#(<- saying this knowing damn well the last chapter will absolutely have people crying in it) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nahoney22 · 3 months ago

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Liar Liar (Part 9/?)

Part Nine - Boiling Point // >> Part Eight

🫧pairings: Commander Fox X Female!Reader

🫧word count: 5.4k

🫧Chapter Summary: As things start to get creepy at work, you brace yourself for a world of heartache when you finally come face to face with Fox.

🫧Warnings: Angst, angst and angst. Minor burn injury. Lots of crying (mainly myself)

The next morning, nausea settled deep in your stomach, an unpleasant mix of last night’s drinks, too many sweets, and the lingering weight of everything that had happened. You’d left Pia’s pretty late, more than a little tipsy, and now it felt like your body was punishing you for it.

You lay in bed, staring at the chrono on the wall, watching the minutes tick by. You could call in sick. You could just stay here, curl up under the blankets, and ignore the galaxy for a day. But then what? Tomorrow would come, and you’d still have to face this mess.

With a deep breath, you forced yourself up and shuffled into the refresher. The shower was quick, brisk, and did little to clear the fog in your head. Steam clung to the mirror, and when you wiped it away, your own tired reflection stared back at you; eyes still puffy from crying, lips pressed into a tight line.

“You can do this,” you whispered to yourself.

And that’s when you made up your mind to stay in bed.

Well, that’s what you kept saying that you should have done as you walked down the long and seemingly endless hallways of the facility.

You walked with your head down, keeping your pace quick and not stopping to acknowledge anyone. If they were looking at you, you didn’t want to know.

Then, before you even realised, your feet stopped in front of the office door.

Voices carried from inside. You knew them all, of course. But you didn’t move.

What if he was in there?

What if Thire had told people? What if they were all waiting for you, ready to mock your stupidity? The thought alone made your stomach churn harder. You suddenly felt overheated, suffocated by the walls around you.

A deep, rhythmic thumping pounds in your ears. At first you thought it was just your heart, hammering too fast, but then it grew louder. It didn’t match the frantic rhythm of your heartbeat. No, this was something else. It was coming from somewhere around you.

You blinked, a chill creeping down your spine but the noise stopped just as suddenly as it had started.

You find yourself looking up, eyes scanning the ceiling that carried the ventilaition system everywhere. You felt cold, uncomfortable. Like you were being watched. Perhaps it was your paranoia, perhaps it was-

“Hey, you alright?” You nearly jumped out of your skin. Whipping around, you saw Thire standing there, watching you closely.

“Uh—yeah, I was just…” Your voice faltered. The words wouldn’t come. It felt impossible to even look at him.

Thire studied you for a moment before resting a firm hand on your shoulder. “C’mere for a second.”

You didn’t protest, letting him steer you away from the flow of clones and officers passing through the corridor. He led you toward a supply closet, opening the door and motioning for you to step inside before closing it behind him.

For a moment, you both just stood there. The dim lighting made the small space feel even tighter.

Thire pulled off his bucket, tucking it under his arm before meeting your gaze. His brows furrowed slightly. “How are you feeling about… y’know?”

You exhaled sharply, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “Like absolute bantha crap.”

Thire sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I bet. But I promise that I haven’t said a word to anyone.”

You nodded, letting out a slow breath. “Thanks.”

“Didn’t know a damn thing about it either,” he admitted. “None of us did.”

That made you look up. “Really?”

He shook his head. “I swear. If I had any idea what Fox was doing, I would’ve called him out on it. We all would have.” His jaw tightened slightly. “That’s… not how we do things.”

Something in your chest eased, just a little. You wanted to believe him, needed to. Because if the others had known, if they’d just let it happen, that would have made it so much worse.

“I appreciate that,” you say quietly.

Thire nodded again, then frowned slightly. “You don’t have to be here today, you know. If you need time, I can cover for you.”

Your first instinct was to brush it off, to say you were fine. But the truth was, you weren’t. And right now, the thought of sitting at your station, pretending like everything was normal, felt unbearable.

“…I might take you up on that,” you admitted.

Thire nodded in understanding but hesitated for a moment before adding, “If you don’t want to stay home however, it might comfort you to know that Fox probably won’t be around the office today. I’m pretty sure he’s running a perimeter sweep in the lower levels with Thorn.”

You mulled over the options. If you stayed at work, you could at least put on a brave face—and knowing Fox wouldn’t be around eased some of the tightness in your chest. On the other hand, if you went home, you’d probably just curl up in bed, cry, and eat something deep-fried and regrettable.

“Okay,” you said, mustering some conviction. “I’ll stay for a bit. Just see how it goes.”

Thire’s face lit up with a smile, and he clapped you on the arm before leading the way out of the supply closet. You stuck close behind him as the door to the office slid open. Your eyes instinctively flicked to the back of the room, where Fox’s desk sat, empty, just as Thire had said. You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding.

Stone, spinning lazily in his chair, perked up at the sight of you both. “There you are! I thought I was gonna be all on my lonesome today.” He propped his feet up on the console with exaggerated relief.

“If you were, would you actually do any work?” you teased, walking past him and swiping his boots off the console with a quick flick of your hand.

He smirked, completely unashamed. “Probably not.”

Thire rolled his eyes, moving to his station as he muttered, “At least he’s honest.”

You sat down at your usual spot, shifting in your chair, trying to settle into the rhythm of things. But before you could fully drown yourself in work, Stone let out a dramatic groan.

“Kriff’s sake, Thire, did you seriously input the wrong data again ?”

Thire’s head snapped up. “What?”

“This!” Stone gestured aggressively at his screen. “This entire patrol schedule is wrong! The rotations are out of sync. Look, the timestamps are off.”

Thire scoffed, already pulling up his own display. “That’s not possible. I double-checked before submitting it.”

“Yeah? Then explain why we have got troopers patrolling two different levels at the same time when they’re supposed to be covering opposite ends of the facility?” Stone spun his chair toward Thire, arms crossed.

Thire frowned, squinting at his own screen. “That… doesn’t make any sense. I logged everything exactly as it was assigned.”

“Well, someone kriffed it up, and it wasn’t me.”

“It sure as the Maker wasn’t me!” Thire shot back, indignant.

“Oh? So it just magically changed itself, did it?”

“I’m saying maybe you messed with it and didn’t realise—”

“I never mess up reports,” Stone cut in dramatically, placing a hand over his chest like he was some kind of martyr. “Thorn tells me so.”

“That’s the biggest exaggeration I have heard.” Thire deadpanned.

You tried to suppress a laugh as they continued their pointless, but it was no use.

And it was exactly what you needed.

For the first time that day, the weight in your chest lifted. “Okay, okay,” you interrupted, grinning as you shook your head at them both. “Which one of you actually wants to check the system logs instead of arguing like a bunch of shinies?”

Stone and Thire both turned to look at you, then at each other.

“…You do it,” they said at the same time.

You groaned, but there was a small smile on your lips as you pulled up the data. Maybe today wouldn’t be so unbearable after all.

⋅───⊱༺  🦊 ༻⊰───⋅

The system was a disaster.

Patrols were scattered haphazardly, leaving critical areas completely unguarded, and nothing seemed to match up with the official assignments. Even Thire who could be forgetful truth be told, was never this careless. He definitely wouldn’t have made an error like this. None of the would have.

You had spent about an hour sorting through the mess, rerouting troopers, and sending Thire and Stone off on a mission to explain the changes to officers stationed across the facility.

The work was frustrating but effective in keeping your mind occupied. It kept your hands busy, your thoughts focused. For a while, you weren’t dwelling on him .

You were in the middle of cross-referencing the schedules when the office door hissed open. You barely registered it, too absorbed in your task until something warm and wet dragged across your cheek.

“ What the—?! ”

Before you could react, a heavy weight crashed into your lap, nearly knocking you out of your chair. A deep, rumbling growl—more like a pleased huff—filled your ears, followed by another enthusiastic swipe of a tongue across your face.

“Grizzer!” you cooed, with a laugh reaching up to give the beast a cuddle. He wriggled happily, tail thumping against the floor as he nuzzled into you.

“You spoil him,” Hound drawled, stepping up beside you with an amused chuckle. He reached down, wrapping a hand around Grizzer’s thick collar and gently pulling him off before the slobber completely drenched your uniform.

You smirked, wiping your cheek with your sleeve. “I amthe only one who sneaks him treats.”

Hound rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and now every time we pass the supply closet, he thinks he’s getting a snack.” He gave Grizzer a pat before motioning for him to lie down.

As Hound straightened up, his gaze flickered toward your screen. “Have you noticed something’s been weird with the system?” he asked, arms crossing over his chest. “I noticed that some of the patrol patterns aren’t matching up with assigned sectors, and there are gaps where there shouldn’t be.”

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “Yeah, we’ve been dealing with that mess all morning.” You tapped at your screen, pulling up a few of the more obvious errors. “Thire swears he submitted everything correctly, and honestly, I believe him. This isn’t just a mistake—it’s like someone has actually tampered with it.”

Hound’s brow furrowed, gaze darkening slightly. “You think it was intentional?”

You hesitated. You hadn’t wanted to go that far, but… “I don’t know. Maybe. It just doesn’t make sense.”

He was quiet for a moment, studying the data. Then, shifting his weight, he cleared his throat.

“So… uh.” His tone changed, noticeably more awkward. “How’s it going with that ‘Whisky’ guy?”

Your heart clenched.

For a split second, you didn’t move, staring blankly at the flickering lights of your console as reality came crashing back down. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to keep your voice even.

“Oh that? Yeah, uh, it’s not going to work out,” you said finally, still avoiding his gaze.

Hound frowned, head tilting slightly. “Why?”

You didn’t want to say. You didn’t want to talk about it so you tried to play it off although there was a bitter truth behind your answer; “He… wasn’t who I thought he was,” you said simply, hoping that would be enough. “I’d rather just leave it at that.”

But Hound’s response wasn’t what you expected. He exhaled through his nose, gaze dropping for just a second—like he was bracing for something. And when he looked back up at you, there was something guilty in his expression.

A terrible, creeping feeling clawed its way into your chest.

Slowly, you turned to face him fully, pulse starting to race. Your mind drifts to him and Fox in the hangar. Angry, intense. When you questioned Hound about it he said it was about a patrol but now you think it’s something else entirely. And then, you remember the rumour about yourself and the Commander and how Hound was the one who first thought it…

Oh no.

Your mouth runs dry. “Hound,” you say, daringly quiet, “do you know something?”

Hound hesitated. Just for a second. But that was enough. The look on his face said everything.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He knew.

Hound had known .

You shot up from your chair so fast it scraped against the floor. Your hands curled into fists at your sides as a choked sound of frustration escaped you, your voice shaking with restrained anger. “You knew?”

Hound held his hands up in defense, already backpedaling. “I—listen—”

“You knew that ‘Whisky’ was Fox, and you didn’t tell me?”

“ I tried! ” he blurted. “I tried pressuring him into telling you the truth, but you know what he’s like—he wouldn’t listen to me!”

Your teeth clenched, fury twisting in your stomach. “So what, you just let me walk into it blind? Let me sit there, talking about him, falling for him while you just—”

“I didn’t want you to hear it from me!” Hound cut in, frustrated. “It wasn’t my place. But, I told him if he didn’t tell you soon that I would tell you.”

You turned away sharply, dragging a hand through your hair as you tried to breathe through the burning heat behind your eyes. Your chest felt tight, your thoughts a cyclone of anger, hurt, and betrayal.

Hound sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I know you’re upset. I get it. I should’ve done something else, but I thought if I pushed him hard enough, he’d tell you.”

You swallowed against the lump in your throat. Your voice, when you finally spoke, was raw. “I can’t believe you.”

Hound didn’t argue. He didn’t try to make excuses or smooth it over. He just stood there, jaw clenched, shoulders squared like he was standing at attention, ready to take whatever you threw his way.

“So… he did tell you then? In the end?”

You dragged your sleeve across your cheek to swipe away a stray tear, breathing out bitterly. “No. Thire and Pia did. Total accident.”

Hound’s brows shot up. “Thire knows?”

You nodded, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself. “Not at first. He caught us out together, dropped Fox’s name by mistake, and then Pia put the final nail in the coffin.”

You stared at the console, unable to meet Hound’s eyes. “It all just unraveled from there. A stupid accident.”

Hound’s heavy steps closed the distance as he gently placed a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry. I really thought Fox would step up and tell you.”

You let out a sharp, humourless laugh, your voice tight. “Yeah, well, you’d think the Commander of the Guard would have the guts to say the truth.”

Before the weight of the conversation could sink any deeper, the office door hissed open and in stomped Thire and Stone mid-argument.

You and Hound instantly stepped apart, both snapping back into something resembling professionalism. You smothered your emotions under a mask, hoping neither of them noticed how tense you were. If Thire had clocked anything, he didn’t show it.

Stone sighed dramatically, flopping into a chair like he’d been through battle. “I need a drink. Or a caf. Or five.” You watch in disbelief as he turned his big, pleading eyes toward you like you were his only hope.

You raised an unimpressed brow, arms still crossed tightly over your chest. “Are you seriously giving me that look?”

Stone gave you his most pitiful expression. “I’ve been on my feet for hours.”

Your jaw dropped. “Me ? I’ve just been sat here for hoursuntangling the entire system while you’ve been off playing hide-and-seek with Thire!” You jabbed a finger toward your cluttered screen. “I saved your shebs.”

Stone clutched his chest like you had wounded him. “Ouch. ” He turned to Thire as if seeking backup, but Thire just smirked and shook his head.

You pointed to the dusty old caf machine in the corner. “There. It’s unloved, but it still works.”

Stone scrunched his nose like you’d offered him poison. “That machine tastes like regret.”

“Exactly,” you deadpanned. “Go make your own ‘regret’.”

He pouted harder, and you finally sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Fine. Fine! I’ll go,” you muttered, grabbing your datapad and standing. “I could use a walk anyway.”

“You’re the best,” Stone grinned.

“Uh-huh,” you replied dryly, heading for the door.

As you stepped out into the hallway, the quiet clatter of the office door sealing behind you, you let yourself breathe for the first time in what felt like hours. The office drama was one thing, but the storm in your chest about Fox and now Hound… that wasn’t going to be so easy to walk off.

Still, the fresh air of the hallway and the promise of a decent cup of caf were better than sitting in that office for another second.

The corridors were quiet as you made your way toward the caf vendor tucked away in one of the facility’s less-trafficked wings. Your boots echoed faintly against the floor, the faint hum of overhead lights your only friend.

As you’re about to turn into a junction, something caught your eye.

A vent, about two meters up the wall, slammed shut.

You stopped dead in your tracks, your breath catching as you whipped your head toward it. The corridor was still, not a sound, but you were sure you saw it move.

Slowly, you stepped a little closer, peering up at it, but nothing stirred. No air, no voices, just the faint rattle of an old air unit kicking in somewhere deeper in the ducts.

You rubbed your eyes, feeling the lingering heaviness from last night. “Great,” you muttered under your breath, “still drunk.”

Shaking your head, you pushed the paranoia down and kept moving. You’d probably just imagined it. Stress, fatigue, and the emotional wreckage were jsut playing tricks on you.

At the caf vendor, your attention went back to your little mission, punching in each order like you were disarming a bomb. One strong and black for Thire, caf with a triple shot and a splash of cream for Stone, plain and standard for Hound, and your usual sweeter blend.

As you made your way back, four very hot cafs carefully balanced on a tray, you passed the same hallway where the vent had - or as you imagined - slammed shut earlier. Instinctively, you slowed down, eyes flickering up to the wall.

The vent sat still. Silent.

You hesitated, listening carefully. Not even the hum of a servomotor. No scurrying sounds. Nothing.

“Just your imagination,” you told yourself, forcing your feet to keep moving.

Still, even as you walked away, you couldn’t shake the chill.

You pushed through the heavy silence of the hallway, cafs balanced carefully as you made your way back toward the office. But as the door hissed open, you froze in the threshold.

Your stomach sank like a anchor.

Fox stood there, voice sharp and echoing off the walls as he barked at Thire and Stone. His helmet tilted toward them, rage practically dripping from him. “I step away for one day, and the whole system goes to hell! How hard is it to follow protocol?”

But the words didn’t fully land in your mind. Your eyes were locked on him, dread curling in your stomach as the room seemed to close in around you. The first time seeing him since everything fell apart, and the sight of him stole the air right from your lungs. And not in a good way.

Thire caught your eye first, his expression crumbling into a look of guilt and apology. Clearly, this wasn’t supposed to happen. Clearly, Thire had been wrong about Fox being absent today.

You barely registered Stone throwing up his hands defensively or Hound standing stiff in the corner.

Fox didn’t notice you at first—until the end of his tirade, when his helmet turned and he spotted you standing there, frozen. He jolted slightly, visor locking on you in stunned silence.

Your heart slammed against your ribs as your hand trembled, the tray rattling slightly. Before you could get a grip, the whole thing slipped sideways. The cups tumbled and hot caf splashing onto one of the consoles and, worse, onto your hand.

A sharp, broken whimper escaped you as the boiling liquid burned your skin.

Hound moved fast, rushing toward you. His voice was somewhere distant, muffled like you were underwater.

But you couldn’t process it.

You were already backing out the door, breath caught in your throat, and then you were gone—running down the hallway.

The nearest refresher was barely around the corner. You stumbled inside and slammed the door behind you, collapsing against the sink. Sobs raked through your chest as you fumbled to get the tap on, hurriedly shoving your hand under the freezing stream of water.

The burn throbbed beneath the chill, but it was nothing compared to the ache inside you.

You stared at your burned hand, your skin already red and irritated under the running water. But then your gaze dropped to your wrist—the bracelet. The one Fox had given you only yesterday, still fastened snugly like a cruel reminder.

Your chest tightened, rage boiling beneath your ribs. Without thinking, you yanked it off and you slammed it to the floor. Frustration choked you as you gasped, tears spilling faster now.

Then it came—the thumping.

Heavy and low at first, but it crept around you, up in the walls above and behind, like something alive was moving in the ducts. The sound made your breath hitch, heart pounding against your ribs.

“Stop it, stop it…” you whispered through gritted teeth, pressing your palms to your temples, convinced you were spiraling. “It’s just in your head. It’s just your head.”

But the thumping kept going, getting louder, vibrating through the durasteel panels. Then—suddenly—it cut out, vanishing like it had never been there at all.

Your blood felt like ice as you stared at the ceiling, waiting for it to return.

A sharp knock at the refresher door broke the silence, making you flinch. The noise from the walls stayed gone, leaving only the sound of your ragged breathing.

You swallowed hard, blinking down at your trembling hands. Your mouth was bone-dry, your mind spinning. It had to be Hound, you had see him coming for you back in the office.

Before you could muster the words to answer, the door hissed open behind you.

“I don’t want to see anyone, Hound,” you mumbled, voice broken.

“How about myself?”

Your eyes snapped up to the mirror above the basin—and there he was. Fox. Standing just inside the door.

Your stomach twisted violently, blood roaring in your ears. “Get out,” your voice was low but shaking.

“We need to talk,” Fox said, calm but firm, stepping further inside.

You spun to face him fully, eyes burning. “Now’s not the best time, so just leave me alone!” Your words echoed in the small room, your breath coming in hard and fast.

Fox didn’t move. Instead, he stepped closer, standing right beside you as though the tension between you didn’t weigh down the air. His gloved hand reached out and quietly adjusted the tap, turning it from cold to lukewarm.

“It’s better this way for burns,” he murmured, voice low and steady. “You should head to the medbay.”

You clenched your jaw, staring daggers into the mirror. “Thanks for the advice,” you snapped, your voice sharper now. “Now go.”

Still, he didn’t budge. His reflection loomed beside yours, visor blank but heavy with everything he wasn’t saying. “I’m not leaving,” he said quietly but with that quiet, stubborn authority you’d heard so many times before—except now, it made your skin crawl.

You step back, just out of arm's reach. “Why? So you can lie to me some more?”

Fox’s shoulders squared as though your words physically hit him. “I never wanted to lie to you,” he replied, voice edged with guilt. “You think this has been easy for me?”

You laughed bitterly. “Oh, poor you.” You shook your head in disbelief. “You had a thousand chances to tell me the truth.”

“I know.” He sighs behind his helmet, “I should have told you sooner.”

“You think? ” you barked. “You let me make a fool of myself. I trusted you! I opened up to you and told you everything about me. I was honest and kind, thinking you were—” you bit down on the lump in your throat, voice trembling, “—thinking you were someone else.”

Fox stood frozen, stunned into silence, mouth parted like he had words to offer but couldn’t find any.

You stared at the sink, focusing on the dripping tap as you tried to even out your breathing. Slowly, you straightened your shoulders, forcing yourself to face him again, eyes burning with determination.

“Take it off.”

His posture stiffened, head snapping up. “What?”

“Your helmet.” You nodded toward it, voice sharp but calm. “Take it off.”

Fox hesitated. You could see it in the slight twitch of his fingers. He wasn’t used to taking orders from anyone who wasn’t a General or the Senate, but the way you were looking at him—hurt, angry, betrayed… it cut through his pride.

He finally moved, his gloved hands lifting the helmet, hands barely steady as he removed it and tucked it under his arm. He didn’t look at you, eyes cast to the floor as if the weight of your pain was too much to face.

And as you stared at him, you realised you didn’t know why you asked. Maybe you were still desperately clinging to the hope that Thire and Pia had somehow been wrong, that this would reveal someone else, someone who just resembled Fox.

But there he was. A face you spent swooning over, eyes you had wiped away tears of laughter with, lips you almost…And now it looked so much heavier, pulled down by guilt.

“You can’t even look at me.”

Fox’s head lifted immediately, eyes meeting yours, his grip tightening on the helmet at his side. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“But you did.” Your voice cracked.

He flinched at that, eyes softening as if he were searching for words. “I know,” he breathed. “I know, I… I don’t know why I let it get this far. I kept telling myself I’d tell you the truth, but I just… got caught up.”

“I told you my own truths,” you said, voice rising. “I trusted you. I let you in. And you decided I didn’t deserve the same.”

“That’s not what I wanted—”

“You didn’t say a lot.” You cut him off sharply. Your throat was tight with tears threatening to fall. “Was it all just some test? To find out how I really felt about you so you had to come up with some stupid, fake alias to what? To fire me? Because if you never liked me all you had to do was just fire me from the get go.”

“I do like you,” he exasperates, “if i didn’t like you I wouldn’t have taken you to that meadow, I wouldn’t have-”

“Lied?”

He stills and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I didn’t want to lie.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “But you did.” you repeat. “Was… was anything you said to me true? About your future, about how you…” your voice faltered, suddenly quieter, “...how you felt about me…”

Your eyes burned as you trailed off, remembering the first night he’d told you that you were beautiful.

But Fox said nothing. Just stared at you with that same, helpless expression.

His silence stretched just a moment too long.

“Just go,” you breathed, voice thick. “Please.”

“No, wait-”

“I’m done talking, Commander.”

He blinks, and takes a small step closer. “Please call me Fox.”

“Why?” You cry, “I wasn’t able to before, what’s changed?”

Stars, he hated seeing you cry in front of him. More to the point that he was the reason for your tears. “Everything… and I don’t want to leave you like this. You’re hurt.”

“It’s just a burn.” You mutter, turning your gaze away.

“I wasn’t referring to that.”

You sigh, angrily wiping away the tears you had let slip. “Sorry for crying.”

“You have nothing to apologise for.” He states.

“You do.” You swiftly retort. “And I’m waiting.”

He shifts in his spot, the brutalness of your words almost scary if not impressive. “I am sorry.”

You scoff. “You're apologising because I asked you to. Not because you wanted to.”

“Wha-?”

“You can leave now.” Your voice was firm, unwavering, even as your fingers trembled slightly against your injured hand. You turned away from him, nursing the burn as though it was the only wound that mattered. “Also, I’m going to put in for a transfer.”

Fox stepped forward again, close enough that his breath stirred against the nape of your neck. “Don’t do that.”

You exhaled sharply through your nose, switching off the water. “Do you even realise the position you’ve put me in, Commander?” His title dripped from your tongue like poison as you lifted your gaze to the mirror, meeting his reflection instead of facing him directly. “I can’t even stand to be in the same room as you. I can’t work for you.”

Fox already looked like a man who had been gutted and left to bleed out, but at your words, he flinched, swallowing thickly. “You won’t even know I’m there. I’m too busy dealing with Rik Walder—he’s still loose, and if I hadn’t been so distracted, maybe he never would have—”

Your slow, deliberate turn toward him cut his words dead in his throat.

His mouth snapped shut, the realisation hitting him. Now he had finally said too much rather than too little.

Fox cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably, guilt rolling off of him in waves. “Not that… that was your fault, of course.”

“Out. ” Your voice was cold, final.

He exhaled, defeated, lifting his helmet and sliding it back into place. You watched as his shame disappeared behind the familiar T-shaped visor, the last traces of vulnerability sealed away. He turned for the door, but something on the floor caught his eye.

Fox bent down, retrieving the small, discarded object, and when he rose, he turned to you once more. “I gave you this.”

You barely spared a glance at the bracelet dangling from his fingers, but the sight of it still sent a sharp pang through your chest. For the briefest moment, guilt gnawed at the edges of your anger. But then you remembered.

Who he said he was.

Who he said he wasn’t.

Your lips pressed into a thin line before you met his gaze through his visor. “I’m sure you’ve given plenty of these to other women you’ve tricked.”

Fox inhaled sharply. He took a step closer, voice low, almost pleading as he said your name. “There was never anyone else.” His fingers curled around the bracelet, gripping it like a lifeline. “It was always you.”

Your breath hitched, throat tightening. But, you shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut. “Somehow… that doesn’t sound as nice as you think it does.”

Silence stretched between you, heavy, suffocating.

Fox glanced down at the bracelet in his palm, then back at you. When he spoke again, his voice was strained. “Please… keep it.”

You hesitated. Just for a moment. But then, you shook your head. “I can’t.”

His shoulders sagged, the last bit of fight leaving him. He nodded once, accepting the loss. "Get your hand checked, please."

Then without another word, Fox turned and left, his footsteps heavy as the refresher door hissed shut behind him.

The moment he was gone, your breath hitched violently, a choked sob tearing its way free. Your good hand clamped over your mouth, shoulders trembling as tears burned their way down your cheeks.

Meanwhile, Fox strode back toward the office, back straight, shoulders squared, as though he could will himself to be unaffected. The bracelet, now a cruel reminder of everything lost, was silently tucked into one of the pouches on his belt.

A single tear slipped down his cheek, hidden behind the cold, unfeeling mask of his helmet.

"I was still me."

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#commander fox #commander fox x reader #commander fox x you #cc 1010 #Corrie guard #clone wars #tbb #star wars #nahoney22 writes #liar liar series

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gyusvalentinesz · 1 month ago

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OFFLINE

Hey guys!! Welcome to chapter two of OFFLINE. Just a heads up, this chapter is spent mostly with Mitsuri. Btw, I'd recommend reading chapter one for this story to make more sense. Here is Chapter 1 and Chapter 3 There is some dark themes in this story, but nothing sexual. (This chapter is slightly less darker than chapter one!) ˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ You thought your last encounter was the end of what you'd hear from the siblings. But after doing some more research, you realize you couldn't be more wrong. ˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ WORD COUNT: 3K!

!CHAPTER TWO!- One Click Leads to Another

What the fuck was that?

What the fuck just happened?

Your ears are ringing, but that might be due to the fact that your heart is pounding so fast you can hear it in your skull.

You’ve seen weird stuff on Omegle before. The weird men, the edgy teens that probably listen to Nirvana and can’t name five songs, and people flashing you.

But this? This was way more different than anything before. This was way too creepy, and way too real.

You reach forward to your laptop again, and reopen OmeTV.

You desperately skip through people, hoping to find Ume again. There’s thousands of people on this site, but none of them are the cute pale girl with the long white hair.

Your hands are shaking now, and you didn’t even realize how much you were crying until a salty teardrop fell into your mouth.

Skip, skip, skip.

“Come on, please…” you mumble.

Your legs are still drawn up to your chest, with your blanket wrapped around you. All you can do is hear her damn mom. You can still hear Ume’s moms loud and ratchet voice rattling through your mind like an 8D audio, screaming from behind the locked door.

Your eyes start to burn, and before you know it, more salty tears are sliding down your face.

You feel absolutely insane.

You don’t even know this girl, and you don’t even know that what you saw was real. It could’ve been a prank for goodness sake! A really, really, fucked up one.

You start sobbing into your hands, until a soft knock on the door makes you flinch so hard that you knock your mouse off the bed.

The door creaks open, and Mitsuri peeks her head inside. Her hair looks like a mess of cotton candy, and her oversized shirt is falling off of one shoulder.

She notices your tears as soon as she stops rubbing her eyes, and her expression immediately shifts from sleepy to concerned.

“Hey… What’s wrong?” Mitsuri rushes to your side, her eyebrows furrowed. “Did something happen?”

You slam your laptop shut, a bit too loud. You don’t answer her. The truth is that you don’t even know how to answer.

