis lets out a sigh. Seb raises a hand, now free from Lewis's grip. And the microphone goes to him.

—Check, check —The entire room pays him attention. —Ahm, I have a question for you all.

—Yes, please, go ahead —The poor FIA guy looks overly excited that someone cares enough to say something. Most of them, not to say all of them, look forced to be there, bored, and by that point, so done with this meeting.

—Gentlemen, a short view back to the past. Thirty years ago, Niki... —The more he talks, the louder everyone laughs. Michael loses it. Sebastian recites the whole thing by heart.

What an icon.

The FIA guy couldn't look more confused.

You hear Toto's laugh for the first time; he has been sitting there quietly this entire time. You briefly and occasionally feel his gaze set on you, but you don't dare to turn, look, or talk to him. You know very well that any moment of weakness from you means your doom. Back to Toto's laugh. What is that heaven-sent sound? You want more. How can you get more? Can someone get addicted to a sound?

—Blimey, I knew it! —Lewis lets out, shaking his head and also smiling.

With that question, it is clear the meeting has ended.

As everyone is getting on their feet, you feel Toto purposely caressing his arm against yours as he gets on his feet and then walks to the exit without looking back at you. Your eyes follow him around till you lose sight. Sweet baby Jesus, those toned arms.

Race day arrives.

The Sahkir circuit is a whole party, and the atmosphere is to the roof. All drivers get in position after the entourages move quickly out of the way. The chaos on the track dissipates within seconds.

Then, after the formation lap, the red lights turn off, and the violent roars from the engines fill your ears. Oh, what a sound, now you are addicted to it.

After a great start from your team and almost two hours later, Lewis and Millie face down in a back-to-back battle. Switching positions 3 times in the final ten laps. It is a monumental effort from the drivers, teams, and their strategies. Emotions are on edge at the pitlane and at the benches.

Millie crosses the line first, less than half a second ahead, and fireworks go up in the air. Fans roar, and you all go nuts! Your crew runs to the pit wall fence, climbing it up and waving as she passes by, lots of fist pumps onto the air. It's your first podium! Your? Like you did something, lol. Your team gets their first podium!! - better - it is a great start. And for the first time in forever, you feel alive and cheerful.

Amidst hugs and pats on the back from crew members and supporters, you make your way to the podium area, following Michael. He is dragging you along; you are in a blur with all that adrenaline rushing through your veins, the noise, the lights, and the crowds.

During the podium ceremony, when the Croatian anthem plays - you are now surrounded by all three teams' entourages, all watching the ceremony together and supporting their driver - you notice Millie getting emotional. It is a first for her, too. And when it finishes, everyone around you starts cheering and clapping like maniacs for her as she raises and kisses the trophy.

Michael, right next to your side, takes off his white W cap before Millie, and she gestures a praying sign with her hands from high above the podium to thank him and thank you. You blow her a kiss just before rivers of champagne fill the place.

Millie is the sweetest. You felt a genuine connection from the first moment you met her - a couple of months ago at the new Williams headquarters - before she agreed to sign the deal. She trusts you, and you believe in her. So you are on this journey together and feel so happy for her.

You get so distracted by these thoughts and others, too, that you don't notice the place started to empty. When you return to reality, you turn around to leave, following Michael's steps, and almost crash into someone walking in the opposite direction. You are left facing a very nice-looking chest - mere inches away from your face - wearing a white Mercedes shirt. You raise your gaze from those fine pecs that belong to Toto and look at his handsome face.

—Hi... —He says, looking down at you, he is way taller than you.

—H-h...i —You feel weak on the knees.

—I-I..

—I... I'm.

You both say at the same time. You step to the left, and Toto steps to the left synchronously.

—Sor..ry-y.

—So-rry.

You both keep talking over each other. So Toto moves aside, gesturing with his hand to let you go through first.

—Nice meeting you —you say calmly and quickly rush away.

—Same —he replies, following you with his gaze and watching you walk away. You feel he wants to say more, and you do, too, but it is better this way.

"What the fuck was that. Why on earth were you so nervous, girl? It was like you forgot how to speak!" You think.

"The fumes in the garage are starting to affect me," Toto thinks. "Is she running away from me? Yeah... The fumes are definitely affecting me. Damn, she walks fast."

Australia

Thanks to poor scheduling and the worst jet traffic, Michael and you aren't able to land on time. All tracks are being used at the moment, so you get sent to another terminal further away from the circuit. Qualy for the Australian GP is about to start, and obviously, you two are running late.

A Lamborghini Sian car is already waiting for you when you land. So you ask the chauffeur to toss the car keys to Michael. —We have like ten minutes to be there —you tell Schumi.

—Understood, boss.

You instantly regret phrasing it like that. Schumi is driving like a madman while getting directions from the chauffeur in the backseat. Michael pushes the engine to the limit, and the car goes full speed. You feel your body melting with the car seat as you hang for your dear life to the seatbelt. Ten minutes was a say, you didn't truly mean it, let's try another one: To get there alive if possible, this one you meant it.

Michael enters the staff parking lot at the Melbourne circuit by taking an extreme corner still at full force. The two security guys sprint to open the gates; it is that or get run over.

Once you get in, you see him letting the wheel go a second, and the car starts spinning around - it twirls at an alarming speed. "Am I going to get projected out of this window?" you think. And in just one wild movement, he parallels parks, tires burning. The Fast and Furious stunts were a kid's play next to his. Everyone stares at the scene, astounded.

—9.48.00 minutes, boss —Schumi says. Turning off the engine while checking his Rolex Daytona.

He was insane for this.

—Well, I hope you are as fast on your feet as you were on this car —You joke, grabbing your purse and access badge while getting out of the vehicle, heels hitting the ground like nothing had happened. Because, above everything, you are a bad bitch.

—Are you? —he dares you. Walking past the front of the car, catching your step.

—Haven't you seen my legs?! —You joke. Toned they are.

—You make the 100-meter dash athletes jealous —He jokes back.

You are going to get so many fines. So many.

You two make it to the W garage on time. You "fashion walk" there, according to the people who mock you. Since you don't feel like blending in with the mechanics - and because of your outfits and looks. The Williams garage is located dead last on the pitlane, so you have to walk in front of all other teams' garages to get there every time - expensive bag-swinging in the air, designer heels clacking on the floor, always wearing a chic something; dresses, shorts, skirts - as if they don't enjoy it! Of course, you expected toxic masculinity and sexism on your way, especially since your team is dominating! But not this early on.

—You are late! —Millie jumps at you.

—Let's not talk about it. I'm going to need therapy, thanks to that experience.

—What?! —She looks at you with a funny face.

—Nevermind. All ready?

—Do I look like ready? —She says, gesturing at herself. She is wearing an oversized lilac tee - at least twice her size - and a white tennis mini-skirt with matching white Jordans.

She follows you to the dressing rooms right across from your remote office, where you quickly leave your purse and stuff inside. As you two get there, Millie tells you how excited she is that Sanrio offered to design her helmet for Suzuka before going to change.

—What do you think? Is it too much? —she asks you. Inviting you into her custom dressing room and pointing around. It looks like Minisio had puked that room out.

—Is very you! —you answer.

—I know, right!!! —she gives you a big dumb smile.

—Are your boobs out? —Mick asks while entering through her dressing room doors - eyes closed, arms extended in front, walking mummy-like - not seeing you there, obviously.

—What?! No! —Millie answers as Loretta (her trainer slash assistant) finishes suiting her up.

—Great! I can open my eyes then! —he says.

—I don't think there's much to see, Mick —Millie jokes while putting on a sad face and looking down at her chest. —Two lemons, barely.

—I don't think Marc from statistics thinks the same. I saw him trying to find them —He jokes. Mick gains a smack on the arm.

Millie's popularity has skyrocketed; she is already a paddock favorite. By this point, she had already rejected three engineers who asked her out - not because of ego, being rude, or wanting to break hearts - but because she is so clueless and a shy dork with zero social skills, in her own words: "I communicate better with cars and engines than with people, at least I know how to work them."

—Kids, kids! —you say, amused at the scene.

—Oh, hi, boss! I didn't notice you there —Mick looks at you, a bit embarrassed.

—No worries —You are glad those two are getting along well.

Mick drops himself on the fluffy pink oval puff in one of the corners. One leg up.

—Why are you here on my land? —Millie asks.

—Oh yeah. I came to say something —Mick adds like he is just remembering. —Yes! My father is waiting for you two to start the team's meeting. Everyone is there already. It's urgent. So hurry.

—Oh god, and you just let us know now.

The three of you get on your feet real fast.

After a good team catch-up and an impeccable motivational speech from Michael, all of you get to your positions inspired and ready to give it all.

As the Qualy starts, you turn to Michael. —You are a great leader, you know? We are lucky to have you —you tell him.

—I'm glad to be here, more than you imagine, boss.

Millie secures a pole position. Sparks flyed. Damn, that car was fast, and she, she was faster!

When the workday is done, you wait for Sam across from Merc's hospitality. It's getting dark.

You are sitting on a bench a few meters away, next to a tree with beautiful yellow flowers, looking at your phone and minding your business, avoiding looking like a threat near competitors' territory.

—Waiting for Sam? —Toto asks you from the other side - at the bottom of the stairs of their main cafeteria entrance - you raise your gaze at the sound of his voice.

—Yes! Hi! Will she be taking long? —You can't avoid smiling at him and sound slightly nervous.

—No, she is on her way, but I must warn you, she's been insufferable the entire day. She had one of those, what she calls it? A bad ha...

—A bad hair day —you both finish in unison. —Yikes! How bad it was? The hair? I mean.

—Oh, terrible! I had to look at it all day —he answers jokingly, putting an ew face. Toto walks towards you and sits on the bench by your side, stretching his legs and resting one on top of the other.

The truth is, Samanta doesn't have naturally straight locks; she has long, curly hair she straightens. And sometimes, some days, some weather gave her that wavy, frizzy, wild, non-combable hair.

—You are such an inspiration, a true survivor. Tell me all about your journey —You make him laugh, you love that. More, please.

The door interrupts you two as you both smile at each other like dumbs and lock eyes. Sam goes out, black Merc hoodie on, covering almost her entire face, overdramatic as usual.

—Rocking the Palpatine? —you tease her.

—Hilarious. Bad hair day. I look like Monica Geller on that trip to the beach beneath this —she says with sarcasm. Toto laughs. —Ah, now that reference you get —Sam rolls her eyes.

—Jezz, that mood, huh? A few drinks will get you through these dark times, my friend. Let's go! —you add.

—Oh no, I'm not going.

—What?! Why?! Why are you like this, Samanta?!

—No, why is humidity a thing? Who needs it?

—Aem, all of Australia's wildlife? —Toto adds.

—Shut up, smarty pants —Sam lets out.

—You look like Hagrid —he replies.

—Torger, don't test me, I swear —she warns him, fingers rubbing her forehead.

—So, when will you be available then? —you ask her, cutting off the bickering.

Sam opens her weather app to check the humidity levels. —Ahm, like next week? Not in Australia?

—Are you serious, dude?! I already booked! —You two were going to that Michelin star blindfolded dining and drinking experience. It was so on trend that booking a table there was Melbourne's most challenging and expensive thing at the moment.

—Sorry, I'm not going out looking like this! But for sure Toto could join you! He desperately needs to get some of that stress out of his system. He's getting meaner.

—What!? Me, the meaner one? —Toto lets out.

—What?! Sam! No, no. He is probably busy, and I don't want to bo... —you add, quickly, getting nervous while trying not to show it.

She interrupts you.

—Busy?! No, he is just in an antisocial mood swing. Toto barely left his office today! All grumpy, he was inside there. Besides, didn't you, my guy, tell me you were going straight to your hotel to lock yourself and binge-watch Love Island while eating ice cream straight from the bucket? —Sam teases him, well aware Toto is feeling low - more like heartbroken - Sam hates Sussie, but of course, she will never admit it publicly, and definitely not to him. This is her weird way of showing him her support by setting him up to go out and have fun with a great person instead of being miserable and all alone. Classic Sam.

—What? No. What's Love Island? I wasn't being antisocial; I had a ton of work today, unlike you —He answers deadpan.

—Do you even own a TV? —Sam is seriously curious.

—Of course, I do! Several, in fact —It doesn't mean he watches them.

—You must be rich! —you joke. He smiles.

—Yeah, whatever. Come on! Get to know each other! Have a good time on me and my hair's behalf —Sam grabs you both, each by the arm, and walks you towards the exit.

—Is it me, or is she getting worse with age? —You address Toto.

—No question!

—Hey! You can't trash-talk me! —Sam complains.

—Oh, that's all we will be doing; we are going to talk so much trash about you, piles of it, that the garbage collector will plead to us no more —you mock her.

—I'm hating this already! —Sam crosses her arms.

Well, now you have a date with Toto. A date, yeah, in your dreams.

To be continued... - Masterlist | Next Chapter

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wangxianficrecs · 1 month

Text

i'll keep walking by justdoityoufucker

i'll keep walking

by justdoityoufucker (orphan_account)

T, 2k, Wangxian

Summary: Wen Qing died. This, she knows; from the painful lick of flames to the unavoidable choking that came with the smoke to the wickedly satisfied grin on Jin Guangshan’s face before she closed her eyes the last time. She hoped, those last few moments, that it would be the end. Wei Wuxian would be free, and the last remnants of their family would be safe. She hoped that Wen Ning wouldn’t feel any pain, when the time came for him to follow her. - Or, the one where Wen Qing ends up in the past and fixes the future. Kay's comments: I love stories where Wen Qing time-travels, because she's one of the few characters I love to see time-travelling! And she makes good use of her second chance as well, making sure her two younger brothers live their best lifes. I really love Wen Qing's characterization in this story and loved how the canon divergence played out. Excerpt: She jerks awake to the feeling of a solid wooden chair under her, to the stuttering of a candle. For a second, she thinks that this must still be Koi Tower, that Jin Guangshan has lied yet again. But— —the desk under her folded arms is familiar lacquered wood, as familiar as the white and red robes she’s wearing and the scattered scrolls and books she’d been sleeping on. Her office, in Yiling. In Yiling. “Fuck,” she says, and in the same breath pushes herself up, not caring that the chair clatters to the floor, that her robes aren’t in order. If this is—if she isn’t hallucinating all of this with the last sane figments of her dying brain, this is after the burning of Lotus Pier, the fall of Yunmeng-Jiang by just days. And that means Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin, the core transfer—her brother. Wen Ning is alive! He has to be, even if this isn’t real. Wei Wuxian always joked about her having an iron bear trap for a mind and he isn’t really wrong; even if this is a dying hallucination, she’d have Wen Ning alive.

pov wen qing, canon divergence, time travel fix-it, time travel, everbody lives/nobody dies, wen ning lives, wen qing lives, wei wuxian lives, married lan wangji/wei wuxian, families of choice, happy ending, not jiang cheng friendly

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 9 months

Note

So I’m mostly curious about this for Muriel’s sake (he’s my favorite) but I have an HC request for if the M6, whether through a dream or magic, got to talk with their past selves from the darkest point in their lives, what would they say? Try to comfort/cheer themselves up? Assuming everyone got their Upright endings.

The Arcana HCs: M6 talking to their past selves

~ this is such an interesting one, @httyd-chocolate! thank you for the request, I hope you like what I do with it! (for hc purposes, this occurs as a magical dream where past and present selves interact) - brainrot ~

Julian

The dream is so vivid that he doesn't realize what it is until it's over

But right now, he's staring down at this gangly, scared, insecure almost-teenager, and every heroic bone in his body is telling him that this boy deserves all the safety and support in the world

It's weird to hear his young self saying the same deprecating things that he still does, but the jokes that normally make him laugh don't sound funny at all coming from a kid

And before he knows it, all the words he's heard you and Portia and Mazelinka say to him are spilling out of his mouth

"You're not alone. People are fortunate to be around you. You only drag everyone around you down when you refuse to let them lift you up. Sticking around to see the future is worth it."

At the same time, seeing himself in that kid's eyes is world-altering

Because to that younger self, the man he is now is smart, and heroic, and important, and somebody worth growing up to be

They stroll down to the seaside, at one point, as Julian listens to tiny Ilya's frustrations with his sister, and himself, and not knowing who he is or what comes next besides a call away from home

"You're pretty cool, mister," Ilya says at one point, "who are you?"

"I'm you," Julian says, and the look of hope and surprised delight he sees on Ilya's face makes him wake up with tears in his eyes

Asra

They know where they are as soon as the back alleys of the South End swim into view. They don't expect to see themself though

He's caught glimpses of the past once or twice, with you by his side, but those were moments of a childhood of wonder and escape. The kid in front of him hasn't found that magic yet

Little Asra is hiding in a corner behind a trash heap, clutching their lost mother's shawl and trying to hide the sniffles that shake their thin shoulders. Though all that disappears when they spot Big Asra

Suddenly, he's being scrutinized with the most curious gaze, and there's no hiding who he is. So he joins hands with him and starts wandering around, paying for lots of street food along the way

They'd forgotten how many questions they used to ask people

Until one hits him out of nowhere: "what's it like for us now?"

They don't want to leave that scared, lonely kid without something to look forward to, so they play with the dream a bit and lead Little Asra to a familiar magic shop a few streets away from the town square

In the dream, you're dozing by the fire, tea and snacks waiting on the table, and Big Asra watches his child self gaze at you in awe and remember what home feels like

It's sobering, to lead that child back to the docks and tuck them in to sleep under the pier, but it's a glimpse of warmth they're glad they got to share

Nadia

She has a suspicion of what's going on when she opens her eyes in her childhood bedroom, and that suspicion is confirmed when her 14-year-old self storms in and slams the door shut

She's ready to provide a haven. A listening ear. Ready to tell the young woman in front of her that she's right, that she's ready for more, that being held back and dismissed like this really isn't fair

Until the 14-year-old opens her mouth and starts to unload her day

For the first time in years, Nadia's not sure what to say. Does she want to tell this young woman that she's right, her parents and older sisters are being overprotective and unreasonable? Yes!

But does she find herself agreeing that a 14-year-old should not be allowed to go off to the battlefield her older sibling is serving as a medic on to lead the army to victory herself? ... yes ...

Does the embarrassed, hurting, angry teen in front of her need to know that? Absolutely not. So Nadia listens and nods instead

There are other things she sees that she realizes she remembers correctly. The fear of not measuring up. The frustration of having to wait to meet the milestones her siblings have already passed

So she tells this precocious, prickly young woman what you've been seeing in her all along: she is strong. She is smart. She is someone worth having faith in, and she doesn't need to be afraid

Muriel

He doesn't have to think twice. As soon as he sees that big, bony lad that was himself in his early twenties, huddled in a cell under the Coliseum after his first fight, he's breaking him out of there

He starts to wonder if this is a dream, when the iron bars give way under his grasp, but he's focusing on wrapping his cloak around those shivering shoulders and leading him out of the city

He's forgotten how scrawny he'd been before he bulked up on the meals provided for Lucio's prized fighter, and seeing spatters of his first opponent's blood on such a boyish face breaks his heart

They're both silent on the way through the woods. The younger him is still in shock, and the older him isn't sure what to do next

When the reach the clearing, the hut is more like what older him is used to. He helps young Muriel into the outside bath and begins putting together a hearty stew for the two of them to share

They both stay quiet. Older him watches every flinch and start and quiet pause of happiness and safety and keeps realizing that he deserves better. He deserves good things. I want him to have that.

They both turn bright red when younger him notices that the bed has two pillows on it, but they both know that that's a good thing

When the time comes for them to wake up, Muriel wraps that kid up in his arms. "... it gets better. Promise. You deserve it."

Portia

This is trippy, but after what she's been through with you, Portia guesses this is just par for the course. Why is she in Nevivon?

Her question is answered when a nine-year-old girl comes careening around the corner, fiery curls flying, just in time to collide with her and go sprawling in the dust by the road

Oh, Portia thinks, I remember being like this. I remember her.