Your chest feels tight, and your hands tremble badly. You desperately want to tell her what you just saw, but the emotions are too much to handle. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

Mitsuri, noticing her friend's sorrow, yanks the blanket off your lap and wraps it around your shoulders instead.

“Hey… hey, it’s okay,” she says softly, pulling you into a hug. “Breathe, Y/N. I’m right here. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

You lift your tear stained face from your palms, and start breathing in and out. “M-Mitsuri…” you whisper. “Something happened.”

She pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, and brushes a strand of hair from your face. “Okay, talk to me. What happened?”

You hesitate, a headache starting to form. You know you’re gonna sound like such a liar, but you just have to bite the bullet.

“I… I went on Omegle. I just wanted to relax and have a little fun, y’know? Like— after work? At first it was just normal Omegle things. Creepy people, old men… But then…”

“I met this girl.”

Mitsuri blinks. “Okay…”

“Her name’s Ume. Or, well— Daki, but she told me her real name’s Ume. She was so sweet! She looked our age but then she said she was thirteen! S-she has white hair and blue eyes and—“ your voice cracks, “and she said her mom doesn’t let her leave the house, go to school, or even talk to people! She wasn’t even allowed to use the laptop! She was fucking hiding with it! And her room— Mitsu, it looked like a mattress on the floor and nothing else!”

Mitsuri’s expression darkens a little, concerning spreading on her face.

“And then—“ you stutter, wiping your leftover tears with your sleeve, “she told me about her brother. Gyutaro. He’s eighteen, and he’s not allowed in the house. She said her mom kicks him out constantly! But when their mom leaves for work, Ume sneaks him back inside.”

You pull the blanket tighter around yourself.

“And then— then—she asked me if I knew how to tie a slipknot!”

Mitsuri frowns hard, and you can tell she’s thinking about what you’re thinking. “So like… the rope?”

You nod slowly. “She said it was for a craft. That it ‘makes things fly’… but I think…” You hesitate. “I think it was something else. And then—“

You let out a breathy sigh as your voice gets thinner,

“There was yelling, screaming, and fighting. Ume turned off her camera and her mic and I just sat there. I was panicking, Mitsuri! Panicking!”

Mitsuri’s eyes widen in disbelief, and she’s not smiling anymore. Not like she even was from the start.

“She turned her camera back on for a second. She was in the closet. Then her mom came. Started banging on the door, screaming for Gyutaro. Like— Like absolutely unhinged! I couldn’t see her, but it sounded like something was wrong. It sounded fucking evil.”

“Then Gyutaro ran in and locked the door. He was protecting her! Then he saw the camera. I think the laptop was on the floor. He looked right at me,” your voice drops, “and he apologized.”

Another tear slips down your face, and you seem like you can’t even believe what you’re about to say.

“And he ended the call.”

There’s a long, long silence.

Your eyes dart towards Mitsuri’s, and you look at her helplessly. “I felt so damn useless… Not being able to do anything at all hurt me, Mitsuri. It really did… I don’t even know where she lives. But that wasn’t fake. None of it was. She’s real, and she’s clearly not okay.”

Mitsuri’s silent for a second, processing what she just heard. You can tell by the look in her face that she’s just as stunned as you are by the whole thing.

You watch her blink, and lift her hands up to your shoulders, gently gripping them.

She finally speaks, quietly and firmly. “…That’s not normal.”

You nod frantically. “I know. I know, Mitsu—“

“No,” she cuts you off gently, shaking her head. “I mean—none of that is normal. That wasn’t just a bad home, Y/N. That was… that was dangerous. From what you’ve just told me, that girl sounded like she’s trapped.”

You stare at her, and for a second, you kind of feel like a child trying to explain why they didn’t hand in their homework. But she truly believes you. It’s in her voice, and in the way she’s sitting up now. Fully awake.

She exhales, eyes flickering to your closed laptop.

“And their mom? Jesus,” she mumbles. “That didn’t sound like a fight. That sounded like some psycho horror movie shit. You said she was banging on the door and screaming?”

You nod, the whole image vividly coming back to your mind. “She was shouting Gyutaro’s name over and over. She sounded like she wanted to kill him..”

Mitsuri’s jaw clenches, and she lets out a soft sigh.

“And Ume was just sitting there, letting it happen? At thirteen?”

You nod again, a little more heartbroken this time. “And just begging him not to close the tab.”

Mitsuri rubs her face, processing everything. Then she says, “Okay, okay. Listen to me, Y/N. We’re not gonna just sit here and do nothing! Something is seriously wrong with that family, and if that girl was telling the truth, then they definitely need help.

At this point, the tears on your face are already dried up. But that doesn’t mean a thing. That doesn’t mean more won’t come.

You blink, your voice thin. “But… How? We don’t even know her last name. We don’t know anything.”

Mitsuri nods, biting the inside of her cheek in thought. “Okay, okay. We’ll start from what we do know. You said she has a brother named Gyutaro. And she goes by Ume. That’s something, I guess.”

“Maybe we can go through your browser history or something? Or maybe Reddit? You said she’s always in the house, and she doesn’t go to school, so she must be online a lot. There’s many people on Omegle, so some people had to have seen her before.”

☆

After talking to Mitsuri about what just happened instead of bottling everything up, you feel much better. It’s now 10:16PM, and Mitsuri is sitting right next to you on the bed instead of on the edge.

Mitsuri pulls your laptop closer and opens a private window, typing fast.

“Okay, let’s see if anyone’s posted about something like this. Maybe on forums or Reddit? I’ll check for threads about a girl named Daki or Ume, with a brother named Gyutaro, and a scary ass mom who won’t let them leave the house.”

You sit beside her, still shaky. Your eyes dart between the screen and your dark room.

Minutes start passing by. There’s been pages loading, threads scrolled, and maybe a few unrelated creepypasta stories that sound similar, but nothing exactly like what you just saw.

You drum a beat on your lap as you slowly start losing hope. You start thinking that maybe this is just stupid, and you should just drop it. Right?

You think that until—

Mitsuri freezes.

“Wait. Y/N! Y/N!” Mitsuri exclaims, tapping excessively on your shoulder. “I think I might’ve found something. Hold on.”

She clicks on an old, barely active thread on an obscure forum titled, “Has anyone else seen the siblings in that one town close to the entertainment district?”

The post is from a year ago, posted by someone named “ThatOneLeader_DoumaMWAH”

Wait… That name sounds familiar. Douma?

“Oh god,” Mitsuri mutters. “Douma? Ew, what kind of name is that? Some maniac or weird cult guy?”

You think deeply about this name. You swear you’ve heard it before. After nothing pops up in your brain, you just give up, deciding you’re just wasting time.

☆

ThatOneLeader_DoumaMWAH

“There used to be a girl in the neighbourhood I lived in a long while back. She was pale, and she had long white hair. I always saw her staring from outside her window. I’ve heard some people say her name was Ume, but I’m not sure. I NEVER saw her step outside that house before. Ever.

There was also some tall guy too. A little younger than me. I think he was her brother. I always saw him digging in the trash behind the corner store. Their mom was insane though. She was always wasted at night, and I passed by her sleeping on the sidewalk with a bottle of sake or vodka.

Some nights, I’d hear screaming coming from inside that house. Cops came a few times, but nothing ever happened. I moved a long time ago, but I think they still live around there. Something's wrong with that house. Does anyone else know about this??”

☆

After reading, you and Mitsuri exchange a knowing look.

“That has to be them,” you whisper.

Mitsuri nods in agreement, and copies the username. “I think I’m gonna try to message them.” She says as she moves her finger across the trackpad. But then she pauses.

“Wait… Shinobu. That name— Douma. Doesn’t she know someone with that name? That one guy who was obsessing over her from that weird volunteering thing she did last year?”

As you listen to her words, your eyes widen. It finally clicks. Douma. That’s it.

“Wait, yes. She did that internship at the psych ward for juvenile offenders. I remember! She said there was this guy who wouldn’t stop smiling. Gave her the creeps.” You mumble that last part.

Mitsuri’s already whipped her phone out. She’s on her chats with Shinobu on SnapChat. “I’m calling her. Right now.”

You sit there, tapping the side of your hip impatiently with your finger.

The phone rings once. Twice.

Shinobu picks up.

“Hellooo?” Shinobu’s sleepy voice crackles through. “I just got back from watching this boring ass movie with Kanae…” she yawns, “What the hell do ya’ll want?”

“Shinobu!” Mitsuri squeals, “Listen, I’m with Y/N, and we have a situation. Do you remember a guy named Douma?”

There’s silence on the other end until, “…Yeah. Why?”

Mitsuri raises her eyebrows at you before placing the phone to the side of her head.

Mitsuri tells Shinobu about the whole situation.

How you were on Omegle, and met this sweet girl named Ume. How everything was normal until it wasn’t. How the last thing you heard from Ume, was a scarring scene of her mother trying to hurt her brother while manipulating her into thinking she’s there to see her.

Shinobu understands the whole situation, and she actually had something to say. She said that Douma actually approached her once, and told her about a story similar. Before he could finish talking, Shinobu just swatted him off.

“…Okay,” Shinobu sighs, “Thanks for telling me. I think it’ll be a good idea to contact Douma— but…” She hesitates, “He might be a little weird. Just be safe, okay? Good luck.”

Shinobu hangs up, and Mitsuri slowly puts her phone down.

“…What did she mean by ‘a little weird?’ You ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“With Shinobu, that could mean literally anything.” Mitsuri snickers, rolling her eyes.

You nod slowly and unsurely. “And she still wants us to contact him?”

Mitsuri sighs. “Well, she didn’t say not to…”

Your laptop hums softly in the quiet room. The soft glow of the screen reflects on both your faces as you open the messaging option on the forum.

Mitsuri fully turns the laptop to you. “You wanna do the honors?”

You take the laptop and start typing.

Y/N_Is_N/Y! hey, douma? I saw your post about the siblings. the girl with the white hair. i think I just talked to her on omegle she said her name was ume. or daki. is she real? she also had a brother named gyutaro

You hit send, and now it’s time to wait. Seconds feel like minutes, and minutes feel like centuries. You and Mitsuri stare at the screen, anticipating nervously.

Typing…

He’s online!

The message comes surprisingly fast, maybe a little too fast. It’s almost like he’s been waiting his whole life to answer this question.

ThatOneLeader_DoumaMWAH Ohhh!! So you finally saw her? Isn’t she lovely?

You and Mitsuri glance at each other. Another message pops up instantly.

ThatOneLeader_DoumaMWAH U know… I told someone once. She didn’t listen to the rest of the story :( I’m glad you’re different. Do u wanna know what happened the last time I saw gyutaro?

Mitsuri, slightly panicking, grabs your wrist. “Don’t say yes yet. He might just be fucking with us.”

You really want to listen to her, but your curiosity is clinging onto you like a damn parasite. Plus, if you don’t say yes now, then maybe you’ll never know at all.

Despite her words, your fingers hover over the keys. “We need to know. This might be the only lead we’ll ever get.”

Mitsuri looks deeply into your eyes, and she hears you out. Maybe you’re right. Hesitantly, she takes a shaky breath, and nods.

You start typing.

Y/N_Is_N/Y! yeah. tell me.

Almost immediately, a new message pops up.

ThatOneLeader_DoumaMWAH :) okay.

You and Mitsuri just stare at each other, then back at the screen when a new message pops up.

ThatOneLeader_DoumaMWAH Sooo, picture this. I’m sixteen, and Gyutaro looks around twelve maybe? I’m out on a night stroll, minding my business, when I hear this loud ass woman screaming like she’s trying to win the Guinness world record for the “Worst Mom Ever.” She’s yelling at her son, and this is EXACTLY what she said. “Why do you have to be so fucking ugly?! You’re ruining my reputation here! You’re a damn curse. You’re lucky you have an angel as your sister, or I’d drag your ass down to hell with me.” Like, damn? Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I peeked over the fence, and I watched the guy literally shrink into himself like a turtle. Honestly, it’s no wonder the poor dude never wanted to leave the yard. Who would? Anyways, yeah, that’s what I saw. Moms a psycho, sisters an apparent “angel”, and that boy’s stuck in the middle. Crazy world we live in, right? Haha.

You blink at the screen, confused by the tone he’s texting with. It’s almost like he’s joking, but the story is so dark.

Mitsuri leans in, also confused. “Is he… serious? Or just messing with us?”

You shrug, but the weight of the story settles on your back like a boulder.

ThatOneLeader_DoumaMWAH Anyways, if u want more, just ask. :33

You and Mitsuri exchange looks, both half shocked, and half unsure of how to process this new information.

Mitsuri scoffs and blinks slowly. “Wow. That was… something.”

“Poor Gyutaro” You whisper, your voice soft and full of pity. “That’s… honestly heartbreaking. How can someone treat a kid like that?”

Mitsuri sighs, and tilts her head down.

“I don’t know, but now I want to know everything. There has to be more to the story, right? What happened after that night? Did anyone help them?”

You shrug, and look back to the laptop. You wonder if Douma knows more, so you start texting again.

Y/N_Is_N/Y! hey, can you tell us more? what happened next? u said you used to live around them?? Where is it?

Seconds tick by, but no response. After six minutes of waiting, another message pops up. You’re expecting an informational answer, but it’s just an emoji.

ThatOneLeader_DoumaMWAH ;)

You groan. “You’re fucking kidding me. Of course he’s ignoring us.”

Mitsuri looks just as dumbfounded as you. “I can see why Shinobu called this guy weird now.”

You shake your head, but you can help but smile a little. “At least we know a little more now, right? That counts for something.”

☆

You close your laptop again. It’s now 11PM, and you’ve spent your whole evening trying to solve a case that you really shouldn’t. This could just be a whole waste of your time, but at least you could possibly help someone in the end.

#kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #gyutaro #gyutaro x reader #x reader #gyutaro x y/n #y/n #slight angst #hurt/comfort #kny mitsuri #ume shabana #ume kny #mitsuri kanroji #gyutaro shabana #x y/n #au fic #kny x reader

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crsssie · 1 year ago

Text

from one admirer to another : scrambled

pairing: leon kennedy x reader || masterpost: from one admirer to another

synopsis: from one admirer to another, an online penpal service, allows for two people with common interests to write to each other without ever revealing their actual address! Luckily for both you and Leon, you get matched up! What do eggs and Christmas even have in common anyway? sure hope it's that modeling business and NOT that Ada Wong addiction.

featuring: reader as scrambled eggs // leon as christmas

Dear scrambled eggs,

Thank you for that Ada print. It's going into my shrine (you were weird first, alright? Don't go calling me weird now.) and the fact that it's signed? crying screaming throwing up. Also, how dare you call yourself her day one? I was there when she first debuted you can NOT be more day one than me (joke).

I like my eggs in the form of shakshuka. If you haven't tried it before, you really should. It's delicious. It's basically eggs in tomato-based sauce with a ton of other spices and god it's so good I could just die. My favorite season... probably Thanksgiving. I know turkey gets pretty boring at times, but the cranberry sauce that my friends make is so good it's criminal. And, yes, I am unfortunately no different from you, but that's our secret, alright? I think I do an okay job of pretending to be normal at work.

Life updates... I had a shoot with a random model two weeks ago and I'm unable to get the way their hand felt on my bicep out of my head. I felt like a teenager all over again when they did. I'm not a teen anymore, and it's been a hot minute since I have been. Is this the curse of working with attractive people as a model? It was my first time seeing them, and the director didn't even refer to them by name, so my assumption is they don't do that many shoots. Maybe I'll be lucky and never see them again? Big day for losers in love (me). I'm kidding. I'm moving too fast. This'll be over in a couple of days. It's not like they're as hot as Ada— but they're pretty damn close. Got any advice for a loser who's just fallen in love at first sight?

Other than that run-in with the model, I got a couple of days off last week which I was supposed to enjoy, only to get absolutely obliterated by okaokra's newest chapter on glhf <3. Why am I an Ada stan who likes angst. Why am I cursed to love the way okra writes? I am not immune to the Ada brainrot or whatever the youth are saying these days. Every time I think of Ada I feel a little more like those twitter artist reaction memes of them biting wood.

The good thing about being only semi-well-known in the industry though is the fact that I can still sneak around at local events as a fan. It's nice that masks are so accessible nowadays. I'll be stopping by at the Ada-themed cupsleeve event in Raccoon in a couple of days, so I'll probably mail you a little something from that. So, if my letter finds you late, my apologies.

Oh, right, since we're on that topic. Merry Christmas, and happy new year.

See you around? Christmas

The cupsleeve event is relatively easy to sneak into for Leon. He puts on old glasses from college and a jacket that makes him look a lot younger than he really is, and he orders an Ada drink, grinning at the table on the side when he spots a familiar face.

"You're an Ada fan?"

You blink up at him, visibly surprised, and he takes a step back.

"Sorry, I thought you looked familiar—"

"No! I'm the same person. Yeah, I'm a big Ada fan. I'm running the event this time, actually. I model for spare money to host events like this." You scratch your cheek. "Wanna enter the lottery?"

"And what would I get?"

"A limited edition, signed, Ada photocard."

"What is this, Kpop? ��take my ten." He hands you a bill nearly immediately, and the two girls at the table with you jump in their skin.

"Wow, you're down horrendous, huh?" You hand the ten to the girls, patting his shoulder. "How should I get the stuff to you? You have to leave a social or something."

"Mm..." He clicks in his twitter handle, and you blink slowly.

"Can I bid for it?"

"That was not the plan, but I mean—"

"You'd have to out-bid them." One of the girls get up to put their hands on your shoulders, and you scratch your cheek.

"How much did you pay for it?"

"The base price is two hundred dollars." You grin.

"Mm... and if I give you three hundred?"

"It's signed, so no."

"Shame." Leon clicks his tongue. "I would've paid good money for that photocard."

Leon turns his head at the sound of the door opening, eyes widening as Ada herself steps through the doors to her cupsleeve event. The people in the coffee shop yell as she does, too many people crowding around her to beg for a signed autograph on their cupsleeve.

"Guys, give her a little space." You call from the table.

The people ignore you, and you scoff.

"Do you need—" Leon's cut off by your actions instead.

You grab the megaphone on the table and nod at the workers, most of them covering their ears as you yell.

"CAN YOU GUYS GIVE HER SOME SPACE, PLEASE?"

The megaphone renders everyone quiet, and Ada laughs.

"I'll sign one by one at the table. Please let me sit first. I just finished a shoot." She waves thank you to everyone as she takes your seat, and you ask her if she needs anything to drink. Leon finds that it's almost as if you planned it, and as Ada meets eyes with him at the table, his heart flips.

She's literally so hot. He's going to pass out.

"Well, since you're here. Do you want a signed cupsleeve too?"

"Yes, please." Leon fumbles as he hands her his cup, looking for a pen, and Ada hums.

"It's good. I brought a sharpie."

"Can you sign my arm— wait, that would violate my contract." Leon purses his lips.

"Do you model?" She asks almost naturally, signature smooth on his plastic cup as she hands it back to him.

"I started just a little ago."

"Any major goals?"

Leon steps to the side to let the other fans get something signed. "I'd like to have a shoot with you one day."

"I look forward to seeing you at a shoot one day, then." She hums. "Who knows? Maybe we'll meet at a runway too. What's your name?"

"Leon. Leon Scott Kennedy."

Leon's heart flips into this throat, and his cheeks turn red.

God, he's going to pass out.

prev letter : masterlist : next letter

#leon kennedy x reader #☾.oata #leon x reader

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ray935sworld · 7 months ago

Note

Hello, hello) it's me? yes, finally 👻. I’ve got my nails done, so now I could use 💅 just for fun (I feel better if you're interested, but anyway)

I hope you've been doing well lately. I'm sorry that the last ask may have seemed passive-aggressive to you, I HONESTLY AND SINCERELY wrote it only with love and respect. (and probably with a bunch of mistakes…) English is not my native language and the semantic structure of sentences and grammar suffer from this, once again I am very sorry about it.

And FINALLY, I finally finished that wonderful chapter of my favorite divorce. Luka is my dearest stronghold of the mind, and I love him for that. I sincerely believe him, he seems so loving and caring to David, I'm glad that Marc gave him another chance.

BUT with all this fuss, I almost forgot that Marc doesn't even know what caused Mr. "I'm delusional " to behave like this and only now hears the reason. Is it horrible, did he not know the reason all this time??! What a nightmare. What a crazy hell he lives in. Oh, my dear Marc, you're wonderful, you absolutely don't deserve it.

AND yes, the scene with David is terrible, really scary and painful, and even if I understand Vale’s position (which is crazy and delusional as fuck, because it is Marc there is no way, absolutely no way, he can do that) - he believes that he was betrayed, his actions make sense, but damn it, even if you believe he is not yours, is just disgusting. Disgusting behavior. You solemnly assured me that he would answer for it, well... I'm waiting, I really have to grind my teeth, well, it's not that easy, but I'm trying.

As a wonderful @calia23 already said «MY BABY MY POOR BABY! VALENTINO DID IT ON PURPOSE! I JUST KNOW! That he crawls on his knees isn't enough, I need him to suffer!!!», Thank you so much for this.

Thank you for reading my essay,

A thousand kisses to you and your writing 💖

P.S., jokes aside, ghost-anon is absolutely love, please don't change it. Another thousand kisses 💕)

OMG HEEEY MY DEAR 👻 ANON. It's so good to hear from you again!!!

Well, what else can I say except ✨💅SLAY 💅✨

And oh I'm so sorry if it seemed like that passive aggressive was meant in a rude way. I definitely understood it like fun passive aggressive like that "you made me cry with Santi WHY?" I just read it in my head that way and thought it was funny. And please ABSOLUTLY NO WORRIES about english grammar or spelling and stuff like that. I'm not a native speaker either and I love learning languages so I totally understand the struggles. Feel free to describe if there's a word you use in your native langue that you see fitting in a situation but there no equal translation, if you want to. I really don't mind.

So about the divorce AU - OH LUCA MY LOVE 💕 when thinking about his place, making him the loving uncle even post divorce wasn't even up for debate.

And about the question if/ what Marc knew for the reason, so Marc definitely knew that Vale assumed that David isn't his son. I mean in this AU Vale even tells the press. And they had a few fights about this (and the dangerous racing still exists but is only a minor part) At a later point, I'll definitely take the fights they had during the last weeks/ months of their relationship into account and describe them. So Marc knew about the reason (that Vale believed that David isn't his biological son) but I really wanted to kind of highlight Vale's view (which will come back later too! There's a lot of figuring out to do) to show why he reacts so strongly.

I mean Vale's accusation and behavior is very extrem especially cause it is towards two people he considered the people he loves the most in the world. So I feel like the explanation that he sees David as the physical prove of the betrayal is important to understand Vale's view (even if it's wrong and he is delusional but he doesn't believes he is delusional and yes I will milk this part so much you won't believe it! Trust me, my goal is it to make you feel sorry for Vale)

And I love writing disgusting action that have somehow an understable reason so this is also just me being mean in writing ☺️😈

OH AND THAT MAN WILL SUFFER. Mentally (and physical) definitely. But be aware that this AU will kind of take very long. I hope to write soon a little more and then get to the part where I can make the chapters longer but the real suffering Vale part will only be after a little more poor David moments

OH YES @calia23 really brought it to the point. Absolutely lovely. She's amazing. Totally stunning. She is also the one helping me with all this and helps developing many rough ideas and concept. Literally I sent her essay messages after essay messages and not only does she actually reads them but she comments and ask about it!!! MUCH LOVE AND KISSES TO HER! 💕💕💕

And oooh, thank you so much, thousand kisses to you too! I'm so thankfuk for your sweet message :)

#👻 anon #hi anon #Child of divorce AU

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error-dream-was-found · 2 years ago

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ooooh okay, for the fic writer thing! 1, 4, 14, 16, 33, 40 and uhhh 56? bonus of 39 (if you want)

Thank you for asking <3

1. "Do you prefer writing one-shots or multi-chaptered fics?"

I prefer multichaptered fics ... my last attempt to write one-shot turned into 160 000 words long fic (still updating btw)

4. "Where do you find inspiration for new ideas?"

Everywhere ... seriously, it´s a mix of shower thoughts, 3 Am ideas and random things I thought of while reading another fics. For example the 'enderchest torture' idea hit me while I was reading some fic where to get Dream out of Pandora they hide him in an enderchest and my brain just went "wait for how long was he there? What was it like for him? Would it even be possible?" And I moved from there. That one is one of my less developed ideas but it´s a good example of my thought process ig. Or fics like 'monsters don´t deserve hugs but you aren´t a monster' came from that single sentence. I thought about it while reading some fic where Dream went "I´m a monster I don´t deserve nice things and it spiraled from there.

14. "how do you write emotional scenes? Do you ever feel what the characters feel? Do you draw from personal experiences?"

It depends on my mood ig? If that makes sense. Sometimes I really get into it and even make myself cry. But sometimes I'll ruin these characters lives with zero care. I certainly draw from personal experience as much as I can. Although I don't really have much personal experience with the stuff I'm writing about so *shrugs*

16. "How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?"

*counts on fingers* ehm ... well if I count in the half-baked ideas and all that ... I think I could have roughly 15-20? (I wanna talk about them T-T)

You already know about the superhero one (although I have new trauma for blob!), so I'll say a bit about a different idea one of my dremon fics perhaps? I don't have a name yet but the mail story line pretty much goes like this: Dream is a demon - cruel creature feeding off humans emotions, mostly happiness. Demons in common are manipulative, heartless and selfish beings that prey on humans.

The rest of the characters are mostly demon hunters (not sure on all members yet but Sapnap, George, Sam and Quackity are certainly there).

The plot basically begins when the hunters catch Dream. He's not very strong and thus not considered a serious threat. Instead of killing him immediately they decide to experiment on him (to learn more about demons), the problem is - Dream is the sweetest person ever. He's nothing like the other demons they've met and well it's kinda hard to dissect someone alive while they rant about the adorable cat that lives in the backstreet behind the convenience store ... (sry for ranting)

33. "Do you want to be published some day?"

Yes but unfortunately I'm not too good with creating original stories and my writing style isn't really good so .... maybe one day ... (until then the closest I'll get is printing my own stories ... that is also a way to practice book binding lol)

40. "If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?"

Honestly? I have no idea. There're just so many scenes I love and I'd absolutely love to see drawn. But if anyone ever were to make a fanart of my fic I'd be over the roof about it, I wouldn't care what scene it is I'd just be so damn happy that they liked the story enough to go through the trouble of creating the art. And any scene they'd pick would be perfect because then I'd know which scene they liked the most.

56. "What's something about your writing that you pride yourself on?"

... I'll be honest I don't think my writing is anything special, there are a few scenes I'm happy with but overall .... *shrugs*

But if there's something I'm really proud of it's probably the fact that I was able to write a story that many people enjoyed. When I started writing 2 years ago I never thought I'll have this many people not only reading my story but also liking it. Sure, it's not that much but it's a lot more than I ever expected! It blows my mind because I know that there are much better fic out there, yet people still decided to read something I wrote. It´s really crazy

39. "Share a snippet from a WIP"

daamn this is getting too long ... Imma sharing a snipped anyway! But what snipped .... I'm feeling like doing an villain arc today so I´m gonna post something from a story I haven't published yet and probably won´t be able to publish for at least few months:

Note: this story is still sitting in my drafts so the grammar check wasn't done yet, therefore there are extra grammar errors which I apologize for

He tripped over something. The tiny sharp rocks covering the forest floor dug painfully into his palms as he tried to slow down his fall and the pain shooting from his scraped knees pushed a new tears into his eyes. He just wanted to stay there on the floor and cry but hte monsters were getting closer. He can´t let them get him, he can´t! Desperately trying to wipe the tears out of his eyes, Dream stood up, only taking a second to glance back at the thing he tripped over. It looked like a fence … looking forward again, the blonde saw a tall dilapidated building.

It was looming over him in the dead of night like something right out of a scary story his mom would tell him on these good nights when instead of yelling at him she'd put him to bed and if he was lucky she´d tell him a story. He wanted to ran away from the half collapsed building but as scary as it was the monsters were scarier. That building would provide him at least some cover and he needed that desperately. He won´t be able to run all night and the air was already heavily filled with the smell of rain. It was just a question of time till the storm begins. Encouraged by the hisses and groans from behind Dream ran inside.

It took his eyes a moment to adjust to darkness that was even more prominent now. Once he did he realized he was in what seems to be an abandoned Prime church. He looked around nervously. The place gave him chills. It was clear that no one worshiped Prime here for years, maybe even decades and the place now had a sinister atmosphere to it. As everything holy did when it was forgotten for too long. The cracked, faded paintings of Prime´s angels looked down on him, it felt as if they were watching him, following his every mood. The wooden floors cracked under his weight and from the altar a soft clinging of chains could be heard as the incense swung in the light breeze.

But the worst of all was the terrible feeling that he's not alone. That there´s something watching him. Someone. No, no he was just being dumb, this place is clearly abandoned. Maybe it's just an animal that settled here. Or these dumb angles. Yeah it must be the angles. It's dark and he's tired, he's just imagining their eyes moving to follow him.

The first drops of rain hit the ground and a wind whistles through the abandoned church. Goosebumps raised to the surface and Dream shivered. It's just cold, it's just cold, it's just cold. The rain got heavier in just a few minutes. A lightning flashed through the sky and a thunder shook the whole building, just as a voice from somewhere in the shadows spoke up.

“Won't you look at that … a human. What a treat”

The question of who's there froze on Dream’s tongue as another lighting illuminated the inside of the church and the body less shadow floating in front of him. It had a distinct shape of human but none of its features could be seen other than two glowing eyes. It dived for him.

Dream screamed.

- story name: Sweet Little Nightmares (I'm more than willing to talk about this story :)

Sakra nechala som sa uniesť. Dúfám, že som ťa neunudila k smrti a gratulujem ak si sa dostala až sem ;)

#dreblr #ask game #ask answered #@llitchilitchi #please give me more ask XD

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carmenized-onions · 1 year ago

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Just Dropped | Missing Invoice

Here we go sweets

HERE WE GO

I was so stunned with Carmy's "Respect him" Cause babe wtf we were vibing earlier????? But yea- the last chapter he can ruin it for himself go get it Carmy-

"You were expecting comradery. The guy is a dick, why won’t Carmen admit that? Why’s he suddenly got stock in his captor?"

Right???? COMRADRY I WAS PISSED

“N’ what the fuck are you?”

I wanted to punch CARMEN

"Oh. Stray bullet, for you. You wince— Not that you weren’t already, but that was definitely a personal hit. Richie’s still harboring resentment over that for Carmen, which means he still holds it somewhere for you, too. And at least Carmen came back after, to take care of The Beef. Where the fuck were you for the better half of a year? Vanished. You completely vanished, on him."

That hurt THANKS RICHIE (I know you didn't mean it towards me honey)

"You catch it from Carmen, too. Does Carmen see you as a leech? A parasite, tethering to his family? To his work? Is that why he’s mad, right now? You’ve inserted yourself without asking— You’re so pushy— No, no, he likes that your pushy, you’re good. He doesn’t think that about you, he doesn’t actually think Richie is a leech either, he’s just saying shit to start shit. It’s working. He’s really stirring up shit."

I love how Tony tries rationalizing it like no no he doesn't think it he's just starting shit

I love how Richie says I love you so unabashedly like yes he loves this guy he considers family and it's awfully upsetting that he is pretending he isn't family

"You're fucking nothing"

GOD THAT CARMEN

Like that obviously hurts cause Uncle Lee to Mikey and it's so rage worthy

And I hate that too personally been told I'm useless or that I essentially amount to nothing which even when true is exceedingly hurtful

But with Carmy, Mikey and Richie's personal history it's practically a time bomb

How dare he say that "fix him?" FIX HIM? BABE NO BODY CAN FIX ANY OF YOU AND TONY AINT TRYING

I love the way you write so much so that Carmy is a real person and I have beef with him

I actually did cry this chapter

Now that I am on a re read because I didn't give you my thoughts earlier so

junkie loser

asshole CARMEN ANTHONY BERZATTO

"“Don’t tell me I’m fucking confused. I’m not fucking confused— I— This is my fucking kitchen, alright?” Entirely nonsensical. Too many thoughts are stirring in his head."

MAYBE SHUT UP AND LISETN?????????????

“That’s me— That’s who the fuck I am. And I’m good like that, so—So if he’s a fuckin’ creep so am I. N’ I don’t need you comin’ in my fuckin’ kitchen, comin’ in my fuckin’ life, actin’ like you know better than me!”

WELL S3 PREDICTION HAHAHAHAHAHAH

(I haven't finished it yet but I read stuff in comments lol)

Failed Mickey hurt

I remember putting down my phone and taking in a deep breath

I was in public transport and did not want to cry-

Damn right Carmy

TONY IS NOT MICKEY

I love that his regret is so well written you know

I love the way you write

Cause like even I say stuff suddenly that I do not mean

But never this mean

"You get to be the first person he’s ever made cry, in his kitchen. When his brain comes back to his body, and he repeats back to himself the exchange that just happened. Yeah, he’d cry, too."

I did cry so thank you CARMEN I'M SO MAD

I absolutely love how Sydney and Richie rush behiind Tony

It's so fuckiign sweet

"“No.” You shoot Carmen down quickly. “Richie’s got it. You’ve gotta keep your kitchen in order.”"

GO TONY

The shock that Mickey gave her money and not vice-versa so well done almost surpassing the next chapters (sponser spoiler alert)

“I—” How can you word this in a way that isn’t just as cruel? “I didn’t think we were friends.”

NO BUT SO ME

Like honestly I really don't think people consider me a friend and I'm always so surprised because I just don't think that people think I'm their friend?

“I… I feel like… I’m just like… So insecure, about my place in relationships, that like— Like I’m not worth people’s time. Like we were only friends because we were friends with Mikey and we were handling him and I was like— Like I was helpful. So, like, when he died, it was like… We— There was no reason, for you to be friends with me, anymore. No us.”

EXACTLY THIS

YOU GET IT

I love the taylor swift conversation so much man

Me too

Like I don't hate her but concert would be a bit much haha

But for Richie and Eva I'm here hundred percent

Richie and Syd speak in unison, a rarity, for them to be on the same page. “No the fuck it’s not.”

My favourite bit from it all lol

“Fucks Inky mean anyways? Stupid ass nickname—” “Oh, like Chip is so original—” “Actually, a dead guy coined it, so betchu feel real dumb now—” “I’m not capable of feeling dumb—” You interrupt, “Girls, girls, you’re both beautiful.”

You explain to Rich, “I called Syd ‘Squid’ in high-school— Literally just ‘cause it sounds funny, and uh, she felt jealous that she didn’t have one for me—”

THANK YOU FOR TELLING ME I WAS SO CURIOUS

“I know you said I’d be a perfect match for your little brother, but at this point, I’m taking that as a read.”

omg no way

ARE YOU HAPPY? HERE YOU GO I VENTED

ALSO LIKE I TOTALLY LOVED YOU DM'ING ME BTW

felt so seen and loved

thank you

muah

Got an hour of answering asks until I return to banging my head against the wall trying to write the last two scenes of chapter 14 (it’s a fucking nightmare) (we’re at 8k right now) (we’re going to end up over 10k BUT NOT BY MUCH PLEASE GOD PLEASE) Anyways. LETS GO LET’S GET INTO YOUR THOUGHTS FROM JUST DROPPED CHAPTER 11!!!

Carmen’s vibe switch really was so fun to write for me, like he SUCKED the energy right out of the room— In what I feel was 100% the way he would do that. He gives such a fuck about titles, it’s ANNOYING!!!

Richie has been such a joy to dig into for the last few chapters— Two Steps Back specifically was so fun, but with Just Dropped it was fun because I do think somewhere Richie is mad at Chip— Like how could he not be, y’know? He thought he just lost one friend and then he lost TWO!!!?? He gets it, but I do think like Chip said, somewhere deep, it’s still kinda there.

Carmen however, was 100% being a shitstarter in this fight that was all a FUCK load of projecting. I mean c’mon, that nothing talk— This mffff…. No one’s useless!!! He’s just bullshit!! Writing fights is really one of my favourite types of dialogue to write, it kinda reminds me of this one fuckin’ quote somewhere about how the way you react to fearing for your life shows a lot about you. I think the way you fight shows SO much about a character. We could dig in for literally hours about each line from the freezer fight, I love that shit man. THANK YOU AND SORRY FOR MAKING YOU CRY ABOUT IT.

Yeah, I did seem to have called that fuckin shot— I was not surprised to see David. I am an oracle,,, Or rather, the writers just set up a very clear through line— well, this one through line, at least— I’m being catty about s3 I need to relax.

NOT PUBLIC TRANSPORT— Man this chapter and two steps back were the chapters I was like, everyone needs to lock in to read these ones— Maybe I should put a lock in warning up top LMAO.

Rereading Carm’s regret after Two Steps Back is so interesting, in retrospect— Thank you for enjoying it— Regret is hand in hand with why fights are my favourite thing to write. I LOVE WHEN MOTHERFUCKERS FEEL GUILT YEEAGGHHHH YEAAH!!!!!!! Don’t know why it just does it for me but it DOES.

Red-Herring everyone with the joint bank account did put a smile on my face,,, hehehehe

Syd/Rich/Tony, I’ve said it ad nauseam but they’re really my fuckin, fuckin what’s the bridgerton thing? Rose of the season? Idk I capped out of shows I can give my brain to. The scene in the parking lot with Richie was one I’d really been waiting for, and I’m very happy it connected with all the other people pleasing readers in the way that it did. I am also not a big TSwift fan, but for Richie, ,,, I will fold.

Omg YES way dude, but you’ve read Two Steps Back now so you know what that Phantom was yapping about. AND GOOD I’M GLAD— I’m very bad at DMing people both in life and on Tumblr so when I do it know it’s all my willpower and strength and love in one message <3

P.S I did get your replies from your notes on the last chapter!!! They were also lovely to read thank youuu love you on to the NEXT FUCK I HAVE HALF AN HOUR, alright we’re just gonna go for however long it takes.

#yapping #ask #extensive yapping #navs bhat #Missing Invoice / Just Dropped #I realized i should start tagging chapters #better late than never

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8bitsupervillain · 1 year ago

Text

Higurashi When They Cry Hou Ch. 5 Meakashi pt. 2

Rather inexplicably the second part of this chapter reminded me of the Vengeance trilogy of movies. Particularly the movie Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance. No idea why, since this was a rather calm and sedate part.

Also, in the last part I mentioned that the thrilling escape from private school occurred in 1983. I have absolutely no idea why I thought that was the case because I know the escape, and most of this chapter occurs in 1982. Just a brainfart on my part I suppose.

I assume this diary entry was written by Shion, if I had to guess the time, I'm going to presume it's at least three months after Watanagashi. My kneejerk reaction was closer to June 1983, but I don't think it would be that far out from Satoshi's disappearance. I got the vague implication from Chapter 3 Tatarigoroshi that Shion tried pretty hard for a while to get to the bottom of Satoshi's disappearance, up until one day she more or less accepted he was well and truly gone forever. Mind you the times I've pulled out are entirely just guess work on my part. For all I know she wrote this on June 25th 1982, after Satoshi had been missing for the three days. Also the reason I speculate it's Shion's diary/journal here is because I think she's the only character who would have the mindset to commit it to page. Mion, has the entire Sonozaki family at her beck and call to find Satoshi if she wanted. Rika, I don't think would necessarily care that much about him vanishing, maybe the first few goes around the time loop maybe she did, but having done this as many times as she has she probably quit caring. Satoko I don't think could be that composed about writing it down that he went missing. If she'd written it I imagine it would be a lot more panicked and frenzied. Tomitake, Ooishi, and Takano I don't think would really give a damn about him, and Keiichi doesn't know he even exists/doesn't even live in Hinamizawa. Therefore: this is Shion's diary.

It's the little things that clue me in to the fact it's 1982. Also I get the feeling this chapter, like Himatsubushi will be jumping around the timeline somewhat.

Mion and Shion, the truest pals anyone could ever see. Stick together through thick or thin. They stay on top cause they play to win. Sure hope nothing happens to break such an idyllic relationship apart.

The two talk about Shion's escape and how she needs to support herself now that she is a dropout. Shion decides to work for her uncle's restaurant.

See, now this is helpful. Even if it is just kids messing around and being dumb, trying to figure out the particulars of the curse is interesting to me.

What a peculiar thing to say.

What an additionally peculiar thing to say.

Shion and her uncle talk some more about the curse of Oyashiro. I particularly like the inclusion that when the first victim happened no one thought anything about it. But when it happened twice more people started treating it more and more seriously. It's a nice touch that lends a certain amount of believability to the idea about how a group of yahoos can start to believe in outlandish ideas like a killing curse.

#higurashi #higurashi when they cry #higurashi no naku koro ni #higurashi playthrough

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macawritesupdates · 1 year ago

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OK let me start out by saying you are an excellent writer and I hope this doesn't come off as anon hate or bullying when I tell you I hated the last prompt chapter so so much. It hurt me so much my god I hated seeing Megumi so broken poor guy it was awful. Damn Yuuji's quiet rage is always a sight to see I appreciated that. Sukuna you fool you absolute idiot you made the wrong choice every single time you personally destroyed any chance of your own happiness huh bud. Your life is completely devoid of meaning or connection. I loved when Yuuji said it wasn't his problem if Sukuna wasn't happy like hell yeah he's right and even having lost everything he's still not fully broken and he can see just how empty your life is. Yuuji has lost but his soul is so strong he's no longer a sunshine boy but he's still got something inside him that lets him keep his dignity. It's a cold hard determination that grew from the ashes of the naive boy the cursed world killed. Ow ow man that hurts a lot. God I hate it how did you make them killing each other at the end feel hopeful. Sukuna I hope you correct your mistake in the next life let go of that hate that destroyed you even more than it did him. In the next life do better. Do better please. God Yuuji smiled again at the end that hurts so bad. Anyway brilliant chapter but ouchie. It was so well done but it hurts me to read it. Thank you for writing and sharing with us I'm going to go cry now.

*Squishes your cheeks* Darling reader, listen to Maca-senpai on this one: You are ALLOWED to dislike fics I write <3 Some flavors aren't for everyone and if you didn't like it I 100% and never offended nor see it as bullying or anon hate! It is clear you like the writing itself but the themes were harsh! You still gave a nice comment as there were parts that you clearly liked even if it was a bit ouchies chapter ; w ;

I always try to label the angst as I know people like to avoid it and I never take ANY offense if people prefer only the fluffy bits <3

You are appreciated no matter your opinion!

(And actual anon hate just goes into the trash because who got time for that? This was just a genuine comment that I appreciate and wish to pat you on the head and go write a fluffy one-shot to offer it to you as an apology mint!)

#Maca answers asks #you guys can dislike my angst stuff!#Don't read the angst if it hurty my readers!#I want you to be happy beans! Read what your heart can handle you goobers!

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marry1293 · 9 days ago

Text

Chapter 4: From Eden

Masterlist

Next chapter is here! This one was difficult to get right. I hope you like it.

Song by Hozier

For this particular chapter, I had a lot of songs in mind that were final candidates for the name. Here are other songs to listen to:

Sit Next To Me (Foster the People)

Close To Me (Gracie Adams)

Talk Talk (Charlie XCX ft. Troye)

Modern AU

Ace x f!reader

Characters: Ace, Robin, Nami, Franky, Usopp, Koby, Helmeppo, and others.

Warnings: occasional sex mentioned, alcohol, soft drugs.

Chapter 4

It was a Friday night, and you were still working.

Curled up on the couch with a half-empty bottle of wine, you scrolled through your team’s requests and a fresh batch of CVs for the internship position. The soft glow of your laptop screen illuminated the living room — an open space where kitchen, dining table, and couch coexisted in casual harmony.

Your team was incredible, but it was already stretched thin — and you knew it. Koby and Helmeppo’s internships were ending soon, and you’d asked Bege to draft full-time offers for both. You really hoped they’d say yes.

Helmeppo had a natural grasp of the technical side of design. He could be the perfect support for Usopp — cleaning up visuals, prepping them for social media, newsletters, whatever Nami tossed their way. If he stayed on, it’d ease pressure off everyone.

Koby, on the other hand, was your hidden ace. He had the precision of an editor and a sharp instinct for market trends. Somehow, he’d become your second pair of eyes — steady, perceptive, and eager. You’d absolutely cry if he didn’t accept.

Assuming they stayed, Bege’s department would be the next in need of help. But if one of them left… well, you'd have to rethink your strategy entirely. Maybe bring in an admin intern to ease the workload across the board.

You sighed and reached for your wine, letting the taste slide down as you stared at yet another forgettable CV. You were deep in thought when your phone buzzed beside you. The screen lit up with a familiar name.

Your heart skipped, and a smile tugged at your lips.

“Hi,” you said, already grinning.

“Hello, gorgeous,” came Ace’s voice, smooth and teasing. “Have you been thinking of me?”

You chuckled, leaning back against the couch cushions. “No, not really. I’ve got other things on my mind.”

“Ouch. Please don’t tell me that,” he said with mock drama. “What could possibly be more important than me?”

“The love of my life, obviously.”

He gasped theatrically. “Damn those books.”

The fact that he knew exactly what you meant made your smile deepen.

“So I’m guessing you’re not free tonight?” he asked.

You clicked your tongue in mock regret. “Afraid not. I’ve got a hot date… with a pile of CVs.”

“Oof. Hard competition,” he groaned. “Can’t top that.”

You laughed. “No, probably not… but you could come and try.”

A soft chuckle rumbled on the other end. “Not sure crashing your date’s the most gentlemanly move.”

“Well, the offer’s there. You know where to find me. Bring a bottle of red and you might earn bonus points.”

Ace laughed, low and warm. “See you in maybe an hour.”

“Alright. I’ll be here,” you said, hanging up with a grin still lingering.

You poured the last of the wine into your glass and turned your attention back to the stack of resumes. If nothing else, you could at least eliminate the obvious mismatches while you waited.

You went back to work, oblivious for a while. The doorbell rang.

You jumped, startled, glancing at the clock. Time had slipped past you. Leaving your laptop and notes spread across the couch, you padded barefoot across the open space to the front door.

When you opened it, Ace was there, grinning, a bottle of wine in one hand.

He looked maddeningly good — jeans slung low on his hips, shirt slightly rumpled, and that roguish, self-assured smile that made your stomach flutter. He had the vibe of someone who knew just how irresistible he was — but the freckles dusting his face and the easy warmth in his eyes softened the edges. He had the easy confidence of someone used to attention, but none of the arrogance.

You may have stared a beat too long, because he arched a brow and said with a cocky grin, “At least let me open the bottle before you undress me with your eyes.”

You huffed a laugh, a little flustered, and stepped aside to let him in.

“Here,” he said, handing you the bottle. “Wasn’t sure what kind you like, so I played it safe.”

“Thanks. Don’t worry — if it comes in a bottle, it’s probably good enough to drink.”

You moved through the open space toward the kitchen. Ace kicked off his boots and followed, his gaze drifting to the scattered papers and glowing laptop left behind on the couch.

“Still working?” he asked.

You nodded, handing him a glass of wine. “Kind of. It’s more like low-stakes multitasking at this point.”

You gathered your things off the couch to make room as he sat beside you, legs stretched out like he’d been here a hundred times. You slouched back with a sigh and sipped your wine.

“I thought the wine was to set the mood,” he said, eyeing the empty bottle on the coffee table.

You grinned. “It was. For me and the CVs. If I’m going to spend my Friday night evaluating mediocre résumés, I’m doing it with wine.”

Ace chuckled, swirling his glass lazily. “That’s fair. Nothing like wine to save a tragic night, classy.”

You took a sip of your glass. “Tragic? You just walked in and improved it by, like, fifty percent.”

His eyes flicked to yours, warm and amused. “Only fifty?”

“Don’t get cocky,” you said with a smirk.

“Too late,” he said grinning.

He took a slow sip of wine, his eyes scanning the CVs still spread out beside you. “So… what’s the competition like?”

You gave him a flat look. “If by ‘competition’ you mean the pool of desperate college seniors trying to survive on caffeine and buzzwords? Fierce.”

He leaned closer, peering at a résumé. “This one says they’re a ‘self-starter with a passion for ideation.’ What does that even mean?”

“It means they slapped together words that sounded impressive and hoped for the best.”

Ace laughed. “Well, if they’re competing for your attention, I’m gonna need to up my buzzword game. How about: ‘Highly adaptable charmingly creative with a specialization in late-night wine-based support.’”

You snorted into your glass. “Strong candidate. I’ll put you on the maybe pile.”

He leaned back, and looked at you. “So… are you okay?”

You smiled, “Why you ask? It’s completely normal for me to drink while working.”

He smiled, but his eyes expressed a little of concern.

You glanced at the laptop, then back at him. “I’m fine. Just… juggling a lot. We’re all overworked and I want to make the right call, because I can’t ask more from my team. I want to do right by them.”

He nodded, more serious now. “They’re lucky to have you. Just don’t forget about yourself, too.”

You smiled. “That's why I treat myself to some wine.”

Ace laughed and swirled the wine in his glass, eyeing you over the rim. “You know…” he started, lightening the mood, “for someone claiming to be on a date with CVs, you’re giving me a lot of attention.”

You gave a lazy shrug. “Maybe the CVs aren’t living up to expectations.”

“Oh?” He raised a brow, the corner of his mouth curving. “And I am?”

You smirked, sipping your wine. “You’ve got your moments.”

Ace chuckled, leaning closer until your knees brushed. “Remind me to put that under ‘strengths’ on my résumé: occasionally entertaining. Mildly distracting.”

You glanced at him, playfully, an inviting grin curling on your lips. “You’re more than mildly distracting. That’s kind of the problem.”

He caught the shift in your tone and tilted his head, studying you. “Is it?”

“Well for someone who is supposed to be working, yeah, it is,” you said, taking a sip of wine without dropping your gaze.

Ace leaned back slightly, resting his arm along the back of the couch, fingers just grazing your shoulder. “You were the one who wanted me to crash your date,” he said, voice low.

Silence stretched between you, thick with the expectation. The heat and electricity that had pulled you from the moment you’ve met building up, urging you to get closer.

Then he nudged your knee with his. “You’re the boss. You call the shots.”

You laughed. “I didn’t take you for someone who would take orders.”

His eyes dipped to your mouth for a fraction of a second too long. “Why don’t you try me?”

That sent a little jolt through you. Your pulse jumped. You set your empty glass down a bit too carefully and leaned back against the couch, eyes narrowing in mock appraisal.

“Well,” you said, voice a shade lower. “You could start by helping me forget about work.”

Ace’s grin spread slow, wicked and amused. “Now that I can do.”

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, fingers grazing your cheek. It was such a small touch, but it charged with intent. You didn’t pull away.

Neither of you moved for a heartbeat.

Then you shifted closer, knees touching fully now, his hand coming to rest on your thigh — light at first, but confident.

His voice dropped, barely above a whisper. “Tell me to stop.”

You didn’t.

Instead, you leaned in and kissed him — slow, tasting like wine and tension finally snapping. His hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you in, deepening it with urgency, starving for each other. When you pulled back, your foreheads touched, breaths mingling.

“I should probably stop pretending I’m still working,” you murmured.

Ace smiled against your lips. “Yeah, you’ve missed the productivity window by a few hours.”

You stood, tugging him gently by the hand. “Come on.”

“To help you file résumés?” he teased, rising to his feet.

“To ruin my Friday night in an entirely different way,” you said over your shoulder, already leading him toward the bedroom.

His quiet laugh followed you down the hall, warm and a little breathless.

…

For a second, he thought you’d slipped out early — back to work or out for a run. But then he caught the faint sound of a kettle clicking off.

He stretched, yawned, and padded out into the main room, tugging on the T-shirt he’d left slung over a chair.

You were curled up on the couch, tucked under the blanket you kept there, a book already at hand. Hair mussed, face still bare, a steaming mug resting by the table. Not coffee. Tea — that fancy kind you kept in little labeled jars above the sink.

The morning light slanted across your shoulders, landing on the pages you so eagerly turned. You didn’t look up when he entered. Not right away.

He leaned against the doorframe, watching you with quiet amusement. “You’re such a nerd.”

“You’re just mad I keep on cheating on you with the hot protagonists of Lola’s book,” you said without looking over, lips curving faintly.

He smirked, pushing off the doorframe. “Tch. I knew I couldn’t compete with a guy who broods for 300 pages and has perfect abs.”

You finally looked up, eyebrow arched. “If it makes you feel better, you’ve got the abs.”

He scoffed, hand over his heart in mock offense. “Wow. Reduced to just abs. Tragic.”

You smirked, flipping a page. “You’ll survive.”

Still grumbling under his breath about being objectified, Ace wandered into the kitchen, opening the cabinet without hesitation and grabbing a glass.

You turned back to your book, already a chapter deeper, lost again. It wasn’t the first time he’d found you like that. And lately, it was happening more often.

You didn’t talk about it. There were no toothbrushes left behind, no drawer space offered. But he kept showing up, and you kept answering the door.

…

Ace was at the studio, fingers idly working out chords on his guitar. He hadn’t meant for the song to turn into anything—just a tune that came to him in the quiet after leaving your place.

You’d started to see each other regularly, always at yours. The sex was great, yeah, but it wasn’t just that. It was the snippets. How you talked about your team. How your eyes lit up when you spoke about a story or a book. You were driven. Passionate. Creative. A little chaotic. But fun. Funny, even. Little by little, that wall of books he used to find intimidating became something else entirely — something marvelous.

Ace didn’t want to think too hard about it. You were his perfect casual. Confident, no strings, no drama. You didn’t seem to need anyone to stick around — and that, depending on the day, was either incredibly attractive or terrifying.

He played a few lines he’d scribbled down earlier, letting the melody catch on the edges of the words. He was lost in it, fingers finding rhythm in thought, in memory, in the sound of your laugh.

It wasn’t until he hit the chorus that he noticed Sabo standing in the doorway. Ace slightly startled, fumbled the chord.

“You ever knock?”

“You ever lock the damn door?” Sabo stepped inside, bag a food in one hand, motorcycle helmet tucked under the other arm, hoodie stained with engine grease, like he’d just come straight from the shop—which, knowing him, he had. He flopped onto the couch across from Ace, sprawled like he owned the place.

Sabo’s gaze slid to the notebook, then to the tension in Ace’s shoulders.

“So... who is she?” he asked, already grinning.

“There’s no ‘she.’” Ace plucked another note, low and sharp.

“Right.” Sabo leaned forward, elbows on knees. “You always write haunting metaphors about temptation and doom for casual flings?”

“It’s just a song,” Ace muttered.

“Mhm.” Sabo gave him a look that clearly said he wasn’t buying the bullshit.

Ace didn’t answer. He tuned a string, slow and deliberate, like that would keep Sabo from digging any deeper.

“She’s not serious,” Ace said finally, voice low.

“Didn’t say she was.” Sabo leaned back, hands behind his head. “But I haven’t seen you this caught up in your own head in a while. Not since—hell, maybe not ever.”

There was a beat of quiet, only filled by the hum of city life filtering in from the window. Ace didn’t deny it. Couldn’t, really.

Thankfully, Sabo shifted gears.

“You’d have laughed earlier — Koala threatened to castrate me with a socket wrench.”

Ace snorted. “Again? What’d you do this time?”

“I may have dropped a carburetor on her foot.”

“Jesus.”

“She’s fine. Tougher than me, probably. But she’s been pissed all day. Thinks I’m deliberately testing her.”

“Are you?”

“Not on purpose.” He grinned. “But I might’ve made a crack about her parallel parking the bikes.”

Ace shook his head. “You’ve got a death wish.”

“Or a kink. Jury’s still out.”

The room filled with warm laughter, something easy between them.

“So, are you coming to the festival tomorrow?” asked Sabo.

“I guess… got nothing better to do,” replied Ace, “And Koala would probably kill me if I don’t go.”

Sabo nodded eagerly, “Oh, yes, she would. She bought the tickets months ago.”

“At what time does it start?” asked Ace, reaching for the bag of food. He found some sandwiches inside.

“At…” Sabo took his phone to check, “…noon. But I don’t think we need to be that early. Besides, I think Luffy is meeting with some friends.”

“Who?” said Ace, munching his sandwich.

“Not sure, I think it’s their work friends. He mentioned Nami.”

Ace stopped eating for a second. His thoughts already running toward the possibility that Luffy’s friends might include you.

“Have you forgotten how to chew?” said Sabo, staring at his brother’s distant gaze, a little amusement flickering in his tone.

“I’m fine,” said Ace, grabbing another bite of his sandwich.

“Hmm.” Sabo’s smirk deepened, and after a beat, he added, “So... I’ll meet her tomorrow?”

Ace shot him a murderous look.

Sabo laughed, holding up his hands. “Yeah, right. She’s just a casual.”

Ace didn’t dignify that with a response.

They kept chatting after that—about the lineup for the festival, Koala’s war on bad food trucks, the weird old man Luffy accidentally convinced to start beatboxing last year.

The kind of stuff that didn’t matter. The kind that grounded him.

But later, when Sabo had gone and the studio was quiet again, Ace was still there—fingers idly working out chords on his guitar. The melody returned, slower now, tinged with something unshakable. He didn’t want to admit it, but the thought of seeing you always brought a flutter of expectation to his chest. A feeling that never seems to fade.

…

The weekend arrived faster than expected. Friday night, you and Nami had hit the festival—and somehow ended up staying till the very end of the first day. You danced until your legs were jelly, and drank more than you meant to, caught up in the glow of stage lights and pounding bass. Somewhere along the way, two overly eager guys started buying drinks for you both. You didn’t stop them. Poor things were so committed to flirting that they probably didn’t even realize how much they were spending.

When you finally stumbled back home in the early hours of the morning, you stripped off your clothes and smudged your face with water trying to get rid of the make up. You crashed on your bed and didn’t open your eyes again until past noon.