Portia watches Pasha pick herself up, lower lip trembling with rage and eyes full of tears, getting ready to lash out at whoever just ripped her dress and made her day go from awful to terrible

And she pulls that little girl into the tightest hug she can manage

Once Pasha's made good use of the handkerchief she's been handed, she takes Portia's hand and shows her around town

She tells Portia all about her life right now. About the grandmas who take care of her, and the parents she doesn't remember

And she talks and talks and talks about her amazing older brother, the last family she has, who left several months ago to explore the world and find adventure and save people - without her

Portia listens and comments, but she keeps getting distracted looking at the strong, clear-eyed, purposeful little girl next to her

So she spends the rest of her visit telling that kid that she's strong, she's interesting, she's exciting, and she is so, so very important, even when it's just her

Lucio

He's back in the frozen woods. He doesn't like the frozen woods

And neither, apparently, does the six year old boy across from him

At first he's just concerned. Why is a small child alone in the freezing cold? He needs to help them get safe and warm

Then he recognizes the golden head of hair, and the big, silver eyes staring up at him, and the nose red from cold, and he has to bite his tongue to keep from yelling as he starts a fire and asks for a name

He likes having a different name, he realizes, when he gets to introduce himself as Lucio the Adventurer to little Montag

Montag, he learns, is alone on a quest to hunt down a bear per his mother's instructions, but he's cold and hungry and frightened

To Montag, Lucio is a hero. He's big and strong and has a cool arm and builds a fire to keep him warm and listens to him talk about how he wants to be a leader when he grows up, without scoffing at his dreams

So the two of them huddle together by the fire under one of the trees, sharing a cloak and talking about who they are

Lucio hears the beginnings of his downfall already in Montag's stories about growing up stronger than everyone so the people in his family and his tribe will have no choice but to praise him

And Montag hears humility and hope from Lucio, about the importance of recognizing mistakes and learning to love and be loved

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana fluff #the arcana angst #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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ambassadorarlert · 10 months

Text

HEAT WAVES... (Armin Arlert x afab!reader)

0.5 IS THERE SOMEBODY WHO CAN WATCH YOU? (main menu | spotify) 18+ MDNI NSFW ↳ summary: ...Armin begins to realize just how much he likes you ↳ warnings: obsession, swearing, Hange has they/them pronouns, brief mention of drug use ↳ genre: hurt/comfort, comedy ↳ word count: 12k

“Would you like some help with those?” Armin politely offered.

The kitchen was starting to go dim from the pending sunset. Everyone was outside apart from you and Armin. You stood at the sink washing the remaining dinner dishes. Armin figured he’d offer to help since he was the last to leave the table from dinner. You quickly glanced over your shoulder at him and smiled.

“I wash and you dry?” You suggested.

Armin nodded and joined your side at the sink. For every dish you scrubbed and rinsed, Armin took the towel to dry them off and place them back in their designated spots. You worked together quietly, watching everyone play outside through the kitchen window.

You were among the new Levi Squad assigned to protect Eren and Historia. You were all posted in a cabin deep into the woods. It was set far out enough to where you could make a reasonable amount of noise without being detected. Naturally, screaming and yelling probably wasn’t the best idea.

Eren and Jean’s competitive arguing turned into a fist fight very quickly. They fought like this at least once a week and no one else was really phased by them throwing hands at each other. Everyone continued to do just as they were, paying them no attention. Jean and Eren could never seem to put their differences aside, and they always had to hash it out until the last man stood.

It did get on Armin’s nerves sometimes. Why couldn’t there just be one moment of peace among comrades and friends? Armin inhaled and rolled his eyes as he dried off a dinner plate.

“They should just get married already.” He said under his breath. He watched as Jean was currently losing.

Armin’s sarcastic comment made you burst into laughter. You clamped your eyes shut, lips spread out into a genuine smile, nose crinkled in amusement. He paused.

His heart began to pick up speed, and his throat suddenly got very agitated and dry. Armin’s face flooded with blush. His chest swelled with the fact that he was the one to make you laugh, a glorious sound he didn’t realize he had grown quite fond of. Something had changed within him. A flame had been lit inside Armin’s stomach, and you were apparently holding the match.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you as you came down from your giggle fit. You resumed washing out the cup you put a halt on cleaning, and handed it to Armin for him to dry.

“You’re silly.” You sighed.

—

Chilly in here, was the first thought that arrived in Armin’s mind.

He sat up and shivered, holding his arms to his chest as a chill went through him. He didn’t have a shirt on, or any clothes actually. He took a quick tired look around the room. Your room. A blue hue was casted across all of your things. Armin spotted that the window was completely open. If it was this cold for him, someone who ran a warmer body temperature due to his peculiarity, he couldn’t really imagine how cold it must be for you.

With his mind fogged with sleep, he noted how unwise it was to leave your window open this way. So, Armin got up to close it. He tried to keep his eyes half shut so he could stay in the state of sleepiness he was in. By the time he got to the window and tried to quietly shut it, Armin was already starting to become more alert and awake. He was used to being up at this hour anyway. He paused to at least put his pants back on before going back to stand in an open window. All of his clothes were nicely folded across the back of a chair, and his shoes placed politely next to yours.

While Armin continued to wrestle with your sticky bedroom window, he noticed the pretty view of the pier and ocean in the distance. The water sparkled and glittered. A sliver of sunshine lined the horizon. Armin could hear the seagulls calling to each other from where he was standing.

He stared out the window, wistfully coming to his senses. Armin checked the time using your wristwatch on the bedside table. It was five-thirty in the morning. Every now and then, a person would walk on the sidewalk or a car would drive by. Armin wondered who they might be and where they might be going. He spotted a man walking with a strange black and white spotted dog, a woman and small child strolling hand in hand, and a boy on a bicycle. A fascinating contraption.

Armin wondered if any of those people had seen Eren. It was extremely unlikely that any of them did. But, if on the slim chance that they had, perhaps they saw him sitting on a bench enjoying the weather, or talked to him at a tavern, or even walked past him on the street. The world outside of the walls was far bigger than Armin could ever comprehend, and somehow his understanding of that was exceeded now that Eren was out there on his own.

What would the scouts do now that they not only let Eren slip away again, but they also lost the Attack titan in foreign and unknown territory? Armin hadn't really been keeping up with the Marleyean tabloids after the conference about Eldians being denied every basic human right, but Armin pictured that it wasn’t great. He hadn’t had the time to come up with a scenario on how to combat that. A sudden yet dull pain pierced through the top of his head, and into the back of his eye.

Armin was snatched back to his current reality when a noise from the present moment caught his attention. You moved your legs around under your blanket, shuffling and getting into a more comfortable position. With a little groan, you rolled onto your side. You turned to the open room, laying where Armin could see your face. Armin studied every detail, basking in this moment. If only he could pause time and stay in the memory of the night before. This particular second of bliss was enough to subside the ache from missing Eren. Armin didn’t want to think about him right now. He pushed Eren out of the front of his brain temporarily, and started to debate whether he should keep his distance, or suck it up and hold you the way he always envisioned

Armin has never seen a person sleep so peacefully. Your lips were gently separated, light breathing escaping from in between. Your eyelashes fluttered. The early morning shadows of blue, gray, and black did your beauty justice. He helped himself to sitting in the window, perching like an owl. He brought his thighs to his chest, chin resting on his knees, and arms wrapped around his shins. Armin watched your chest rise and fall with each breath. Somehow in the few hours Armin had slept, you had gotten more beautiful. He took his bottom lip in between his teeth. There was something rather tranquil about watching you sleep so soundly. His mind fell silent, except for the number rising in his head as he accidentally started counting every breath you took.

Three… Four… Five…

In his pretend scenarios Armin made up as he lay awake restless at night, he was always the big spoon. There was a gaping hole in his chest as he imagined holding you to his chest at night. He so badly wanted to be the one you curled up to, the one you sought comfort from in the dark. But for some reason, Armin was frozen. He dared not touch you, even though he was just as desperate for you now as he was hours ago. Armin wanted to crawl back into your bed and wrap himself around you. Or, embrace you in his arms. He didn’t really have a preference, he just wanted to be close to you. However, he kept his distance. He shrunk himself away as if you were the one who could explode at a whim. Armin had been fawning over you for so long and now that he actually could call you his, it seemed like an unforgiving joke.

Armin wasn’t funny like Connie, no matter how many times you may laugh at his jokes and tell him that he is. He could style and cut his hair any way he wanted, and he still wouldn’t be as handsome as Eren. Armin knew he would never be as strong as Levi-- or anyone else in the entire military at that, and there was no way he could compete with Jean in anything. He seemed to be the whole package.

Twelve… Thirteen… Fourteen…

Along with not being able to compare with any of his comrades, Armin was literally dangerous to be around. The Colossal Titan is powerful. Armin was capable of catastrophic, unpredictable damage, and it would be as easy as snapping his fingers-- not that he would ever have to use the Colossal to do intentional destruction anyway. Still, what business did you have being with someone like that?

Armin thought harder.

Perhaps it was your compassion and preference to see the good in others that made you believe Armin was worthy of your time. Any niceties you’ve shown towards him, he absorbed and hoarded it away like a crow to a shiny piece of metal. That was just the kind of person you were; unbiased and incredibly empathetic. After becoming a soldier, and killing a woman in cold-blood, his definition of what makes a good person and a bad person had become severely warped. The only constant that remained in his opinion was that he genuinely believed that you were authentically good.

Twenty-five… Twenty-six… Twenty-seven…

You would drop whatever it is you're doing to help anyone who needed it, and would give the clothes off your back to someone else. You were excellent at de-escalating arguments, cutting through the tension with patience and getting to the root of an issue with a neutral perspective. A soldier in your own divine right, ruthless and cut throat when you need to be, agile and precise when you’re going in for a kill. So far, you have four titan kills under your belt. Although you didn’t make it in the top ten graduates as a cadet, you were still incredibly intelligent. Any problem seemed easy to solve and didn’t take much brain power. You were brilliant, amusing, resourceful.

Ethereal.

Thirty-eight.. Thirty-nine… Forty…

Armin’s chest swelled with an emotion he had never really felt before. He could feel his hands heating up from the blood suddenly pumping through his body. Pressure began to build in his temples, his psyche was honing in on you while everything else around him began to fade out. Armin’s heart began to increase speed and there was an icky feeling in his stomach. It rose up into his throat, swelling as he kept counting.

Fifty-seven… Fifty-eight… Fifty-nine… Sixty…

Your people-pleaser attitude had to have come from somewhere. What could you have gone through to make you so resilient to negativity? You and Armin had been subjected to most of the same experiences being on Levi’s Squad and were friends as cadets. However, you existed before you were a soldier. Armin wanted to know what made you tick, what made the gears in your head turn, why your heart was so soft. Troubled childhood? Armin could relate to that. A bad break up? Not so much. Losing countless friends and comrades in the name of humanity? That was something you both, unfortunately, had in common.

Someone as precious as you needed to be protected and cared for, like a little baby bird that had fallen out of the nest. You gave your own time and energy running around to make sure everyone around you was square, but who was there for you whenever you needed it? Of course Mikasa and Sasha were an automatic default. But, who would be there for you if neither of them could fulfill your needs? Who’s shoulder do you rest on when you’re sad, angry, scared? Who tends to your wounds after being miraculous on the battlefield, or when you’re ill? Who do you share thoughts and ideas with? Where do you go when you need to be touched and loved?

Armin immediately scratched that last question out of his head. That icky feeling in his stomach turned sour and sickly. Just as quickly as he had made himself upset, it subsided with the realization that it didn’t matter anymore. Now, it was Armin you would come to if you needed anything. His brain tickled with an idea of a promise, a promise that he would walk to the end of the earth to fulfill. Whatever it was you needed, wanted, desired, Armin would be there to make it happen.

One hundred and eleven… One hundred and twelve…

Within the instant it took Armin to only blink, you had shot up and out of your tranquil sleep. A strange gasp for air squeezed itself from your throat. Armin jumped, shrinking back in sudden and blind fear. He put his hands out to protect his face and chest. Your eyes were wide and crazed.

Your heart was beating so hard, you thought for a moment that you were going to be sick. Your head pounded, mind fogged with the grogginess of an interrupted sleep and the surprise of a nightmare. You gripped your comforter as if your life had depended on it.

“Are you alright?” Armin tested. You blinked. Your environment became clearer upon hearing his voice.

Your eyes shifted to him in the corner of the room, sitting in the windowsill. He had one knee up, a hand pressed to his chest, and leaning against the glass. Armin stared at you incredulously. You weren’t sure which was worse; Having a terrible nightmare or the embarrassment of Armin seeing you wake up from one. You took both of your hands and quickly rubbed your eyes.

“Yeah. I just had a bad dream.” You muttered quietly.

“I have those too, sometimes. Do you want to… talk about it?” Armin asked. He put his body at ease, tucking his hands under his thighs.

You paused. Now that you were awake, you couldn’t recall a single detail about anything, but you remembered it feeling so real. You took a quick look into your shaky palms. The lines in your hands were just the same as they had always been.

“I don’t remember.” You shook your head.

You gave Armin a glance up and down. One side of his face was lit by the window, while the other was shaded by the darkness of the hotel room. His right eye glistened brighter than the other. You could see just how admiral his eyes were. Armin was as beautiful outside as he was inside. He stared at you softly, unsure of what he should do next. A question arose in your mind.

“Were you watching me sleep?” You questioned with one eyebrow raised.

You were mostly teasing. It was quite obvious that he had been looking out of the window, since you noticed it was now closed. You found it more surprising that Armin had actually stayed through the night instead of sneaking out at his earliest convenience. You saw Armin’s shadowed shoulders shrink.

“N-Not in a weird way…” He chuckled sheepishly. Armin took his tongue in between his teeth.

Your chest tightened looking at him. It was clear that Armin had just woken up. His blonde hair was frizzed in some places. His eyes were puffy with sleep. He looked so cute and sweet this way. What your eyes were really clued in on was how tragically gorgeous he was without a shirt on. Your memory matched the way his muscles felt under your fingers, in the dark, to how they looked in front of you.

The sweat that lingered on your skin felt gross. You could smell the salt of the sea in your hair as well as a faint hint of Armin’s own scent. You drew in a deep, grounding breath. There was a funny taste on your lips. An aftertaste of Armin kissing your lips after he had gone down on you just the night before. Your stomach churned with butterflies.

“I’m going to take a shower.” You declared. You threw the covers off of you and stood up.

“Oh, okay.” Armin spoke, slightly stunned by the change of environment and mood. He also wasn’t aware that you were wearing just a shirt.

His eyes were helplessly glued to your legs as you walked to the bathroom. You paused in the door frame and stretched your back out with your arms over your head, a yawn slipping in between. The hem of your shirt raised to reveal your backside. Armin bit his tongue harder.

“You can join me if you want to.” You invoked.

There was an articulation in your voice that sent Armin’s heart racing. It made his ears perk up, his blood flow harder in his veins, his attention firmly grasped. He began to faintly taste blood. Your voice was low and inviting. You batted your eyelashes at him as you waited for him to spit an answer.

This was another marvelous opportunity to be close with you. Private showers such as these were not a luxury at your headquarters on Paradise. The shower room was not co-ed, and the stalls were less than private. He might not ever have a chance like this with you back home.

“You don’t have to. I just thought I’d offer.” You shrugged.

Then, you closed the door, leaving Armin awkwardly on the other side.

You turned on the hot water and got your shower started. The bathroom quickly began to fill with steam. You were starting to realize that teasing Armin was fun. He either took it way too seriously, not understanding the underlying joke or sarcasm, or he clapped back with something as witty and crude. Armin was hilarious in his own way, when he wasn’t trying to be.

Flirting with him was different. You liked how easily flustered he could get, his cheeks and ears flushing pink whenever you taunted and made eyes at him. Armin had to recollect his thoughts and think before he spoke. Seeing the wheels turn under his blonde hair was entertaining.

Just when the shower was exactly how you liked it, you stepped in and began to gently wash your face under the hot water. You squint your eyes shut as you let your hair get completely soaked, doing a little turn to get wet evenly. As you did so, you heard the sound of the bathroom door being opened and shut very gently. An odd, ceramic on ceramic clack noise followed closely after.

You moved a corner of the shower curtain away, peeking out to see what exactly Armin was doing. He was fully dressed, minus the vest he wore yesterday. His button up shirt was lazily done, meeting halfway up his chest. Armin made himself comfortable on the lid of the toilet. You watched him curiously while he shuffled his feet around and tucking his hands in between his legs. He didn’t seem to notice that you were looking at him and observing him decide on if he wanted his feet on the floor or if it was more comfortable to cross his legs. He tucked his ankles together, making his position work.

That wasn’t necessarily what you meant by inviting him to join you, but you couldn’t really blame him. The gesture to simply keep you company wasn’t surprising. You remembered how pleased Armin was just from sitting outside of the bathroom door while you did your makeup for the Eldian Rights conference about a month ago. The way Armin’s bashfulness flip-flopped was interesting and slightly perplexing. You shrugged to yourself. As long as Armin was content, then you didn’t seem to mind him hanging out.

“I’m glad you stayed the night.” You spoke out over the loud water.

Armin sat up straighter. He looked in the direction of your voice, not being able to see you by the solid teal shower curtain. A smile tugged on the corner of his lips.

“Captain Levi isn’t doing bed checks anymore, so I figured I’d get away with it.” He lightly laughed.

You took your shampoo and worked it deep within your scalp.

“What are your plans for the day?” You wanted to know.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe do some more work. Reading… and stuff. What about you?” Armin sighed. He rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. What he was anxious for was unclear.

You hummed as you continued to scrub the grimy natural salt from your hair.

The date to the pier served as a successful distraction from the current every day drama of Eren’s vanishment. It was wonderful to spend time with Armin alone, refreshing to see him in multiple rays of new light. As your boyfriend, out and about in a striking and adventurous new world, feeling and appearing more human that he had been dragged out of a dark and depressing hotel room. Armin had been his usual self for the first time in weeks. You wanted to keep the spark going.

“I figured when I’m done, we’d get breakfast together.” You suggested. For a brief second, you changed the water from hot to cool to rinse the shampoo from your head. You shut your eyes as you spoke.

Armin switched from sitting to standing. He planted his feet in front of the sink and used the side of his hands to wipe condensation off of the mirror. He looked at his reflection, not recognizing himself for a split millisecond. His hair was tossed every which way, eyes still swollen with sleep. He used his ring finger to scrape a piece of crud from the inner corner of his eye. There was a foul taste in his mouth that he hoped you didn’t get a whiff of. Armin absentmindedly pulled the mirror open, revealing a rather empty medicine cabinet. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. At least a tube of toothpaste. Armin closed it back.

On the edge of the bathroom sink was a small brown bag. Armin had seen you carry it around a handful of times, and watched as you rummaged around through it for whatever you happened to be looking for. He wasn’t sure what exactly you kept in it. You were always pulling seemingly random items out of it, then haphazardly throwing them back inside. It was sewn in a rather boxy-square shape, but you had so much stuff jammed inside, it looked more round. Perhaps you had toothpaste in there.

“Hmm,” Armin groaned. “I still have a lot of-” Armin began, but you interrupted him.

“Aw, please?” You politely begged.

Unbeknownst to Armin, you had taken a pause in gathering your conditioner in your hand as you waited for him to respond. You were hoping that the pleading in your tone would make him change his mind.

And unbeknownst to you, your tone melted Armin right in his spot. How could he decline your sweet offer now? His heart clenched unexpectedly. Out of context, he might have thought he was going into cardiac arrest. Your toiletry bag was already unzipped. Armin pulled it open more. Maybe you wouldn’t mind if he looked inside for toothpaste.

“Alright then.” He chuckled. He really didn’t try to hold his ground. Whatever you wanted to do, Armin would willingly do it.

You did a shimmy of giddiness, and continued to work your conditioner in your hair.

The smell of whatever you were using in the shower filled Armin’s nostrils with a scent he was familiar with. A blanket of domestic comfort wrapped around his shoulders as he lightly dug around in your bag. It was packed with little tubes and bottles of… things. Armin picked up a few items, held them to the light to get a glimpse of what might be inside. Some of them were half empty, and others were on their last leg of product.

Why did you have so much? What did they all do? Why are most of them empty?

Armin couldn’t help himself, curiosity had bested him. He had already found the tube of toothpaste he suspected that you had, but couldn’t stop himself from looking deeper inside. Some of it was obviously makeup. There was a strange metal contraption, like a pair of tongs but the ends were curved and elongated. Armin snapped them open and shut, eyeing it suspiciously. He hadn’t the faintest clue what he was looking at. He put it aside, and kept looking.

One thing he noticed was that most of the bottles and tubes were labeled or had labels. Even though he read them all, he couldn’t comprehend what they were for or what they did. However, one simply did not have a name. With his interest further piqued, he unscrewed the cap and gave it a whiff. The smell that he came to adore so much smacked him in the face.

Soft, sweet, with just a tinge of amber. Armin smelled it whenever you walked by him in the mess hall. He could catch it on the breeze whenever you were all sitting outside, hanging out and talking about nothing. The scent danced on all your pillows, clothes, and skin. Armin took another inhale of it as if it were oxygen itself. He could have died right there in ecstasy.

“Hey, yo?” Some called suddenly from the inside of your hotel room, just on the other side of the bathroom door.

Armin jumped at the unexpected visitor. Armin stepped back from the sink with the bottle still clenched tightly in his hand. His fingers moved quickly to screw the cap back on.

“Connie?” You called out, poking your head out from the shower curtain.

Armin froze, shoving his hands in his pockets.

You and Armin both knew Connie would ask questions and make assumptions. In this case, they would be true and there would be no way Armin could deny any of it. Jean knew how to mind his own business, but not Connie. Connie would tease and pry for any detail he could get.

“What should I do?” Armin mouthed to you.

There was literally nowhere for him to hide.

“Oh, are you in the shower? Can I come in real quick, I have something important to tell you.” Connie asked regretfully, sounding sorry to bother you.

Armin’s eyes were wide with horror. You bit your tongue, thinking of the only thing that you could do. You reached out of the shower, grabbed Armin by his shoulder, and pulled him in with you. The water began to soak his hair and the front of his pants and shirt. You slapped your hand over Armin’s mouth as he clumsily slipped and exclaimed at being unexpectedly handled. You put a finger to your lips, hushing Armin as he squeaked quietly under your palm.

“You can come in.” You announced over the sound of the running water.

You heard the bathroom door creak open.

“I have my eyes covered, I’m not looking! I can’t see anything!” Connie proclaimed.

The smog of the bathroom escaped and a rush of cool air came in behind Connie. He hid his face with one hand while the other was extended in case he ran into anything. Connie took tiny steps as well.

“It’s fine, the curtain is solid. What do you have to tell me?” You politely pressed.

Connie removed his hand from his eyes and blinked. He looked around your bathroom as his eyes adjusted and his thoughts realigned.

“Are you almost done? Hange and Levi want us all together to talk. Sasha went to get Mikasa, so I came to get you.” Connie explained.

You and Armin locked eyes. You furrowed your brows at each other.

“Talk about what?” You wanted to know.

Now would be Armin’s third time seeing you naked. You were just as stunning naked in the shower, a less sexual context, as you were in bed. The way the water rolled down your body, soap suds bubbling on your skin, hair soaked in product and dripping. It was longer than Armin thought it was, now that it was wet. He almost couldn’t stand it. Armin swallowed to try and keep his growing bulge under control, but he was too infatuated with your figure and too startled by Connie’s unexpected appearance. He kept his eyes up to the ceiling so as to not just stand and stare, focusing on what Connie was saying.

“This whole Eren business, I assume.” Connie sighed.

“Oh,” you replied. “I kinda just got started, but I’ll be out soon.” It was all you could say.

“I’ve been thinking,” Connie began.

Oh, God! You thought to yourself. Anytime Connie said that, it was usually followed up with something so dumb, you seriously doubted if he thought much at all. You hoped Connie wouldn’t say something unintentionally ignorant.

“Eren’s been so sluggish lately. Maybe he’s older than we predicted and he crawled off somewhere to die? Dogs do it all the time. I feel, like, if Eren actually was coming back he would have already.” Connie explained.

You sucked the back of your teeth.

“That’s a terrible thought, Connie. Don’t say that in front of everybody.” You warned.

“I know, I know. I just think it’s fucked up, you know? The way Eren just dropped everything and left us behind. Especially Mikasa and Armin, after everything they’ve done for him.” Connie ranted.

You squeezed your eyes shut. The secondhand embarrassment made you want to dissolve down the drain. All you could muster up was a hum of neither approval or disagreement. Connie carried on with his rant.

“I don’t know what Eren and Mikasa’s dynamic is but I’ll tell you what, she does not deserve him. He always treated her like some side piece he could care less about. The way he always pushed her away and hollered in her face made me so angry sometimes. I stayed out of it, because it’s not really my business, but sometimes I really wanted to tell him to just fuck off of Mikasa for just a minute.” Connie preached.

He took a quick look at his reflection. Connie ran his tongue over his pearly white teeth and smoothed a stray eyebrow hair only he would notice. He then flashed himself a handsome smile.

You stayed silent.

The more Connie vented, the smaller Armin felt. Although Connie did have a point about Eren being rude to Mikasa often, he was positive that it was never as intentional as it may appear. He knew in his heart that Eren didn’t mean to hurt Mikasa, he was just an independent man who was set in some of his ways. Mikasa was doting and compassionate not just to Eren, but to everyone. Armin included. It was in her nature to care just as it was in Eren’s nature to…

“And don’t fuckin’ get me started on-” Connie wanted to add. He did a quick flex in the mirror. However, you put an end to his raving.

“Connie, I really can’t talk right now. I’m getting soap in my mouth!” You lied. The signal in Connie’s brain finally started to fire up.

“Right, right, right. I’ll tell the ole Cap’n you’ll be there soon. By the way, have you seen Armin? He’s not in his room.” Connie mentioned before he completely turned on his heel to leave. You took a pause. Despite the warm water, your toes ran cold as ice.

“Strange. No, I haven’t.” You fibbed again, looking Armin directly in his pretty blue eyes. A glaze of sadness fell over his irises.

“Well, when did you see him last? Did you both go to-” Connie began to think too hard. You interrupted him again.

“Connie. Soap in mouth.” You reminded him coldly.

“Alright, alright. Put some hustle on it, you know the captain doesn’t like to wait around.” On that note, Connie shut the bathroom door.

You and Armin held your breaths until you were both certain that the coast was clear. After the sound of the hotel room door closed shut, you released your hand from Armin’s mouth.

He said nothing. His eyes looked somewhere else, not at you or really anywhere. The front of his hair and clothes were now soaked. He looked like a little wet kitten left out in the rain. You pouted at him, knowing that his feelings may have been hurt from Connie’s unsolicited opinion. It was no ones fault, as Connie wouldn’t have known Armin was there. You could still imagine the sting of his words. A hand reached out to brush Armin’s wet hair off of his forehead. Before your fingers could touch him, Armin moved to get out.

“I’m going to go change my clothes.” He said simply. He couldn’t hide the melancholy in his voice.

His tone had definitely shifted. The dark cloud that had been hanging over him for weeks had returned.

Armin’s heart thumped as he booked it to the private dining room. He managed to sneak back to his room, and change out of his wet clothes without getting caught. A million and one thoughts went through his mind as he hurried to be on time, knowing how unpleasant it was to keep Levi waiting.

Armin swallowed Connie’s words with a giant grain of salt. Hearing Connie voice his true opinion in what he thought was a safe space did hurt, he would not deny that, but he didn’t hold it past him. No matter how often Eren and Jean fought, the two of them plus Armin himself and Connie were the closest thing to brothers that they all had. Connie and Eren pulled numerous pranks on everyone, you being a common target. The greatest stunt they achieved together was setting about twenty frogs loose in your bedroom just before a cleaning inspection. Connie was the only person Eren could be mischievous around and not be told off about it.

Armin wasn’t the only person who was offended by Eren’s departure. Connie was also grieving a lost friendship, and said the first words that came to his mind. That’s all that was.

The only context Armin has was that Hange and Levi wanted to talk about Eren, but nothing more was given. Perhaps they had heard from him, or even found him. If not brought back in person, then at least a location was known. Or, even better, maybe Armin would lock sight on Eren as soon as he walked into the room. He would be in once piece, profusely apologize and explain what had happened to him for weeks on end. Maybe Armin was right about Eren getting his memories confused and gotten himself lost. Maybe he was kidnapped and managed to escape. Maybe he had another motive that the scouts couldn’t know about at the moment for good reason. Armin’s chest fluttered with hope.

Armin pushed the doors open, a fraction of that hope had diminished when he took account that Eren was not there. He greeted everyone, sheepishly closing the doors behind him as he did so.

“Good morning, Armin! How’d you sleep?” Hange cheerfully greeted, smiling wildly at him.

In the face, they could tell that Armin had low spirits. But physically, he appeared fine, as if he hadn’t been decaying away in a hotel room alone for weeks on end. Armin appeared to be wearing fresh clothes, and Hange could faintly smell soap on him. At least he had been keeping up with his personal hygiene. They were quite relieved that Armin seemed fine for the most part. Perhaps a day in the sun is what he needed after all. Hange made a mental note to give you your credit for your idea, as it seems to have done him good.

“I slept alright.” Armin shrugged, downplaying his night and trying not to blush.

Sleeping next to you was some of the best sleep he had gotten in weeks.

Hange and Levi made sly eye contact as Armin kept his head down and found a seat at the table. Their telepathic minds sent each other the same thoughts. Hange had made themselves comfortable at the head on the table, while Levi sat off to their left as usual. Levi said nothing. He kept his arms folded in the moments where he wasn’t reaching for his tea.

“Where’ve you been?” Jean asked Armin.

Jean was finishing the last of his breakfast. Armin sat across from him, deciding to skip out on food so early in the morning. Armin’s anxiety levels were on one thousand. He bounced his leg under the table. For now, it was currently Jean and Connie sitting and eating. If Armin ate anything, he might not be able to keep it down.

“What do you mean? I was in my room.” Armin lied through his teeth.

He figured Jean was the one who went looking for him. Jean put a pause on raking some eggs onto his fork.

“No you weren’t. I was just in there looking for you.” Jean raised an eyebrow.

Jeans questioning was not helping with Armin’s uneasiness. Of course now Jean would try to pry for answers in front of Connie and superiors. Armin swallowed, and kept his composure.

“What’s up with your hair?” Jean asked another question. Armin was taken back.

“I just washed it. Why, w-what’s wrong with my hair?” Armin reached up to smooth it down flat. He had no way of seeing his reflection, and he didn’t really have time to comb through and style it nicely.

“I like it!” Hange chimed in. “It’s wet and wild. It’s sexy!” They beamed.

Armin’s face pooled pink. No one had ever referred to anything about him as sexy, and coming from Hange made him slightly embarrassed. Hange didn’t care. They dramatic tossed their own hair around on their head, one thick piece covering their eyepatch, giving Armin a smolder.

Shortly after Armin’s arrival, Sasha and Mikasa appeared. Sasha was already dressed for the day, which was surprising because she was usually in more casual and comfortable clothes until it was absolutely necessary for her to change. Mikasa had definitely seen better days, though no one dared to speak up on that. Armin could tell that she hadn’t been getting a lot of rest either. She appeared thinner in the face, with rings under her gray eyes.

Armin immediately noted your absence, but kept his lips sealed tight. He put his hands together in his lap and squeezed.

“Right, so now that everyone is here,” Hange began. Their voice changed from being playful to quite serious. Armin’s heart skipped.

“Hang on,” Levi interrupted, raising his hand to put Hange on pause. “Where is Y/N?”

The sound of Connie’s fork stabbing into his plate followed behind Levi’s question. He poked at the sausages, half already being stuffed in his mouth.

“I went to go get them, but they were in the middle of takin’ a shower.” Connie said with his cheeks full of food. Levi cringed.

“Stop talking with your mouth full.” Levi snapped. He folded his arms back into their natural position. Connie quickly chewed, and harshly swallowed.

“My bad— I mean, yes sir. Sorry, sir.” Connie apologized.

“That’s not a problem, we can just wait! Let everyone get some food in their systems before we begin!” Hange declared, adjusting their rectangular glasses.

Mikasa and Armin were the only two who hadn’t helped themselves to food. Mikasa was too busy eyeing Armin down from across the table. She looked at him, through him, and beyond. Her eyes were judgmental. Armin already knew what she was criticizing him for: last night's rendezvous.

Armin couldn’t break his eyes away from Mikasa. A mild sweat started to break out on his temple. He had almost forgotten that Mikasa technically had caught him in the act of sneaking into your hotel room. What did she know? Perhaps it was your ridiculously squeaky bed frame that gave away the events of the evening, or maybe Armin himself was just too loud? What if you and Armin both were overheard? Armin briefly looked away, and then back to Mikasa, but her gaze remained unbroken. Armin almost couldn’t stand it.

Finally, at last, after about twenty extra minutes of idle chit chat from everyone else, and people filling themselves up for the morning, you walked through the door. You were disheveled, obviously having to put a rush on your morning routine. You had a towel draped around your shoulder as your hair was soaking wet and dripping from the ends. You had to let your conditioner sit for at least fifteen minutes to get the full benefits, and had absolutely no time to dry it normally.

“You’re late.” Levi commented harshly. You stood tall, at full attention.

“I-” You wanted to explain yourself, but Levi wasn’t having it.

“Sit down.”

“Yes, sir.” Your shoulders fell, eyes drawn to your feet as you tried to find somewhere to sit.

Just your luck, there was an empty seat next to Armin. He sat up straighter and pulled the chair out from the table for you to claim. Only you could see how he gently patted the cushion. The corners of his mouth pulled up into an anxious smile. You quietly thanked him as the room suddenly fell silent.

“Alright, now everybody is here…” Hange stood up again.

They sighed heavily. They removed their glasses and began to clean the lenses with the hem of their shirt. You took notice of the frown on their lips, a solemn and regretful look in their eye. With this behavior, and the topic of conversation, you had a feeling that whatever Hange was going to say wasn’t good.

You quickly took a look at all your friends. You and Mikasa widened your eyes at each other. Sasha had taken a pause on her breakfast. Jean rested his elbow on the table with his chin in his palm. Connie mirrored Levi with his arms folded across his chest, but looked more clueless than menacing.

Then you gave Armin a quick scan. His hands were folded in his lap. He pressed his hands together so tightly, he was basically white knuckling himself. His wrists trembled. You drew in a deep breath to compensate for wanting to grab his hand and hold it.

Hange began to speak, lowering their voice to a discreet and intimate tone.

“There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll get straight to the point. Our situation in Marley is getting more and more dangerous by the second. With the recent verdict on the Eldian race, more and more establishments are demanding blood tests from all patrons. It’s to weed out any roaming Eldian’s, and to keep them in their designated internment zones. Since we’re the native island devils they fear and loathe, it’s too risky to stay here. Not just in the hotel, but in the entire country.”

Hange gently explained. They took a pause so all of their words could soak into six brains at once. Then, they continued.

“The next ship to leave Liberio’s port is scheduled to depart at nine tomorrow morning. So tonight you will all need to be packed, well rested, and ready to leave by at least eight just to be safe.”

A fog of confusion engulfed the room. Everyone present was thinking the same thing, and you all knew what it was. It dangled from the ceiling like a spider on a string of its web, frantically flailing around for a ledge to grab onto. Connie still had his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes fixated on the middle of the table as he listened and nodded. Sasha’s lips twisted into a pout. Jean rubbed his temple. You could hear just how hard Armin was breathing.

Mikasa sat as still as stone, looking blankly at Hange as she asked,

“What about Eren?”

Her words were a punch to everyone’s stomach. Only her voice wavered as she spoke. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. Tears were starting to tickle her eyes. Without giving each other a single signal or clue, you and Sasha immediately abandoned your seats to be at Mikasa’s side. You wrapped your arms around her shoulders in a hug, her hand holding onto your forearm. Sasha knelt down to the floor, taking Mikasa’s free hand in her own.

“Can I say something?” Connie raised his hand.

“No, you may not.” You hissed.

You couldn’t mentally handle Connie putting his foot in his mouth again, not here in front of everyone else. Connie shut his mouth.

Hange hung their head.

“Eren has been missing in action for weeks. It’s unclear what his situation is, whether he abandoned his duties as a scout or…” Hange stopped themselves.

Everyone remained quiet, waiting for Hange to finish their sentence, but they couldn’t. They couldn’t muster the strength to picture Eren-

“Dead?” Armin had broken his silence.

All eyes turned to him. For some reason, Armin didn’t care about the incredulous looks he was getting. The possibility and reality had crashed onto him. Connie was going to say it anyway, had you not stopped him.

Your heart cracked. If only there was a way you could extend yourself to bring Armin into your embrace along with Mikasa.

“He’s not dead!” Mikasa’s voice echoed.

She broke free from your hug and stood to her full height and slammed her palms on the table. Sasha fell backwards on her ass at the shock. All of the dishes clattered and shook at the impact. Then, she pointed a shaky finger at Armin.

“Take it back!” She demanded. “Eren is alive! I know he is!”

Mikasa left no time for Armin to redact his statement just as she demanded him to. Armin blinked, his head bobbing backward ever so slightly. Mikasa’s neck snapped to Hange.

“Hange, let me stay behind. I’ll keep looking for him, I can find him!” She desperately pleaded.

“That’s not a good idea.” Levi shook his head.

The room had taken a complete one hundred and eighty degree turn. The sound of Levi’s voice alone sent smoke coming out of Mikasa’s ears like a kettle on a flame. You watched Jean cover his ears and squeeze his eyes shut, already becoming overstimulated by the tense environment. Connie’s eyes were as wide as the plate he ate off of. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to watch Mikasa’s meltdown, or avert his eyes somewhere else so as to not wrongfully make eye contact with her and be the next person she yells at. Sasha sat on the floor, frozen, mouth agape and unsure of what to do next.

You bit the inside of your lip. Levi was correct, of course and as usual. It was a terrible idea for Mikasa to say behind. She would have no ally’s or resources to conduct an investigation on a missing soldier on her own. There was no way Armin would allow Mikasa to stay here alone. You knew he would volunteer himself to stay along with Mikasa if he needed to. And if Armin stayed here, then you would have to as well. Even worse, what if Mikasa had been caught as an Eldian from Paradise? You could already visualize the dominoes and how they would fall.

You put a hand on Mikasa’s shoulder and sighed.

“Mika…” You said carefully and softly.

Mikasa turned to you sharply. Her eyes stabbed you in the chest, and your blood ran cold. Mikasa was your best friend, and you weren’t necessarily scared of her, but you definitely didn’t want to be on the sharp end of her attitude.

“Don’t ‘Mika’ me!” She shoved your hand away. “This is wrong and you all know it! We can’t leave Eren, we just can’t! He wouldn’t leave any of us behind!”

The irony in Mikasa’s negotiation made you nauseous. Everyone shifted uncomfortably. Again, no one wanted to say what they were thinking. Mikasa was already incredibly upset. No one wanted to twist the knife. Levi, however, didn’t seem to mind doing so.

“He’s already left us behind. It’s been damn near a month, and that little shit hadn’t bothered to even write to us.” Levi said.

He stood up from his chair. His black hair glistened under the light in the room. His arms were still folded across his chest as he stood to his height.

“I know it sucks because you love him, or whatever. But it’s either we stay here and risk all of our lives on this god forsaken continent, or we escape by the skin of our teeth and leave Eren to fend for himself. We’ve all risked our lives for Eren before, but this is too risky. We’d be putting our whole island at jeopardy if we were busted out as Eldian’s. Does that sound like it’s worth risking, for him?”

Levi’s tangent was heavy. Again, Levi was correct.

Mikasa’s lip wavered. She saw black as anger consumed her aura. She wanted to scream at Levi, tell him to shut up, tell him he was wrong. But her tongue was tied with emotions. A sob left her chest as she took off. She stormed towards the exit, the door practically flying open before her, and disappeared. There was an eerie silence, similar to the calm after a terrible rainstorm. Everyone was too stunned to say or do anything except look at each other.

Sasha was still sitting on the floor. Her mouth hung open in an amazed ‘o.’ Levi sucked the back of his teeth in his signature “tch” and sat back down. Sometimes, it was all he could really say. Sasha stumbled to her feet like a newborn deer.

“Mikasa, wait!” Sasha called. She zoomed to catch up to Mikasa, not even looking back at her comrades or superiors for a reaction

You were absolutely gobsmacked. Yes, Levi was correct on every single point. It wouldn’t be wise to stay, as all of your lives were now on the line. You had no choice but to follow Hange’s orders, but you sympathized with Mikasa more than logic wanted to allow. Leaving Eren behind after everything you all lost, gained, and put at risk for him seemed… unreal. This all felt like a nightmare, as if you were still in your dream from earlier.

“Well, shit.” Connie heaved. He finally felt like he could release the breath he had been holding.

Jean cracked an eye open, examining his surroundings and slowly removing his hands from over his ears. Levi’s lips were drawn together tightly and eyebrows drawn in as he looked up at Hange, both of them shared conscience-stricken glances. It was expected that Mikasa, out of everyone, would be the most upset, but her outburst was magnificent to behold.