Hazy and starving, you dragged yourself to the kitchen, slapping together a lazy sandwich and chugging half a bottle of cold water. Around 1 p.m., your phone buzzed.

Nami: Morning, girl! At what time should we meet? Luffy is joining us today at some point.

You: Cool! Should we go in early today? I can meet you at your place at 3 p.m. and then head to the venue, same as yesterday. Or do you want to go in later?

Nami: No, I think 3 p.m.’s fine. See you soon, then.

You: Perf!

You flopped onto your couch and opened your gallery, scrolling through the photos and videos from last night — blurry shots of flashing lights, wide grins, and hands in the air. You picked your favorite videos from the bands you saw yesterday, and a perfectly timed picture of you and Nami mid-laugh, to share on Instagram. She’d already tagged you in a few of her stories, which you liked as you sipped more water.

Eventually, your body reminded you that partying came with consequences. The smell of smoke—cigarette and weed alike—clung to your hair, your skin, even your bedsheets. You groaned. Time to shower.

It took nearly an hour to scrub the night away. You washed your hair twice, trying not to resent how much you hated the lingering scent of smoke. You didn’t mind that it was part of the festival’s vibe—kind of came with the territory—but you hated the way it stuck to you like you’d been chain-smoking yourself.

Once clean, dry, and human again, you pulled on the outfit you and Nami had pre-approved for day two: high-waisted shorts, a sheer mesh top over a strappy black bralette, and your trusty sneakers. She’d begged you to wear platform boots for the “aesthetic,” but there was no way. Your feet would be dead before sunset.

Nami could somehow survive a festival in a short dress and boots without blinking. She looked amazing, sure—but you were firmly of the opinion that comfort didn’t have to come second to cute. Especially not when you were going to be jumping, dancing, and trekking from one stage to another for hours.

Makeup done. Bag packed. You looked at yourself in the mirror, took a quick selfie, and sent Nami a simple text.

You: On my way!

Festival day two was about to begin. You met Nami at her place as you had said. She was wearing again, a short flowy dress with a pronounced back cleavage and platform boots. She was truly committed. You made your way to the venue, discussing which bands were you interested in and where should you go.

Once inside you decided not to rush to any stage. The bands you wanted to see started playing in a couple hours, so you decided to go for drinks and chill at a stage.

After watching a couple of indie bands, you and Nami made your way to the bar area, slipping through clusters of people with practiced ease. The line was chaotic, but you both knew how to work a crowd—Nami raised a hand to catch the bartender’s eye while you leaned in just enough to make your order heard. “One more beer,” you said, as Nami added, “And a spritz, please.” The bartender gave you a quick nod and moved to pour the drinks.

You were reaching for your cup when someone called out, “Yo!” you turned to see Luffy pushing his way through the crowd with a wide grin, his energy as contagious as ever.

“Took you long enough,” Nami said, smirking.

But your attention snagged on the group behind him. First came a tall blond you didn’t recognize, his curls a bit wild, and a soft expression on his face. Next to him walked a girl in cargo pants and a cropped tee, her arm slung through his, her eyes scanning the crowd with a kind of amused sharpness. “Hey, this is my brother Sabo,” Luffy was saying, gesturing between them, “and his girlfriend, Koala.”

You smiled and offered a polite wave, but the gesture faltered as the last figure came into view—Ace. He was dressed simply, in black jeans and a faded grey tank top that showed off the line of tattoos running down his arm. It was such a basic outfit, and yet you loved and hated the way he so flawlessly looked all the time. His eyes met yours just long enough to spark something low in your chest. Then he glanced away, offering a casual “Hey,” like you were nothing more than another friend in the group.

Beside you, Nami handed you your drink with a silent raise of her eyebrow. You took it without comment. You hadn’t even thought to ask who Luffy was bringing. Not that it mattered, of course. But seeing Ace here, in the middle of the festival instead of behind closed doors, threw you off for a moment. You quickly put on a smile on your face, adjusting your posture, slipping into the ease you knew how to fake. You greeted Sabo and Koala properly, and when Ace’s smirk ticked up—like he’d caught that little slip—you ignored it.

“Okay,” you said lightly, turning toward the group, masking the hitch in your breath with a long sip of beer. “What’s the plan then? Any bands we’re dying to see?”

“I was thinking we catch Wallflower on the Sunset Stage,” Luffy said. “They start in like twenty minutes.”

“I’m definitely grabbing a drink before that,” Koala added, already tugging at Sabo’s arm. “Want anything?”

“No thanks,” said Nami, “We just got ours.”

“I’m good for now,” you said quickly, taking a sip from your cup, trying not to care about the way Ace was still watching you, like he was trying to decide what kind of game this was going to be.

“Sabo, get me a beer,” Ace said, casual as ever, nodding toward his brother.

“Got you. Luffy?”

“Yes, please!” Luffy chimed in, cheerful and entirely unbothered.

“We’ll wait for you over there, by the banners,” you said, pointing past the clustered crowd near the drink stalls.

Sabo and Koala went to call the bartender, while the rest of you veered toward a less crowded spot.

“Why’d you show up so late?” Nami asked, giving Luffy a mildly scolding look. “You said five.”

Luffy flashed her a wide, innocent grin. “It isn't that late.”

Ace huffed, rolling his eyes. “We stopped for food. He got hungry and insisted on snacks first.”

Nami sighed, clearly not surprised. “Figures. Food always wins.”

Luffy just shrugged. “What time did you get here?”

“We came early,” you said. “Around four, right?” You glanced at Nami, who nodded.

“Yeah. We hung around the main stage, had a couple drinks. There were some solid opening bands.”

Sabo and Koala came back with the drinks—beers for Ace and Luffy—and joined the circle.

“So now that everyone’s properly hydrated,” Sabo said, “should we head over to Sunset?”

Everyone nodded, and the group naturally formed a line as you weaved through the buzzing festival crowd. Sabo and Koala led the way, followed by Luffy and Nami. You drifted in just behind Nami—leaving Ace right behind you.

That was clearly by design. You felt his hand on your waist before you even heard him lean in. His touch was light, practiced — nothing overt, nothing anyone else would notice. But you felt it. You always did.

“How’ve you been, gorgeous?” he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear.

His breath skated along your skin, his voice was all smooth charm — friendly, casual, meaningless to anyone listening. But the subtle slide of his thumb against your hip told a different story.

You didn’t look back. You didn’t have to.

“Good,” you murmured back, barely turning your head. “You?”

“Good.” He paused a beat. “Miss having you under me.”

Your breath caught and you nearly missed a step.

Recovering quickly, you shot him a sidelong smirk. “So that’s how we’re playing it? Sneaky lines in the middle of a crowd?”

“A little teasing never hurt,” he said, all smooth mischief.

You laughed quietly. “I guess not.”

He let go just as the group settled on the open grass by the stage. The tension lingered in the space where his hand had been.

Ace sank down beside you like nothing happened. Nami sat on your other side, and though she didn’t say anything, she gave you a sharp, sidelong glance. You looked away, casually taking a sip of your drink. Luffy flopped down across from Sabo, folding his legs beneath him.

“So,” he started, grinning, “how’s the new shop at Loguetown going?”

“Good,” Sabo said. “We finally hired enough help to keep that one running without me hovering. For now, I’m focusing on the main workshop here.”

“He runs a custom motorcycle shop,” Koala explained, shooting you a quick smile. “Restorations, builds, cool stuff.”

“That’s sick,” you said, looking over at Sabo. “Is that where Luffy helps out sometimes?”

“When he’s not ghosting me,” Sabo said, reaching over to muss Luffy’s hair.

“I don’t ghost,” Luffy grumbled. “I just forget to text.”

Ace smirked into his beer. “Says the guy who once vanished for two days.”

“I was working!” Luffy protested.

“You are not one to talk,” Sabo said, pointing at Ace. “You’re worse.”

Ace opened his mouth like he had a defense ready, but nothing came out. He just sipped his beer with a mock glare.

You chuckled. “Sounds like Sabo’s the real big brother here.”

“Dadan agrees,” the blond brother said, grinning. “She still checks in weekly to make sure these two are alive.”

“She only checks in with you because you’re the favorite,” Ace muttered.

“I’m not the favorite,” Sabo said, laughing. “That’s Luffy. I’m just the only one who is levelheaded enough not to do stupid things or punch someone in the face.”

Ace tilted his head, smirked, and took a slow sip of his beer. “Old habits.”

“Dadan is our foster mother,” explained Sabo, “she had her hands full raising the three of us. She threatened to start a bail fund just in case.”

“Oh god,” Nami said. “Who was the real problem?”

Everyone looked at Ace.

“I never got arrested,” Ace said defensively, though there was a smug twist to his grin. “Just... close calls.”

“Too many close calls,” Sabo said, nudging him.

“He used to come home with split knuckles and the dumbest excuses,” Koala murmured, rolling her eyes.

“It was complicated,” Ace said softly.

You could feel the undercurrent between them—years of scrapes, scars, and silent understandings. The kind of bond built not just from shared memories but survival.

“And Dadan?” you asked.

Sabo snorted. “She’s a walking contradiction. Smokes like a chimney, cusses like a sailor, and calls us good-for-nothings with a weird sort of love.”

“She still calls me that,” Ace muttered.

“She loves you,” Luffy said simply, gazing at his older brother with that open-hearted honesty only he could pull off.

You caught the way Ace looked back at him—some brotherly love touching his eyes.

“They act like idiots,” she whispered to you with a smirk, “but it’s kind of sweet.”

You smiled. “Kind of,” you agreed.

A rumble from the speakers signaled the start of the show. Everyone stood as the band’s name lit up across the back of the stage. Cheers erupted when the first notes hit and the set kicked off.

When the concert ended, you all rushed to the next stage. As always when you were with others, you and Ace kept the flirting to a minimum—discreet, under the radar. But with each slight touch it became harder. Those late-night visits had crept up on you. You hadn’t realized just how much his presence pulled you in. His touch had become familiar—too familiar—and worse, it felt good. Dangerously good.

You found yourself hesitant to make small talk, afraid you might accidentally reveal something he already knew from the quiet hours spent tangled in sheets and stories at your place. Thankfully, the festival didn’t require much talking. You could both pretend not to notice the way his eyes kept drifting to you—or the way you glanced back, half-hidden behind a flirty lyric from whatever band was playing.

Eventually, the group decided to split. Nami and Luffy headed to a different stage, while the rest of you pushed toward the main one. The crowd thickened, music pounding through the dusk. Sabo and Koala led the way, and Ace fell in right beside you.

“I didn’t peg you as a love ballad kind of girl,” Ace said, brushing against your arm as you walked.

You laughed. “Why? You didn’t enjoy the last artist?

Ace shrugged, “I didn’t say that.”

You smirked, “I’m not, actually. It’s just… Sometimes I like artist like Gracie, full of young and naive love. Makes me forget that it’s actually messy.”

You said it with a smile—but this time, it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Ace caught that. He glanced at you sideways, some recognition and a twinge of guilt flickering in his eyes. Like he knew that messy wasn’t just theoretical for you.

He let out a quiet breath, not quite a laugh this time. “Fair enough,” he said—softer now.

“Guys!” you called ahead. “I need the bathroom, and probably more drinks. Koala, you coming?”

“I’m good! Want company?”

“No worries, I’ll be quick.”

“I’ll go with you,” Ace said, stepping beside you.

You didn’t say anything as the two of you drifted away from the group, dodging glitter-streaked strangers and half-crushed cups underfoot. The crowd thinned near the row of dreaded porta-potties, where a small, disgruntled-looking line had already formed.

You let out a sigh, arms crossed as you eyed the crawling line of porta-potties. “No matter how many of these I go to, I still hate festival toilets.”

Ace grinned. “Yeah, you’d think after paying a hundred bucks for a ticket, they’d throw in plumbing.”

You snorted. “Please. I’d pay double for a real bathroom and a functioning sink.”

He laughed, then glanced at you. “But you keep coming.”

“Because the music makes up for it,” you said without hesitation. “Always does.”

Finally, your turn came, and you disappeared into one of the stalls. Ace leaned against the side of a barricade, pulling out his phone absently. A new message flashed across the screen.

VIP passes confirmed. Left your name with security. Meet me at the Star Bar. Bring one.

He smiled to himself, slipping the phone into his pocket just as you returned, hands freshly washed and a relieved expression.

“Better than I expected. I’ve seen worse bathrooms,” you said.

Ace chuckled at the comment. He then looked at you with a mischievous grin. “Wanna disappear for a bit, gorgeous? I’ve got a line for better drinks. Real ones. Not whatever we’ve been pretending is beer.”

You raised a brow. “Oh yeah? What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he said, already turning to lead the way. “Just me cashing in a favor.”

“From who?”

He glanced back, grin easy. “A guy who owes me. You in?”

You fell into step beside him, curiosity already tugging you forward. “Lead the way, Fireboy.”

He gave you a little cocky smile and grabbed your hand, guiding you through the crowd to the other side of the square of the main stage, where the VIP section was guarded by security, keeping people out from the bars and lounge areas.

Ace approached the security guard who clearly was expecting him. The guard pulled a couple of green bracelets that put around your wrists and let you in. At a bar, there was a very eccentric man waiting for Ace.

“Ace my man! What’s up?” the man said.

He looked like the kind of guy who’d DJ an underground warehouse rave. Thick-rimmed glasses sat low on his nose, and a pair of wireless headphones rested around his neck like a badge of honor.

“Apoo! Thanks for the passes,” Ace answered, bumping fists with him.

“No problem, it was an easy fix,” Apoo said, grinning. “You know I owe you. Two of my biggest names found their way to me through you, man.”

Ace smirked. “Don’t start crying about it now.”

“Please. I’m too fabulous to cry,” Apoo waved him off. “But hey, if you ever get tired of pretending you're just a songwriter, you let me know. I got a mic with your name on it.”

Ace laughed. “I’m good behind the curtain, thanks. Less ego to deal with.”

His eyes flicked toward you. “Friend of yours?”

Ace’s lips tugged into a small, lopsided grin as he looked at you. “She’s with me.”

Apoo nodded with a quick, assessing grin. “You’ve got good taste in company.”

You raised a brow, amused. “I’d say he got lucky. But I’ll let him pretend it was charm.”

Apoo barked a laugh. “Damn right.”

Ace smirked, barely biting back his grin. “I don’t need to pretend anything. You’re still here, aren’t you?”

You shot him a look, lips twitching despite yourself.

Apoo chuckled and lifted his drink. “Alright, alright, I gotta go check on some potential business. Drinks are on the house, by the way. Bartender owes me one.”

“Appreciate it,” Ace said.

Apoo gave you a quick nod and a grin. “Nice meeting you.” With that, he disappeared.

As soon as Apoo melted into the crowd, Ace turned to you with a sly tilt of his head. “Stay here,” he said, leaning in just a bit, resting a hand softly on your waist. “I’m getting us something stronger than beer. You deserve it.”

You smirked. “So smooth.”

“I try,” he said, flashing a grin before slipping toward the bar.

“Make it a gin!” you shouted at him.

The VIP area was quieter than the chaos outside, but still buzzing—low music, laughter, clinking glass. You drifted toward a high-top near the edge, scanning the the view of the stage absently. A few moments passed.

Then—

“Well, well,” came the familiar voice of yesterday’s sponsor. “Didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

You turned slowly, already regretting it, asking yourself if karma was about to charge you for flirting all night just to get free drinks.

Fullbody looked exactly like last night: crisp button-down, too much cologne, and a smirk like he thought he was God’s gift to women.

“I was hoping I’d run into you,” he said, stepping a little too close. “Thought we had a good thing going yesterday.”

You crossed your arms, an icy smile on your face. “Pretty sure I said goodnight last night, not see-you-later.”

He gave a low chuckle. “Come on, don’t be like that. Let me buy you a drink. I know what you like now.”

“No, thanks,” you said dryly.

“Oh, come on.” He chuckled and, before you could stop him, draped an arm over your shoulder, trying to pull you closer. “Don’t play shy now. You didn’t mind the drinks yesterday, did you?”

You stiffened immediately, grabbing his wrist and pushing his arm off you. “I said, no thanks.”

He raised both palms, still grinning like he thought this was a game. “Alright, alright. Don’t be so cold. Just saying hi.”

“Then say hi and move on,” you said, your voice sharper now. “I’m not interested.”

He glanced around, smug. “Doesn’t look like you’re here with anyone…”

“I am,” you snapped.

“Yeah? Who?”

“Right here,” Ace cut in, his voice low and dangerous.

Fullbody looked him up and down, scoffing. “Who the hell are you?”

Ace didn’t flinch. He handed you your drink without breaking eye contact. “I’m the guy who’s gonna rearrange your face if you don’t fuck off in the next five seconds.”

Fullbody froze, tension rising between them. “Jesus, chill. I didn’t mean anything.”

“She said no,” Ace said. “Twice.”

There was a pause. Fullbody looked between you and Ace. With a muttered “Whatever,” he backed away and vanished into the crowd.

Ace exhaled, finally turning to you. “You okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah. He just doesn’t know when to quit.”

He kept scanning your face like he was checking for any sign of distress. “I should’ve stayed.”

“And miss on the drinks? No thanks. I can handle guys like him, Ace,” you said, taking a sip. “But thanks for the backup.”

His lips quirked. “Didn’t like how close he was getting. Guess I’ve got a thing about people touching what’s mine.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yours?”

He tilted his head, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at his mouth. “For tonight, at least.”

You snorted softly, clinking your glass against his. “You’re lucky the drinks are good.”

Ace chuckled. “So you’re only here for the free booze?”

You shrugged, eyes trailing slowly over him. “Well… since it’s a little too public to have a go at it…”

A low growl slipped from Ace. He leaned in, crowding you gently against the rail, his hand finding your bare lower back.

“What a shame,” he murmured, eyes dropping to your lips.

You lingered there for a moment, pulse kicking up, the heat between you sharp and charged. Then you bit your lip and gave him a soft push to ease the tension, turning to face the stage again. Ace shifted beside you, but his hand stayed warm on your waist.

“I think I’ve never seen a concert from the VIP area,” you said casually, eyes still forward.

“Never?” Ace sounded genuinely surprised. “How come?”

“Well… aside from the luxury of private bathrooms, I don’t think I’d benefit much from the price tag.”

“What do you mean?”

“I like being in the crowd. Down in the thick of it. Jumping, dancing, screaming the lyrics back. It’s a vibe. Especially when it’s a band I love.”

Ace smiled, clearly charmed. “Want to head down?”

“Not yet. I’m good here for this set. But when Foster hits the stage…” You gave him a look. “I’m going in.”

Loud cheers signaled the beginning of the concert. The band kicked into their first song and the crowd responded with a wave of cheers. Down below, a sea of swaying arms lit up under the glow of stage lights. You could feel Ace’s hand tapping to the rhythm of the songs on your waist.

You didn’t know all their songs, but the ones you did had you singing and dancing. The band paused between tracks, thanking the crowd, building the energy.

“Let’s see who knows this next song.” said the frontman, starting to play some softer, but rhythmic chords.

You’ve heard this song before and gasped knowingly.

“I wrote this song,” Ace whispered in your ear. Surprised by the revelation you turned and looked at him, eyes wide open.

“Really?”

He smiled but didn’t answer. Just hummed the melody, gaze fixed ahead.

You turned back to the stage, paying closer attention. Ace had always brushed off your questions about his music. And now here it was—gifted to you without pretense, a quiet offering, just loud enough for you to hear.

As the band thanked the crowd and faded off stage, you turned to Ace. “Alright. I got my chill set. Time for the chaos.”

Ace laughed. “You’re dragging me into the pit, aren’t you?”

“I warned you.”

He finished the last of his drink and nodded toward the stairs. “Let’s go find the others. They’ve probably already claimed a spot.”

The crowd pulsed toward the main stage as you and Ace made your way back to the group. Nami waved from Luffy’s shoulders, Koala and Sabo already laughing, drinks in hand.

“There they are,” you said, tugging Ace forward.

As soon as you arrived, Nami grinned. “Time to prep for Charli and the DJs.”

You gave her a knowing look. “Gummy bears?”

She nodded and pulled out a small tin. You, Luffy, and Koala each took one. Sabo and Ace passed.

“Someone’s gotta keep Luffy from running off with a glow stick army,” Sabo joked.

Just then, the lights dropped. The stage lit up with your favorite band’s name, and a rush of excitement shot through you. The opening chords rang out—you knew this song by heart. From the first beat, you were singing, dancing, forgetting everything else.

Midway through the set, the band teased a hit. You screamed witht the crowd in excitement.

Suddenly you felt Ace grab you firmly by the waist and murmured in your ear. “Jump.”

You took a quick glance and saw him crouch. You smiled and when you felt him pulling up, you jump onto his shoulders. He lifted you with such ease, as if you were a doll. He held you steady through three songs, hands firm on your thighs. When you tapped to come down, he lowered you gently.

“Thanks,” you beamed.

“Anytime, gorgeous,” he said, eyes catching on the joy in your smile.

You kept on singing and jumping till the concert reached its end with a roar from the crowd. You clapped and shouted, riding the last notes.

“God, I love this band,” you breathed.

“They’re amazing live,” Nami added.

Koala was already bouncing. “Charli’s next! Let’s go!”

The group moved out, high on music and gummies. You felt the edges of the high beginning to kick in—just in time.

“Come on!” Nami yelled, grabbing your hand as she took off running, her laughter sharp and bright. You stumbled after her, Koala right behind, Luffy darting ahead like a kid on a sugar high, arms raised as he whooped into the night.

The gummy had fully kicked in now, that warm buzz curling under your skin, turning every sound into music, every flicker of light into something alive. You could feel the beat in your ribs, your fingertips, your spine.

The gummy had fully kicked in now, wrapping your body in a warm, electric buzz. Around you, the others were already lost to it—Nami twirling beneath a cascade of lights, Koala and Luffy colliding in wild, chaotic rhythm, laughter echoing between beats.

The second you stepped into the clearing—strobes flaring over a sea of dancers, the stage pulsing with rhythm and synth—you didn’t hesitate. You threw your hands up and let the music take you.

Everything felt amplified. The bass thrummed through your ribs, your fingertips, your spine. Light shimmered at the edges of your vision, sharp and soft all at once. The rhythm crawled across your skin, hot and alive. You spun and moved without thinking, laughter spilling out as you surrendered to the rush, disappearing into sound, into light, into the moment.

Ace stood a step back, somewhere behind you, close enough to feel but never quite touching, always watching.

You were wildfire — not burning out of control, but alive in a way that demanded attention. Reckless and mesmerizing. The gummy had pushed you further, sure, but you’d already been glowing before that, high on music, high on the night. Now you were untethered. He could see it in the way you moved, your hair catching flashes of neon, the way your body followed the beat getting rid of all restraints.

Ace swallowed hard. He’d been trying to play it cool all day, keeping a grip on the lines neither of you wanted to cross. But here, now, watching you let go, he felt those lines starting to fray.

And then you turned. Your eyes locked on his. Lit by the lights, your pupils wide and sure. You saw him there—still, restrained—and smiled knowing what you wanted, knowing what was coming next.

You moved toward him, not rushed, but certain. Dancing with yourself first, closing the gap in sways and turns. And he stood there, jaw clenched lightly, fighting that voice that said she’s not sober, wait.

But your hand found his, fingers threading without asking.

“Come on,” you said, voice half-lost in the throb of the bass.

Ace let you pull him in, his body catching your rhythm like he was made for it. You moved together, and this time, you didn’t hold back. You turned your back to him, reached down, and guided his hands to your hips, anchoring him there. Then you rolled into him, slowly, teasing, your body melting into his.

Ace didn’t resist. His grip tightened just enough to keep you close, to match your sway. You felt him lean in, his breath warm near your ear, his head dipping like he might say something, do something—but he didn’t. Couldn’t. Because if he did, he might not stop there.

Instead, he let the moment stretch, let the song wrap around you both. His hand slid around your waist, the other brushed your bare arm, like he needed the contact, like it grounded him.

You danced like no one was watching. And for the next few songs, neither of you tried to pretend anymore.

A short distance away, Sabo stood with a bottle of water, scanning the group like a designated driver in a sea of glitter and poor decisions. His gaze found you and Ace, locked into each other and entirely unaware of your own transparency.

He shook his head once, a small knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“About time,” he muttered.

#portgas d ace #ace x reader #romance #one piece

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thequietmanno1 · 1 month ago

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Thelreads, MHA 303, Replies Part 1

1) “Alright, if I try to delay it anymore I’ll truly go full joker I’m sure of it it definitely isn’t a overeaction absolutely not. It is time to liveblog, and something that has been on the backburner for quite some time already, bnha. Those last Todoroki family chapters were, well, they were something alright. Really something. Jesus fuck was that a lot of something Horikoshi. And now, we continue, on Chapter 303: Top Three.

Oh, so Endeavor, Hawks and… who was the third one again? I genuinely can’t remember.”- Nobody can blame you for taking some time off after those emotion-heavy chapters. Say, a lot of time off. Maybe even whole months, perchance. And the way I read the “Top Three” title is that it’s not only ablut Hawks, Endevour and Jeanist’s rankings prior to this mess, but actually because they’re pretty much the top three by default, after the entire hero industry got hollowed out into what scattered members remain willing to fight. “Victory by Default” as it were, exactly like Endevour got elevated to number one in the first place.

2) ““The drama was so loud we had a coma patient crying over how fucked up it all was. They didn’t woke up, they are just crying.””- Tokodori drama so potent it can even sadden vegetables. As if those poor souls didn’t have enough on their plates already.

3) “Hawks I know you have undying loyalty to Endeavor and all that but man this is a family situation, let them pull sticks to decide who’s gonna shot Dabi on the back of the head.”- I take this as Hawks basically proposing the beginnings of a united front to counter-act the remnant villain threat as a whole – after all, any governmental oversight or such is basically gone in the aftermath of the PLF War here. I haven’t yet seen anything like a Japanese Prime Minister around, but I’m fairly certain AFO’s plans will have involved crippling or neutering any response the authorities could make to manage this societal downfall, so it’s up to these heroes – the only ones skilled enough in a fight and moderately aware of the ins and outs of public management – to make a stand that others can rally around. Side-note, I like the fact that Hawks still isn’t actually saying anything, he’s just finger-tapping fast enough to appear that way through text-to-speech on his phone.

4) “Wait Rei why that what are you doing that for?

Are you apologizing for Dabi trying to kill him? There’s no need, he also tried the same, they are kinda even on that.”- “An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind” – the issue with that is that Dabi wants the whole damn world blinded with him, so nobody else can envision/enjoy the idea of what a hero can be like, after his own desire to live up to his father reputation and expectations fell through.

5) “I’m with you what the fuck is illegal denim

is that what you called your cameo on Vigilantes?”- I really want to know if Jeanist started out his hero career busting villains who were selling counterfeit clothing or something, this feels too much for it just to be a gimmick for him, it’s a true passion. 6) “Nobody expects people they know to be abusive at home. Nobody would expect someone so focused on being a hero to be such a monster, unless of course they were involved in the whole situation.”- It’s interesting to me how everybody acknowledges from this point on that Endeavour’s “role” as a hero is basically dead, but his Job as one isn’t, so he has to continue being one. He’ll never inspire others or have the faith and adoration of the public again, but he’s got the power and the skills to function as a number one hero in a crisis situation, so for that sake, he’ll have to continue being one, until his ending. 7) “No Shoto, she owns up to it, she is not gonna hide what she has done, let her speak.”- It’s not touched up on much, but Hawks invades Shoto’s personal space in a protective manner here, positioning himself somewhat in-between Shoto and Endeavour as he indicates the burn and poses his question/accusation at Endeavour, like he was about to step in should Endeavour have actually hurt his kid directly with such disfigurement. Hawks is well aware of how powerless a child can feel In that situation being around their tormentor even when they’re older, so had things turned out that way he was ready to take Shoto’s side against his former idol then and there. Thankfully, Enji does still have his sympathetic/noble traits buried in there, so he’s not quite as bad a parent as that.

8) “Well, I suppose if there’s one person here (that isn’t a todoroki) that would understand what is to have an abusive parent and one who they feel is neglectful but they still can’t bring themselves to hate, it would be Hawks. Which is honestly quite a coincidence I must say, but hey, it happens.”- And that past experience is what allows hawks to continue acting as Endeavour’s support, knowing both his side of the story and the fact that he didn’t intend for things to turn out this way, and even tried somewhat to avert it – just not enough. Being a past victim, he would naturally be opposed to learning Enji once served as an abuser, but he’s old enough now to understand that everyone has their own side to a messy situation, and nothing can be treated as purely black-and-white about their family drama. But if they weren’t presently in a crisis situation that needed Endeavour to still be a hero? It’s harder to say how things would go.

9) “I don’t think so Hawks, your Dad maybe, but you never gave up on your mom, you took care of her for years. In the end, she was the one to abandon you. Don’t try to pull yourself down there, you tried.”- That said, I think “caring for her” is all Hawks did. He basically separated from her and let her live her life away from him, in a manner that kept her comfortable and well-off, but still never took any time away from his hero life to go back and confront her at any point over their past, and her failures as a parent. I think that’s the main regret he has now that he’s gone for good, knowing that he, on some level, chose to ignore her rather than confront their history together, however messy it would have turned out…and why he admires Shoto and his family for not doing the same. @thelreads

#my hero academia #bnha #chapter replies #thelreads #mha 303

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kerolystar2 · 7 months ago

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Chapter 9: The Game Begins.

Lee Know and Jeongin stood at the thrift shop's entrance, staring inside with a mix of skepticism and anticipation. The place was small, filled with racks of second-hand clothes, but the options seemed endless. Jeongin was already moving toward the clothes with a spark in his eyes, like he had discovered new territory to conquer.

“I’m going to be the most incredible woman ever,” Jeongin said, half-joking, half-serious. “Just imagine, Lee—us crashing that sorority house and showing them who’s boss.”

Lee Know, more hesitant, wasn’t sure if this was another step toward rock bottom or a chance to turn things around. But he didn’t have much to lose. Jeongin’s plan might be their last card to play. With a shrug, he followed his friend inside.

Once in the shop, Jeongin quickly immersed himself in the hunt for the perfect outfits. With his creativity and energy, he seemed to transform into a fashion guru for women’s wear. Lee Know, on the other hand, watched everything with a mixture of discomfort and disbelief.

“Are you really sure this is going to work?” Lee asked, holding up a skirt that looked as small as the very idea of dressing like a woman.

Jeongin, now trying on a floral dress, grinned at Lee’s unsettled expression. “Absolutely. And I’ll show you the way. You’ll see—it’ll be easier than you think. People love to believe what they want to believe.”

Lee wasn’t entirely convinced, but he could see Jeongin was having fun. Somehow, a bit of that enthusiasm started to rub off on him. “Okay, okay. Let’s see if you can convince me.”

Jeongin smirked, stepping closer. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll practice. The important thing is to stick to the plan. Now, let’s get what we need.”

The mission had begun, and soon they were surrounded by piles of clothes that seemed completely nonsensical. Lee Know held up a red tulle skirt and a sparkly long-sleeve top with a look of pure disdain.

“This outfit is ridiculous. Your plan is doomed, Jeongin.”

Jeongin, now experimenting with something even flashier, replied, “Nothing a little practice and some YouTube tutorials can’t fix. We’ll learn the basics: heels, makeup, and that innocent ‘I’m just a girl’ look. And, of course, attitude! No one will suspect a thing.”

Leaning on a chair while struggling to pull on a skirt, Lee Know let out an exasperated sigh. “Hey, do you think this skirt highlights my butt well?”

Jeongin stopped, staring at him seriously but with a hint of sarcasm. “Oh, for crying out loud! Highlight your butt? We’re men and straight, dammit!”

Lee Know rolled his eyes, his stomach turning. “I’m joking, for God’s sake.”

Meanwhile, Jeongin held up a curly wig, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. “These damn heels... Do we really have to wear them?”

Lee Know turned, almost angry. “Fine, pants, heels, wigs, whatever... but panties? Hell no. I’m not wearing that crap.”

Jeongin just grinned and shook his head. “But think about it—if the girls see us wearing boxers, how are we going to explain why two ‘girls’ wear men’s underwear?”

“Hell no, man. I’m not doing it... I swear I’ll punch you if you make me wear that,” Lee Know threatened, a desperate edge in his voice.

Jeongin, laughing heartily, stayed quiet for a moment before changing tactics. “Alright, alright. I’ll give you a break... Let’s go for something more comfortable, like jeans and a blouse. No panties. Just the essentials. And if anyone asks, we’ll say it’s ‘fashion.’ Got it?”

Lee Know glanced at the clothes and finally relented. “Fine, just don’t make me wear any more of those... things. We’ll get through this together—or at least die laughing trying.”

As they continued searching for the perfect look, the thrift shop turned into a battlefield of laughter and frustration. They were far from being “divas,” but at least they were having fun... for now.

With the clothes (slightly more decent) packed in their bags, the transformation was about to begin, and Lee Know and Jeongin were ready to take the next step in the craziest plan of their lives.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

**El Juego Comienza**

Lee Know y Jeongin estaban parados en la entrada de la tienda de segunda mano, observando el interior con una mezcla de escepticismo y expectativa. El lugar era pequeño, lleno de percheros con ropa de segunda mano, pero las opciones parecían infinitas. Jeongin ya se acercaba a la ropa con un brillo en los ojos, como si hubiera encontrado un nuevo territorio por conquistar.

“Voy a ser la mujer más increíble que haya existido”, dijo Jeongin, mitad en broma, mitad en serio. “Imagínalo, Lee: nos infiltramos en esa hermandad femenina y les mostramos quién manda aquí.”

Lee Know, más reticente, no estaba seguro de si esto sería otro paso hacia el fondo o una oportunidad para darle la vuelta a la situación. Pero no tenía mucho que perder. El plan de Jeongin podría ser su última carta. Con un encogimiento de hombros, siguió a su amigo hacia adentro.

Dentro de la tienda, Jeongin se lanzó de lleno a la búsqueda de las prendas perfectas. Con su creatividad y energía, parecía haberse transformado en un experto en moda femenina. Lee Know, en cambio, lo observaba todo con una mezcla de incomodidad y desconcierto.

“¿Estás seguro de que esto va a funcionar?” preguntó Lee, sosteniendo una falda que parecía tan pequeña como la idea misma de vestirse como mujer.

Jeongin, ahora probándose un vestido floral, sonrió al ver la expresión desconcertada de Lee. “Absolutamente. Y te voy a mostrar el camino. Ya verás, será más fácil de lo que piensas. A la gente le encanta creer en lo que quiere creer.”

Lee no estaba del todo convencido, pero podía ver que Jeongin se estaba divirtiendo. De alguna manera, esa energía empezó a contagiarlo un poco. “Está bien, está bien. Veamos si logras convencerme.”

Jeongin sonrió con picardía, acercándose. “No te preocupes por eso. Vamos a practicar. Lo importante ahora es seguir el plan. Ahora, hagamos lo que tenemos que hacer.”

La misión comenzó, y pronto estaban rodeados de montones de ropa que parecían no tener ningún sentido. Lee Know sostenía una falda de tul roja y una blusa brillante de manga larga, con una mirada de puro desprecio.

“Este atuendo es ridículo. Tu plan está condenado al fracaso, Jeongin.”

Jeongin, por su parte, estaba experimentando con algo aún más llamativo. “Nada que un poco de práctica y tutoriales de YouTube no puedan arreglar. Aprenderemos lo básico: tacones, maquillaje y esa mirada de ‘soy solo una chica inocente’. Y, por supuesto, ¡la actitud! Nadie sospechará nada.”

Apoyado en una silla mientras luchaba por ponerse una falda, Lee Know soltó un suspiro exasperado. “Oye, ¿crees que esta falda resalta bien mi trasero?”

Jeongin se detuvo, mirándolo con seriedad, aunque con un toque sarcástico. “¡Por el amor de Dios! ¿Resaltar tu trasero? ¡Somos hombres y heteros, maldita sea!”

Lee Know puso los ojos en blanco, sintiendo una mezcla de risa y disgusto. “Estoy bromeando, por el amor de Dios.”

Mientras tanto, Jeongin sostenía una peluca rizada, claramente incómodo con la situación. “Estos malditos tacones... ¿De verdad tenemos que usarlos?”

Lee Know se giró, casi furioso. “Está bien, pantalones, tacones, peluca, lo que sea... ¿pero bragas? Ni de coña. No me voy a poner esa porquería.”

Jeongin simplemente sonrió y sacudió la cabeza. “Pero piensa... Si las chicas nos ven usando calzoncillos, ¿cómo vamos a explicar por qué dos ‘chicas’ usan ropa interior masculina?”

“Ni hablar, hermano. No pienso hacerlo... Te juro que te golpeo si me obligas a usar esa mierda,” amenazó Lee Know con un tono de desesperación.

Jeongin, riéndose a carcajadas, permaneció en silencio por un segundo antes de cambiar de táctica. “Está bien, está bien. Te doy una tregua... Vamos a buscar algo más cómodo, como unos jeans y una blusa. Nada de bragas. Solo lo esencial. Y si alguien pregunta, decimos que es ‘moda’. ¿Entendido?”

Lee Know miró la ropa y finalmente accedió. “Vale, pero no me hagas usar más de esas... cosas. Vamos a sobrevivir a esto juntos, o al menos a morirnos de risa en el proceso.”

Mientras seguían buscando el look perfecto, la tienda de segunda mano se convirtió en un campo de batalla de risas y frustración. Estaban lejos de ser “divas”, pero al menos se estaban divirtiendo... por ahora.

Con la ropa (un poco más decente) en las bolsas, la transformación estaba a punto de comenzar, y Lee Know y Jeongin estaban listos para dar el siguiente paso en el plan más loco de sus vidas.

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ciaossu-imagines · 1 year ago

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It's no problem at all and thank you so much or saying that. And I can’t blame you for getting sidetracked with a lot of thing sine I have been known to get that as well and it is also one of the reasons it took me so long to even write all of that previous message out. I really am and I’m really looking forward to seeing what the next chapter has to bring. I’ve seen some spoilers of it and am curious to see it all together in English. I’ve already told my friend about it so hopefully she’ll also watch it one day, though I’ not sure whether she’ll read the manga because she doesn’t have that much time but hopefully she will. I’ve spammed her with picture of Mikuni and she likes his design so hopefully one day.

And I’m looking forward to hearing your thoughts. Damn, 500. That’s seriously so much. But it is good that it will help in keeping the blog going for the months to come. It’s cool. What’s important is that you enjoy writing them and even though I have blocked your avalanche of spice tag, I’m looking forward to anything else you’ll give us, be it unrequested or requested. I see, that makes sense and then you don’t have to face any kind of filler while consuming Black Butler. Me too. Feel free to share your thoughts about it with me when the time comes. I see. I also have that sometimes with actors and I’ll just be looking at them on the screen, hoping to remember their name or where I saw them before and if I can’t remember, I’ll just IMDB them. Thank you so much. And that they most definitely do.

Oh, I see, that makes sense and I love that your replies can go overboard because of that. Yeah. I just had the problem of adding short text message after text message to her and it was just a bit much to her to respond to all of those texts (since we talk in WhatsApp and we usually reply to the text itself, one after another) when she did respond so now I’m trying to do a maximum of 10 messages per go (unless images are involved but I still try to keep it to a small amount). But thank you so much for saying that 😭 Yeah, the chapter really was. Like it concentrated on my favourite team after a big important match and I just loved seeing the interact and everything. Well, I had actually already kind of seen them grown up before since the last non-special chapter has a scene of various characters in the future and even after that there’s a special chapter with that semi-fave boy in the future but not like this. Like the clothes that he wore in the previous post-timeskip chapters and the clothes he wears here are so different. That was actually was I was talking about with my friend so it’s like even though I’ve seen him as a grown-up before, not like that and it’s really nice. Not only that but his smile and what he said was so great and you bet I cried. Not only then but like while reading the whole chapter. I don’t actually know when I started crying but seeing him there at the end really does make me so happy and I now often just check that picture out because even in the anime, you can’t help but love that smile. It’s just so gentle 😭 (though what he says is so teasing and I absolutely love it). Could I send you the picture? I’ll take what he says out so it’s absolutely non-spoilery and the only spoiler thing is how he turns out as a 29 year old but yeah, just can’t help but ask. And yeah, I actually already know what they became because of the last non-special chapter and even though I never thought about what they’d become, it all makes sense and you bet I’m proud of them, all of them, for where they ended up. Though the author did give a bit of extra info on that guy for him in the future and I’m still absolutely here for it. People want him and I love it (I don’t know how else to word it without giving you spoilers but it’s nothing weird, I promise). And of course 💕 Your Ever Young plan makes sense.

That’s great to hear 😄 Oh, so you’re almost there, nice. And that’s amazing to hear about the Nanbaka manga. I hope all chapters are great quality and that the story’s good. The Discord I’m in is at chapter 224 so we’re quite a bit behind but I love the way it’s translated so I’ll stay with that for that.

That makes sense. I also recently had to do that for something else that I can talk to you about in the DMs if you want. But that does sound annoying, damn. Yeah, the fogging up is also annoying. And I’m so sorry to hear that. I hope you still get to rest plenty and that you have a speedy recovery.

As a seasoned AO3 poster, I’ll give you the basis of what I know sine I am someone who does tend to put my story first into the HTML window. Though I’ll also say that you can put your story into the ‘Rich Text’ window and work with that, since you can easily align your text in there and you can select that you want to italicise it or bold it or something like that. I just like italicising my story in the HTML window since for me, it’s quite easy to type the right thing at the beginning and end of what’s supposed to be italicised (<i> at the beginning and you close it off with </i>). I also recently learned (at least I think that’s the case) that you can’t do superscript in the rich text bit so if you want to do that it’s <sup> at the beginning and </sup> at the end. Though there is the danger that your text will become like one block in the writing thing if you go from one section to another so I always click on the ‘Preview’ button, then go back to editing and then go to the other section. Hope this is clear and helps in some kind of way. Gods, just the thought of all those sounds is killing me so I totally understand. If I have to, I can shut out unpleasant noises while I’m in the zone but yeah, music isn’t unpleasant and I wouldn’t want to shut it out so I rather just write with the hum of my computer as the only constant noise. Thank you.

Of course 😊 Thanks for understanding whenever I get sidetracked! Like I said, I always wish there were just a couple more hours in the day so that I’d have extra time to do all the things I need to do and then more of the things I want to do, haha. Don’t even worry about taking long to reply to our messages! They’re always lengthy so I expect delayed responses because of that, especially since everyone has their own lives and stuff going on. And I’m really so intrigued by what’s going to be revealed in the next couple chapters – I’ve been good about avoiding Servamp spoilers past Chapter 134…I have my theories about some things but I’m hoping for quick translations of the rest so that I can see if those theories are right, because if they are, good god will that be a nicely done twist. And I hope your friend gets around to checking it out! The art in the manga really is beautiful and like I mentioned, I screenshot a lot of mangacaps every time I read something and go and look at several of my favourites when I have sad moments. I picked a couple that are relatively non-spoilery, ones that really speak to the theming of the story, just in case seeing the art and characters makes any of my lovely readers more likely to go and check it out!

I’m always so flattered whenever someone says they’re looking forward to hearing me ramble about things so thank you so much for that. And yeah, I’m really so flattered and happy that the event was such a hit this time and I’m hoping everyone is finding the queue as useful and enjoyable as I am. I’m keeping it at one a day just because I’m barely writing at the moment, all caught up in rereads and such, but the queue is currently at about two months, so I can relax and do stuff like that without any worries about not being active enough on here for you lovely readers 😊 And that is a load off my shoulders and results in a much happier Dee. When I am writing though, I’m really enjoying doing so, because there’s a great variety of characters, fandoms, and genres to write because I included and distributed the unused fandoms evenly amongst all my fandoms and the characters. I hadn’t thought about the fillers I’ll be avoiding that way but you are right and now I’m even more sure about going manga. Some filler is fun but some is…awful, if I’m to be truly honest. And I definitely will share my thoughts when I get to that point in the rereads. I’m just about to finish up the last five chapters in Dogs: Bullets & Carnage today and then because I’ve hit two really heavy series back to back, I’m taking a nice break and reading through Welcome to Demon School, Iruma-kun! I’ve been doing great – once I finish Dogs, that makes five fandoms I reread/caught up on the source material for!

Ah, as always, it’s a relief to hear people enjoy my absolute novels that I write to them, haha! I textwall like a bugger, but at the same time, you lovely readers are all so fascinating and fun and interesting to talk to, how can I not! And I’ve never used WhatsApp but I can get that getting textwalled via text can be a little harder to keep up with in comparison to getting textwalled in say, the tumblr dm’ing system or via email. But I can also imagine that WhatsApp is a lot better about word counts and image sharing! And I’m so glad to hear that the special Haikyuu!! chapter was all that you had wanted it to be. (Side note but I’m so upset – the Haikyuu!! manga disappeared from my manga reading app so looks like unfortunately I’m going to have to go anime only on that one, though I prefer reading). And that’s so cool, that the series gives time and space to see these characters grown up. I find a lot of sports manga is honestly really good about things like that, because we are all always so curious to see what our favourite teenagers will grow up into. Ooh, did his fashion choices get better, worse, or just really different? I’m just so glad that it gave you extra for a character you adore so much and I know that his smile really makes you happy so yay 😊 Please, of course feel free to send through the pictures, especially since you’re willing to take out the text so I don’t get spoiled. It really does warm my heart when people are willing to take in consideration spoilers and such because unfortunately, though I love my friends dearly, not all of them are so careful about spoilers haha.

I can completely get sticking with the translation you prefer, so I’m glad it’s got at least that many chapters for Nanbaka and I’ll be careful, when I get to Nanbaka and catch up on it, that I don’t spoil anything past that point for you! The quality should be good, I’m hoping, and my favourite thing about my manga app is that it, by default, takes the images down to medium quality (good enough to read but not high-res images) but if I want, I can go and set the pages to be a higher resolution, which really helps for chapters where the images are grainy in medium res. And please go ahead and talk to me about anything in the dm’s! You have me curious. And thank you for the well-wishes. Unfortunately, I’m an absolute moron and I smoke, so colds tend to hang around longer than they would otherwise, but I’m healing up really well. And thank you so much for the run-down on AO3 posting! That’s very helpful to know and having a preview feature will really be a godsend for me. I was super worried I’d post and then have to go back and edit a million and one times to fix anything that didn’t look right. And I don’t mind HTML, I just always struggle with the paragraphs and breaks in HTML a little but it’s good to know that 😊 And it’s always lovely that everyone writes in such different ways and is an interesting thing for me. What about any of you lovely readers out there, on top of C? Is there anything you listen to while writing or any writing habits you have – things you need in front of you, areas you need to be, etc?

#admin chatter #c

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crazychaoticizzy · 11 months ago

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reblogging again because I read the epilogue ✨

does she grow her own strawberries in her garden because it would be so cute if she does

“Wow, mom. That’s… wow” -me too Nia idk what the hell to say either 😭

i’m so fucking sad I like genuinely cannot even put it into words that whole last chapter had a happy ending but damn did it depress me 😭

OH MY GOD SHES FLIPPING THROUGH THE PICTURES

i can’t help but think that when Y/n dies she might be treated by Marilyn Monroe in the sense that her home will be destroyed and her belongings put in different museums for people to gawk at without knowing the meaning but also i don’t think Nia would let that happen so ✨

HER PICTURE WITH ARMIN IN THE BAKERY JUST MADE ME BURST INTO TEARS OH MY GOD

STOP “THE ORIGINAL ELDIAN DEVILS”

STOP “FIRST LOVES”

oh my fucking god

Nia and I are literally the same because when my dad tells me about his growing up I do the same thing 😭

BYE- “IM GLAD MOM PICKED YOU” OH MY FUCKING GOD 😭😭😭

lmao not her fucking roasting her mom

Aunt Hange 🥺

Tay I can’t fucking take this why must you make me cry at midnight like this

EVERYONE IS THERE OH MY GOD

MAKING CINNAMON ROLLS IN A BAKERY AND STARS ON A ROOFTOP. OH MY GOD STOP I REMEMBER THOSE SCENES ALMOST FRAME BY FRAME BECAUSE THEY WERE LIKE THE ONLY ONES I COULD EVER ACTUALLY IMAGINE SO CLEARLY THEY WERE MT FAVORITES

girl i’m wondering who your stalker was too 💀 i’m pretty sure you told me it was Jean but considering how much you changed since you told me your original plans i’m not so sure

OH MY GOD WAS THE PICTURE SHE AND NIA SAW A HINT TO WHO IT WAS??? BECAUSE SHE COULDNT REMEMVER WHO TOOK IT

i need to shut up and read it’s literally gonna be in the next few paragraphs i bet

“and you’re one true love was the happiness you experienced as you grew old with your friends and family by your side.” 🥹

oh shit i’m scared

i was just so happy and my heart just fucking plummeted 💀

Eren being conflicted on how to feel is SUCH GOOD WRITING OH MY GOD BECAUSE DEEP DOWN HES STILL HOPING TO SEE THE KID THAT LIKES DINOSAURS 😭

Connie’s still a bitch but his development is amazing 🌈

oh my fucking god there’s no way i’m crying over fucking CONNIE

oh my god

i’m so

i don’t know what to say

first off WHO WAS HER STALKER??? DID I MISS IT???

AND ALSO DID YN EVER FIND OUT THAT MIKASA HAD FEELINGS FOR HER??

second

i am still so speechless

this is by far the best fanfiction i havee ever read. it was crafted so beautifully and it’s added more to my thoughts about the world and people which is something I find fascinating and it’s so-

before I go down a rabbit hole of that. your writing in this is absolutely phenomenal. the way you wrote each character and how they all developed differently was so well dont and the lines were so blurred. there was no clear good or bad the further we went on in the story because everyone had done something they regret

this story was so beautiful and I’m so thankful to have been here since the beginning even if it took me forever to actually finish it

anyways a side note to make you depressed since you made me depressed 😊

imagine if on the set of the movie about her life Y/n has to excuse herself so many times because all of the actors look like everyone she once knew and it overwhelms her because they’re no longer there for her to interact with and be people with

another thing is if she’s looking at the actors and thinking they all look like everyone but maybe she thinks “He doesn’t have the same freckles Armin has” and keeps picking those small details out about everyone

like she just keeps thinking “his nose isn’t as straight as Levi’s was” “his eyes aren’t the same shade as Eren’s” and so on

anyways is time for me reopen conversations uhm… i might get annoying sorry

FIVE HUSBANDS

˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈 || 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐄 — 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈 ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗

˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗

˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄�� 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗

˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗

♡ — 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: eren, armin, connie, jean, levi, & reiner x celebrity reader

♡ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Plans, promises, & proposals have begun. Your next marriage comes about in an unexpected way. The celebrities of Los Angeles are hoping for peace, but a war for peace has never been an easy fight, and this particular battle will leave you forever changed. In the end, your one true love will always win.

♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: 18+ ONLY || MINORS DNI || DARK CONTENT — fem reader, modern/celebrity au, smut, heavy angst, marriage, divorce, pregnancy, cheating, grief, violence & blood, gun mentions, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of false imprisonment, drinking, toxic relationship, manipulation, stalking, murder talk, illness, hospitalization, & major character death. Some of the warnings listed here don’t necessarily apply to this part, but the series as a whole.

♡ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 25k

♡ — 𝐀/𝐍: Hi everyone! I can’t believe this series is finally ending. Thank you to everyone who liked, reblogged, commented, and/or left me a message in my inbox. It has meant the world to me. I hope you all have enjoyed spending time with my version of the aot characters and in their crazy world. A big thank you to @spicerackofblorbos for helping me plot the finale. I couldn’t have written an ending I’m proud of without you. I had to post the epilogue separately, so don’t forget to click the link at the bottom of this post once you’re done reading this chapter.

I hope you all enjoy the final part, and please let me know what you think in the comments or in my inbox. Thanks for the support!

— CANADA —

Connie Springer was utterly sick of the entertainment news channels.

He had always despised it — gossipy brats who thought they contributed to society by rambling on and on about celebrities, secretly wishing that they could be one themselves.

Ever since he left Los Angeles that following morning after shooting Eren and that blonde-haired guy, he had done nothing but sit.

Sit and watch the news.

Sit on the couch and drink until the bottom of his beer bottles were dry, or until there wasn’t a single drop of golden brown liquid within his whiskey glass.

His current place of residence was far from extraordinary. It disgusted him. Looked like his childhood home. It was a two-level shack where everything was old, brown, and smelled of dust.

But it was the perfect place to hide from the world.

His other, more extravagant homes spread out across several different countries would have been too obvious, as right now, he needed to blend in, not stand out.

Even after he poured money into the hands of the Los Angeles police department and justice system, he couldn’t return home just yet.

He might not go to prison for murder — and attempted murder — but his reputation was still hanging on by a thread.

The only choice he had was to give everyone time. Time to move on and worry about the next Hollywood scandal.

Eren Yeager’s unplanned survival made everything tricky.

He could yap to the cameras and tell everyone that Connie shot him. Even if no one believed the rockstar, his crazy fan girls would certainly take Eren’s side, and CS Records wouldn’t see another dollar from them.

It also made it more difficult to blame you, which was the only benefit to having let you live that night.

Connie paced around the tiny living room of the tasteless property he had purchased just for situations like this, thinking . . . thinking . . . and thinking.

What could he do with Eren now?

Go back and finish the job, killing him completely? Force him into making music again?

No. That wouldn’t work. No amount of torture would work on a man who stared death in the face and lived.

Plus, fans would undoubtedly be paying attention to the warning signs now.

Thousands of videos with millions of views had gone viral on YouTube and other social media platforms detailing great conspiracy theories about CS Records. They took apart Eren’s lyrics, searching for hidden signs. Zoomed in on his photos to point out bruises that weren’t covered up well — Connie saw to it that the hired makeup artist at the time was now rotting in a refrigerator box on the side of the road — and, in short, everyone debated about what was true and what was a lie.

Connie would have to clear his name soon.

He’d have to work hard to save his reputation, if that was possible.

Then there was you. The bitch he wished he shot in the head that night.

He saw every clip of you visiting Eren at the hospital. Witnessed the footage of you leaving the police station, and he even laughed a bit at the Carrie White jokes made in reference to your blood-covered clothes. He saw the broadcasts detailing your residence with Levi Ackerman, then your reunited association with Reiner.

He saw everything, and then he took everything.

Not only did he drain you completely dry of all of your money down to the last penny, but he owned every song you ever created. He owned everything associated with you.

And if he didn’t own it, he worked closely with the people who did and ensured that you wouldn’t see another dollar from any project.

Your songs. Your movies. Your commercials. Your perfumes. Your Halloween costumes. Anything. Everything.

It all belonged to him.

You had nothing.

You were nothing.

The public notice of your divorce brought great joy and pain. He wanted nothing to do with you, the thought of you made him fucking sick, but after everything you put him through, who did you think you were to divorce him? He was the one who was supposed to make that first move.

And to pour money into the lap of some divorce court to reduce a six-month process into one that could be handled in a few short weeks? It must have been Levi’s money. Were you in that much of a hurry to leave him? After everything you did to make him miserable?

One night, Connie followed his usual routine: sitting on the couch with any sort of liquid substance that would burn his throat and numb his pain while turning on the entertainment news station. What he saw made his eyes widen.

The heat that ran through his veins wasn’t from any sort of alcohol. Not at all.

It, instead, was from boiling anger.

The television screen displayed both you and Levi Ackerman. You stood by his side, your manicured hand resting on his shoulder. You wore an engagement ring — an expensive silver piece of gemstone worth a fortune, smiling softly like an idiot as Levi spoke into the invasive microphones right in his face.

“Y/N and I wanted to go public with the news of our engagement as soon as possible. There has been plenty of speculation and rumors about our relationship . . . our history together . . . and the only thing we can say for certain is that the two of us are madly in love, and we have been for a long time now.” Levi stared right into the camera. “Together, we’ve mourned the loss of our baby. It was made to seem as if Connie Springer was the father, but that wasn’t true. I was. But the only thing we can do now is move forward, let go of the past, and start fresh. And one day, the two of us will try again, and have a proper shot at becoming a family. We are-”

The television screen went black as Connie grabbed the remote and turned it off.

But he didn’t stop there.

He threw the empty glass in his hand at the wall next to the TV, smashing the cup into a mess of shards.

The baby. It was Levi’s. Connie knew it wasn’t his — your doctor indirectly told him that — but now, he knew which lover’s child you tried to trick him with.

Levi Ackerman.

And now, he had the audacity . . . the nerve . . . the guts . . . to marry you.

Connie wanted to kill him.

He wanted to shoot him over and over again until the man had more bullets inside of him than blood.

But he couldn’t. He had already gone too far by killing Armin and shooting Eren. And Levi wasn’t like those two. He wouldn’t be walking down the street holding a slushie.

He’d be holding a gun.

Someone like him wouldn’t be easy to kill.

But Connie couldn’t let any of this slide, either.

An hour had passed. During that time, Connie paced around the living room, stepping on the sharp pieces of glass, which crunched and crackled under the weight of his shoes.

He then went upstairs, walked into the tiny, plain, and dark bedroom, and opened a plastic bag that he grabbed from the top shelf in the reach-in closet, pulling out your old phone to search for Levi’s number before texting him from his new one.

CONNIE: WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?

A few minutes later, Levi responded.

LEVI: I’m marrying your ex-wife. What about you?

Quickly, a second message from him appeared on Connie’s screen.

LEVI: Where are you, Connie?

CONNIE:Why would I tell you that?

LEVI: Why wouldn’t you? You plan on coming back to LA eventually, right? Who else would run your shitty company? We’ll see each other again one way or another.

We should meet in person.

Connie scoffed a bit as he started to angrily type.