Armin had squeezed his hands together so tightly, his fingers had gone numb. His lips were kept straight, hi s face relaxed, but his eyes told all. If Armin really wanted to, he could cry over not seeing Eren again. And if he tried hard enough, he could laugh at the irony. He wasn’t sure where in the lines of this situation it was painted, but he could practically taste it. His irises slowly raised from looking at his lap, to making eye contact with you.

You scanned the room, observing everyone’s body language and mood. You weren’t sure what to say or do next. Out of everyone in the room, you wanted to go to Armin and embrace him, squish him to his chest and squeeze the pain out of his spirit. But, alas. Not here.

Without another word you quickly followed in pursuit behind Sasha, putting in work to keep up behind them both.

Mikasa ran straight to her hotel room and threw herself onto her bed. She screamed in agony into her pillows. It would be no surprise that she might have been heard on other parts of the hotel floor. For a moment, Sasha wrapped herself around Mikasa in a comforting hug. Mikasa sobbed into Sasha’s shoulder, and Sasha didn’t mind her shirt being soiled. She was notoriously terrible at offering advice and providing relief that isn’t humorous, there was little she could do here. You and Sasha exchanged faces at each other, unsure of where to start in unpacking all of this.

“It’s not fair!” Mikasa hollered one time over another.

Mikasa took her pillow in her hands and slammed it against the mattress as hard as she could, continuing her declarations of unfairness as she did so.

You and Sasha swapped places. Since you all would be leaving the next morning, it was best to start packing. Mikasa was fairly organized, so it didn’t take Sasha long to gather Mikasa’s things and put them away in her suitcase. You supported Mikasa’s anger from the sidelines. You were mainly making sure that Mikasa kept abusing her pillow and only her pillow. Lamps, books, and other non-soft breakable items were kept out of Mikasa’s immediate line of sight.

Even though Hange is the mastermind behind the scouts, the designated leader who had final say above everyone else, Mikasa blamed Levi. She swore up and down that it was his idea to leave Eren behind, that Levi never liked Eren to begin with. You and Sasha both knew that was untrue.

“I’m gonna rip that little bitch to shreds!” She gritted her teeth.

Mikasa balled her fists as tightly as she could to refrain herself from punching the walls. Mikasa always gave Levi a side eye, reluctantly following orders and every now and then disobeying them, calling him names whenever he left the room, and voicing certain acts of violence she wanted to inflict on him for the way he treated Eren. Mikasa insisted that Levi treated Eren like a step-child. She never learned, and in the case of Eren, she didn’t care what the repercussion would be for wringing the Captain’s neck.

“Don’t say that!” You tried to hush Mikasa just in case Levi happened to be near.

The fury was short lived. Mikasa huffed, sat back on the edge of her bed and began to cry. From that point on, the tears had not stopped. Her broken sobs had not lightened. You could see all of the pieces of Mikasa’s heart shattered on the floor. Mikasa clawed at her chest, leaving stripes of her fingernails across her flawless skin. She dug into herself as if there was anything she could bring out. Mikasa sunk her face into her pillow and screamed as loud and as hard as she could. All you and Sasha could do was stand in complete awe of the effect this disaster had done to your best friend.

Mikasa has been upset over Eren to the point of tears before. In less grander circumstances, Eren has said a phrase or two that would have hurt Mikasa’s feelings. Eren had never done anything this awful. Connie’s words played back in your mind. Eren was most definitely an asshole more times than not. Mikasa wasn’t the only one, you were a close runner up in some of Eren’s nonsense.

Hair seemed to be one of Eren’s favorite things to pick on. You always kept your hair in two neat braids away from your face. Eren often asked if you knew how to do anything else with it, and would sometimes tug on their curled tails when he thought you weren’t paying attention. In the mess hall, he’d flick small pieces of food at you. Nothing messy to stain your clothes or get on your face, but his aim was just perfect enough that a crust of bread he couldn’t be bothered to eat would land right in your soup. You never wasted time to pluck it out and chuck it back at him. By far, Eren’s favorite prank to pull on you was banging loudly on the door to your living quarters, jiggling the obviously locked handle, and pretending to break in. He did it at odd hours of the night, and sometimes early in the morning.

Through the red lenses of your vision, they were fond memories you would have and hold forever. But you were just too livid to see them from that point of view. Connie was right, after everything Mikasa had done for Eren is this the way he genuinely wants to treat her? Abandoning his post as a soldier, leaving his friends hanging high and dry in unknown and dangerous territory?

The scouts had saved Eren’s ass so many times, and if it wasn’t for any of you he would not be among the living. Armin vouched for him when it was revealed that Eren was really a titan, insisting that he wasn’t dangerous and that his power could be used for good. You thought he had gone mad. The original Levi Squad put their lives on the line to protect Eren against The Female Titan, leaving the other scouts in the dark about the real threat at hand. The caverns under the church was basically in the lowest part of Hell, you were convinced that the Devil himself would jump out from any corner. Nevertheless, you all went down anyway to rescue him and Historia with no real concern for your own lives. It was that day, during the battle with Kenny and his team, when you killed your first man. You did it all for Eren.

And this was the thanks you all got. It made you sick. You stood over Mikasa, lost in your own memories for just a moment, watching her unravel. This was no doubt her biggest heartbreak, and all you could do was watch. Even though Eren was a nightmare sometimes, for the first time in all the years you had known him, you hated him. You hated the way he hurt Mikasa. You hated the way he put Hange in a situation where they had to make a decision to leave him behind. You hated the way you saw Armin psyche break as he couldn’t come to terms with anything. You hated the way Eren left you to pick up his pieces.

“Mikasa, what can we do?” Sasha asked loudly. Mikasa’s crying bounced off of the walls.

“Are you thirsty? Do you want some water?” You cooed to her sweetly.

She declined, shaking her head. Her glossy black hair, that was always so shiny and looked so healthy, swished back and forth. You and Sasha stood over Mikasa as she howled in distress. Her face was wet with tears, snot slowly coming from her nose. The area around her eyebrows and her forehead were beat red. You excused yourself briefly to Mikasa’s bathroom, fetching the entire roll of toilet paper to bring her.

You came back and sat next to her, dabbing at her cheeks. You embraced Mikasa in another hug. Sasha helped herself to sitting on the bed, and took Mikasa’s trembling hand in hers.

You noticed that Sasha was particularly quiet, which was completely understandable. On top of watching her best friend suffer, and generally being awful at giving advice, Sasha was also upset about having to leave Eren. Who would take Eren’s place in their smoke rotation? Definitely not Mikasa, or Armin, or even you. Maybe, if they pressured him enough, Jean might crack. Sasha would have one less plate of leftovers, and one less tray to steal food off of. Sasha’s frown was deep and was quite unsettling to see, since she was always smiling and laughing at something or someone.

Even in the midst of your duty to tend to your best friend in her time of need, Armin couldn’t help but cross your mind. Where was he? What was he doing? How was he doing? Armin couldn’t hide his sorrows even if he sealed them in a vault with a lock and key. You had no idea what had happened in the meeting after you went to chase down Sasha and Mikasa. A sliver of regret pulled at your conscience, wishing you hadn’t left him at the table. Looking back, you probably should have stayed for his comfort.

Mikasa had to have been crying for at least an hour or two straight, and for the first time since coming back to her room her crying had stopped. She had bawled until her body had ran dry. Sasha quickly ran to grab her a glass of water. A drink seemed to calm her down significantly. Her weeping had settled down to pitiful hiccups.

“This is my fault.” Mikasa hushed under her breath. You squeezed her tighter.

“What makes you say that?” You pondered.

There was a pregnant pause. You and Sasha exchanged looks at each other as Mikasa blew her nose again. There was something she was leaving out, something that had gone unsaid until now. You both patiently waited until Mikasa collected herself. Then, she released a hard blow of air from her lungs.

“Do you guys remember when we found Eren at that campground?” Mikasa wondered, asking for context. You and Sasha both nodded.

“I caught Eren talking to that kid, the same kid who took Sasha’s purse. He was acting strange, saying weird stuff. He… He basically asked me what kind of relationship we had, what he meant to me…” Mikasa confessed. Your grip around her shoulders loosened as Mikasa unloaded her conscience.

It was no secret to anyone that Mikasa was head over heels for Eren, but it was unclear what their relationship was defined as. Sometimes, they acted as if they were a couple that had been married for years and years. Mikasa doted on Eren, and they squabbled often. The fact that Mikasa had been adopted by Eren’s parents and were raised together as children blurred some lines.

“What did you say?” You wanted to know.

Mikasa’s throat bobbed as she gulped. Her face twisted up again in a sob. She rubbed her eye with the heel of her hand.

“I told him he was family. I-I must have made him mad. Maybe I said the wrong thing, or maybe I hurt his feelings…” She admitted with a crack in her voice.

Mikasa didn’t have much energy left to continue her full blown weeping, but she shed a couple of more tears from being temporarily hydrated. You rested your head on Mikasa’s shoulder as she sniffled some more.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Sasha scoffed.

Your neck craned to her slowly, eyes wide with a nonverbal warning to mind her words. No, Sasha wasn’t good at giving advice, but it didn’t stop her from speaking her mind and calling bullshit whenever she saw it. Righteous, outspoken, and fiesty, Sasha was the friend who told it exactly how it was.

“You mean to tell us that Eren disappeared into thin air because he couldn’t stand being rejected? Is that what I’m comprehending right now?”

You weren’t sure where exactly Sasha was going with her tangent, but perhaps whatever she was about to say wasn’t what Mikasa wanted to hear, but rather it was what she needed. You could see Sasha’s anger rising higher and higher.

“So what if you don’t see him from a romantic perspective? That’s not your fault, and it’s not your problem that he can’t deal with his emotions like a normal person.” Sasha explained.

“But I do love him! I-I-I was just too stunned, I didn’t actually know what to say.” Mikasa replied. She twisted a wad of tissue anxiously in her hands.

“And that’s completely valid, don’t get me wrong! However, we’re here in Marley on a mission. He shouldn’t have fucked off the way he has. Look at you! You’re crying like someone just murdered your puppy. I’ve never seen you be so upset. You’ve barely eaten and barely slept in weeks.” Sasha pointed out. She spoke with her hands, waving them up, down, and around.

“And even Armin had problems coping! Y/N had to lure him out of his rabbit hole just so he could get some fresh air and sunlight!”

Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of you and Armin’s name being mentioned in the same sentence. You still hadn’t told Sasha or Mikasa anything about Armin. Eventually, you would, perhaps when you returned back home. Now, it seemed inappropriate to speak about your new relationship while Mikasa’s pain was equivalent to a break up. Even letting your stomach flip at the sound of his name seemed selfish.

Currently, all you could do was listen to Sasha’s preaching. You agreed with everything she was saying so far. You might have phrased a few things differently for Mikasa’s sake, but the core message all stayed the same.

“At this point, whatever Eren has going on in his stupid, fat, melon, man-brain is his problem. Not yours.” Sasha declared this statement as if it were a fact from a textbook.

While she raved, Sasha paced around the room. She helped herself back to sitting on Mikasa’s bed. Sasha grabbed Mikasa’s face and held it firmly in her hands, forcing Mikasa’s silvery eyes to meet her brown ones. Mikasa blinked rapidly, a few more tears falling down her cheeks.

“It’s not your fault.” Sasha stated firmly.

You watched as the two stared directly into each others souls. It was times like these where you felt closer with your girl friends more than ever. An ache clenched at your heart. There was a time when you three were just little Cadets and instead of being a group of three, it was a group of six. Krista was now Queen Historia, so it was almost impossible to see her whenever you just felt like it. Annie went off to join the Military Police after graduation. You exchanged a letter or two every now and then, but the last time you had laid eyes on her was when she was wreaking havoc in Stohess and capsulated herself in a crystal. Her whereabouts were unknown, and you could say the same for Ymir.

You, Sasha, and Mikasa were all that was left.

“Fuck him! You deserve so much better than what Eren has, could, and ever will give you. If I could, I would grab the biggest ladder in the world, climb it, pluck every star out of the sky like tiny little berries, and give them to you. Then, I would spoon feed them to you like the precious baby you are!” Sasha declared with her whole chest.

“Okay. Alright.” You decided to put an end to Sasha’s gospel, as you could sense she was about to go overboard.

“I agree with Sasha. You deserve someone who’s going to be there for you no matter what. This level of stress he’s always got you under… it’s not healthy, Mika.” You spoke softly, rubbing Mikasa’s back gently.

With no warning, Sasha sprung herself onto you and Mikasa in a gigantic hug. Her upper body strength constricted you all together, cheeks squishing together. Sasha groaned as her arms held you all tighter and tighter. You were definitely feeling the love. You coughed under Sasha’s grip, her affection and solidarity for girl-power restricting your airways.

Mikasa was caught in the middle between her two best friends. She squeezed her eyes shut. Mikasa sensed that some pieces of her fragmented soul were being cemented back together. Of course, it wouldn’t hold and solidify overnight.

“I love you guys so much! Men suck, and if anyone hurts either one of you, I’ll fucking kill them.” Sasha promised.

“Cool, Sasha, let me go! Please, you’re choking me!” You pleaded.

Laces in between Sasha’s oath and your desperate gasps for air something flickered inside Mikasa’s chest that as long as she had the two of you, plus Armin and Connie and Jean, she might just be alright.

It went without saying that no one felt any better than they did the day before. Bags were packed, people tossed and turned all night in final hopes that Eren Would miraculously show his face. He didn’t. So the following morning, just as planned, everyone was aboard the boat home by 9 AM. Finally by 9 AM sharp they said sail back to Paradise.

Apart from the ship, tearing through the open ocean waters, no one under the word. Mikasa had a firm grip on Eren’s suitcase, clutching it for dear life. The contents inside were all that remains of him. He had hardly unpacked anything. All of Eren’s personal belongings stayed perfectly in their place, barely touched. Armin found that quite odd, since Eren was less than his definition of organized. It took more time for Armin to put away his own belongings than it did for him to gather Eren’s.

Jean clapped Armin on one shoulder well Connie placed his hand on the other. You couldn’t make out what they were saying, but you could only guess that they offered their support. They mirrored you and Sasha, whose arms were linked together with Mikasa, and she sat in between you both. Mikasa was a quiet girl to begin with. Not shy or timid in the slightest. What more could be said or done? She stayed with her as she cried herself to sleep. She probably didn’t have any more tears left to cry

Armin’s hands gripped the side railings, holding his breath as the city line of Marley faded into the background. He clenched his jaw so hard, he could feel his back molars pressing onto each other. You were so occupied with Mikasa, you were unable to visit Armin to give whatever comfort you could. You eyed him closely. He nodded and shrugged as he, Connie, and Jean whispered among each other. You waited until they gave him space. Connie sat next to you, reaching across your lap to put a hand on Mikasa’s knee. He kept his mouth shut, but Mikasa could feel his tenderness in his touch.

“Everything will be okay, Mikasa.” Jean mumbled. His cheeks filled with blush.

It was all Jean could come up with. It wasn’t as romantic or as normal as he wanted to sound, but it came from his heart. Jean wasn’t sure if competing for Mikasa's hand would be easier or more complicated now that her heart has been broken. Whatever elbow grease was needed to help her heal Jean will put in the effort overtime.

“Thank you, Jean.” Mikasa replied. Her nose, lips, engine were buried under her signature red knitted scarf.

Armin still stood alone. You moved past Connie’s arm to stand and quietly made your way to speak to Armin. You approached him carefully so as to not startle him. His focus was trained on the water below.

“Hi.” You spoke softly. Armin blinked, giving you a weak smile.

“Hi.” He said back. A beat of silence rolled past.

You try not to focus on the water below, just looking out at the waves made your stomach uncomfortable. You got, unsure of what approach to take with Armin. More than anything you wanted to embrace him a hug kiss them across, bless cheeks and hold them close. However, you had a feeling that you were being watched. Feeling and touching all over him in front of your comrades, superiors, and other civilians aboard wasn’t a good idea.

“Sorry I didn’t come see you last night.” You apologized.

Armin turned to look at you for the first time this morning. You looked so beautiful to him in the open, fresh ocean air. Your hair flew back against the breeze, the sun kissing your skin and making you blow. A bashful yet sorrowful smile was curved on your lips. Armin’s own lips burned to be on yours. He licked them.

Just when he thought you couldn’t get any sweeter, you surprised him. Here you were, apologizing for something out of your control. It was increasingly obvious that Armin’s feelings for you had gotten stronger overnight. You barely said a thing and yet here he was, melting in your presence more than usual.

“Don’t worry about it.” Armin shrugged dismissively.

“How are you feeling?” You wanted to know. You moved a centimeter closer, making Armin’s heart pick up it’s pace.

Armin shrugged again. He looked away, breaking the mild eye contact you both held. He blinked out into the horizon. The clear sunny day, the crispy water around the boat, and Armin’s eyes were all the same color. Aesthetic wise, if the ocean were a person, it would be Armin.

He couldn’t deny the heaviness in his chest. Armin was still, understandably, confused about the turn of events. Angry, he may never get the closure everyone deserved. Scared for Eren’s safety. Armin concluded that, no matter what the others might say and despite statistics, Eren was still alive. He could feel it sitting hard and firm in his gut. Armin looked down at his shoes.

“I’m sad.” He confessed.

His answer held a different hue of honesty compared to when Jean and Connie checked on him.

You watched his Adam’s apple bob as he gulped. The lips you desperately wanted to kiss were tied together with a frown. You bit the inside of your lip and reached for the hand closest to you. You placed your palm over his knuckles. A simple gesture. Armin looked back at you once again. His eyes softened tremendously thanks to your touch.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Armin wondered out loud.

This feeling in his chest sucked. He wouldn’t wish this level of loneliness upon his worst enemy. Perhaps Armin wasn’t there enough for Eren. Maybe he didn’t listen well, or care about things as much as Eren did. Whatever the behavior was, Armin would not repeat it with you.

“Yeah,” you confirmed with a nod.

“I mean anything. Even if I’m the problem.” Armin insisted.

You chuckled.

“I seriously doubt that would ever happen.”

Armin tucked his top lip behind his bottom row of teeth, apprehensive of his next words. He didn’t put it past himself that at some point he might screw up. It was only fair that Armin let you know that you could tell him anything and everything, just as he could be honest with you. You had gone out of your way just to prove it. The same date to the pier was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him. He owes you big time, and then some.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so… distracted.” Armin sighed anxiously.

He flipped his hand around, locking his fingers in between yours with a gentle squeeze. He drew a wavering breath in, and a shaky breath out.

“Armin,”

“But I promise when we get home, things will be different. You’ll be my top priority.” He swore.

You couldn’t help but beam at his proclamation. It was quite clear that Armin what is a sensual and romantic person. You could tell by the way he made a move on you in the tent, how he fucked you both times, and you peeped the binders of his stacks of books. At least one had a lovey-dovey title. You pondered what tricks he might have up his sleeve.

Armin didn’t digest the words you kindly spoke to him at the pier, that Eren’s troubles had nothing to do with Armin himself. But now, he could see what you meant. Even if he didn’t understand the full picture. Whatever Eren was up to now was out of his hands. All that he held onto now, literally and figuratively, was you.

There was no way Armin was going to let you go. You squeezed his hand back.

“I’ll do the same for you too.” You nodded as you spoke.

As much as you hate it, too, you released your hand from Armin’s. It was a bit of a shame that your stomach was now getting upset. You had no time to eat breakfast, plus the rock of the ship made you feel uneasy. If you look down at the rushing water, one more time you might get sick. Armin reframed a chortled laugh as you excused yourself back to your seat, claiming your spot right in between Mikasa and Connie.

Low and out of Connie’s ear shot, Sasha leaned in to speak to you.

“You know, you still have to wash that hand.” Sasha commented. You rolled your eyes.

“Oh, shut up.”

thank you. reblogs and feedback are appreciated! arlertwitch © 2023. all rights reserved. do not translate or repost any works by arlertwitch on any other platforms. violators will be prosecuted in accordance within the law.

#this part is kinda boring #it’s all downhill from here folks #my writing #heat waves #armin imagine #armin arlert #armin x afab reader #armin x y/n #armin x reader #armin x you #armin x fem reader #armin x black reader #armin one shot #armin smut #armin fluff #armin angst

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carlatsukinamistolemyhamsandwich · 3 months

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Fanfiction Masterlist: Multichapter Fics and One Shots

Shuu Sakamaki

One Shots

Shuu Sakamaki x Reader x Carla Tsukinami Love Triangle (4k+, complete)

The mansion is in chaos when you awake, or at least you think it is from the shouting and the sounds of furniture and glass breaking. Shu’s unusually serious as he tells you to stay in his room before slipping outside. You hurriedly tug your clothes on while you wait for him to come back, wondering just what the hell is going on.