CONNIE: You think I’m stupid enough to agree to that? You’re trying to set me up.

LEVI: Why would I set you up?

I witnessed most of the things you’ve done to other people and kept my mouth shut. We’d both go down together.

I only went on television like that because I knew it would make you reach out to me. I want to make a deal.

I’ll give you all the evidence I have against you. Every bit of it. I’ll even help you clear your name.

You just have to promise to leave me and Y/N alone. Eren, Jean, and the others as well.

CONNIE: No

LEVI: Don’t you want to come back to LA? Go back to running CS Records? I’m guessing you’re staying in some sort of cheap hideout right now. You own tons of nice homes that you could come back to, and all you have to do is leave us alone.

If I wanted to kill you or get you locked up, I would’ve done it a long time ago, back when you first shot Erwin.

When you think about it, I’m the one who has to put all my faith in you. You could get the evidence from me and then kill any of us afterward. I’m trusting you not to do that, technically.

CONNIE: You really are trying to exchange evidence for peace?

LEVI: Yes.

It was a tempting offer. Connie didn’t know what kind of evidence he had, and while he could have made the evidence disappear from any police station should Levi ever decide to turn it in, the disgraced manager could decide to go public with it instead.

Ruining his reputation could ruin his business.

And with the latest chaos his name had been dragged through, he couldn’t afford to risk it.

It was a fine deal.

Connie didn’t want you as an artist anymore. He clearly didn’t mind losing Eldian Devils as a band, considering he tried to murder Eren. Plus, he didn’t care that much about everyone else.

Best of all, he’d get his hands on that sweet evidence, and be able to destroy it.

He believed the idea that Levi would let him continue to run his company. After all, the man had kept Connie’s secrets for years now. He could continue to do so.

Considering Levi had slapped a ring on your finger, there wasn’t any reason for Levi to want to target Connie any longer for keeping you imprisoned. You were his now. Levi won.

After taking all of this into consideration, his hand rubbing his jaw as he sat on the edge of the disgustingly small, queen-sized bed, Connie texted Levi back.

CONNIE: Deal. I’ll head back to LA in a few weeks after this shit cools down.

—

— LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA —

Levi’s plan was rather odd.

The man wanted to trick Connie into confessing what he had done live on camera, where others could witness it, and no amount of money could erase such undeniable evidence.

However, there were a few things about his plan that still left you puzzled, but your former manager would simply dodge the questions.

“Why won’t you just release the evidence you’ve been collecting this entire time to the public? Why do you need a live confession from him?” You asked one day, leaning on his kitchen island as he sliced into a loaf of fresh bread.

“I just do. What I have might not be enough.” He replied plainly. “Can you pass me the butter?”

The next day, as you followed him around his backyard, watching him pull weeds with his gloved hand, you questioned, “I understand us going on live television and telling everyone we were getting married and that the baby was yours would piss Connie off enough to make him reach out, but now that he has, why are we actually getting married? Don’t get me wrong, I know we love each other, but I imagined a more romantic scenario-”

“When all of this is over, I’ll make sure you have a proper wedding with a proper ceremony, I promise.” Levi wiped his sweaty forehead off on his arm.

You smiled at the thought of marrying him, temporarily forgetting that, yet again, he managed to avoid answering anything.

So, for now, you pacified your curiosity by assuming that, maybe, you just needed to trust him, and together, you signed those marriage contracts with the promise of building something greater someday.

—

Although you had often spent your days hanging out with Levi at his house, your current residence was still with Reiner.

Until today, at least.

Holding a cardboard box with the few items you owned — only after refusing Reiner’s constant offers to let him buy you anything — you made your way towards his front door, shoes clicking against the ground, filling the silence.

Reiner stood there, faking a smile, but those gorgeous hazel eyes of his couldn’t hide his sadness. Even as a professional actor, he wasn’t so gifted when it came to disguising heartbreak.

Running his hand over his subtle facial hair, he sighed as you approached him.

“So this is it, huh?”

“Looks like it,” you smiled kindly. “Thank you for everything, Reiner. And not just for letting me stay here, but for always being there for me. Our marriage didn’t last very long, but . . . you were a great husband.”

Reiner glanced down at his boots. The sunlight peeking in through the little windows beside his front door only made his pretty eyes seem brighter, and it emphasized the despair poorly hidden within his gaze.

“He’s a smart man. Marrying you really did get Connie’s attention, I guess. Though I don’t get why it couldn’t have just been a fake announcement,” Reiner loosely folded his arms.

“You’re forgetting that we love each other too,” you said.

Reiner nodded slowly, and after giving a short sigh, he unlocked the front door, and, like the gentleman that he was, took the box from you and carried it to Levi’s car.

You followed him, eyes squinting from the beaming sunlight.

But, even so, you caught a glimpse of a small FOR SALE sign in Reiner’s front yard.

The southern-hearted man placed your box in the backseat. When he turned to face you, you asked, “Are you selling your house? Why?” With a shrug, Reiner started to speak. “After everything that’s happened, I can’t view this industry the way that I used to. Being an actor isn’t worth all the trouble, so I’m going back home, back to Tennessee. Back to my family. I would have liked to take you with me, but I’ll get over it, ‘s long as you’re happy.”

“I understand.” Although you were happy to know he’d be somewhere safe and would get to be a kind, ordinary man and live in peace, you couldn’t help but feel a bit sad knowing that Reiner was leaving for good. “I’ll miss you.”

You were optimistic that Levi’s plan would finally put Connie behind bars. Then, Reiner and his family would all be able to move back to Tennessee and live safe, happy lives. Their family home, passed down from generation to generation, could never be returned after the silent men burned it down, but at least they would have each other and could start anew.

“I’ll miss you too. I’m gonna stop by every now and then to check up on you, okay?” Reiner grinned softly, “But I know you’ll be alright. We both will.”

You wrapped your arms around Reiner’s waist, resting your head against his chest. His muscular arms hugged you back. It was a warm embrace, like always. One you would certainly miss. There was no such comfort quite like Reiner’s hugs.

Although your time together was brief, it was wonderful. He was a loving husband who introduced you to unconditional happiness. Someone who forgave you for your mistakes and did everything he could to protect you. In your time of need, he didn’t hesitate to help you, even if your existence in his life had cost him nothing but pain and grief.

Your love story had ended, but loving him was one of the greatest decisions you ever made.

Levi’s footsteps could be heard as he made his way towards his car. He had to take a private business call while you gathered your belongings, and now, it seemed as if he was ready to leave and take you back to his place for the third, and hopefully, the final time.

“Are you ready?” Levi asked, putting his phone back into his pocket.

“Yeah,” you replied, pulling away from Reiner. “I just had to hug him goodbye. He’s leaving Los Angeles for good.”

“You are?” Levi raised his brows a bit. “Are you going back to Tennessee?”

“I am,” with a pause, Reiner sighed yet again. “Big decision, but I think it’s the right move.”

“I see. Well, I wish you nothing but luck.”

Together, you and Levi started to get into his vehicle.

Before getting into the passenger seat, you gave Reiner one last gaze, not knowing when you’d ever look into his eyes again, and you said, “Bye, Reiner.”

“Goodbye.”

Once you were both buckled in, Levi started to pull out of Reiner’s driveway. The blonde-haired man gave Levi a nod, one that wordlessly communicated: Congratulations, Levi. You’ve won.

—

There wasn’t a cloud in the sky that very next day. How nice it was — feeling sunlight on your skin. The unusual chilly weather had finally started to disappear, and today, you wore a pair of sunglasses as you arrived at the hospital, a cold water bottle in your hand.

Truth be told, you wanted to stay outdoors as long as possible.

Ever since Connie locked you in your own bedroom as his form of punishment, you cherished every moment spent outside. It was thanks to him that you struggled with a Vitamin D deficiency, amongst other things.

“Do you like the beach, Levi?” You asked, glancing at the man beside you as you both stepped into the lobby.

“The ocean can be calming, but I hate sand. It gets everywhere and cleaning it up is a pain in the ass. Why?”

“I was just wondering,” you said.

It was a lie, one that Levi saw through with little effort.

“We can go to the beach next week.”

The smile that appeared on your face would make every dull moment of trying to shake off sand worth it.

You and Levi found yourselves at the hospital today to help Eren out after getting discharged. Truth be told, your presence wasn’t needed as Eren had his entire family to aid him, along with a team of bodyguards and additional staff at home to tend to his every need.

Even so, he wanted to see you.

The rockstar stood in front of the nurse’s station, jotting down what looked like his signature. If it wasn’t for the excited grins on the faces of the three, young medical staff members, you would have naturally assumed that he was signing some form of paperwork, but as he handed the pen back to one of the ladies and they all squealed, it was clear that he was giving them autographs.

At least they had the decency to wait until he was healed before bombarding him with fan requests. You thought about that one nurse who asked you for a picture while you were visiting Eren, never considering that even though you were a celebrity, perhaps, you wanted a bit of privacy to grieve.

That frustrating memory did make you wonder about something, and as you and Levi approached Eren and exchanged greetings, you tilted your head a bit and asked, “I know this might be bad timing, and I’m not sure if you’ve thought about it, but what are you planning on doing career-wise?”

Eren looked down at his three-fingered right hand.

“I know there are workarounds to playing the guitar, and there are some cool-ass legends who had some missing fingers too, but I think I’m done with music. Touring . . . awards shows . . . concerts . . . screw it all.”

It was a conversation he already had with Jean earlier in the week. Eren’s departure would end Eldian Devils, as there was no band without him. No one could replace such a reputable band leader.

Even so, Jean understood. He and Eren hugged it out as well, shockingly.

Neither one of them could remember the last time they embraced each other.

“I’m sorry. Must’ve been a hard decision,” Levi said.

“Nope,” Eren shook his head, smiling softly. “No one ever cared about my music anyway, just my face. And they can go to hell.”

“Wait, but what about your contracts?” Frowning, you added, “Are you going to hire a lawyer or something? You’d never win.”

Eren rested his elbow on the top of the counter. “Aren’t you two working on a plan to get Connie locked up? I’m hoping CS Records goes down with him, and I’ll be free from all of his stupid contracts.”

You looked at Levi with a face of uncertainty.

After all, his plan had a lot of holes — left you with questions he refused to answer. Missing pieces of a puzzle.

Reiner and his family were moving back to Tennessee, hoping to live safe lives. And, now, Eren was determined to leave the company, both of them resting their futures on the promise that you and Levi were going to take care of Connie for good.

However, Levi didn’t share your worried expression. Instead, he looked at Eren with confidence, and said, “You’re right. Don’t worry about your contracts. Just worry about recovering.”

“So, what will you do now, then?” You asked.

Eren shrugged. “Whatever I want, I guess. What about you two?”

His tone was heavy, coated with jealousy that the poor man tried to hide, but failed miserably at doing so.

When he had heard about your marriage to Levi, all in the name of both love and luring out Connie, he couldn’t help but mourn what he had lost, and what Levi had won.

And when you looked at Levi with a loving, shy smile, Eren felt his heart snap into pieces.

“I think that I’ll finally do what I’ve always secretly wanted to do, and write my play,” you said.

Eren softly smiled at you. Then, suddenly, Eren’s eyes darted over to Levi, and his grin faded into a serious, gentle frown.

“Levi? Can I talk to you?”

“Yeah.”

The two of them stepped off into a nearby, empty waiting room that smelt of stale coffee. The brown walls, cushioned chairs with wooden arms, and the flat screen television hanging on the wall displaying old reruns of Deal or No Deal were all drastically different compared to the sterile, white, and cold interior of the rest of the hospital.

When Eren sat down in one of the chairs, Levi figured that him sitting meant one of two things: he was still recovering and couldn’t continue to stand any longer, or this was going to be a long discussion.

Either way, Levi sat in the seat positioned diagonally from him and faced his former client.

“What is it?” Levi asked, furrowing his brows with worry.

After being bombarded with world-shattering news back to back over the last several months, he had grown to always feel anxious whenever anyone wanted to share something with him.

Eren couldn’t tell just how much his ordinary actions were making the other man panic inside.

“Y/N . . . she doesn’t know your real plan, does she? She just thinks you’re trying to get Connie thrown in prison, nothing more?”

Levi was silent for a moment, lost in thought. He unintentionally scanned Eren’s black jeans, long-sleeved grey shirt, and low, messy manbun.

Eventually, his eyes darted down to the floor, and he sighed softly.

“Yeah.” Levi paused. He hadn’t discussed anything about his plan with Eren, but either way, he was grateful that he kept his mouth shut around you. “Thanks for playing along, but how’d you piece it together?”

“I’m an idiot, but I’m not stupid,” Eren smiled, but it faded away as quickly as it had come.

“Does it bother you? Knowing what I’m planning?” Levi blinked at Eren.

And Eren was much conflicted.

One second, he despised Connie, wanting him to burn in hell for murdering someone as innocent as Armin and for trying to kill him, and getting others to abuse him long before then.

But, the next second, he thought about the boy he had grown up with, the silly kid who once never dreamt of hurting anyone.

Connie was always smiling — always laughing. The funny one in the group of four idiots, he was.

Eren had met the amusing kid in Kindergarten — he later met Jean in first grade and Marco in second grade — and Connie was Eren’s very first friend.

—

On Eren’s very first day of elementary school, the small five-year-old held on to his mom’s hand as she walked him to the intimidating, terrifying school entrance. The bee and butterfly stickers on the door certainly helped other kids feel welcome, but not Eren. He was stung by a bee the week prior. The school must have known that and was out to get him. Bees were waiting for him in his teacher’s classroom. He was certain of it.

Eventually, his mom halted her footsteps, pulling her son to the side as other kids walked through the door after saying goodbye to their parents.

Kneeling, Carla smiled lovingly at her boy.

“Okay, this is as far as I can go, Eren. Do you remember your teacher’s name? And her room number?”

“Uh huh,” the brown-haired kid nodded, hands clenching the straps of his red backpack. “Ms. Green, and room two-one-five!”

“Good,” Carla’s grin widened as she reached forward and straightened out her son’s dinosaur shirt. “When the teacher says it’s snack time, there’s goldfish in your backpack.”

“Okay, momma!” Eren could imagine the multi-colored cheddar goldfish already.

“Here’s your lunch,” Carla said, giving him a small box with a cartoony T-rex on the front of it. “Don’t be scared, sweetheart.”

“I’m not scared!” He lied.

Carla laughed a bit, and then, she hugged her boy goodbye and sent him on his way.

He remembered where his classroom was from meet-the-teacher night, and once he arrived, the kind, curly-haired educator helped him find a seat.

Luckily, there were no bees around, and school seemed easy-peasy.

About ten minutes later, other students started to fill the colorful, animal-themed classroom as well.

Those other students were chatting and playing with one another as they waited for school to start, showing each other their backpacks and whatnot and making new friends immediately.

Should he approach them? Show them his backpack, or his cool lunchbox? What if they thought it was silly?

All the other kindergarteners seemed to naturally gravitate towards each other. Already, he was feeling left out and lonely.

It was worse than thinking his classroom was going to be filled with bees.

Suddenly, a small finger poked his shoulder three times.

“Can I sit here?”

Eren turned his head to see a teary-eyed, slightly smaller boy who wore a shirt with three triceratops on it.

“Sure! You like dinosaurs!” Eren beamed.

The other kid wiped his eyes with the back of his hands, sniffling softly as he sat down next to Eren.

“What’s wrong? Are you scared?” Eren tilted his head a little bit, and the other kid nodded.

“I miss my mom,” he mumbled.

Connie’s dismissal with his own mom wasn’t nearly as graceful as Eren’s was. He was kicking and screaming, but the five-year-old was, unfortunately, forced out of his car. He had calmed down a bit, but that’s when the crying started.

Seeing everyone else quickly make friends only made the tears fall even faster, so he decided to approach the other kid in class who was also wearing a dinosaur shirt.

“I miss my momma too, but don’t be scared. We’re friends now, ‘cause we both like dinosaurs.”

Eren grabbed the building blocks in the center of the table, feeling happy that he now had someone to play with, and because he hoped that it would help the other boy feel better.

“Wanna play with me?”

The other kid nodded. As Connie reached for two building blocks, one red, and one green, the kind teacher walked by, caringly rubbed Connie’s back, and handed him a tissue for his runny nose.

In actuality, everyone had assigned seats, but she wouldn’t dare separate two students who were able to comfort each other, especially when they weren’t causing any sort of trouble yet.

As the two boys played together, Connie coming out of his shell rather quickly, he asked, “What’s your name?”

“Eren. What’s your name?”

“I’m Connie.”

“Do you wanna keep being friends?” Eren asked, worried that the boy might leave his table after cheering up.

“Uh huh,” with a smile, Connie said, “we’re gonna be friends forever, promise?”

“Yeah, I promise!”

And, after sealing their promise by twisting their pinkies around each other, the two boys continued to enjoy each other’s company until class officially started.

—

“Eren?” Levi leaned forward a bit.

He had asked the other man if he was bothered by his secret plan, but Eren failed to answer.

“Huh?” Eren mumbled, snapping out of his daydream. “My bad. Uh . . . it doesn’t matter how I feel. It’s the only way to keep everyone safe, so what I think doesn’t matter.”

“But I still want to know how you feel.”

“Why won’t you tell Y/N what you plan on doing?” Eren dodged the question. “Are you worried about how she’ll feel? I’m sure she’d support it. He killed someone she loved.”

“That’s why I don’t want to tell her. I don’t want her to be any more involved than she already is. If she finds out the truth, she might want to help, and I can’t let her come with me.” Levi looked away from Eren. He noticed how he avoided his earlier question but decided not to press further. “But, anyway, just don’t tell anyone. Let Y/N think that all of this is just about getting Connie to confess, and exposing him to the public so prosecutors will have no choice but to toss his ass in prison.”

“Okay.”

Levi started to get out of his seat, but then, Eren spoke up again. “I know you’re already married, but give her a proper wedding later on, okay?”

Eren’s emerald eyes were glistening with such intense pain and sadness, that Levi could no longer make eye contact with him.

“I’m planning it already,” Levi paused. “It’s kinda stupid since we’re already legally married, but I’m going to do it anyway. I just don’t want our marriage to be nothing more than a way to lure Connie out.”

Levi went on to describe the details he had imagined, prompted by your request for a romantic scenario.

Eren nodded sadly, heartbroken.

“Are you upset with me?”

“No, just jealous as hell, that’s all.” Eren pushed himself out of his seat. “Anyway, let’s leave. I’m sick of this hospital. Smells like peas and shit in here, you know what I mean?”

“Peas, shit, and Clorox wipes.”

“Oh,” Eren said. “Thanks for mentioning Clorox wipes. I know what wedding or birthday gift to get you now.”

Levi scoffed lightly with a grin, getting out of his seat.

“Don’t you dare. I’ve gotten enough cleaning supplies from you.”

It was Eren’s go-to gift for every event dedicated to celebrating Levi.

“Fine,” Eren frowned.

If he couldn’t get cleaning supplies, then he’d get appliances. It was his second go-to gift.

He’d search for a brand new, expensive, eight-burner stove later on. Possibly after mourning losing the love of his life to another man.

—

As the sun fell, darkening the sky that very next day, Eren’s mansion was filled with music, warm food, and celebration.

This particular party was quite different from the ones Eren had thrown in the past. Technically, this party was thrown for him by his family, and the gathering was more family-friendly than the sin-filled nights that often took place whenever lots of people were in Eren’s home.

Carrying a tray of food, you walked into Eren’s kitchen where he was leaning against his kitchen island, chatting with a popular movie star, a singer, and a few relatives.

A short distance away, you spotted Jean talking to an unfamiliar woman.

Darting your eyes back in Eren’s direction, a beautiful smile appeared on his face upon seeing you.

He excused himself, sat his cup down on the counter, and approached you.

Taking the tray out of your hands and sitting it down on a nearby counter, he said, “Hey, you made it. Thanks for showing up.”

“Of course,” you grinned. “And guess what? I cooked this all by myself.”

“Really?” Eren raised his eyebrows in complete surprise. “You’re learning how to cook?”

“Yep. Levi’s teaching me. I made steak . . . fajita . . . quesadillas . . . or something. I don’t know, but it’s good, trust me.”

Eren couldn’t help but lean down and kiss your cheek in the most friendly way possible. Sorry, but you were just too cute.

He would, perhaps, spend a lifetime trying to get over you.

“Who’s that girl Jean’s talking to? She’s pretty,” Eren turned around searching in the general direction you pointed out discreetly by nodding your head.

“Oh,” Eren said once he spotted the grinning pair of chatty partygoers. “That’s Ava. She’s a pianist.”

“Hm. She’s making Jean blush. He seems happy. I’m glad he’s moving on.” Eren faced you again as you spoke. “Anyway, I’m so proud of you, ‘Ren. Your recovery has been amazing.”

“Thank you,” Eren paused. “So has yours. Not just from your illness, but you’ve been happier lately. I can tell.”

You smiled once again, god — it was devastatingly beautiful.

“I’m glad you’re happy, Y/N,” Eren reached out, grabbing ahold of your hand, and gently tracing his thumb across your skin. “I mean it. And I’ll be as happy as you are one day.”

Looking into Eren’s gorgeous eyes, you softly said, “I know you will be. And I can’t wait to see it someday.”

This time, you were the one to peck his cheek. Then, you both let go of each other’s hands, and you walked away from him.

—

Sunshine, ocean water, and warm sand filled your early afternoon a week later.

The gentle, crashing waves were a sight to see. On your hands and knees, you collected tiny sea shells along the shoreline for both you and Levi to keep.

As you did so, you couldn’t help but think about your childhood days, on your hands and knees, digging through dirt and grass for cool rocks and interesting bugs with Armin.

Dragging your thumb across a gorgeous white shell, attempting to remove some of the wet sand, you mumbled, “You would’ve loved this, Armin.”

“Hm?”

Levi stared down at you through his dark sunglasses. He was standing in the water, letting the waves crash around his ankles.

“Talking to myself,” you replied, smiling sadly.

Then, you shook off the grieving thoughts, letting a real, happy smile grace your face this time as you searched around for more shells.

Suddenly, you heard Levi’s phone click as he snapped a picture of you.

It had become his latest hobby — photographing you at every opportunity, and not bothering to tell you beforehand.

If anyone scrolled through his photo album, they would see pictures of gorgeous sunrises and animals he spotted in his backyard garden, but mainly, they would see captured art of you learning how to cook — smiling in your little apron as you successfully made your first California sushi roll, or you in the middle of a fancy dinner, mid wine sip.

There was also a picture of you reading a book on the couch, wrapped in a blanket.

Or you hunched over Levi’s desk, working on your play. Watering plants. Putting on lipgloss. Laughing at a silly movie. Yawning.

Whenever he had the chance, he took your picture, capturing every little, happy moment and potential memory.

“You’re the definition of a spoiled rich dude,” you said with a teasing tone. “No way would I hold my phone over a body of water unless I knew I could easily buy another.”

“You can,” Levi took another photo of you as he spoke. “We’re married, remember? What’s mine is yours. That includes money.”

You couldn’t help but smile — and Levi snapped yet another photo at the sight of it, of course.

“Hey, how about you take a photo with me, for a change?” You asked, eyes squinting from the sun.

Levi lowered his phone. “Why?”

“Why not?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Okay.”

You gave a celebratory grin as he walked over, kneeling in the sand beside you. Levi gave the softest grin, and while your own smile was brighter, you were both equally just as happy.

It had been a long time since you had known joy quite like this, and Levi was certain that he had never known such happiness before.

—

After leaving the beach, you and Levi returned home to shower and change clothes before heading out for your dinner reservations.

It was a lovely restaurant, one that was classy enough for you to not have to worry about prying eyes, as you were surrounded by fellow celebrities and wealthy citizens who paid you both no mind.

After dining on gourmet meals and sipping on fruity wine, you and Levi returned home.

As your back hit the bed, a giggle escaped from between your lips, which spread into a cheeky grin.

“Leviii,” you whined, reaching up and grabbing at nothing in particular, “Take your damn clothes off.”

Levi shrugged off his dark blue blazer. “I think you might’ve had too much wine.”

Tipsy or not, the moonlight casting through the big master bedroom window had illuminated Levi’s face enough for you to see his cheeks were a faint shade of pink.

“Think you might’ve had too much wine too,” you giggled yet again.

Levi mumbled something you couldn’t quite make out, and then, he kissed you deeply. Sloppily, despite his clean nature.

While his kisses to your lips and skin might have been rough, he removed your clothing gently, as if unwrapping a fragile present.

He ran two of his fingers from your lips, across your heart, in between your chest, down your stomach, and finally, made contact with your aching clit, rubbing gentle circles around your button.

He loved the look on your pretty face — eyelids fluttering, mouth slightly agape as sweet moans slipped out from between your wine-stained lips, which were the tiniest bit swollen from kissing.

When Levi suddenly swirled his tongue around your nipple, before sucking on it, your moans grew louder — he was in love with the sound of it.

Your hands made their way to his hair, fingers tangled in his soft black strands.

“Levi,” you whined. The call of his name was followed by incomprehensible blabber, which was only interrupted by sudden, loud moans as he plunged two fingers into your awaiting hole.

Soon, you would learn that his quick fingering was just the preview, as after Levi made you soak his fingers with your cum, he would then thrust into you with his hard cock.

His rhythm — the way he hooked his hands under your knees and pinned your legs, fucking you in such a method that resulted in you alternating between gripping the thick, soft, pale cerulean sheets, and digging your nails into his back, decorating his skin with bright red scratches.

“I don’t think we were made to just love each other,” Levi’s forehead was pressed against yours as he spoke lowly. “I’m starting to think we were made to fuck each other too. You’re taking me so well.”

You shut your eyes, turning your head to the side as skin smacked against skin, legs trembling as yet another orgasm was approaching.

“You’re not getting shy on me, are you? Look at me.” Levi moved his hand away from your leg and gripped your jaw, making you face him. “Look at me while you cum. You understand?”

“Mhm,” you hummed obediently, tears falling from your eyes from complete and utter pleasure, and it wasn’t long before you were gushing all over Levi’s cock.

Feeling your hole clench around him is what drove him to his own orgasm, and he came inside of you, your pussy milking his cock for all it was worth.

As he finished cumming, he kissed you yet again.

“I love you,” he whispered breathlessly against your lips, pulling away from the kiss to look into the eyes of the one person he’d do anything to protect.

“I love you too.”

—

A few days later, after having breakfast with you — your overcooked eggs got stuck to the pan, and Levi had to take over and make omelets, which was fine — you excitedly prepped the guest room for two special visitors while Levi left to go pick them up.

The irritated man waited patiently for the plane to land in the big, open area deprived of any people aside from him, his four bodyguards, and a few people who worked for the private jet company.

Soon enough, two people stepped through the jet door, one at a time.

“Levi! I missed you!” Hange shouted, dramatically pressing their hand against their head. “We were on that jet for hours!”

They practically jumped off of the steps, stretching a bit before running up to Levi and hugging him tightly. “I’ve been so worried about you, oh my goodness.”

“You’re squeezing me.”

“I know,” Hange said, not bothering to release the grip they had on him. “It’s called a hug. Don’t be a jerk.”

Eventually, the lingering, blonde-haired man made his way out of the jet, taking his time in thanking the staff members for the transportation and for carrying his and Hange’s luggage.

Erwin approached Levi and Hange with a soft grin.

“It’s good to see you, Levi,” he said.

Eventually, Hange released him, and Erwin was able to hug him as well, normally.

“You’re both late. What took so long?”

“I dunno. Slow jet, maybe?” Hange shrugged.

“It’s my jet, Hange. It isn’t slow.” Levi briefly glanced at the staff members who loaded their luggage into his truck. “But anyway, it’s good to see you. Thanks for coming. I know it isn’t safe, but I needed some help, and I didn’t know who else to ask.”

“Hey,” Erwin reached out, touching Levi’s shoulder. “We wouldn’t have come if we cared about danger.”

Levi told his two best friends his plan beforehand, but even so, he needed to make sure that they understood just how important their role was.

“You understand what needs to happen, right?” Levi darted his eyes between their faces.

“You’ll trick Connie into confessing while Erwin and I stream it live for the world to see,” Hange said.

“It’ll be evidence no one can fully erase,” Erwin added.

“Then we cut the cameras off, and . . .” Hange didn’t dare to say the next part aloud, but they continued to speak lightheartedly. “And hope to god you’re rich enough to avoid prison and keep us from going down with you, that’s all!”

“That’s right,” Levi mumbled.

He understood Hange’s enthusiasm. After all, Connie tried to murder Erwin. Even so, there was nothing easy or fun about what the three of them had planned, no matter how cruel Connie was.

As they headed back to Levi’s home, they discussed the finer details of what would take place tomorrow night, during which Connie Springer would walk into his own assassination.

—

— YEARS AGO, CALIFORNIA STATE PRISON —

“After you hurt someone, how do you feel, Connie?”

The older, brown-haired woman crossed her legs, her knee-length skirt shifting a bit. “Do you feel a sense of gratification, or do you feel dread? Or regret, maybe?”