But when the door finally opens again, it isn’t Shu who walks through it. It’s a tall man with a scarf covering the lower half of his face and long, flowing white hair stained a dark pink at the tips. He’s terrifying—and he’s looking at you like you’re a piece of gum stuck to his shoe.

Reiji Sakamaki

One shots

Soulmate AU (Reiji Sakamaki x Reader) (~5k, complete)

The moment his lips touched your skin, a jolt of fear shot through him. Some kind of mortal terror, the likes of which he’d never experienced before. He drew back and the feeling vanished, leaving him breathless. What was this? Your scent was that of an ordinary human, you certainly shouldn’t have the power to affect him in such a manner.

Experimentally, Reiji ran a bare finger over the skin of your neck and the same sensation filled him. Flinching back as though he’d been burned, he tightened his grip on your wrists to the point where you cried out.

“What exactly are you?” he hissed, scanning your eyes for any indication of deception.

“Human,” your voice shook, “I’m just a human.”

Reiji took a deep breath to see if there was anything he’d missed in your scent, but it was utterly mortal, laced with fear. Wait, fear. Those were your emotions he’d sensed, but how? Vampires were capable of many things but this wasn’t one of them. Unless…

Azusa Mukami

One Shots

Bathtub Merman (Merman!Azusa Mukami x Reader) (6k+, complete)

TW: self-harm

The scales were the first thing that caught your attention, shades of blue and silver dimmed by the shade of the pier. As you neared, you were able to make out that they formed a long, sleek tail, ending in a delicate fin that was splattered with some sort of dark liquid. It was only when you had almost reached the pier that you managed to make out what the tail was attached to, however, the sight enough to make you stop in your tracks. A man’s torso, his skin deathly pale under the moonlight, the tail replacing where his legs should have been. Your breath caught in your throat. Mermaids and mermen were the stuff of fiction, there was no way the creature lying sprawled on the sand before you could be real.

Seeming to sense your presence, his head lifted. A pale hand stretched out towards you. “Please…” the desperation was clear in his voice. “Help me.”

Carla Tsukinami

One Shots

Forgotten Gods (Carla Tsukinami x Fem!Reader) (one shot, 2k+, complete)

“Woman,” a voice like rolling thunder said, snapping you out of your spiralling thoughts. “I shall accept your proposal.”

Whatever you’d been expecting the entity in front of you to say, that hadn’t been it.

“I… What?” You muttered faintly, blinking at him from your spot on the floor.

“I have decided to accept you as my wife,” he replied without missing a beat. “Be grateful.”

Shuu Sakamaki x Reader x Carla Tsukinami Love Triangle (one shot, 4k+, complete)

Shin Tsukinami

Multichapter fics/Series

The Demon Prince (Demon!Shin Tsukinami x GN!Reader) (two-chapter fic, 15k+, finished)

TW: Gore, horror, body horror, brief description of vomiting in chapter 2

All of a sudden, you couldn’t blame the animals and insects for abandoning you to face him alone, if it weren’t for the markings that felt like a lead weight wrapped around your wrist, you were pretty sure you’d turn tail and go to ground somewhere too. The demon had been terrifying in the overcast light of day, but at night he was something else entirely.

• Chapter 1: The Deal • Chapter 2: The Game

Amaryllis (Human!Shin Tsukinami x Vampire!OC) (multi-chapter fic, 7k+, on hiatus)

“And finally, perhaps the most damning of all,” she said casually, as though she hadn’t been choking the life out of him only moments before. “I have very, very sharp fangs,” a grin revealed her teeth and even through his swimming vision, Shin could see that they looked deadly. “And now, Tsukinami Shin, you’re about to find out what I use them for.”

• Chapter 1: Blood and Peaches • Chapter 2: Spoils of Tragedy

Siren’s Song (Siren!Shin Tsukinami x Reader) (series, complete)

TW: choking, discussion of drowning, discussion of consumption of human flesh Part 1: Siren’s Call (one shot, 12k+)

You felt a set of claws trail down your leg. It clearly wasn’t intended to injure, closer to a lover’s caress than anything else and yet that didn’t stop your heart from leaping into your throat. Whatever was in the water with you could drag you down easily enough and it clearly hadn’t lost interest either. No, as cold dread filled your veins, you had a certain feeling that it was toying with you.

Scales brushed past your feet and you could almost hear it urging you.

Run. Go on and run. Run so I can chase you.

Part 2: Siren’s Reflections (one shot, 3k+, covers the events of Siren’s Call from Shin’s POV)

Letting out a low growl of frustration, Shin lay back, floating so he could watch more stars flicker into existence above him. He was getting very very sick of waiting—somehow the closer he got to his goal, the more he itched with impatience.

Truthfully, he couldn’t say exactly how long he’d waited for a chance to leave the lagoon. His sleep in it’s depths had been deep and dreamless and so it had been with some confusion that he’d woken to the scent of human blood in the water around him—your blood.

Demon!Reader x Shin (series, ~4k, complete)

TW: Imprisonment, non-explicit torture, mind break (Shin), non-explicit dubious consent

It was the moments of pleasure that had broken him in the end. Shin didn’t know how long he’d been in your dungeons for, parts of him being stripped away through pain and humiliation, exposing something vulnerable and raw.

At some point, the touches from you, the occasional praise, had stopped feeling like acid was being poured on his skin and had become more like a balm, a break from the pain of loosing his pride. And eventually, he’d given himself over to you, admitting that even sitting at your feet was better than being left alone in the dark to be eaten alive by shame and misery.

• Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3

One Shots

Throat Full of Flowers (Shin Tsukinami x Fem!Reader x Carla Tsukinami) (one shot, 3k+, complete)

TW: Major character death

A hanahaki one shot written mostly from Shin’s POV. Heavy angst.

Remnant (Ghost!Shin Tsukinami x Vampire!Reader) (one shot + prequel headcanons, 2k+, complete)

Halloween 2021 one shot. Set in an AU.

• Prequel headcanons

Lost Eden (Shin Tsukinami x Reader) (one shot, 2.5k+, complete)

An alternative take on Shin’s Lost Eden Manservant ending. You don’t have to have read the route beforehand but be warned this fic contains a lot of spoilers for it.

(Yandere!Shin Tsukinami x Reader) (one shot + epilogue, 3.5k, complete)

TW: Yandere content

“Shin, please stop, you’re hurting me.” It was a pathetic plea, especially given how little trouble he’d had hurting you when you first met, but your wrist was throbbing to the point where your eyes were filling with tears.

“Oh.” Shin lifted your wrist so you could see it. “It hurts does it? Maybe I should just snap it. This is your dominant hand, isn’t it? If I made it completely useless, so you had no choice but to rely on me, would you only look at me then?” The pressure on your wrist increased and you cried out.

• Epilogue

#masterlist #diabolik lovers #Shin Tsukinami #Carla Tsukinami #Shuu Sakamaki #Azusa Mukami #Reiji Sakamaki #Shin Tsukinami x reader #Carla Tsukinami x reader #Shuu Sakamaki x reader #Azusa Mukami x reader #Reiji Sakamaki x reader

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thepaperpanda · 2 years

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𝓓𝓪𝔂 5 - An Aggressive Gentleness || Jake “Hangman” Seresin x fem!reader

Masterlist

Summary: Everyone knows Hangman is good, but you'll have a chance to discover that he simultaneously has a bit of a persuasive streak as well.

Warnings: smut (unprotected p in v, spanking)

Word count: 2325

Author: Rouge

A/N: the the prompt for today is: Spanking

Jake "Hangman" Seresin was one of the world's greatest and most successful pilots. He was a known womanizer, and he had as many downed planes as broken hearts among all the women he dated.

Yet, ever since you joined his team, he couldn't take his gaze away from you; you were not only a beautiful, young woman, but you also had a strong personality.

"I know there's a big age gap between you and me, Y/N," he said as the two of you finished the bottle of red wine that night, sitting together on the pier over the ocean. "But I really want to take you out. Would you be interested in having dinner with me one evening?"

As a result, you both agreed to meet for dinner a few days later.

Despite your expectations, the dinner ended up being much more enjoyable than you expected. It sounded too good to be true. You teased, playing with your glass, "Maybe Hangman isn't such an asshole as everyone thinks."

You could feel his knee against yours under the table as you sat there staring and smiling at each other, your hand in his.

Of course, it could have been an accident at first, but when it returned, went away, and then returned again, all doubt was removed. It was done on purpose as a signal, a kind of request, to emphasize the request for a date. Again, perhaps a little old-fashioned, but extremely intimate and alluring.

Jake let out a little sigh, observing your face carefully as he said, "Don't judge a book by its cover."

"If I didn't interact with you on a daily basis and while on duty, I'd say you're an asshole," you concluded, scrunching your face. "You are charming, but you are a total asshole. However, I don't regret our dinner together."

Jake was certain he knew the game because he'd played it before; he was obviously used to dealing with stroppy little bitches like you. He was well aware of what you were doing and what you were up to. He seemed to be able to read you, understand what you were thinking.

He kept gently rubbing your palm and pressing his knee firmly against yours as he looked you in the eyes. "You have the most enticing eyes, Y/N," he murmured as he gazed deep into them.

A cocky smile spread across your face as you made a small yhym sound and rested your chin on your palm. "Just like the last girl, I'm sure."

Since it wasn't the first time you heard those sweet words, you already knew what they meant. This was a popular saying among guys as if it were a kind of spell.

"I can see through your eyes that you are a passionate, intense woman. A woman who knows exactly what she wants and how to get it. I notice a lot about you." As he accelerated, his foot landed on yours and ran up the side of your calf. You were his type, there was no doubt. This became especially apparent when his knee pressed firmly against your closed knees at first, then even more so after a moment or two.

You sighed heavily and decided to stop him. "I have to be honest with you - sweet nothings don't appeal to me at all. I've heard these things too many times to believe them."

Jake drew your hand to his lips. "Come to my flat, Y/N, and let me love you there," he said as he licked the back of your hand and looked you in the eyes.

“If you stop acting so weirdly sweet, I'll go with you."

Jake gave you a brief nod in response.

You took a cab to his apartment. It was a second-floor walk-up flat in a fairly large town house, nicely furnished in that fading elegant style that appeals to the well-to-do and aristocracy.

Hangman turned on one lamp but not the others. The street lights cast a nice, dim, romantic glow on the large lounge. He made no pretense that this was anything other than a sexual encounter. He didn't make small talk, offer you a drink, or request that you sit. None of that was necessary; he and you both knew it. You were there for one and only one reason - to have sex.

As Jake kissed you passionately, he took you in his arms. There was no preamble or asking permission; it was a wonderful kiss. As he held you tight, he moulded your bodies together and his lips found yours. While your lips touched, your mouths were closed, but as you pressed them together they slowly opened. As he licked your lips, he ran his tongue along your gums, over your teeth and into your mouth. Unlike the Hangman everyone used to know, he was patient, slow, methodical, and amazingly erotic. You could feel Hangman's hands running up and down your back.His hands fiddled with your bra strap, the waistband of your short denim skirt, which was just a whisker below your pubis line and the top of your bum crease, and the hem of the white, loose, short-sleeved top.

Jake took your hand and led you to his bedroom.

The room was quite small, but it had a double bed. Although it was dim, you could still see each other. Standing beside the bed, Jake held your hand as you faced each other. Bringing your palm up to his mouth, he kissed its top; he took one of your fingers and softly sucked it, earning a moan from you.

You didn't speak, you'd gone beyond words, they simply weren't needed.

It wasn't long before Jake let go of your hand and stepped back a few feet. With his eyes glistening in the dim light flowing in the room from a streetlamp, he began undoing the button of his heavy, cotton, khaki shirt. Having fully undone his shirt, his fingers were now undoing his leather pleated belt. He was so confident and so assured, which you found very sexy and enchanting. Still, he didn't take his eyes off of you. “You’re so fucking pretty, Y/N.”

Reaching downwards, you grasped the hem of your top. You saw approval in his eyes as his belt came undone and he slowly pushed his zip down. Between the opened edges of his shirt, you could see that his chest was toned and muscular.

You both dropped your tops as if on cue. Jake's eyes wandered over your chest, focusing more and more on your round breasts, almost making you squirm with desire. Through Jake's masterful gaze, you became more receptive to his unspoken persuasions.

The silence was broken by Jake. His erection was evident and clear and gave him absolutely no embarrassment whatsoever. As you dropped your bra, he sighed, "You're so fucking hot, Y/N. What are you waiting for? Go on."

Undoing the brass button on the skirt, you slid the short zip down. The skirt slid down your legs as you wriggled it over your bum and hips. A surge of high-octane arousal surged through you when you looked into Hangman's hungry eyes. You soon pushed your panties down your legs as well.

As Jake took off his boxer shorts, his hardened erection rested proudly against his well-built abdomen.

Seresin reached for your hand, the one holding your panties, as you stood completely naked in front of him. He gently pulled them away from you. His eyes bore deep into yours as he rubbed his nose on the gusset, taking deep breaths as he did so, making animalistic noises at the same time. After that, he used your panties in a rather extravagant manner, rubbing them around his balls and up and down his erection without any embarrassment at all. As if to say don't you dare complain, he stared intently into your eyes before cupping his balls in your panties and rolling them around before pushing the silky underwear back across his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to him, pressing himself against you, moulding your bodies into one. As he cupped your round bum in his strong hands, his cock squirmed against you. Jake squeezed and kneaded your buttocks all the while kissing you hungrily; he stroked your bum, pinched it, rubbed it, and caressed it.

As you got your hand between your bodies, your fingers tingled with desire as they ran up and down his erection. It was everything an erection should be; hard, warm, smooth and slightly throbbing.

You then went to bed.

Jake carefully positioned you on your front and laid beside you. The hand that wasn't tugging your hair had slipped down your back and reached your bum. He stroked it and squeezed it. Jake whispered, "You have the most glorious arse I've ever seen," as he stroked it softly. All he had done when you were standing beside the bed was repeated, but he now focused more on your cheeks. After easing your legs apart, he parted your bottom's cheeks. He spent ages running his fingers up and down that sensual groove, on, over and past your extra sensitive entrance to your anus, on the base of your spine in one direction and into your fully soaked pussy in the other.

All hell broke loose within your body and mind. You could not help but notice as your body shook with the various sensations that you were cumming without any form of penetration, without your sensitive clit being rubbed or your pussy's lips being stroked. “Jake!” You managed to whimper loudly, nuzzling your face into one of his pillows.

Jake smacked your bottom several times. Not that hard and not that much, but enough to make your bum sting and for you to recognise what he was doing. Nevertheless, the combination of the pain from him pulling your hair, the stinging from where he'd spanked your bottom and the pleasure he was giving you with his fingers made you cum, very heavily indeed.

You hadn't even finished your orgasm fully when Hangman turned you over. After what he'd just done to you, your pussy was still tender, and your breasts and nipples were still pulsating. As he moved up and held his cock against your lips, you willingly opened your arms and wrapped them around his hips.

The moment he bucked his hips, forcing his dick completely into your mouth, you wrapped your lips around his rock-hard erection, gagging yourself.

Jake's hand hit your bottom quite hard, so much so that it jerked your head from his cock as Hangman turned you to your side a little, to gain better access to your bum. In a matter of seconds, he hit you twice.

Putting his cock back in your mouth, you grunted. Each thwack and smack was probably harder than the last. He spread them over both cheeks. Pumping his girth in and out of your mouth, you gagged, reaching out to massage his balls.

Jake grunted lowly as he hardened. Seresin hit you several more times after he realized you weren't opposed to what he had been doing. Now he was doing it harder, and it was stinging, but not too painful. It was amazing to see that each time he smacked your ass, and since he'd found a sort of rhythm, his cock began to jerk inside your mouth. His hardening and growth increased with each smack. “Fuck, look what you’re doing to me,” he grunted, taking a fistful of Y/H/C hair, tugging on it a little. He was now spanking you with a steady series of blows that covered every inch of each cheek and occasionally drifted down to your thighs. Between each blow, his hand gently fondled your asscheek.

With that gentleness combined with the aggression of the spanking, you experienced sensations you hadn't felt before. While Hangman grunted and groaned and mumbled how wonderful you were and what a magnificent bottom you had, you sighed and moaned at the pleasure you were receiving, taking his cock out of your mouth with a loud pop sound.

Jake then fucked you. Straightforward, you on your back, him on top, your legs wide open and wrapped around him. Jake’s thrusts were fast and strong; his bed was swinging with each of them. It was quite quick and hard. Like the expert he was turning out to be, he didn't offer or ask for more foreplay. After what Jake had gone on so far there was no need for more and he seemed to be acutely aware of that. He didn't need to get you wet and you didn't need to get him hard, what you'd been doing for the past half hour or so had done both of those necessities.

“Fuck!” You screamed, digging your nails into his back, rolling your head back on his pillow. “Fuck you, Hangman! You’re so fucking good!”

“I’m good, Y/N,” Jake grunted into your ear, instantly turning his head to suck hardly on your exposed neck. “I’m very fucking good.” You were obviously soaked and your lips were bloated from the blood that rushed to them during the previous orgasms. No complaints, just a straightforward hard and fast fuck and that, to be honest, was what you truly wanted.

After cumming together, Jake laid on top of you, pinning you to the mattress with his weight, then rubbed your cheeks and neck with his kisses. “Do you want to stay for the night?” He asked simply, rubbing his nose against yours.

Nodding to him, you slipped your hands into his hair and massaged his scalp. "Yes."

Despite his nakedness, Jake kissed you one last time before getting up from the bed. "I'll bring a pillow and towel for you."

As his thick, sticky cum ran down your inner thighs, you rubbed them together and bit your lower lip. You definitely had the best fuck of your life.

#hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin smut #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin smut #jake seresin #jake seresin imagine #hangman x you #hangman smut #top gun x reader #top gun x you #top gun smut #top gun maverick smut #hangman top gun #tgm fic #paperpanda kinktober #kinktober 2022

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jiangchengneedstherapy · 10 months

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So, looks like I've been blocked for saying Jiang Cheng's people were scared of him to ask him for help on the post about his 'good leadership' skill in Canon Jiang Cheng tag, I'm sorry I assumed that was up for discussion and I really was genuinely meaning for a discussion, and also @labyrynth I did get your notification of asking for source. The two main sources are "Arrogance (5)" and "Longing (3)" In Arrogance, we get Jiang Cheng's thought process highlighting that yes, he's captured people before even if zidian told him they were not body snatchers, the main crime he was capturing them under. A moment ago, Jiang Cheng was certain that this person was Wei WuXian, and all of the blood in his body started to boil. Yet, now, Zidian was clearly telling him that he wasn't. Zidian definitely wouldn't deceive him or make a mistake, so he quickly calmed himself and thought, this doesn't mean anything. I should first find an excuse to take him back and use every possible method to get information out of him. It's impossible for him to not confess anything or give himself away. I've done things like this in the past anyways. After thinking it through, he made a gesture. The disciples understood his intention and came over.

The disciples are long used to it, that's further highlighted in "Malice (1)"

The owner was getting ready to close the shop for the night. Suddenly, seeing that a fancy-clothed, dark-faced young man kicked open the door and walked inside with someone in his hand, appearing as if he was going to disembowel the victim right here, the owner was so frightened that he couldn't speak. A disciple went up and whispered a few things in his ear. With some silver pushedinto his hands, he quickly fled to the back of the hall and never came out again. Without any further instructions, the Jiang Sect's disciples instantly spread out from the inside to the outside, making it so that nothing could enter or escape the place.

Of course the rumors will spread, the people are scared but no one interferes, how can they? The disciples are even used to giving money and making sure no one else can enter/no one can escape, even when they know zidian confirmed that he's not possessed. And then in "Longing" The owner, "That I'm not so sure about. Anyways, the temple's quite popular. In Yunping City, no matter what someone runs into, we'd all go there and pray for the Guanyin's protection. I sometimes go there and light a few sticks of incense too."

Wei WuXian asked, "Then why don't you go find the cultivational sect that's in charge of this region?" He only remembered after he asked. Wasn't the cultivational sect in charge of this region precisely the YunmengJiang Sect.

Yet, the owner curled her lips, "Go find them? How dare we?"

Wei WuXian, "Oh? Why not?"