The chains around Connie Springer’s wrists rattled as he played with the clicky fidget cube in his scarred hands, hands that were covered in cuts and bruises from his latest fight with a fellow inmate in the cafeteria.

A fight that was so brutal, it resulted in him being tased.

Of course, the correctional officers could have simply pulled him off of the other guy. He was pounding an adult man’s face in, but even so, he was still a kid. He could have easily been lifted and carried away.

But it was no secret that the immoral officers had it out for Connie. Around here, locked away from the rest of society, no one cared about what happened inside the isolating prison walls.

The guards would ruin his entire life simply because their wives forgot to pack them a soda with their lunch, and they wanted to release their anger and frustration on someone easy to bother.

The kid trapped in an adult prison, for example.

And most of his inmates were no better.

The monsters he was trapped in hell with had turned him from a harmless, kind, and silly teenager — who, once upon a time, had never known pain aside from falling on a concrete sidewalk and scraping his knee, because he forgot to tie his shoes before running to Eren Yeager’s house — to a violent person who had to be taught how to fight just to survive behind bars.

But it wasn’t enough.

He was still just a kid.

A kid who never wanted to hurt anyone.

A kid who was easily targeted by everyone, and couldn’t do anything about it.

“Connie, did you hear my question?” The older woman spoke up yet again. “How do you feel after you hurt someone?”

The seventeen-year-old’s hazel eyes never once looked up at his therapist. Instead, he glared at the cold, gray floor.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled.

He had given that response to the last three questions she had asked during her attempts to pick his brain.

“Try and think of an answer for me.”

“I said I don’t know.”

Despite his stern tone, despite the way he raised his voice, his therapist didn’t flinch. Nor did she completely back down.

“Tell me; when you hurt someone, do you think it’s justified because the world has made you suffer with an unjustified prison sentence, so you have the right to hurt others now? Even if those people haven’t done anything to you?”

“That one motherfucker spilled his drink on me. He deserved what he got.”

“It was an accident, Connie.” The older woman leaned forward a bit. “Fighting can result in a longer prison sentence. Do you know what disciplinary action is?”

“Yeah. I’m not stupid.”

“I know you’re not,” she paused. “But now, you’ve temporarily lost a few privileges. Your friends and family can’t visit you for the next few months. How does it feel knowing you can’t see your friends and family for a little while?”

Connie shrugged.

“Connie, honey, listen to me.” The therapist dropped her voice to a whisper. “I need you to cooperate and try your hardest to work with me. I’m only trying to help you. I won’t make any promises, but your willingness to help yourself can result in a shorter sentence. Did you know that?”

Aside from the gentle rattles from Connie’s chains as he shifted around a bit, the empty, gray room was otherwise silent for a moment.

But the lady was right. If the corrupted system was somehow kind enough to lessen his sentence, or at least, consider moving him out of the adult prison and to a juvenile detention center — where he should have been, considering his crime was committed accidentally and he was still a child — then they would talk to her first. And she would report what she evaluated.

Connie released a shaky sigh.

“You were such a sweet boy when you first arrived here. I remember meeting you in group therapy sessions, and you were trying to make the best of your situation. You couldn’t stop talking about your friends and how much you loved music. Do you remember that?”

“Yes.”

“That was only one year ago. What happened in such a short amount of time? beyond being incarcerated, of course.”

The prison was rather cold. Even the therapist had to bring a sweater despite the hot summer sun shining down on Los Angeles, and perhaps, that was why Connie started to tremble.

No. That wasn’t it.

His eyes started to water a bit, warm tears that brimmed in his waterline threatening to fall down his face, which was pale from lack of sunlight. The teenager clenched and unclenched his jaw. Lowly, he sniffled.

“They hurt me here.”

“They hurt you here?” The therapist repeated. Despite working in mental health for twenty years, she was unable to hide her sadness and concern. “Who hurts you, Connie? Staff members or the other inmates?”

Once again, Connie was silent. The therapist asked yet another question.

“When you say hurt, what exactly do you mean? How are they hurting you?”

He didn’t want to cry. Clenching his trembling jaw to hold back tears had failed, as one streamed down his cheek anyway.

If only he hadn’t said anything. Just what was he thinking?

If his therapist discovered the truth — the unspeakable pain that he had gone through in just a year — then she would have to report it, and he would be labeled as a snitch.

“I’m just messing around. I didn’t mean to say that. My bad.”

“Connie-”

“Can I go now? Please?”

The therapist looked at her watch, noting that he still had fifteen minutes left in his session. Even if she failed to get some sort of confession out of him, she, at the very least, had to do something in her power to brighten his ruined life.

Could she convince someone to move him to a different prison? Or, perhaps, fight to have his old privileges restored, such as visitation?

He adored his mom. Even his therapist knew that much.

Maybe he would tell the truth to a trusted adult or one of his friends, be it his parents, siblings, Eren, Jean, or even Mrs. Yeager.

Someone. Anyone.

That realization made his therapist ponder. She leaned back in her seat, thinking.

“I bet Eren would storm the entire prison if he found out someone was bothering you here, hm? I know your mom would be very upset, and she would do everything she could to help you. Do you think you’d talk to one of them?”

“I don’t wanna talk about this. No one’s done anything to me, okay? I was just joking.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of-”

“Nothing to be afraid of?” Connie’s sudden, sharp glare sent a chill down the older woman’s spine. “Are you fucking crazy?”

“Well, am I wrong? Is there something to be afraid of? Is someone making you feel . . .”

Connie dropped his head, tuning out the rest of her words. For the remainder of their session, he was unresponsive, refusing to say another word, fighting back the urge to cry as his thumb flicked at his fidget cube.

If only he could have been honest.

If only he wasn’t terrified of what would happen if he told the truth.

If only someone could save him.

If only he didn’t feel so alone.

As tough as he pretended to be, punching adults in the face, hoping, and yet, failing, to scare away anyone who dared to hurt him, he was nothing more than a terrified teenager who wanted to go home. Who desperately wanted his mom to soothe him, or his dad to protect him.

But the boy would have to be content with only daydreaming about being saved as he drifted off to sleep with one eye open, because for the next few years, he would know nothing except for this miserable hell.

— PRESENT DAY —

Levi’s private jet wasn’t the only plane landing in Los Angeles today.

Throughout Connie’s flight back to Los Angeles aboard his private jet, he spent the majority of the ride shaking his leg from pure nervousness.

Could he truly trust Levi Ackerman?

Evidence for peace.

Peace for evidence.

That was the deal.

Maybe. Maybe not.

But he wanted that evidence badly enough to risk it.

Glancing out of the tiny plane window, the beautiful city of L.A. came into view, mesmerizing high-rise buildings below a bright blue sky welcomed him home.

Tomorrow night, he and Levi would meet somewhere privately, and soon, everything would go back to the way it was.

Peaceful.

—

It was dark.

The night sky had shown few stars, and the nearby orange streetlights, softly buzzing, were the only source that provided sight to Levi as he walked to the agreed meeting spot.

It was a shady area behind an empty building, one free from street surveillance cameras, as Levi promised Connie.

However, it was not free from the little tablet camera peaking out from behind nearby bushes, Hange’s finger hovering over the button to start a livestream as soon as Connie arrived.

It wouldn’t take long.

Slow footsteps could be heard before Connie came into view, appearing from the side of a building in clothes as black as the night sky. His hands were in the pockets of his nice pants. Even when his life was falling apart, he still bothered to dress impressively.

Hange started the livestream.

Erwin started another livestream from a different social media platform, just in case something happened to the other one. And, as a last resort, they had a camera positioned elsewhere, which wasn’t broadcasting anything, but was for safekeeping, rather.

Thousands of confused fans of Eldian Devils and Levi Ackerman flooded either one of the two live streams.

After all, he never streamed anything.

The last time a notification such as this one appeared on their phones from Levi’s accounts, was when a drunk Eren Yeager had opened his manager’s phone and started a broadcast without his permission.

That was years ago.

“Do you have it?” Connie asked, staring into Levi’s suspicious, glistening eyes.

“Yeah. I do. You know what’s on it?” Levi reached into his pocket, pulling out a little black flash drive. “It contains your illegal money transactions. The shitty contracts you make your artists sign. Doesn’t have anything on it about what you’ve done recently, though, like shooting three people and killing one of them.”

Take the bait . . . take the bait . . . Erwin thought.

Hange and Erwin made sure their cameras successfully captured Connie’s face so no one could deny that it was him.

What an idiot he was.

“You sound pissed off about it,” Connie yawned a bit.

“Of course I’m pissed off. You murdered Armin and tried to murder Eren. Why is that so hard for you to comprehend?”

“I didn’t know you cared so much, man. Sorry if I’m used to you not giving a damn about anyone but yourself.”

Hange shared a knowing look with Erwin. One that communicated their thoughts and worries without them having to say a word: Was that good enough? He hasn’t directly confessed, but he hasn’t denied anything either. Would this be enough?

Erwin gave them a nod, one that told them to keep recording.

Keep recording until it was time to stop.

“Armin was a good person. I’ll never understand why you had to kill him.”

“Because I had to, okay? Can I have the flash drive now? Because all of this extra chatting could’ve happened over the phone.”

“Fine.”

It was a good enough confession.

Levi reached into his pocket and pulled out the flash drive.

Hange and Erwin were told to end the livestream once Levi reached up and scratched his left ear — not wanting to get what would happen next on camera — but he hadn’t made the move to do so yet, so they continued to record.

And why he hadn’t yet signaled them, they weren’t certain.

Perhaps, it was because he was hesitant.

Levi looked into the eyes of the man who, right now, trusted him entirely. The man he had trusted for years. He could see it now — the look of trust in his hazel eyes. And, perhaps, there was a look of regret as well.

Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as comfortable with being an evil murderer as he pretended to be. Maybe he could still be saved.

Once Connie took the flash drive from Levi’s hand, Hange’s thumb hovered over the button to end the livestream, awaiting the other man’s signal.

With one hand, Connie shoved the flash drive into his pants pocket. With the other, he swiftly grabbed the handgun out of his inner coat pocket, pointed it at Levi’s chest, and pulled the trigger.

—

— YEARS AGO —

After a long day filled with drills, exercises, and aggravating tasks all under the name of serving the country, Levi, Erwin, and Hange sat around a wooden table, playing a card game to blow off some steam.

“Shit . . .” Levi took a swig of his tea, glaring down at the deck of red and white cards in his hand. “You’re cheating, Hange.”

“Huh?!” With a frown, Hange placed down another card, coming closer and closer to winning the card game Levi couldn’t remember the name of. He didn’t care that much.

“Ignore him,” Erwin laughed softly. “He’s finally bad at something, and he can’t stand it.”

“Is that why he’s drinking tea like it’s liquor?” Hange turned their attention from Erwin to Levi, speaking with a teasing tone. “It’s not gonna turn into whiskey, Levi.”

Levi grabbed another card, glaring playfully.

Being that he was only twenty, he had no choice but to settle for tea. But that lovely idiot across the table surely made him wish he was downing a bottle of something — anything.

“Hey, Erwin? Where’d you go after training yesterday?” Hange darted their eyes up at Erwin, then back down at their cards.

“I had a date, remember?”

“Oh, right! With, uh, what’s her name . . . Maddie? Mia? Macadamia?”

“Maria,” Erwin corrected, smirking just a bit. He was starting to win the card game, relying on strategy instead of luck.

“Nice, nice,” Hange nodded. “And what about you, Levi? Take any lucky girl out last weekend?”

“I’ll hit you.”

“What? I’m just asking a question,” Hange playfully wiggled their eyebrows.

“Erwin, please tell Hange to leave me alone in a nicer way than I’d put it.”

“I don’t know about that, Levi,” Erwin glanced up at the man. “I must admit that I’m curious about your love life myself.”

“See?” Hange gestured at Erwin with their hand, then looked at Levi. “Do you find anyone attractive? Are you in some wild, secret relationship we don’t know about?”

“No,” Levi placed his cards down. Erwin won the game, but everyone was too focused on hearing Levi’s revealing words to celebrate or sulk. “I don’t have a love life. I don’t care about any of that.”

“Why not?” Erwin questioned, furrowing his brows.

“I think romance is a waste of time. Loving someone is stupid, because no matter what, it’ll always end in pain. Heartbreak, divorce, death . . . It’s unavoidable, so why waste your time when you’ll always get hurt in the end? That’s what I think, at least.” Levi took another sip of his tea. “If I die alone, I’m fine with that.”

—

Hange’s livestream ended abruptly because they had unintentionally thrown their tablet, cracking the device and breaking it.

Hange and Erwin ran to the fallen, bleeding man. It felt as if their bodies were moving in slow motion, and yet, everything had happened regrettably fast.

Connie disappeared into the darkness surrounding the abandoned building they were stationed behind. Moments later, tires screeched as a car sped away.

Hange scraped their hands collapsing at Levi’s side, but the little blood on their bruised palms paled in comparison to the pool of blood pouring out of their best friend’s body.

“Call the police, Erwin! Call an ambulance. Oh my god, Levi, please, no . . .”

His eyes were open. A streak of blood seeped out of the corner of his mouth. Hange scooped their hand underneath his head, cradling him.

As Erwin contacted the nearest first responders, Hange pressed their hand against Levi’s injured chest, attempting to stop the bleeding.

As they did so, bloodied hand against his bullet wound, they felt the unsteady rise and fall of his chest.

“Levi? Can you hear me?” Hange stared down into his eyes, but he wasn’t looking at them. He was looking at the few stars twinkling up above.

“I’m . . . sorry.” Levi’s voice was weak. A tear fell from his eye.

Erwin dropped the phone. He pushed Levi’s hair away from his face, leaning in to hear the man speak.

“Sorry . . .” Levi repeated.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, do you understand me? This screwup isn’t your fault.” Tears brimmed in Erwin’s waterline. When he blinked, it fell onto Levi’s warm cheek.

“You’re not gonna die like this, Levi, we promise,” Hange said. They could barely see him through their tears, which blurred their vision.

Levi’s blood started to touch their knees.

“Take care of her . . . okay?” Levi whispered. He had to use all of his strength to speak. More blood pooled from his mouth. “Take care of-of Y/N . . . help her learn how to . . . cook. She’s learn . . . she’s learning. Help her produce her play . . . promise me. Keep her . . . happy. Tell her that I love her . . . okay? Promise . . .”

In the distance, ambulance sirens blared.

Erwin smiled, stroking Levi’s forehead. “You hear that, Levi? It’s an ambulance. You’re going to be just fine. You can tell her all of that yourself.”

Hange held Levi’s hand.

He just needed to hold on a little longer . . . just a little longer . . . and he would be just fine.

This time around, no one could hear Connie’s footsteps before he came into view.

This time, they weren’t aware of his presence until he was standing right behind them with his gun drawn, his hand trembling, eyes filled with tears.

“I’m sorry,” Connie spoke with a shaky voice, one filled with regret — the same regret he felt after he fired a bullet into Eren.

Erwin’s eyes widened.

He must have returned to kill him and Hange, eliminating any witnesses. After all, he had no idea about the livestream. He had no idea that thousands of people had witnessed tonight’s events unfold, soon to be millions upon millions as the news spread.

Erwin didn’t care about his own life, and he tried to reach across Levi and pull Hange away, but the bullet was fired too soon.

It didn’t hit Hange.

It didn’t hit Erwin.

It hit Levi in the forehead, killing him instantly. Killing any chance of survival.

If the police cars and ambulance trucks racing down the street nearby didn’t know where to locate them, they certainly would after hearing Hange’s scream.

But when they showed up, there was nothing they could do.

They were too late.

Hange cradled Levi’s warm, bleeding body, trembling arms wrapped around him while Erwin did most of the talking, communicating with the police officers as best as he could, masking his pain to better tell the tale of how the corrupt justice system is what led to this situation to begin with.

But nothing — nothing — would ever be as difficult as arriving at Levi's home that night, promising to return to the police station in the morning for more questioning.

As they stepped through the doors, Hange’s sobs quiet as they made their way into the foyer, you were preparing a surprise celebratory dinner in honor of their success, confident that the three best friends would return victorious.

Hange sat down on the foyer floor. They couldn’t walk anymore. They couldn’t feel their legs.

“I’ll be right back, give me one second.” The sad man stroked his crying friend’s hair.

He stepped into the archway of the kitchen. For a while, you hadn’t noticed him.

Darting back and forth between the stove and cabinets you were, and Erwin didn’t disturb you just yet, wanting to let you hold on to your happiness just a bit longer.

Then, your eyes darted up to his face briefly, just long enough to see that familiar head of blonde hair, but not long enough to notice the pained look within his blue eyes, nor the blood staining his body.

“You’re back!” You said, turning away from him to pull a tray of baked chicken out of the oven. “I know it’s late, but there’s nothing wrong with a midnight dinner, right? I, uh, I cooked everything myself. I burned the chicken a little bit on the bottom, but I just cut that part off. It’s fine. I can’t wait to see the look on Levi’s face! I even made dessert . . . well, I bought dessert . . . but only because I didn’t have time to bake anything. Of course, the one thing I’m good at, I don’t even have time to-”

Your words were abruptly cut off as you looked at Erwin yet again, your eyes lingering long enough this time to notice his distraught appearance.

As you stood there wearing your oven mitts and your apron, holding a tray of oven-roasted vegetables, you worriedly asked, “What’s wrong? Why are you so . . . did someone get hurt?”

Before Erwin could respond — although it took him a moment to get ready to speak, as his voice had faded away due to the lump in his throat — you reached for the stove behind you, turning off a sizzling pan to better your hearing.

That’s when you heard Hange’s sobs coming from the foyer.

“Erwin?” Your tone was thick with worry. “What happened? Where’s Levi?”

At that moment, when that haunting question fell from between your lips, Erwin wished that he was the dead one right now.

“Y/N,” he spoke as calmly as he could, nodding in the direction of the nearby breakfast nook. “I need you to sit down for me.”

You shook your head. Your mitted hands clenched the hot tray. Your legs started to wobble. Your eyes started to glisten with hot tears.

“Where’s Levi, Erwin? Where is he? Where’s Levi?”

He couldn’t tell you. Not like this. Not with you holding a hot tray in your hands. You could get hurt.

“Y/N . . .”

You started to cry.

“Where’s Levi? Where?”

Despite your words, you knew the answer. You were a woman who knew the look of unspeakable grief quite well.

Erwin approached your trembling body slowly as you sobbed.

The hot tray fell from your hands. Erwin was quick enough to smack it away so it wouldn’t touch you, burning his hand and arm in the process. It hurt, but none of that mattered. Not right now.

He caught you before you collapsed to the ground. One hand was wrapped around your body. The other hand cradled your head.

Crying into his chest, you continued to ask: “Where’s Levi? Where is he?”

—

— THREE DAYS LATER —

The world had come to know the truth — an ugly piece of honesty that no one could deny: Connie Springer was a coldhearted murderer, and Levi Ackerman was dead.

The latest chaos appeared worldwide on notable news channels. Headlined the most popular articles and newspapers.

But none of it mattered.

Even after shooting Levi twice — once in the chest, then circling back around to kill him completely, not wanting a repeat of Erwin and Eren’s situation — Connie was still a free man.

He very well couldn’t buy his way out of this one.

The general public had seen his sins with their own eyes.

But, even if the government was forced to do its part and uphold its own laws, laws that wouldn’t help them purchase a Beverly Hills mansion and secure their children’s future in top-notch Ivy League schools, it didn’t mean a thing, because no one could find him.

The master bedroom door opened, and gentle footsteps made their way towards the side of the bed, where you laid on your side, head resting on a pillow. His pillow.

It was uncomfortably wet from your tears.

“Hey,” Erwin’s voice was soft. “I made breakfast. You should try to eat something.”

You didn’t respond.

You couldn’t.

Grief took your voice away — snatched any desire to speak, as your throat was dried to a crisp.

Therefore, you only shook your head, and Erwin sighed a bit.

He sat down a white bowl of some steamy, nutritional substance on the nightstand nearby.

“It’s here if you change your mind. I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

The grieving man walked away.

It wasn’t fair. Truly. It wasn’t.

He was suffering just as much as you and Hange, who occupied the guest bedroom, having their own tear-soaked pillow to sob into with a bowl of uneaten food on their nightstand as well.

But he couldn’t sit around and grieve. Instead, he had to take on the role of a caregiver, trying his hardest to do what he could for you and Hange.

Over the last few days, he cooked. Cleaned. Opened the door only to allow visitors who he thought would help lessen your misery, like Sasha, Annie, and Eren.

Although the paparazzi once again lurking around Levi’s property were indeed pests, he took advantage of that. Standing in front of their cameras, speaking into their microphones, he spoke on and on about how horrific Connie Springer was. How none of his artists were safe until he was locked away.

“You care about their music. You care about their concerts. You care about their interviews. Now, it’s time to care about their lives,” Erwin once said, his words broadcasted worldwide for millions to hear. “Help us find Connie Springer, so every artist he has worked with can seek justice, and sleep soundly and safely. Continue to be outraged at him and everyone at CS Records who holds a position of power.

Eren Yeager almost lost his life thanks to him. I almost lost mine as well, both of us, victims of his violence.

Armin Arlert was a kind, hardworking man who was simply walking down the street with Eren Yeager, drinking a slushie. Now, he’ll never know what it’s like to grow old. To live comfortably.

Levi Ackerman died trying to protect his loved ones. This is the same man who brought your favorite singers to the spotlight. Avenge him by finding his killer, so that he and Armin Arlert may rest in peace. Thank you.”

—

Around noon, Erwin, once again, made his way into the bedroom. You hadn’t moved a muscle.

Silently, he grabbed the uneaten bowl of breakfast food, which had gotten cold and dry over the dreadful hours.

He replaced it with a plate. On it, there was a sandwich, cut in half, and a few pieces of fruit.

Taking the old bowl away, he returned moments later with a glass of water, and a hardcover, brown, book of some sort.

He sat the water down on the nightstand. Even the gentle clink-clank of the glass was too much to bear.

“Y/N,” he said softly. “I found this. I think you might want to take a look at it.”

Your eyes shifted in his direction. Much like you did when he offered you food earlier, you simply shook your head.

“It’s from Levi. I found it in his office. I think it’s . . .” Erwin paused. “Look at it, when you get the chance.”

He reached over you, placing the book on the other side of your bed.

After that, he left.

An hour and twenty minutes had passed before you built up the courage to sit up in bed and grab the book. With trembling hands, you opened it, only to discover that it wasn’t a book at all.

It was a photo album.

Every picture that he had taken of you, both mundane and extraordinary, was printed out and filed neatly on every page you had flipped. He added the dates as well, written along the white spaces underneath every photograph, as well as a little description of what was happening or where you were.

Planting new flowers

Sasha’s birthday party

Making tacos

The beach

After the photo of you and him on that beautiful day, there was one more.

It was the picture he took of you on the date afterward. There you were, smiling, holding a fork that was getting ready to dive into your first course, a fresh, creatively-plated salad, all while wearing your favorite dress.

Your tears splattered onto the pages. It blurred your vision, but after blinking a few times to clear it, you were able to read the final description.

Our last date

Gripping the edges of the photo album, you brought it closer. Perhaps, you read that incorrectly. Maybe it was a result of dehydration and depression.

But no. The words remained the same.

How could he have known that your last date would indeed be your last date?

You flipped the page, not expecting any more photos to appear. And there weren’t. The remaining pages were empty photo slots waiting to be filled.

There was, however, an envelope tucked in between one of the pages.

Your name was written on the front of it in Levi’s perfect handwriting.

Shaky fingers ripped open the envelope rather quickly. With one hand, you wiped your tears, and with the other, you unfolded what appeared to be a letter.

Y/N,

If you’re reading this, then I’m sorry.

I’m sorry because I’m going to die soon, and I have to put you through even more grief. I hope you can forgive me for it.

I wasn’t being honest with you, or with anyone.

Some think I plan to kill Connie. They’re wrong. You think I plan to put Connie in prison, which I am, but not in the way we discussed. I need more than a live confession. I need people to see him killing someone they ignorantly think is more important, someone who matters more to Hollywood than a waiter. Getting him to admit to Armin’s death won’t be enough. The flash drive alone won’t be enough.

The only way to cause enough outrage is if I die too, and everyone sees it. No amount of money can erase what I’m hoping millions of people will see. Outrage would mean no amount of money can persuade the justice system.

That’s what I’m hoping for, at least.

Thinking that Connie will kill me is a gamble, but I’m certain he will because I know him. I really know him. I know he’s wanted to kill me for a long time, and once he gets what he thinks is a flash drive with evidence, he can finally do it. Killing me means killing his biggest threat.

And, there’s also the fact that you manipulated him with my kid.

I knew mentioning that on TV could be what will finally push him into killing me.

The flash drive I plan to give him is fake. There’s nothing on it. The real one is in my office. I don’t want to risk giving that up, dead or alive. It could come in handy. Who knows.

I had to take a page out of Connie’s book and make a few jerks rich, but I poured money into ensuring that Connie goes to a specific prison where he will never be able to escape, assuming he gets arrested and doesn’t get away after killing me. I hope not, or else this will all be pointless.

But that isn’t the only reason I have to do all of this.

I married you because I love you, that’s true, but I also did it so that you’ll get my life insurance once I die.

Connie took everything from you, but everything I own, everything that belongs to me, I give to you. He can’t touch it.

You won’t have to depend on anyone anymore. You’ll be able to live comfortably now, which is all I want for you. You won’t be alone, either. Erwin and Hange will look after you, I know it. Eren’s still around, and knowing him, he isn’t going anywhere.

But, Y/N, I want you to grow old. I want you to become the playwright you always wanted to be. I want you to be happy, even if I’m not around to see it.

The rest of this photo album is blank. Fill it with whatever you want. Pictures from the past. Pictures you’ll take in the future.

And once you’re happy and free from all this pain and trouble, share it with someone.

You were my one true love, and I will never regret dying for you, Y/N.

Sincerely, your husband, Levi

—

— CANADA, TWO WEEKS LATER —

The disgustingly small hideout was once again Connie’s residence as he hid out from the rest of the world. Now, oddly enough, it felt smaller. More suffocating.

Connie slowly paced back and forth around the tiny living room.

How long could he truly stay here? Was this truly a situation he couldn’t toss money at? With the entire world watching, he had no choice but to accept his fate. He had gone too far by giving in to his bloodlust, all in the name of evidence and revenge.

The computer sitting on his desk against one of the plain living room walls suddenly dinged. It was an indication that he had received a new email.

He would have ignored it. It was probably some sort of advertisement or business that could wait until morning.

Despite thinking this, Connie found himself walking to his desk, sitting down in the chair, and moving his mouse around to fully awaken his computer — it was as if his mind and body were no longer in sync.

When the bright screen displayed his inbox, an unsettling chill ran up his spine when he read the name of the sender from an email delivered thirty seconds ago. With a trembling hand, he clicked it.

Levi Ackerman (no subject)

Connie,

If you’re getting this email, that means you have successfully murdered me. Good job.

But, if you’re able to read this, that means you aren’t behind bars somewhere, and my plan has failed.

I’m worried that it will fail. I’m worried that even after I set you up and I die by your hand, the people I care for will still be in danger because the shitty cops can’t find you, or maybe, the public doesn’t care about both me and Armin dying as much as I hope they do, and their lack of outrage means that you can pay off law enforcement once again and get away with it all. I don’t know.

But that’s why I’m writing this email and scheduling for it to be sent after a certain date, because I know that if you see it, you’re still a free man, and you can hurt everyone I care for.

So, I want to talk to you one last time.

People often wonder why someone like me became a manager. I don’t give a damn about fame or music. I told myself that it was because I wanted to look after Eren. His family took care of my cousin, so I wanted to help him accomplish his dreams and protect him. I did a shit job doing that, clearly.

But I also became a manager because of you, too.

I know a thing or two about shitty childhoods, Connie. When I met you after your time in prison, you had that same look that all troubled kids have, and believe it or not, I wanted you to be happy. I wanted you to be successful, and to rub it in the face of everyone who hurt you and doubted you.

So, when I witnessed you become a monster with my own eyes, I did nothing. Hurt people hurt other people. I knew that.

But I made the wrong decision back then.

If I had done something back then, if I had been there for you in a different way like I should have been, maybe things would have turned out differently now. Maybe you could have gone down a better path.

I can’t say.

But I’m sorry, Connie. I really am. I let you down. I let everyone down. Leading musicians into what I knew would be a horrific situation contract-wise is something I will never forgive myself for, a burden I can’t shake, so my death won’t just serve as part of a setup to imprison you, but it’ll be my freedom.

But, Connie, it’s not too late to start over. It’s not too late to become a better person, the person you should and would have been if someone had been there for you all those years ago.

That’s why I’m reaching out.

Please leave Y/N alone. Leave everyone else alone. I’m begging you. Let my death be enough.

Anyway, if I survive, then I’ll come back and delete this email before it sends. I doubt I will, though. But, if I do live, then that means you are really willing to accept my deal for peace (then I’m the asshole for trying to set you up, but whatever.)