The owner, "Young Masters, you're not from Yunping City so you don't know. The Jiang Sect is responsible for all of us along the Yunmeng area. The Sect Leader's got quite a bad temper. It's almost frightening. His subordinate's said so a long time ago. Only one sect is in charge of such a large area. Each day, there are almost a hundred cases of small ghosts or other creatures pulling pranks on the living and all that. If every single small thing had to be dealt with immediately, would there be enough time and energy? Those that don't kill anyone aren't malign spirits, and we're not supposed to disturb them with trivial matters that aren't malign spirits." She complained, "What is this supposed to mean? Wouldn't it be too late if we waited until somebody's died to find them?!"

In truth, to refuse to act unless it was a malign spirit was a silently agreed rule that all of the larger sects followed. Although 'to be wherever the chaos is' was praised by many, the only person who really followed this was Lan WangJi, the one beside him right now.

The owner continued, "On top of that, Lotus Pier is truly a scary place. How would anyone dare go there again?"

Wei WuXian moved his gaze from Lan WangJi's calm face with a short pause of surprise, "Lotus Pier is scary? How could Lotus Pier be scary? You've been there?"

The owner, "I haven't been there myself, but I know someone who went because his house was being badly haunted. But it was all bad luck. That Sect Leader Jiang was cracking a glowing whip right on the training field. The victim's flesh and blood flew as high as his screams! A servant secretly informed him that the sect leader caught the wrong person again, that he hadn't been in a great mood, and that he definitely shouldn't be irritated in any way. He was so scared that he dropped off the gifts he brought and fled at once.

He never dared visit again."

Here Jiang Cheng is highlighted as no different than other sects who don't help until someones dead, its common in their society to have little care for the locals but add his torturing habits on top, who would risk asking for help when they could be the next ‘wwx come back from the dead'? So what if zidian confirms they’re not? Sect Leader Jiang will do as he pleases.

I’ve seen this get dismissed as rumors a lot, but its not just rumors, if his thought process confirms it, if his disciples are long used to taking action around it, when his people walked in on it happening, and when they're long used to praying in the Guanyin temple for help than to approach him afraid of his temper.

#mdzs #canon jiang cheng #points #jiang cheng

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 5 months

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To the Other Side

Spontaneous fic I decided to write because I want to witness Fellow and Rollo interact (outside of fan art) 💕 I took a lot of inspiration from The Other Side and The Greatest Show from the same musical, and this fan comic and this fan art.

There’s just something so fun about Fellow’s happy, playful vibes mingling with Rollo being deadly serious and hateful 😂

***SPOILER WARNING: Glorious Masquerade and Stage in Playful Land!!!***

Imagine this…

The nearby town was the only reprieve Rollo had from Night Raven College. Magic was school-sanctioned (in theory), but the rule did little to curb the spells fired off in spontaneous spats between classes, pranks, resolving minor inconveniences, and—this made his lip curl the most—for fun. He turned the other cheek in the presence of instructors, chided classmates when catching them in the act, and vented his anger in private.

Soon, he told himself. Soon, this loathsome school exchange program would be over, and Night Raven College put behind him. But one man can only take so much sin before his patience threatened to give, irritation spilling over his carefully constructed walls.

Out here, a bus ride away from campus, he was free from those vile villains, however fleeting it was. The air cleaner, his mind clearer, as he breathed in the salt-kissed, balmy air. Waves lapping against the pier, the town’s comfortable hum as time rolled by, a soothing song.

He looked out at the waters, blue tipped with the white of sunshine dappling a painting. It was alive, yet at peace with the world. Knew its place.

Rollo's eyes drift shut, and he allowed the sea to envelop him. Quiet, calming, completely—

“Oya? Oya oya oyaaaaa?"

An exaggerated drawl invaded his ears. It was an unfamiliar man’s voice, slick with overly honeyed friendliness.

“You there, sir!” he called out. “Might I have a moment of your time?”

Ignore him, Rollo coached himself. He is not referring to you. There are many people in the town he could be accosting.

The crack of a clap on his shoulder suggested otherwise.

Rollo’s tranquility splintered and shattered, like glass dropped. His eyes snapped open again, alert and irritated.

A man had emerged on his left, and a small boy on his right. They stood too close for comfort, and seemed to be leering at him. From up, from down, encasing him in a web of excited stares.

The man had ginger hair in a widow's peak, the rest swept aside to make way for sharp eyes. His suit was fine at a glance, olive vest and neat cravat, violet coat with golden details and tassels cinched over it—but upon closer inspection, there was a hole in the pinkie finger of his long white gloves, and a miscellaneous diamond patchwork of patterns running down his trousers.

Something about him screamed “showman". Perhaps it was the jaunty half cape that hung off his left shoulder or the knee-high spats over shoes that clicked loudly, calling attention to him, with each step. Maybe it was the sparkle-studded top hat upon his head, nestled between two twitching ears, or the cheery flicker of his bushy tail, or the cane in hand, topped with a golden fox. (... Rollo suspected it was his boldness, the sheer audacity to insert himself where he wasn’t needed.)

The boy with the showman was a cat beastman, shorter and disposition shyer. His hair was a red-brown rat's nest even clamped under a smaller, brightly colored top hat, his fur just as unkempt. The only thing that seemed to fit on his slight frame is a lilac shirt and a small bow tie. His mustard yellow jacket looked as though it has had its body sheared in half, then the fabric stuck back onto the oversized sleeves, the pants attached to his overalls saggy and patched up with the wrong patterns. Even his boots were wrong—untied—and socks mismatched.

He blinked at Rollo through eyes that sloped downward, his expression lax. His mouth was steady beneath a spray of dark freckles. The boy held onto a comedically large hammer, hands still trapped in his enormous sleeves as he gripped its handle.

Suspicious, Rollo concluded. They are highly suspicious individuals.

“… May I help you?” he asked, not out of kindness but as a courtesy.

“Ohoh!!” The man grinned broadly. “That composed stride! That stern, solitary gaze! Those extravagant robes! So sensible, so conventional. There’s no doubt in my mind! You, my good man, must hail from THE Noble Bell College!”

Rollo’s mouth was quickly forming a frown. A fan of flattery he was not. "What of it?”

The stranger chuckled, the coy hand on Rollo's shoulder not budging. The warmth of it made his skin crawl in spite of the layers of fabric separating them. "You've come a long way from the Shaftlands then! Tell me, how do you find Sage's Island? Is it everything you’ve dreamed it to be—or, dare I say, more?”

“I was beginning to enjoy it, right up until you and your companion happened upon me,” Rollo grumbled, jerking his shoulder away from the stranger’s touch. “I do not have many opportunities to steal away into town.”

“You have my humblest of apologies!” The man bowed deeply. It took a few seconds of lag, but the boy clumsily followed suit. “Gidel and I, we’re the curious sort, you see! We come across many wary souls on our own travels, and we want to get to know them. Isn’t that right, Giddie?”

Gidel nodded eagerly.

The fox beastman stuck out a hand, taking Rollo’s before he was given the chance to reciprocate or decline. He shook firmly, with enough strength to rattle around Rollo’s bones. “Fellow Honest’s the name! And you, my esteemed gentleman?”

“Rollo Flamme.” His reply was curt, intended to cut the conversation short with its bluntness. He tried to sidestep the man, but failed as Fellow slid to block him.

“Rollo—may I call you that? Great, greeat!!” he gushed, again not pausing for a “no” to potentially slip in. “From just a glance, I can tell you’re an upstanding, diligent student. You’ve been hitting the books so hard, you’ve barely gotten in a wink of sleep!”

Rollo’s mouth pinched. It was not an uncommon comment for him to hear, but he wasn’t the least bit delighted to have it spun as a compliment either.

“You poor, poor boy! You must be a nervous wreck!” Fellow sighed, sympathetically stroking the back of one of Rollo’s hands with his own. The student shuddered and pulled away with a slight glare. Rather than taking note of the displeasure, Fellow brightened, snapping his fingers. “That’s it! You are a nervous wreck!! We must diagnose this case at once.”

To Rollo’s bewilderment, Fellow produced a pair of spectacles from his breast pocket and slipped them onto his face. Gidel whipped out a notebook and a pencil from his overalls, poised to take notes.

“Let’s have a look at you!”

Fellow circled the dazed Rollo, poking and prodding at the boy’s lean frame with the butt of his cane. It bit into his ribs, his cheek, his thighs, as Fellow rattled off nonsensical phrases, Gidel reverently scrawling them down. Rollo swatted at the fox as if dispelling a pesky bug—but Fellow was too fast, too slippery, to land a clean hit on.

He at last stepped back, snatching up the notes from Gidel. (Rollo caught a brief glimpse of the writing—it was nothing close to what could pass as language.)

Fellow raked a hand through his hair as he seriously took in the report of scribbles. With each passing second, his features increasingly crinkled with concern. "Oh me, oh my, oh dear!! Alas, it's just as I suspected!"

"... What?"

The glasses and the notepad were promptly discarded. Props made meaningless now that their purpose was fulfilled.

Fellow snaked an arm around Rollo. Firmer this time, not something to be shaken off. "You, my boy, are allergic! To this drudgery! This cage, these walls!" He wildly gestured with his cane to their surroundings. "This life you're trapped in! You're stressed, depressed, mad, sad, miserable, all of the above!"

Each adjective thrown out drew Rollo's brows closer and closer together until there was no hiding his grimace. “I do not appreciate the unwarranted judgments being made of my character.”

"You see! My hunch was right!" Fellow flicked at a corner of Rollo's frown. It deepened. "There's only one cure for what you have: a vacation! And luckily for you, I have exactly what you need right here…!”

Reaching into his sleeve, Fellow retrieved a single ticket, sandwiched between two lithe fingers. The sepia image of an amusement park wreathed in flags was frames in crimson, blue, and gold. Admit One, trumpeted the ticket, to Playful Land.

“It just so happens that I, Fellow-sama, am the manager to the fabled amusement park of wonder, hopes, and dreams... Playful Land! Have you heard of it? It's a magical place with a plethora of rides, games, song and dance! Why, there's even a big stage where any member of the audience can be a rising start! The food, all free and ample!! You can gorge yourself on fun!! Doesn't that sound like a swell dream?"

Rollo deadpanned. "If by 'dream', you mean dreadful. To encourage casting aside one's inhibitions to indulge in all manner of vices... Your establishment is no paradise. It is a den of depravity, hell masquerading as heaven.”

"Eh?"

The strong hostility seemed to throw Fellow for a loop, gave him pause. He fumbled for a moment before finding his words again.

"My, my! Your allergies are worse than I thought...! Every kid needs to kick back one in a while, and you most of all! Since we're such good friends now, I would be more than happy to gift this prized ticket, good only for tomorrow, to you free of charge!" He winked, giving a theatrical twirl of his cane. Stars and sparkles exuded out from it. A small charm, a harmless trick. "No need to thank me!"

Rollo's eyes flashed, instant recognition setting him on edge. Similar items infested the City of Flowers every Topsy Turvy Day—enchanted handkerchiefs, tambourines infused with meager magic.

Disgust roiled through him.

"We have no such friendship," Rollo snippily corrected him. Is this man delusional? "Furthermore, tomorrow is a school day. It wouldn't do to miss it in favor of gallivanting."

“Now, now, I insist!!” Fellow pressed. “Please accept this ticket and take a load off, enjoy yourself. Live a little, laugh a little! The last thing I would want is for you to miss out on this once in a lifetime opportunity!! Skipping a single day of school wouldn't be too harmful for a star-studded scholar like yourself."

His gaze flicked to Gidel. The two shared a keen glint, a subtle signal, then broke out into a show, a flurry of tap dancing along the pier.

"Trade in your typical for somethin' magical!” Fellow cried with the tip of his top hat. “Where it’s covered in all the colored lights!! Where the runaways are runnin’ the night!”

Gidel fished out a party popper from under his own headwear. When he tugged on its string, crackles filled the air, the popper letting loose a shower of glittering particles. Fellow belted out a hearty laugh, swinging his cane to catch confetti.

"Come on to the theater!!” he urged—mostly likely reciting some park motto, Rollo ventured. “In Playful Land... Life is Fun!!"

Fellow struck a pose with his arms thrust out, punctuating the performance. Gidel was less dexterous, and settled for an awkward approximation of the same pose.

Expectant for applause.

“… Charming display,” Rollo remarked dryly. He picked out a limp streamer from his hair. With a huff, he blew the remaining confetti off of him. “However, only a blithering fool would accept such a dubious offer. Is that what you take me for, Mr. Honest? A blithering fool?”

Fellow recoiled, his ears flattening, and his bravado faltering. Gidel glanced at the older man, soulful eyes full of worry.

"You must have fantasized about a day off before! Don't you want to get away and forget about your work and worries? Don’t you crave freedom?”

"No."

"What of the desire to chase thrills? To see and to experience what few others have before, or to relive a childhood you've perhaps never had? Don't you want to cut loose? Go crazy? Party all day?"

"Never."

"How about stardom? Play a different role? Have you a longing to stand upon a grand stage, hundreds of thousands of adoring fans applauding your passionate performances?"

"Not once."

His patience wore thin like a braided rope down to its final connecting threads. Rollo tapped a finger against his folded arms. "Are you finished? I tire of my precious time being wasted. If you will kindly excuse me."

He turned back toward the town. Rollo was a few steps along a shop-lined street when, suddenly, the odd duo reappeared. They skidded to a panting stop before Rollo, walling off his path. Well, more Fellow than Gidel.

A look of annoyance ripped across the fox’s face. “HOLD ON!! What kind of person plays hard to get and then walks away from a conversation like that?! Would it kill you to stop and just listen to me, you bra…”

Fellow petered off midsentence and backpedaled, smoothing out his spite into a smile. "...aaave soul! I've yet to meet someone as assertive and as self-assured as you are.” He reached out and brushed off an invisible fleck of dust from Rollo’s robes. Simpering. “You're a man that knows exactly what he wants!”

Rollo bristled. He hadn't missed the sudden shift in his chummy behavior. All the more reason to suspect them. They’re very clearly up to something.

"Yes, yes, I can see it now!" Fellow continued, stroking his chin in contemplation. "What you seek is not amusement! You’re longing—no, aching—for something far greater, more ambitious!"

He leaned into Rollo's ear, cupping a hand to it. Gidel came from the other side, staring up curiously. Fellow’s voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "Power, perhaps? The magical kind, even.”

Rollo visibly stiffened.

“Oh, have I got your attention?” The curve of Fellow’s mouth cocked, going crooked. A triumphant smirk. “You’re interested, I know it! Buried in those bones of yours, there's an ache, a thirst, for knowledge that you can't ignore!"

The fox wiggled a finger, his words rapt with wonder. “Playful Land is the product of maaany wise and talented mages! If you pay us a visit, you might be able to learn a thing or two from observing how we run the show. It's a valuable learning opportunity for a student of an arcane academy! How about it, kid? This surely is a deal you wouldn't want to pass up!!"

There was no indication of any feeling in Rollo's face. His eyes had glazed over, as though haunted, a veil shrouding his vision. He stared at Fellow as though he were a distant phantom.

Spin, spin. Fellow's cane did a little dance of its own. "Think of it: the fire, the freedom, the flood of magic. Blinding and outshining anything that you could know!"

Fire.

Rollo blinked. The veil lifted, and the man was rudely roused from an awake slumber. Neutrality replaced with a kindling emotion, sparse embers that did not yet know they would converge into flames. "... What did you say?"

"Everything you could ever want. Everything you could ever need," Fellow tapped the waiting ticket, "is here right in front of you. This is where dreams are made, where the impossible comes true: Playful Land. This is where you want to be—"

The fire flared, bile rising from his throat. Beneath his skin, blood came to a rapid boil. Hot, screeching, an intense fever pitch. The heat like a knife slashing through strings.

Hands lashed out, fervently seizing Fellow's arms. Rollo clutched onto him, a desperate parishioner to a priest preaching at the pulpit. But there was no such blind devotion in his expression, only something wild, untamable, twisted.

“What did you say?!” Rollo hissed, low and dangerous. Threatening.

Gidel jumped and skittered behind Fellow, hiding himself from view. The fox's hand found its way to Gidel's back to support the trembling boy.

"You've been mouthing off for quite some time, and I've been far more patient than you deserve." Rollo cut to the mustard yellow sleeve clinging to Fellow's leg. "You have a child with you. Refrain from spouting such ridiculous vulgarities in front of them.”

“Wh-What…!!”

“Is this the game you play?” Rollo’s grip tightened. Voice hoarse, a pained shudder threading through it. “Tempting children with the promise of whimsy and fun, encouraging them to be intoxicated by magic...!"

While you stand by, doing nothing.

An untimely demise by magic, a fate he knew all too well.

Consumed alive in a hellish inferno. Only a curtain of smoke and ash remaining. Slipping through his grasp when he was standing right there.

Brother...

Hot tears stung his eyes—but they dissipated near instantaneously, staved off by his burning fury. Anger and upset rapidly overtaking him.

Not again. He would not stand for it to happen, would not surrender. This, he swore, with a resolute breath, and cried out with all of his seething soul.

"Hmph! I thought you witless before, but it seems you are not a clown," Rollo spat. "You are the entire circus."

Fellow gave a light, cumbrous chuckle—but his eyes narrowed. Gone was his cheer, his merrymaking. What remained was serious, astute. "... Hey now, that's a scary face you're making. Is this really how you want to spend your days? Let's lighten up a little."

A bitter scoff sounded.

“Continue this farce, and I will not stop at raking you across the coals," Rollo warned darkly. Fire licked his fingertips, close to bursting free. "I will show you just how scary I can be. The righteous flames of judgment are cleansing. They will purge all sin, reducing the wicked to mere specks of ash."

He released Fellow with a slight shove. The older man fell back a few steps, finding his balance again when Gidel pushed him upright with a silent grunt.

“If you understand, then I will be on my way. Good day to you.”

With the path cleared, Rollo stormed right by them. Robes billowing in a passing sea breeze and austere face to the town, he almost looked the part of a hero emerging triumphant from battle.

Back to his everyday life, the same side as always.

Fellow gaped after the boy’s retreating figure. At the prey slipping away from every carefully placed trap he and Gidel had laid out for him.

"Well, I never...!!" he groused. A fresh, foul mood ripe like a rain cloud over his head, Fellow discarded his smile for a sneer. "HIIIIIIE~ What was up with that arrogant brat?!”

Gidel shrugged, his comedically large sleeves flopping as he threw his hands up.

"Damn it!!" The curse was out before Fellow could cut it off. "Next time I see that guy, I'll teach him a lesson for looking down on us!"

He angrily kicked at a soda can on the ground—abandoned by a wayward townsperson. With a CRUNCH, the can launched into a nearby lamp post, ricocheting off its base and bouncing back. The can connected with Fellow's kneecap. He yelped and seized his injury, trying to contain the pain.

Eyes blown open in alarm, Gidel rushed to him. The boy was waved off, Fellow's whimpers eventually dying down.

"My sulking worried you? … You're seriously too good for this cruddy world, Gidel," Fellow muttered, shaking his head. He ruffled the cat beastman’s mane of hair, the roughness of it grazing the unguarded pinkie poking out from his one damaged glove. "Never change, got that?“

Gidel bobbed up and down in agreement.

“Good.” Fellow drew himself up and adjusted his jacket. “Tch. Kids these days sure are spoiled rotten. You promise them the world and they still blow you off."

His thoughts settled on the boy from before. The remarks they had traded, the resistance the target had put up.

I thought a bit of magic would help loosen the kid up—but Life is Fun didn’t work on him, Fellow mused. I cast it so many times too. Between my magic and charisma, they usually cave so easily.

Yet Rollo had regarded him like a man possessed, had regarded him with such hatred. The mad, tormented look in his face. An iron barrier against the fluttery, champagne laced lull of his spell.

"... Must be somethin' wrong with him," Fellow concluded. All kinds of fucked up in the head and in the heart. "Yup, that's gotta be it! This Fellow-sama's way too cool to be outdone by any old student.”

Again, Gidel nodded enthusiastically.

“It’s alright, there’s bound to be flops! We’ll have to pick out our next mark much more cautiously.” Fellow shaded his eyes and squinted. “Let’s see…"

Gidel trailed after his gaze. Combing through a crowd for easy pickings was child’s play for Fellow, but the young boy struggled to hone in on the monotony of minute details. Little nervous tics and hesitations, chinks in armor to exploit. They were present, but Gidel’s eyes were like a broken camera. Zooming in, then out, blurring, never able to fully focus.

His attention strayed, slowly meandering back back to the piers. The sea was a simple thing compared to the town—natural, unrestrained. So easy to understand.

“Maybe that one… no, no, that would never work,” Fellow mumbles to himself. “They’re in too large of a group to comfortably break through. The girl over there? Tsk, the parents are hovering, can’t risk that…”

His eyes ran along the bustling town and along the docks. Like fingers along book spines or piano keys, a quick, light caress. Effortless.

Then he came to a full stop.

Did a double take.

And stared.

Hard.

There, lazily parked by the piers, was a small gang of boys, each dressed in the same smart black blazer and trousers, vests and armbands an assortment of colors. Tucked into their breast pockets were fountain pens topped off with magestones. Their style, those emblems, famous.

Fellow smacked Gidel’s back, snapping the boy to attention.

“Look alive, Giddie! You see that?” He pointed with his cane. “Those uniforms are…!”

His face lit up with understanding. Mouth ajar, eyes wide, brows raised.

“We’re in luck today!” Fellow snickered. He tugged on Gidel’s sleeve, yanking the youth to him. “Hurry, let’s get in front of them! We’ll cut them off, pretend as though we’ve bumped into them by accident. Then, we pounce…!!”

Gidel lifted his hammer—a cheer.

The duo scampered down the street, hearts drumming in their chests and adrenaline pumping. In that moment, they brimmed with all the hope and the excitement that Rollo had failed to exhibit. They were children racing to a dream destination, fools wishing upon stars.

Elsewhere in the town, someone sneezed.

Rollo pressed his handkerchief to his nose, retreating further into his robes. “… The weather suddenly took a turn for the worse. What an ominous omen.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #Rollo Flamme #twst imagines #Fellow Honest #twisted wonderland imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland scenarios #disney twisted wonderland #Gidel #Gidell #something no one asked for #Ferro Honest #imagine this

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riddle-me-ri · 9 months

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a/n: so umm…is it weird that I’ve given myself my own like brain rot for my general-partially biased take on a character? I just couldn’t get a Southern Jonathan out of my mind lmao. Plus as much as I’m absolutely suffering in this Texas heat…I do recall a time when summer was decent, especially at night out at my papa’s house…so it’s also a wee little love letter to those days…cause I do miss them.

Trigger Warning: alludes to sexual activity but nothing explicit, some angst if you squint, heavy touching, and kissing. Also perhaps some wee OOC-ness maybe? This is a bit before he dives deep into his Scarecrow alias and my Jonny is a bit more confident when he’s with someone he cares for…and is in his neck of the woods so to speak.

Word Count: 1.2 k

General Scarecrow/Jonathan Crane x Reader - Summer Nights

Tiny blades of fresh grass bit slightly at your bare feet as you ran through the open field. Your smile was wide to the point it almost hurt your cheeks.

Your long-time boyfriend, Jonathan Crane held your hand tightly as he lead you across the field to a little “watering hole” he called it.

Your legs are just about to go numb from the long exertion of running to match up with Jonny’s pace, but you finally made it to a tiny lake that laid out just before some dense woods.

The water glittered as it reflected the bright twinkling stars on a cloudless summer night. The moment is calm, just a few chirps of crickers or the grunts of toads filled the silence.

Then you realize that Jonathan isn’t beside you anymore.

“Jon?” You asked out loud, softly at first. “Ugh, Jonny! Where are you?”

“Right here, darlin’.” He was behind a tall and wide tree.

You walked over to the tree. “What’re you doing?”

“Well, wouldn’t want to get my workin’ clothes wet, now would I?” He stepped out from behind the tree and he wore nothing but his boxer shorts.

“Jonathan!” You squealed as you instinctively covered your eyes and turned away.

“What? It’s not like you ain’t seen me in my skivvies before-”

“Not out here…i-in the open!” You hissed, you quickly glance around, hoping no one would show up to prove your point.

“Honey, I can assure you we’re the only ones out here. You ain’t got nothin’ to be afraid of.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “That’s rich coming from you.”

Jonathan chuckled deviously. “Point taken. But I promise nothin’ will getcha…especially with me around.”

He walked up towards you and wrapped his arms around your waist. You placed your hands on his chest. You could feel the pounding rhythmic beating of his heart past his pale skin.

“Well…”

“Well what?”

Jonathan grinned. “Aren’tcha gonna join me?”

“Wha–?” Before you could finish asking, Jonathan broke from the embrace and dashed toward the short wooden pier.

“Jonny!” You shouted, astonished.

The only response was the sound of splashing water.

You rushed out to the edge of the pier and watched your lanky boyfriend breakthrough the water.

“What’re you waiting for? It’s awfully lonely out here!” He chuckled, swimming closer to you just below the edge of the pier.

You were silent for a beat as your eyes shifted left to right.

“Is the water cold?”

“Nope.”

“Do I need to take off my clothes?”

“Unless you wanna be cold when you get out, darlin’.”

Another beat. You sighed before slowly deciding to take off your clothes. You were still hesitant to get in until you were down to your underwear and heard Jon let out a wolf whistle. Pulled by the urge to smack him, you dove in after him.

Jonathan’s laugh echoed as he tried to fend off your hands, restraining them in his hands by your wrists.

“Was that so hard?” He teased.

“No…but you lied. The water is a little cold.” You huffed.

Jonathan chuckled warmly, he placed your wrists around his neck and his hands went under water to wrap around your waist.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help warm ya up.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” You deadpanned before he leaned in to kiss you.

His lips were wet from the water, making it all the more easier to get your tongue to slide past his lips and into his mouth. Your skin began sticking to his and his grip around your waist got stronger and tighter as if he was trying to keep you afloat for as long as he can.

You slowly, although reluctantly pulled back. You rested the tip of your nose against the tip of his crooked one. You remember how it got so crooked in the first place. It was already adorably long…but it wasn’t always crooked.

A couple of classmates from your college have always harassed you and one day Jonny saw it, needless to say he wasn’t going to let them pick on you, like they did him, without a fight. The fight eventually got broken up by the dean and Jonathan and the other party was suspended for a time.

When you went to check on him the following day, his nose was inflamed and constantly bleeding. You remember kissing it that day…and the next day the bleeding stopped and the swelling went down.

Back in the present, Jonathan began kissing and lightly suckling on the water droplets that fell down your neck.

“J-Jonny…” You mumbled out, breathlessly. “I gotta ask you something.”

Jonathan didn’t hesitate to raise his head up to look at you. “What is it, darlin’?”

“I just…I’m worried about this whole…fear tactic thing…I don’t want you to get in trouble or get hurt! Billy isn’t worth the risk…just to get back at him?”

Jonathan sighed. “Honey, we’ve been over this…men…or, better yet, boys like him need a taste of their own medicine. They need to know what it’s like to be afraid…submissive…powerless…if they don’t they’re just gonna keep picking on those weakest.”

“But does it have to be you? Why do you got to do it?”

Jonathan perked up an eyebrow, his eyes wandered off into the water as he thought about why. “Because I know…I know fear better than most anyone. Who better to rear it’s ugly head?”

Your shoulders sloched as you sighed in defeat. You suppose there truly was no getting to him. To back out of this plan of his.

You brought your hands up from around his neck to frame his jaw on both sides. Your thumb caressing just below his cheeks.

“Just…please be careful, sweetheart.” You pleaded.

Jonathan leaned his face into your touch before softly kissing along the inside of your palm. “I will, honey. I always am.”

“I’m looking at a crooked nose that says otherwise.” You giggled.

Jonathan chuckled. “It didn’t get crooked under the best of circumstances, but I know you love it.” He brought his face down towards yours and rubbed his nose side to side against yours.

Your smile grew as you pulled him in closer so his lips can meet yours again.

After sucking on each other’s lips for awhile, Jonathan resumed his task from before with suckling along your skin. Finishing where he left off on one side of your neck and then going to the other side. Your fingers were dug deep in his wet mop of sandy brown hair, doing all that you can to keep his attention there.

Jonathan pulled you closer to him once more, as the water tries to pull you apart. When your body was up against his, you felt a certain bulge below the surface. Your audible gasp, clued Jonathan to know you knew.

“I think it’s time for us to take this back to dry land, whataya say, darlin’?” Jonathan whispered in your ear.

You gulped, nodding your head against his. “Please.”

Jonathan chuckled deviously. “You better shake a leg, or I’ma just have to drag you to the bottom with me.”

You dramatically shrieked at the threat as you began swimming back to shore, with Jonathan quickly following you in your wake.

#ri writes #the scarecrow x reader #jonathan crane x reader

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mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess · 4 months

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Nocturnal

The alcohol slid down Wei Wuxian’s throat, both hot and cold, a satisfying interplay of conflicting sensations. He swallowed a mouthful of it, breathless and greedy, and he put the jar down only when he couldn’t throw his head back further to drink more.

He had always loved this - the sharp taste of the drink, the warmth it made bloom under his skin and the way it relaxed his body like it was melting away all the stress, the tension, the ache. He heaved out a satisfied sigh, wiping his glistening lips with his sleeve as he leaned back onto his hands, staring out at the night sky.

There seemed to be more stars in Gusu than Wei Wuxian had ever seen in Yunmeng. Perhaps the air was clearer, or the heavens favored these restrained, monk-like people more.

Whatever it was, Wei Wuxian found himself being grateful for it - because although this was a place of meditation, studying and endless rules and regulations on how to live, it was somehow less stifling than the place he had grown to call home. Though he was grateful for everything he had ever been given, there was something that Lotus Pier could not allow him, the one thing he craved above all else.

Wei Wuxian took another long sip of alcohol before he stood up, a relaxed smile on his face as he looked up at the moon. The breeze combed through his hair with the gentleness of a loving mother, and the faint moonlight cast silver on his face like a halo.

He didn’t have to hide anymore, not here, not in this place that was far enough for nobody to see, or to care about who he was and what he was doing. The tall cliff overlooked a seemingly endless abyss filled with slow moving, dark clouds, so thick they appeared to be made of the finest woolen fabric, and it was nothing but the trees and the thicket that bore witness to what he was about to do.

A smile broke out on his features, and it bloomed into a grin as he took one step, two, three - towards the edge of the cliff, far enough for him to feel like he was going to fly.

Or to fall.

Below, only the thicket of clouds awaited.

Wei Wuxian took in a deep breath and closed his eyes, balancing on the tips of his toes, tempting fate. If he balanced far enough, if the rock gave out -

He turned around, as if he had changed his mind.

But the grin on his face grew wider, until it broke into a laugh, loud, unrestrained, hysterical - and he let go, falling into nothingness in a fit of excited, relieved laughter, breaking through the silence and the clouds.

–

Lan Wangji heard them before he saw them - they laughed like they had received a great gift or wonderful news, boisterous and exalted. It was past curfew, and such noise echoed easily through the Cloud Recesses, but before Lan Wangji could chastise its source, his eyes caught onto a falling figure right atop one of the sharp cliffs of the back mountains.

Had they accidentally lost balance? Had they dived on purpose? Lan Wangji did not know and he did not have time to ponder, readying himself to catch them flying on his sword. Life was, after all, a precious thing - and it was his duty to make sure those visiting his home would not break the most important rule of all.

But before Lan Wangji could even attempt it, something unbelievable had taken place right before his eyes - a pair of large, black wings unfurled from the figure’s back, batting powerfully against gravity and rescuing them from the imminent, fatal fall.

Then, the person shot up into the sky, wings folded near their body as they gained speed, soaring high enough for the span of their wings to look like it was swallowing the moon whole the moment they stopped in front of it.

They shot back down towards the ground, just as quickly, seconds later, carelessly breaking through the mist and the clouds, laughing with joy as both their wings and their hair batted into the night breeze.

Lan Wangji watched them for a while, mesmerized - the way they moved through the air, fast, precise but playful, flying in circles, diving towards the ground only to save themselves at the last moment, batting the clouds away with the force of their wings… they had never been in danger! In fact… they were having fun!

But what could they even be? Winged humans were a rarity to the point of being a myth.

However, there were no spirits haunting the Cloud Recesses, no deities having taken home there or any other such apparitions.

Could Lan Wangji be hallucinating then? He had been doing a rather deep meditation, perhaps his mind had not fully come out of it before night patrol - but that had never happened before either…

The winged figure seemed to be getting closer now, their aimless playing having calmed down into a slow, deliberate flight. Lan Wangji had just about drawn his sword when the figure got too close for his comfort - but they stopped just slightly a-ways, sighing contently as they ran a hand through their hair. “Can’t believe I lost my hair ribbon…It was my last one too…” they mumbled, looking around as if to search for it, their wings shaking off the dust they kicked up landing.

They didn’t seem to have noticed Lan Wangji, and he decided not to make himself known unless necessary. After all, he had no idea what this figure even was or what they wanted - it was more advisable not to take unnecessary risks. He would be telling uncle about what he had seen next morning, and they would set up a proper plan on how to deal with it.

Lan Wangji only got a glimpse of the figure’s face, pulled into a small frown as they searched for their lost item… and they were beautiful. He did not know whether it was appropriate of him to think of this… being in such a way, and his ears burned with shame at the thought. But it was undeniable that they were attractive, young, with glistening, stormy eyes and handsome, boyish features… Lan Wangji’s ears burned brighter, and he averted his eyes like the figure could hear his thoughts.

They didn’t seem to have noticed him, though, and sighed upon not finding their hair ribbon, shooting back into the sky seconds later.

Lan Wangji watched them disappear into the dark, almost disappointed, when his eyes caught onto a slash of red hanging onto a nearby tree branch, dancing into the breeze - a hair ribbon.

He picked it up without thinking about it.

–

Next morning, Lan Wangji walked into the first class of that year’s guest disciple lectures, not expecting much from the day ahead. He hadn’t had the chance to meet uncle in the morning, but they would be speaking after class for sure, and Lan Wangji would tell him what happened the past night.

But fate had decided not to be as predictable to the Second Jade of Lan as he had grown used to.

Because one of the disciples walked into class with their hair unbound, the look on their face all too familiar as they pouted about hair getting in their eyes.

Lan Wangji tucked the red ribbon further into his sleeve and pretended he did not notice. But when he met eyes with Weii Wuxian, accidental and brief, there was recognition in both of each other’s eyes.

The lecture proceeded. Neither paid attention.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wangxian #writing attempts

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aveegrex · 2 years

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MERMAN OSAMU X READER (PART 2)

PART 1 | PART 2 kinktober masterlist

pairing: merman!osamu x reader genre: fluff, smut word count: 2,2k cw: fingering, oral (f!receiving), penetration (f!receiving), a little bit of swearing, heated makeouts, two-dick osamu, virginity loss, somewhat underwater sex, mentions of atsumu and his lovelife. author's note: again, thank you @flycloudddd for your amazing artwork. give her love, my dear reader, and hope y'all enjoy this one too.

“you… you have two?”

osamu’s been persistent. for the past few weeks, he’s been coming to your house every single night. you’ve even learned to detect his presence by the distinctive splash his tail made when he romantically leaned on the pier to watch you run down the porch.

he managed to catch you first on the third night after he shyly introduced himself. blushing and stern, he presented you with the damned ring, membraned hands so careful when placing it on your lap.

on the fifth night, he learnt your name, and for a while it became his “yes”. until he memorised the real thing, that is.

you first heard him speak his language when you slipped on the wet spot, almost hitting your head as you not so gracefully fell into the water. tiny chirps and coos, fused with some very indecent (as you later learned) clicks, and you were caught bridal-style, worry and shock splaying in his eyes right above the blooming cheeks.

by week four, you managed to teach him a good hundred of words, yet he was shy, skittish even when using them, usually opting to listening to you talk instead. he’d only utter a couple of timid phrases when your sleepy eyes fixated on his fin, glimmering under moonlight with soft undertones of gold and aquamarine. a whine about tsumu and his new boyfriend making too much noise, or a babble about how good jellyfish paired up with nori, and sometimes a reluctant question on human habits - he walked in babysteps, but his ears always betrayed him, fluttering under praise.

once, he turned up wearing a thin silver band around his head. unable to keep his wide grin away, he chirped about how atsumu is finally married and moving to the neighboring reef to annoy someone else with his loud mating. you, on the other hand, were too baffled by the absolutely ethereal look of a prince-like samu, and effectively shut him up with a clumsy rushed kiss.

after that, things progressed pretty quickly. a few broken words for the sake of manners, and you two hid in the adjacent cove, lips chasing lips, hands chasing waists and necks to bring the two of you closer and closer. sleepless, you returned home by the dawn, perfecting the way you opened the door to avoid its creaks and squeaks. lovelorn, he swam back to his cave, counting hours till he’d feel your lips mapping out his neck and chest next time.

he probably even forgot some words, but surely learnt a few new ones, worse ones, but these were way better to huff in the midst of swallowing your moans.

your moans, oh, those drove him wild. now the grudge he held against atsumu died down a bit. the moans were the best part, falling from your lips each time his tongue twirled sweetly just above your collarbone. the moans that he bathed in as you were grinding on his tail, placing open mouth kisses up his jaw.

the moans that you let out when his hand accidentally brushed between your thighs. it was so hot there, and so alluring, yet for some reason he felt like he broke some sort of rule by letting his hand there. he glared at you, timid and bewitched, till you pulled his hand back and pushed it under the soft fabric, eyes rolling back the moment his fingers met your slick.

that night he learned that humans love getting wet too.

entranced, he watched as you pushed your panties off and moved his fingers to your liking, snaking them inside just to pull out a second later and circle them around a tiny sensitive bud. the noises you made that night, oh, samu couldn’t forget them to save his own life, imagining them as he humped the pitiful anemone later that day, lips pressed tight as his seed spilled out and your name blazed across his mind.

just as it was with vocabulary, samu picked up on things quickly. soon enough, his skillful fingers were plunging in and out of you by the end of your every date, lips latched to your neck to drink the whines straight from the source. he was a little freak even, shyly suggesting that he’d use his tail, and succeeding with flying colors as gentle tissue of the fin rubbed so deliciously across your weeping folds, working you through the nth orgasm of the night.

being a curious little foodie, samu wanted to have a taste as well, and that was another way for him to fixate on you. he was drunk and hungry, head almost immediately diving between your thighs as you nestled on the stones beside him. strong hands holding your legs apart, little fins fluttering each time another wave of arousal hit him, he lapped and licked and suckled, swallowing all your generous cunt could give. he wouldn’t even stop after you’ve cum twice, his mind hazy of how good the human essence tasted. of how good you tasted, and how feral he felt when your hands clutched onto his damp hair, pressing him into the best place there was above and under water.

his adventurous side finally kicked in when once, caught up in the act, you two didn’t notice you were slowly sliding down into the sea and he ended up overstimulating you completely submerged.

although, osamu never really asked you to return the favor. you weren’t even sure how that was supposed to go, given there were no body parts visible to do so. night after night he’d make you the happiest girl alive, blessing your lips and neck with the most erotic kisses and then tending to your lower needs, but never uttered a single word about his own pleasure.

so tonight, as he was about to repeat the ritual, you caught his head, cradling his puzzled lovesick face in your hands, and questioned him about the details of his anatomy.

“su-sure?” he pouted, membraned hands clutching on your knees nervously. “you’re sm-ch-small”

you nodded eagerly (and a little enthusiastically after that remark), and he lowered his gaze, yanking his lower half out of the water to nestle beside you on the mossy rock. both of you were quite pent up after the hour long makeout, raw lips puffy of all bites and kisses shared. he pulled you beside him, and you were quick to latch on to the sweet spot behind his ear, where scarce scales mixed with thin skin. during the previous night you’ve learned how sensitive he was to touch, how responsive his body was to all your caresses, and used it to your advantage, riling up innocent samu into the whining mess. a ghosting drag of your fingers across his waist, a gentle circle around his nipple, and a dig of your nails into his meaty pec, and he was buzzing already, human swearing babbled up in mush with his coos and clicks.

you were about to repeat the ritual, as he caught your wrist and moved your hand way lower, somewhere just below the root of his tail, and you felt a previously invisible slit there opening up. curious, you’ve broken the kiss, pressing tighter to the spot, and samu’s head felt back. bemused, you did it again, and again, and a few more times again, every touch eliciting a whine out of your seaprince, until something prodded through the opening, quickly gaining in size.

it took everything he got for samu to prop himself up on his elbows and watch your face as two large dicks grew above the scales, light purple and streaming with translucent slick, curved up and thick, with a slightly sharper tip compared to human. samu gulped, watching as your hand stilled beside them, eyes trained on the discovery. he was slowly growing frantic, feeling too open, too on display, too ashamed to ever present you with his physique, but your voice stilled him.

your voice, filled to the brim with thrill.

“you… you have two?”

samu nodded, ears flat against his head and neck, and quickly vocalised. “yes, two” he sounded skittish again, like when the two of you first met. “small a-and /click/ big”

“they’re both big”

for some reason, it helped him exhale, puffy chest heaving with intensity.

“can i…” you finally looked at him and samu blushed under your lustful gaze. “can i ride you?”

“m-mhm” he managed, leading your hand to the base of the upper - smaller - one, and you felt your hole clench in anticipation as your hand barely closed around his girth. osamu barely held in a whine, the softness of your fingers so delicious against his neglected need.

eyes darting between him and his dicks, you attempted a little pump at the base, and he threw his head back, a bubbly gurgle resounding off the rocks. once more, a little tighter, a little longer, and his tail twitched, mouth hanging open in search for air.

he looked so good like this, so easily manipulated into the prettiest mess. unlike when he was pleasuring you, here he lost all focus, fingers clutching aimlessly at the grayish moss. Moving your hand up and down, dousing him in his own slick, you were hypnotized by this samu, a foolish little puddle of need and want, so extremely sensitive, so very pretty with tears in his eyes and lips quivering. Shy and bordering on crying, he was like a… wait.

“are you a virgin?’ your hand stilled at his tip, thumbing mindlessly over the slit. forced to open his eyes, he tilted his head again, ears twitching in confusion. “vir-”

“first time?” you saved him the embarrassment, playful grin pulling at your lips as he dropped his gaze again, nodding.

snaking your hand under his chin, you brought his face closer, leaving reassuring pecks all across the blooming cheeks. “you want to do it?”

“yes” a rushed answer igniting your core with tingles, you left one last peck to his lips and straddled him, skirt tossed aside to the thickets of grass.

teasing mood getting the best of you, you let your folds brush against his lengths, adding to the moisture. samu’s eyes were fixed on where the two of you connected, body all still except for the happily fluttering ears. “no no, watch me” you cooed, raising his chin up with your finger and tossing the rest of your clothes aside, hips picking up the pace as you humped on his pulsating cocks.

samu gulped down the huff and obliged, hands finding purchase on your hips. his tail flapped lightly across the stone, body seizing up every other second as his tips brushed against your entrance. it was intoxicating, watching this hunk of a man so sheepish and eager while not even in, little whines and chirps bubbling up in his chest all because of you.

dragging your pussy over him one more time, you lined his lower dick with your entrance and sank down, the stretch burning just a tiny bit. he was so thick, so heavy nestled all the way up to your belly, and your walls twitched uncontrollably, trapping him inside.

“fu-fuck” he cried, fingers digging into your thighs and ass, eyes screwed shut of the sheer pleasure your tightness provided. your own legs shook, thighs splayed over his lower half, and you felt too drunk, suddenly, realising how hard it will be to last long on top of him like that. so pretty, so innocent even after his mouth has been devilishly good to your arousal, and stretching you out so perfectly, he was truly a gift.

with one of your hands on his chest and another enveloping his upper cock, you tried to move, jerking your hips up and down, and your vision turned white for a second. he pressed against all the right places, the drag of soft ridges and curves hooking you up in an instant, and you moaned, trying the movement again.

samu thrashed under you, eyes glassy, mouth hanging open in silent scream, and bucked up into you, shifting the angle just a bit and

“ah, samuu, ah-” you cried, nails digging into his chest. “m-more, like that”

fat chance he didn’t really hear you, too lost in bliss and chasing his own high like feral, he bucked up more and faster, faster, fingers digging into the plush of your ass. you bounced on top, choking up on your own sobs, your essence streaming down your thighs and letting out the sinful squelching sounds as you two neared your high.

“sa-samu, oh, like tha-at” you whined, your hand pumping his upper dick on its own, all rhythm lost to overwhelming pleasure as you felt the familiar yet much bigger knot tying up inside.

“mmhm, like that, mhmm, ah-” he echoed, foolish grin tugging at his lips, crazed eyes fixated on your fucked out face right above his own, as his thrusts became deeper, harsher, aiming right at your sweet spot inside. “gon’ mmm, gon’ c-cu-”

“saamuu!” you cried, toes curling as your hand tightened around his other cock and the knot snapped loose, orgasm washing over you like a tsunami. he followed right after, runny copious loads painting your insides, his body shaking and seizing up as he hugged you tight, face hidden in the crook of your neck.

as you two came down your high, you kissed his chest, propping up yourself to smile at his blissed out features.

“wanna go again?”

MDNI, reblogs and comments are welcome, double wrap for double d

taglist: @hoohoohope, @justanothernpcartist @the-b-u-n-n-y to join the taglist, please leave a comment on my kinktober masterlist or dm me (pls remember u have to have ur age in bio)

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lullabyes22-blog · 2 months

Text

Snippet - Deep End - Mal de Mer

On mind-tricks and mothers.

Mal de Mer on AO3

Snippet:

"You're shaking," Silco says. His left palm lifts to curve itself over her bare shoulder. The thumb strokes a soft circle into the skin. "Let's get you inside."

"Inside?"

"The villa's only a short distance from the pier. There are guards stationed to escort us."

Mel nods. She absorbs little—but the warmth of his hand, she understands. The guests, in her peripheral vision, have begun to stir to their senses. She can sense the confusion that permeates the airwaves. The same emotions that cling to her, miasmic.

None of them, she thinks, were ready. Now, they've crossed the threshold to No Return.

"Are you able to stand?" Silco asks.

Mel nods again.

"Take my arm."

"I—I can walk on my own."

"Take it."

His tone brooks no argument. In a strange way, it's reassuring. The Crossing has altered everything. But not Silco. Wherever he goes, he remains the same.

The tide: immutable.

Taking a steadying breath, Mel straightens. The night wind whips at her hair, her dress. Her limbs seem to be made of gelatin; her mind a slurry of conflicting impulses.

But, also: exhilarated.

A strange subspecies of joy is spreading through her. Not the kind she experiences when her schemes are playing out to fine-tuned perfection. Something brighter, purer, undiluted.

A sense of homecoming.

As if reading her thoughts, Silco says, "A mild euphoria can follow the first Crossing. It will fade soon. Until then, I'd advise against letting the eyes wander."

"Why?"

"Hallucinations." He takes her elbow. "Best not to tempt fate."

"I—I see."

Mel wills the world back into focus. The guests, herded by the crew, have been ushered to the pier's end. Mel makes out the shape of a long rowboat, bobbing gently on the white-capped waves. The guests are being bundled into it. Blankets are distributed; thermoses of hot tea passed out.

Silco, his hand a loose latch on Mel's arm, leads her forward.

"Stay close," he cautions, "the boards are slippery."

Carefully, Mel wends her way along the pier. The path before her has a rippling quality: her balance is off. She focuses on mimicking Silco's sure-footed tread. Glimpsed from behind, she is struck by the slenderness of his silhouette. The spare cut of his torso; the tidy nip of his waist; the lithe swimmer's legs.

He's not a large man. And because he's not, he's always had to assert himself. To stay braced, every moment, against a world that will never be forgiving to those with less.

For the first time, Mel is hit by the full force of his fragility. How little of it he lets her see. How much of it she still doesn't know.

And how much, if she's honest, she longs to find out.

Then it happens.

A cry, loud and shrill, splits the night. Mel falters mid-step. In the frothing darkness of the waves, she catches a flash of dark flesh: a hand, clawing wildly up the pier's planks. Then a figure surges out in slithering increments. The moonlight, ghostly, traps itself in the bronzed contours of her musculature. Her eyes, a fiery gold, are locked on Mel. Her teeth, bared, are the color of old ivory.

Ambessa.

Her uniform is studded with pale encrustations of barnacles. The armor drips, water pattering across the floorboards. The wild gray corona of her hair is plastered to her skull. The rest of her: waterlogged as a sunken ship.

It's as if she's been dragged across the seven seas.

As if she's a revenant, risen from the dead.

At her throat, a necklace—the one belonging to the Ionian chieftain's daughter—jangles like a garland of bones. The dark glisten of blood limns the coral ornaments. Her features are streaked with it. Her expression: a naked rictus of bloodlust.

Half kraken, half killer.

"You," she spits.

Then she's lunging for Silco.

Mel acts on reflex. Her body shoves his aside. Cursing, Silco staggers off-kilter. His hand drops from Mel's arm. The moment it does, the planks skid from under her boots. Her thighs collide with the railing. Then she is toppling backward.

For a moment, she is weightless. Her body caught in zero gravity. Her mind, a free-floating mote.

Mel registers the details in a series of suspended snapshots: the moon, a hypnagogic smile, pinwheeling above; the stars, a thousand eyes, blinking in and out; Ambessa, a raging Fury, bearing down. Then gravity pulls. Mel's stomach plunges into her heels. Her arms fly outward. Her fingers claw empty air.

There is nothing to hold on to.

Only the Void's hungry inverse.

The Deep End.

Then, with a giddy quiver of gelatinous peristalsis, the moment erupts.

Mel, a shriek ripped from her lungs, drops.

The plunge is an instant; an eternity. The waves are a frenzied churn. The chill radiates, shockingly cold, and seizes her breath.

Mel has one final cogent thought: Silco.

Then, the water rises up, and swallows her whole.

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane silco #silco #forward but never forget/xoxo #forward (never forget)/xoxo #arcane mel #mel medarda #ambessa medarda #arcane ambessa #melco #silco x mel #mal de mer #snippet

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xerotiny99 · 21 days

Text

Strangers // Ethel Cain #2

Strangers (Part One: Knuckle Velvet)

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x Reader

Warning: cannibalism, graphic depiction of cannibalism, violence and death, smut, and heavy on angst.

Note: sequel to knuckle velvet, adaptation of the song "stangers" by Ethel Cain.

Gist: having lost all hope for Yunho's return, you go on about your life to find him back at your doorstep in a couple of weeks; with much more menacing personality than before, he continues to play you along to his tunes. You don't realise how detrimental he was for you, not until you were counting last of your breaths.

Song Rec: Strangers by Ethel Cain

Word Count: 2,568

Reader's Perspective.

"Don't talk to strangers or you might fall in love."

My mom would always tell me to stay away from strangers. I kept her words in my head until the day I met Yunho. The moment my sullen gaze was casted on him, everything in my head turned to mush; I saw him in the home supplies aisle of our local supermarket. He stood confused, contemplating what brand of bleach to buy. It seemed ridiculous, for a guy to ponder on the brand of bleach. I used to work at the supermarket, it was my humbling duty to help him out. And surprisingly, we hit it off quite quickly then.

For a mere minute, I believed he was genuinely interested in me, and maybe he was. Who could even resist his presence, or his tantalising words? He was irresistible in every sense, be it his personality or his appearance. I still remember the day we first went out. It was a drive-in theatre; they were showing the old classic, notebook. Though, there wasn't much watching involved when we were both busy sucking each other's faces off. Kind of vague and pathetic, I know. It's the reason why I knew we'd never work out.

My doubts were soon blown out to my reality. He was abusive, irresponsible, and arrogant. A complete three-sixty from the face he had. One might seemingly assume he's one of the angels, a dearie. He's not. He never was. I still carry the marks and bruises on my skin, he left them with much malign he shrouds in his heart. I'm a tattered piece of his rage, evermore stuck and hellbound to the torturous depths of his anger. Yet, I never learn. I never learn to rid myself of him; he isn't a part of me. He doesn't define me. Then why do I run back to him the moment he acts a little different?

After he left that day, I stayed close to the door, hoping for his return. He didn't come. He never did. He was never going to. Though, a couple of days ago, I saw him hanging out by the pier, rolling blunts and smoking them with his friends. It hurt me; I'll admit. But with the way things were left between us, I wasn't hopeful he'd come back to me.

And then the unthinkable happened.

He was standing on my front porch, heart in his hand, apologising. He made this face, almost like a despondent puppy, reeling me in with those tearful eyes. My heart lurched in a minute, believing his apologies, believing him.

"Come with me, sunshine," he said, "come with me, and we'll be forever together." He took a long pause then, "I've changed my ways, I've made myself better. I want to be better for you."

I believed him.

I stared at his hand, extended, outreaching mine.

I laced our hands together.

And together, we left my old house.

A house accommodating my schizophrenic mother and no one else.

He took me to a better place. His place. A house on the prairie. Secluded. It was our own paradise.

A paradise I would soon start to resent.

───────────────

I heard your footsteps outside. Outside this basement door, in the mere darkness I was trapped in. Was the darkness just in my head? Because you said this place would be mine to live, mine to roam, mine to stay. Then what am I doing in your basement? Lying in cold, under the ambiguous ceiling of stone, I wonder what you're doing standing outside all alone.

I knew it then, when the door rattled open. I shouldn't be keeping hopes with you again. You're not here to make me feel better about this situation. You're here to do what you do best. Seeming to help me. It's funny how I never considered myself tough. I fell in love with you without weighing my thoughts. I gave myself to you so easily, never putting up a fight when you had your way with me, with your fists and teeth.

"Hey, sunshine," your soft voice calls out, "how are you feeling today?"

You're so handsome walking over to me. A piece of art, as I'd always considered you to be. Sculpted by the Gods, your face so comely and beautiful. It brings butterflies to my belly every time I see your face.

Lifeless, I've surrendered myself to your ways. If I could mumble out a string of words, they'd be all about how pretty you are. You know that, right? You know you're too pretty for me, right Yunho? It was my mistake to fall for a handsome face, rather than for a handsome heart. But you went on to make me believe you were virtuous. Who knew you'd be so sinister.

You crouch down next to me. And me, unfazed by your presence, keep staring at the ceiling. I don't know what I'm thinking about, though it's certain I'm thinking about you. Ruminating mindlessly about your face, and your warmth.

"Come on, won't you sit up for me? I'm here for you." your feigned affection is a deadly concoction of hate and love. Should I even be concerned? Should I believe you like I usually do?

"Be a good girl for me, sunshine," you prompt, cupping my face with your cold hands.

"I haven't been a good girl to you, so far?" I mumble, my eyes darting to your face; you had a frail smile on your lips, murmuring, "you have."

You pull me up, forcing me to sit straighter. "You've been such a good girl for me."

"Am I really no good for you, Yunho?"

You shake your head, as if to push my worries away. "Sunshine, you are. You have been good for me."

"I just want to be yours." I whisper my words, rambling, "can I be yours? I am yours, right?"

"Yes, you are," you state, stroking away the stray strands of my hair from my face. "You're mine. And I'm yours. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yeah." I bite my tongue, contemplating speaking.

You have this look in your eye, as if you're satisfied, yet tempted to devour me. You've been doing it for a while now. Devouring me raw.

"Just tell me if I'm turning in your stomach and making you feel sick."

"No, sunshine. You're not." You lean in to kiss me, capturing my lips in haze which burns in my head.

Our touches have always sparked my desire for intimacy, our bodies are so compatible with each other. Is that why you've been cutting off my flesh and eating it? Do I taste any better? Do I make you sick? I don't want to make you sick. I love you too much for that. Our kiss blazes, growing to an intimate extent; we were lost in the carnality, in the darkness of your basement. And then, we made love for the first time.

I vaguely remember what happened afterwards, but you, taking care of me was burnt in my soul. You didn't keep me confined in your basement since then; instead, you put me in a room. It was comfortable, decorative and warm. Just like you. Though, you were delicate with me, my thighs felt sore. Why was it? Was it because you had taken away the flesh from my thighs? I felt so light. Agony was slowly creeping up my stomach, making me sick. I don't want to complain about you cutting off my body, you can have as many pieces of me as you want.

One early morning, you took me to the local supermarket. We were buying some ingredients for the meal tonight. You said you'd cook me a meal, treat me with dinner and make me forget about the pain. I trusted you. I trusted you blindly, anticipating for the night planned out in front of me. You held my hand so tight in yours as we roamed aisle to aisle, picking out the different ingredients needed for the meal. I mellowed down when we came across the dairy aisle; my mom would come here every day, grab two cartons of milk and leave. If I meet her here, I'd run up to her and embrace her in one of the warmest hugs. But she wasn't there. My heart sunk to my gut; if she was there, she'd cry.

We came back home after a long tour of the supermarket. It was almost the time for dinner preparations. The sun was setting on the skyline, painting the horizon with hues of orange and red; somewhere in the purple sky, the moon started to peek out. A world hushed with our whispers, when you lead me up to the house's attic. You said you had a surprise for me. I was eager.

Coming to the attic, my senses were numb. You had decorated that small space with all my favourite things; a shahmina sitting in the centre, fairy lights on the ceiling hanging low in curves, and countless pillows littered the mattress under the shahmina. You led me further inside, by my hand. We drifted to the night breeze crawling in through the open window. And the cold made us find a way to warm ourselves.

You kiss me then, your lips tingling on mine as I straddle your lap; we're going at it, hands roaming each other's bodies, wanting to strip each other bare. I was tugging at your leather jacket, anticipating. In some carnal enthusiasm, I do rid you off your clothes, keeping you warm to me only in your briefs. You were eager too; I could feel it in the way your cock rubbed my belly. Sinking into your lap, you break the kiss to tear my clothes off.

I watch the pieces of my dress lying around me, torn by your brute strength; wearing nothing underneath made you drool, salivate at the way my body was still holding the bruises you left behind. Every scar on my skin is a reminder of your ways with me, when you'd abuse me to your heart's content, make me mewl and whimper your name.

You don't want that now, do you Yunho?

While we're in each other's arms, pushing all our limits to be one together, the moon outside is brightening up the sky. Your grasp on me is tight, your fingers digging into the remaining flesh on my thighs; you want me so badly and I did too. I was grinding myself in your lap, getting any friction I could get from you.

"You're too eager, sunshine." You mumble, kissing my cheek and then trailing your lips under my jaw. "We've got the whole night. I'm not going anywhere. So aren't you."

I should've known what you meant by it then. But I was too engrossed in the way your hands seared my skin, pulling at my chest and tugging at my prodding nipples. Your bare fingers dance along my skin, tracing lines to my belly and then further down to my cunt; when your fingers curl inside me, I feel so cold. It was the good kind of cold. Should even I be feeling good about it? I don't know.

We made love then too. All night. You, fucking my brains out, as if I was the last person on the planet with you. God, it was so euphoric in some strange delight. We stayed in each other's arms till sun broke out from the dense of the night, we were tangled in each other's bodies; tired from all that we had done, forgotten about the dinner completely.

You told me then, "you're happier here, sunshine. You should be."

I believed you.

I believed every single word you said to me.

I believed every lie you fed me.

I believed even when I didn't want to.

I believed even when I saw straight through your lies.

You sat my dying body in front of you, staring straight through my eyes as you put a raw piece of meat in your mouth. That was me, right? You were devouring me, as you would. You're so handsome when I'm all over your mouth. When my blood smears on your lips, it makes me feel we're connected to each other on a spiritual level; we should be right? Because we're lovers.

I tried to be so good for you. I let you have me. I let you have me as you pleased. You're really breathtaking when you have me all over your face, the littlest streaks of crimson, and the sweetest taste of my flesh on your tongue. I am a good girl for you; though, as far as I'm concerned, I don't know who I am or what I am anymore. I wonder if others are missing me, worried about me? Sad for them, the only memory they'd have of me is the polaroid in evidence.

"Am I yours?" I asked with my dying breath, and you nodded your head, "all mine."

"Do I make you sick?"

"You do not."

It was then I knew, I was no longer in the position to keep going. Am I making you feel sick? I don't want you to feel sick. Am I making you feel sick? I don't want to...

Please tell me if I'm making you feel sick. I don't want to make you feel sick, I don't want you to fall sick because of me.

────────────

In the last moments of my life, I thought about my mother; how she must have been waiting for me, sitting by the window of our old house, patiently watching me come home. But I found her in my memories, only to tell her I've made it real far.

To tell her, I never blamed her for raising me the way she did, while she was torn apart. While she had her own woes to take care of. I don't blame her for my heart, or the way I turned out. I knew just how much she was going through to raise me right.

I'll wait for her here.

"Don't think about me too hard, I know you have trouble sleeping." She'd never sleep a wink again at night, knowing what had happened to me.

"Don't worry about seeking me or my eyes. I know you'd miss them."

"Mama, just know that I love you. I really do. And I'll see you when I get here."