If that’s the case, if you are willing to have peace, then maybe, I could help you find your own form of happiness too. In the future, we could have tea and talk about all of it once everything dies down.

But if that doesn’t happen, and you kill me, then I forgive you.

Sincerely, Levi

—

When tears brimmed in Connie’s waterline, he was uncertain what emotion had provoked such a reaction from him. Sadness? Anger? Regret?

Either way, his trembling hand moved the mouse, dragging the cursor to a little garbage can icon, and he deleted the email.

—

It wasn’t déjà vu.

Yes, seeing yet another casket lowered into the ground at the hands of Connie Springer was familiar. The horrific pain was recurring. But this time, at this depressing, heartbreaking funeral, you didn’t cry uncontrollably. Your legs didn’t give out.

You stood there in yet another black dress, but you were emotionless. Speechless. Eyes dry.

Your misery was an old friend. Travesty was like a neverending dream.

But it wasn’t your familiarity with pain that resulted in your unsettling composure.

It was because you were too angry to properly mourn.

After all, Connie was still gone, which meant Levi Ackerman had died for nothing, and you refused to let that happen.

No longer would you sit around, having to be consoled and cared for by others. No longer would you sit on the receiving end of every action at the hands of that monster you so desperately wanted to find.

It was time to make Connie suffer too.

And you’d become as twisted as he was to do it.

—

— THREE YEARS LATER —

“I’m nervous, Mom, oh my goodness. What if they changed their minds or something? What if I mess up?”

Jane Caddell wiped her sweaty hands off on her pants leg as her mom pulled into an empty spot in the spacious, multi-level parking garage.

“You’ll be fine, sweetie.” The older woman said. “I'll be right next to you the entire time, okay? You should be excited!”

“I am!” The blonde-haired nineteen-year-old girl grinned nervously, glancing down at her nice outfit to make sure there wasn’t any lint or cat fur. “I’m just . . . I don’t know. I’m scared.”

“You can be scared, honey. All that matters is that you do it anyway. What you don’t want to be, though, is late. So let’s go.”

The mother and daughter got out of their car, a white vehicle with a Wisconsin license plate, which stuck out in a place like California.

Holding hands, they made their way into the enormous, fancy building. Designing it must have been an architect’s dream. It was rather extravagant — white, mainly, with golden finishes and black accents stretching throughout the lobby and hallways.

Jane and her mother couldn’t help but stare, wide-eyed, at the beauty that was just a tiny fraction of the first floor alone.

After meeting the receptionist sitting behind a massive desk, also with golden finishes, they waited for their escort — a tall, blonde-haired man — and made their way to the hallway of elevators.

As they did so, a well-known pop singer walked by. It only intensified Jane’s inner panic. She couldn’t calm her racing heartbeat.

They arrived outside of a spacious, modern office. The man who escorted them, and also doubled as head of security, held the door open, and nervously, the mother and daughter stepped in.

“Your 12:30 appointment has arrived,” the man said.

“Thank you, Erwin.”

After giving you a nod, he left, leaving the mother and daughter in your grand office, which looked like a mini version of the lobby several floors down.

You sat in a chair behind a desk with your name imprinted along it.

With a smile, you looked up at the two visitors, and softly, you said, “Have a seat, please.”

They took their positions in the two white chairs in front of your desk.

“Welcome to Arlert Records, ladies. Would you like something to drink?”

“Oh, um,” the mother looked at her nervous daughter, “that would be nice, yes! What do you have?”

“We have everything here.”

The mother laughed in disbelief.

“Oh, well, just water will be fine.”

You pressed on the tiny, bluetooth earpiece in your right ear.

“Two waters,” you requested.

Darting your eyes between them both, and said, “It’ll be just a moment, ladies.”

“Okay, that’s perfectly fine,” the mother smiled politely. The older woman made eye contact with her anxious daughter, then flickered her blue eyes in your direction with a little nod of her head.

Eventually, her daughter took the hint.

She leaned forward, extending her trembling hand, and nervously, but with a smile, she said, “It’s n-nice to meet you, Mrs. Ackerman. I’m Jane Caddell.”

“The pleasure is mine, Jane,” you shook the girl’s sweaty, warm hand. “And, please, call me Y/N.”

“So,” clearing your throat, you paused, looking into Jane’s blue eyes. “I know you have gone over the finer details of your contract with legal representatives, but I wanted to personally meet you myself and welcome you to the record label.”

“Thank you so much,” Jane grinned brightly. “It’s a dream come true!”

After giving two knocks, a woman walked in carrying a tray. She sat down two glasses of iced water with lemons on the rim on the table in between the two chairs. After receiving thanks from the mother and daughter, she left.

“You remind me of myself when I was younger, Jane,” you leaned back in your seat. “Unfamiliar with Hollywood, having nothing to rely on except a beautiful voice. They used to call me a diamond-in-the-rough, you know.”

Jane laughed nervously. Once again, she wiped her hands off of her pants.

“Anyway, I plan on making you a star, Jane. I hope you weren’t too attached to that retail job of yours, because you won’t need it anymore.”

A tear rolled down Jane’s cheek.

Were you telling the truth? Would she no longer have to work double shifts at Walmart just to help her mother out with the neverending bills?

“This all just sounds too good to be true, I mean, I can’t believe it. My daughter . . . a star.” The mother reached out, grabbing ahold of her daughter’s hand. “What happens now?”

“Well, this is completely optional, but I would recommend moving down here to Los Angeles, or as close to the city as you can get, that way you both won’t have to constantly travel back and forth.” You adjusted yourself in your seat. “But, career-wise, you will work with our songwriters and producers to create your first official song. One of my signed artists, Jean Kirstein, has created countless amount of hit singles and albums for other artists, so I would like for you to work with him. In the meantime, when you’re not in the studio, you will have to take a couple of lessons — private classes, if you will — for media training, stage presence, and things of that nature. While you’re working hard, my company will be promoting you until you become a household name. How does that sound?”

Excitedly, the doe-eyed mother and daughter rambled on and on about their excitement.

How innocent they were, having no clue what Hollywood was truly like.

Pitiful.

The meeting came to an end around thirty minutes later, after discussing more career-establishing details. And, once they were escorted out, your fake smile faded away. You were left with nothing except the soulless expression that graced your face over the last few years, nothing more.

Pressing your earpiece, you softly said, “Send Jean Kirstein to my office, now.”

Ten minutes later, Jean appeared in your office, opening the door with his hand, which had a beautiful engagement ring on it.

He took a seat in one of your chairs.

“Something wrong?” He asked plainly.

“Not at all,” you crossed your legs. “I signed a new artist recently. Her name is Jane Caddell. I want you to help her out. Write her songs, produce her music, do whatever is necessary to make sure her first album dominates the Billboard.”

“No problem,” Jean nodded. “Anything else?”

Tilting your head a bit, you questioned, “How are you doing? I haven’t talked to you in a while. It’s good to see you.”

Truth be told, Jean was in your massive building almost every single day, mainly in one of the recording studios, but your paths rarely crossed. After all, he was a solo artist now, making music for himself with the exception of moments like this, where you asked him to help out other artists.

He didn’t mind one bit. After all, there weren’t any silent men around to abuse him, and he was no longer living in anyone else’s shadow.

He was happy. Truly.

“I’m fine,” Jean smiled softly. “Great, actually. My wedding’s in a few months. We’re sending invitations out soon, and we’d love for you to come.”

“Maybe,” you replied, giving him a fake grin, one that he could see right through, but decided not to comment on.

There was, perhaps, one thing in his life that wasn’t perfect.

You.

Someone he considered to be a close friend now after everything that has happened.

After all, he hadn’t seen you flash a real smile in years. Forgotten what your amazing laugh sounded like. What worried him more than anything, was that with every passing day, every moment that Armin and Levi went without justice, you were becoming more and more like the very person law enforcement failed to hunt down.

Manipulating others to achieve your goals.

Dominating Los Angeles and the entertainment industry.

There were some differences, though. Those you were willing to hurt financially, emotionally, or physically were often targets because they hurt your friends and artists intentionally or unintentionally. Everyone you cherished was cared for. Even so, Jean couldn’t help but question your values nowadays. It seemed as if money was all that mattered.

Money, and being merciless.

Shortly after Levi’s death, CS Records shut down completely. Some artists and employees enjoyed their newfound freedom, but the majority of people felt lost and were worried about what the absence of a record label — one that was known for paying their artists and employees insanely well — would mean for their careers.

That was when you started your own company with the help of Levi’s money.

It had blossomed tremendously over the last few years. Artists and employees who previously worked for CS Records now worked for you.

And that wasn’t all.

Arlert Records was only one of your companies.

Ackerman Studios, for example, was your film company, and both businesses, along with others, existed underneath your global mass media entertainment conglomerate, The F/N L/N Corporation. The headquarters for it were in another California city about forty minutes away.

You were now worth billions. Your name was worth billions. Your companies were worth billions.

The unspeakable amount of wealth you possessed was far greater than what Connie had ever pocketed, and in only three years.

If only you were happy.

“Well, I better get going,” you started to get out of your chair. “I need to go down to headquarters today, and the film studio. There’s business to attend to.”

“Wait,” Jean stood up as well. “Do you want some company? I can come with-”

“No. I’m fine.”

With that, you headed for the door, heels clicking against the ground as you said, “There’s lots of work to do, Jean. Get back to it, and I’ll see you later.”

“Someone lock up my office in about five minutes,” you ordered into your earpiece.

—

Four bodyguards accompanied you during your transportive journey to your film studio across town.

Filmmakers, actors, and productive crew members were hard at work — either surrounded by green screens and cameras or shooting inside of the houses and buildings you build on the surrounding land of your property — everyone creating interesting movies that would certainly dominate the box office next year.

However, today, your business was with a very specific director named Brox Garrett.

A stupid name for a stupid man.

In your office in the main building, you sat on top of your desk, legs crossed, two bodyguards at your side.

Then, that stupid man with the stupid name entered, a smug look on his face.

“Brox! It’s good to see you,” you lied with a beautiful smile. “Have a seat.”

“I’m fine with standing-”

“Have a seat.”

His bottom made contact with a chair instantly. Your kind, yet assertive tone was frightening.

“I’m not happy with you, Brox. Do you know why?”

The middle-aged man gulped a bit, terrified to answer.

“I take your silence as a sign that you don’t.” You frowned at him. “I’m not happy because I truly, truly hate myself right now. I hate myself for being such a fool when I hired you, the hotshot director who promised me that a fantastic action film would be released this next year.”

“We’re not that far off schedule, we just-”

“Stop talking, please.” You raised your hand. He didn’t say another word. “Anyway, I’ve had a very busy week. The last thing I wanted to do today was come down to the film studio, but here I am, all because I hired you. A fool. So, tell me, whose job was it to make sure Annie Leonhart’s harness was fully operational before shooting a jumping scene? As the director, it’s your job to double-check those things, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Annie’s a very close friend of mine. Someone I absolutely adore. And, now, she’s recovering from a broken leg and a concussion.” You sighed. “So, that’s exactly how you’re going to leave here today . . . with a broken leg and a concussion.”

You got off of your desk, making your way towards the door, whereas your bodyguards stayed behind, glaring at the director.

“Wait, wait, wait-”

“Oh,” you turned back right before leaving, “and you’re fired, by the way. I’ll see to it that you never get a job in this industry ever again.”

Reaching into your purse, you pulled out a small packet, and tossed it at him, the wrapper crinkling as he caught it with trembling hands.

He glanced down at the item.

It was a beef-flavored pack of ramen noodles.

“For you and your children to share,” with a soft smile, you whispered, “use it wisely.”

He shouted something as you closed the door — what he said, you couldn’t have cared less — and you left him trapped in the office with your bodyguards who would make sure he left in the same condition his careless actions put Annie in.

One of your assistants, who was waiting outside of your office for you, perked up as soon as you came into view, clenching her iPad in preparation to take note of all the orders she was certain you’d bark at her.

“Please make sure Annie is recovering well. Let’s send her on a vacation once she’s healed. Two weeks. Somewhere tropical. Write that down.”

“Yes ma’am,” your assistant immediately jotted that down. “It’s about time to cover Hange Zoe’s bills. Would you like to make any adjustments before I send the funds?”

“Yes,” you started walking down a hallway with multiple movie and TV show posters made by your studio hanging on the walls as decor, and your assistant trailed behind. “Their cat’s sick, so I’ve heard. Send enough money to cover the vet bills, and enough to buy a new cat if this one doesn’t pull through. In fact, just triple the amount we usually send. I don’t care how much they protest, either.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Does anyone else need anything?”

“Uh . . .” your assistant checked her notes, double checking to make sure that Hange, Erwin, Jean, Annie, and Sasha were all taken care of.

Mikasa hadn’t been in contact with you in years.

Years.

But, according to Jean, she was doing alright, coping with everything that had happened by continuing to climb mountains and dive in the ocean, traveling from one country to the next.

Reiner, lovingly, didn’t need or want anything from you.

He did keep his word and traveled to Los Angeles about twice a year to check up on you. However, upon hearing how you’ve changed, he wanted you to come visit him down in the South. Even so, he knew good food and kind people couldn’t fix your problems like last time, but it was worth a shot, he figured.

But you declined every invitation.

Then, lastly, there was Eren, who had spiraled after Levi’s death. But, he was starting to heal from his dark mental state. The same couldn’t be said for you.

“As far as requests involving money and career opportunities, all of your friends, clients, and employees are cared for, and all of your upcoming business events are all planned out. However, there are some . . . social requests.”

“Social?” You stepped into an elevator with the young woman.

“Yes ma’am,” she nodded, then darted her eyes down to her iPad. “Reiner invited you to yet another barbeque . . . Jean’s having a party . . . Erwin’s-”

“No, no,” you raised your hand, shaking your head. “I don’t have time for any of that. Just send everyone who has an upcoming event a gift of some sort.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You knew what your friends were trying to do. They wanted to bring out the human side of you. The side that smiled. Laughed. Cared about things other than the entertainment industry and wealth.

And, for a while, you promised them that, one day, you would show up for them.

Eventually, you would attend Hange and Erwin’s Thanksgiving dinners. You would grab drinks with Annie and Sasha. Teach underprivileged kids how to sing and play piano with Jean. Go down to Tennessee and visit Reiner and his family.

All of those promises were made and broken.

But your friends never gave up on you, no matter how much you wished they would.

—

Together, you and your assistant traveled to the marvelous headquarters of The F/N L/N Corporation. There, the business you needed to attend to wasn’t directly connected to the entertainment industry. There, your business was personal. On the top several floors, men and women worked incredibly hard to keep your companies running, handling business, managing talent, and making your bank accounts grow. But, down in the basement to which you were escorted, a different set of employees were working on something entirely different. “I think you’ll be pleased, Mrs. Ackerman,” your escort said, guiding you down the twisty hallways and into a secure room with bright computers and intelligent minds at work. “I better be,” you replied. “If I traveled all this way for nothing, all of you are getting fired.” Stepping into the room, a dark-haired man looked at you with an unreadable expression — as if his soul was trapped somewhere between happiness and fear. “What?” You questioned, glancing around at the other faces staring at you. “What is it?” “We found him, Mrs. Ackerman. We found Connie.”

A photograph of Armin and Levi’s murderer appeared on a big display screen at the front of the room. There the bastard was, wearing a hood and sunglasses to conceal his identity. But, while the average Joe strolling down the street might not have recognized him with a hood on his head, surveillance cameras would. Weeks ago, Connie was assumed to be in Canada. Getting access to his old bank transactions had shown he had a house built out there years ago. It was almost as if he was prepared for his future, knowing that it would be filled with nothing but trouble. However, the details were locked up pretty tight, leaving no specific address that could be tracked down. But there he was. “Looks like he’s leaving some sort of market, so I’m guessing he might live close,” you commented, eyes darting down to the little brown bag in his fist. “Give us a week, and I’m certain we’ll be able to pin him down exactly.” “You have three days,” you started to walk away. “Address or not, I’m going to Canada, and I’m not leaving until I find him.” You could see it now, boarding a jet with your team of security, and finally being able to get your hands on Connie. Then, everyone could live safely. No longer would everyone who was affiliated with him need bodyguards surrounding them or their properties constantly. And, best of all, Armin and Levi would have justice. Peace.

—

There was something rather somber about your days coming to an end. While you might have had one of the biggest mansions in Los Angeles, which was a gorgeous piece of modern, chateau-inspired art, it only intensified your loneliness. Your driver pulled down around your divine water fountain, dropping you off in front of the grand staircase that led to your double front doors. Your heels clicked with every step, the sound of it echoing into the night. In your house, you had live-in security and staff, sure — but they were employees. They did nothing to fill the gaping hole in your chest. Before you reached your front doors, a moving figure caught your eye. Glancing up, the startling sight of someone sitting on your steps made you gasp. “Eren?” You frowned. “What are you doing here? You scared me.” “Sorry.” The man stood up from where he sat. “No one tossed you off of my property?” Glaring, you added, “Everyone knows I don’t like visitors. Someone’s getting fired for this.” “No, don’t fire anyone, it’s my fault. I was trying to come see you, and you weren’t answering your phone, so I asked Erwin, and he said I could wait for you here.” Your face visibly softened. Erwin knew you wouldn’t dare fire him for this, but to disrespect your wishes and allow something like this only meant one thing: even he was trying to cure your loneliness, just like the rest of your friends. Of course, none of them were as persistent or stubborn as Eren Yeager.

“Why’d you want to see me? Do you need something?” “Yeah,” Eren smiled sadly. “I needed to see you.” “Well, I can’t help you with that.” You walked past him. Being alerted of your presence, a bodyguard standing by one of the doors opened it for you. “Go home.” Suddenly, Eren’s hand was wrapped around your arm, halting your footsteps. “Wait,” he said. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want this, but here.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a little box, and handed it to you. “Happy birthday.” Your eyes, which bore into his, glistened with utter confusion, and a look of shock that silently asked the question: You remembered? Slowly, you opened the gift. It was a ring, and not a last-minute purchase from Pandora. It was a silver band with a precious, bright gemstone. “Thank you,” you mumbled. “It’s beautiful.” “You’re welcome,” he gave a soft smile. “Have a good night, okay?” He started to walk away, but he barely made it three steps down before you called his name. “Eren, wait.” The former rockstar turned around, gazing at you with curiosity, confusion, and hopefulness. “Do you want. . .” you sighed, fighting against the self-hatred you felt from being vulnerable. “Do you want to come inside for a little while?” When Eren smiled, it was as if no time had passed, as it was the same beautiful smile he gave you when you first met.

Red wine trickled and swooshed around as it was poured into the two glasses sitting on a table in the middle of your wine cellar. Eren preferred other alcoholic beverages over wine, but he’d be a fool to complain. After all, this was the first time you and him had hung out in over a year. He was curious about what had made you want to let him into your residence but refused to ask. But, once again, that expressional face of his betrayed him. As he sipped his beverage, you could see the curious gaze within his emerald eyes, along with his slightly furrowed brows, and you knew exactly what he was thinking. “If you’re wondering why I invited you inside,” you paused, putting the expensive wine bottle to the side. “It’s not because it’s my birthday. I’m celebrating something else right now.” “What is it?” “Well,” your face changed into a serious, yet excited look. “I’m getting closer to finding Connie. Surveillance cameras spotted him.” “That’s great,” Eren smiled. He was happy, truly. While the police were still looking, they had failed to make any progress over the last three years. Eren did everything he could, which amounted to never shutting up in front of the cameras, and opening his mouth about everything CS Records had done to him and Jean Kirstein. With your help, he was able to get a few Silent Men tossed in prison, but not Connie. As badly as he wanted him to be punished, there was one thing he wanted even more. He wanted your old self to come back. “After he’s dealt with, do you think you’ll come hang out with your friends every now and then?” Eren asked softly. “We all miss you.” You took another sip of your wine. “I can’t make any promises, Eren. Finding him won’t bring Armin and Levi back, and that’s what really . . .” your glass clinked as you sat it on top of a marble coaster. “Everyone’s always telling me that they would want me to be happy. Move on. And I know that, believe me, but what if I don’t feel better after Connie’s dead or in prison? What if I feel this shitty for the rest of my life? I keep telling myself that once they get justice, everything will go back to normal, but what is there to go back to? In the beginning, all I had was Armin. In the end, all I had was Levi. Who’s left?” “Your friends, Y/N.” Eren leaned forward. “We’re still here, and we aren’t going anywhere. I’m not going anywhere, you know that. Me, Jean, Annie, Sasha, Erwin, Hange . . . Reiner and Mikasa might not be close by, but they’re still here too.” “You say that, but Mikasa hasn’t said a word to me in years,” you took another sip of your wine, wishing that it was something stronger. “Have you reached out?” You didn’t respond, which, indirectly, was an answer in itself. “If you don’t stop a friend from walking away, then you’re the one who has to reach out to bring them back. That’s how it works.” “Is that what you’re doing now? To me?” You raised your eyebrows at the man, who suddenly had grown wiser over the last few years. “No,” Eren’s eyes darted down at the exquisite wooden table. “With you, I’m the one who walked away and I’m the one who’s reaching out. I just wish you wouldn’t push me away.” “Don’t take it personally.”

A few moments of silence passed.

Eren suddenly pulled two things out of his pocket. The first item was an old, braided, paracord keychain with faded green and brown colors. The second item was something you recognized. It was an overused, bent, blue bookmark. “This,” Eren held up the keychain, “belonged to Marco. He put his house key on this thing. I’ve kept it for years.” “This,” Eren put the bookmark on the table, “belonged to Armin. He left it at my house that night before he was shot. Those two never knew each other, but they had a lot in common, you know? Both too kind for their own good.” “Both were killed by Connie.” You didn’t mean to sound so bitter, but you couldn’t help it, even if Marco’s death was an accident. “Anyway, I just like to hold on to things people love, sometimes. They don’t necessarily have to be dead, either. Jean’s guitar pick is at my house . . . I have a scarf Mikasa used to love wearing . . . I have your-” “Do you have anything of Levi’s?” Cutting him off wasn’t intentional, but luckily, he didn’t mind. “Yeah,” Eren’s eyes darted down to the ring he gifted you. “That ring.” “What?” You gave a confused frown. “What does that mean?” “I didn’t realize it at the time, but when Levi and I were talking at the hospital a few years ago, he told me in great detail what he wanted your wedding ceremony to look like. Even though you were already married, he was still going on and on about it. After he died, I realized that he wasn’t telling me his plans. He was trying to help me plan.” Eren smiled sadly. “I guess he thought that after his death, after grieving for a few months, you’d come right back to me. I don’t think he knew how much his death would change things. I don’t think he understood just how much you loved him, or how much I’d miss him. I used to look up to him, you know? But . . . I know you and me aren’t . . .” Eren stopped speaking. A pained look flashed in his eyes. “Either way, no matter what, that ring was meant for you, so I wanted to give it to you.” A soft, miserable laugh of disbelief escaped you. As smart as Levi, he was truly a fool if he thought moving on from someone like him would be so easy. No. Both he and Armin had left you forever changed. “I remember him promising me that I’d have a proper wedding with a proper ceremony. I didn’t know he wanted it to happen with someone who wasn’t him.” “Hey, don’t get the wrong idea,” Eren sat up a bit. “He did want that stuff with you, he just knew it couldn’t happen. That’s why he passed it on . . . to me.” You nodded, indicating that you understood. And truly, you did. You understood just how cruel the world was. “Sometimes, I forget I’m not the only person grieving.” You reached out, touching Eren’s arm. “You know a thing or two about it as well, hm?” “Worst feeling in the world.” Eren suddenly sighed, masking his grief behind a false smile. “I guess I better get going. It’s late.” A frown appeared across your face. You wanted to ask him to stay, and knowing him, he would have, but you only stood up, getting ready to walk him out. “Once all this is over, come find me, okay?” Eren smiled beautifully. No matter what, his grin could and would always make you go weak at the knees. “I won’t make any promises,” you held onto one of the double doors as he stepped through. “But thank you for coming over. It was nice. Goodnight.” “Goodnight.”

Eren gave you one last smile and made his way towards his car.

—

— CANADA, ONE WEEK LATER —

Connie knew it was a trap.

A bearded guy was urging him to come into his family-owned bar, prattling on and on about how much he sought customers, and when Connie stepped into the dusty environment that smelt of wood, he knew something was off.

There was not a soul in the bar.

Connie sipped on the cheap bottle of beer, sleeved elbows pressed into the counter as the bartender watched him.

Connie cracked open a peanut. Sipped on his beverage. Listened to the soft music playing in the background.

If this was a trap, just as his gut told him, then he wanted it to happen already because he was tired of this life. Tired of running. Tired of having nothing.

The bar doors opened. Connie didn’t bother turning around, but he could hear it being locked.

Finally, he thought.

He could hear footsteps approaching, and he recognized them. It was the same rhythmic pattern of the person who once lived in his old mansion, walking up and down the halls, glancing into every room to see what he was doing.

“I thought I told you I’d kill you if I ever saw your face again?” Connie shouted out, taking another swig of his beer.

“And I told you that when you manipulate someone, you end up teaching them all of your tricks.”

You made your way up to Connie, grabbing a seat on the stool next to him, crossing your legs as you smiled devilishly.

The bartender pulled out a gun, glaring at the former entrepreneur.

He must’ve been some sort of bodyguard, as well as a shitty actor.

“You come here for revenge or some shit?” Connie rubbed the dark circles underneath his eyes. “Is that what this is? Are you trying to kill me now? ‘Cause I don’t think you have it in you.”

“Do you want me to try and kill you? Is that why you made it so easy for me to find you recently?” You tilted your head a bit. “I couldn’t piece together why, after all these years, would we suddenly be able to catch your face on camera. But it’s starting to make sense now.”

“I just wanted to see if what I heard was true. That you’ve turned out to be another version of me. Personal guards, business owner-”

“My businesses are greater than CS Records ever will be — or ever was, I should say. In such a short amount of time, I’m already more successful than you ever were,” you reached out, teasingly touching Connie’s shoulder. He could feel your hatred for him just in the way your fingertips graced his clothed skin.

“You can say that, but we’re the same, you and me. I started out only hurting people who hurt my friends and employees too. Manipulating people to make myself richer. Then, I started hurting anyone who made me look bad. All you need now is some fresh-faced, diamond-in-the-rough artist who’ll show up and ruin every-fucking-thing you worked hard to build. I suggest you find a hideout for yourself too.”

Connie tried to take another swig of his beer, but the bottle was empty.

“I had a great thing going until your ass came to Hollywood. Everyone was happy. Not just me, but my artists too. Then you just couldn’t keep your hands to yourself, huh? Why the fuck couldn’t you stay in New York?”

“I wish I stayed in New York too,” your voice was soft. “I wish I never met you.”

“Take it from me, Y/N.” For the first time since you arrived, Connie looked into your eyes. “Don’t fuck up like I did. Get your shit together . . . before it’s too late.” “Look who made words of encouragement their fun, new hobby,” you spoke with fake, sugary enthusiasm. “Keep working on that while you’re in prison.”

“What?” Connie furrowed his brows, his eyes darting over to the man with the gun. “You’re not gonna kill me?”

“And put you out of your misery? No way,” you smiled cruelly, pushing his arm as if you were talking with a friend — chatting with a dear old pal. “No, see, what’s going to happen now is that you and I are both going to live, and we’ll both be miserable, because you’ll have nothing, and I’ll spend the rest of my life grieving. But, the only difference is that you’ll be behind bars, and I’ll be behind my office desks.”

You got up from your seat.

“So, are you going to try to make a run for it, or will you make this nice and easy?”

“I’m not running.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause I’m tired, Y/N.” Connie got up from his seat. “Please don’t send me back to prison. Just kill me or something . . . Please.”

Your mind was made up, that much was clear, but Connie figured that he’d still try his hardest to change your mind.

As the images of prison flashed through his mind, he was certain, for a fact, that he would rather burn in hell. “Hearing you beg like that reminds me of when I begged you not to imprison me after my album release party. Remember that?” With a small, little laugh, you started to make your way towards the doors.

As soon as you unlocked the doors and stepped through them, your team of security bombarded the tiny, old-fashioned bar, and successfully detained Connie.

After yet another week, the prison Levi had poured his money into years ago was more than willing to continue with the deal. Not that he had any ounce of power to influence anyone to free him, to begin with.

But, after a chaotic session of trials, overwhelming evidence, and teary-eyed speeches, Connie Springer would die in prison.

And, more importantly, Armin Arlert and Levi Ackerman could rest in peace.

—

— ONE MONTH LATER —

You were nervous.

Panicked, even.

But, even so, you knocked on the light brown door to Eren’s childhood home, which was rather nice, given that his dad was a doctor.

Carla answered with a look of curiosity, wiping her hands off on a kitchen towel as she greeted you.

Even though the Yeager family had briefly moved to Maine for their safety, Eren still owned their home, hopeful for days like these, in which they could come back. And here they were. Right where they belonged.

“Hi, is Eren here?” You asked with as much kindness as you could muster.

“He sure is,” Carla stepped to the side, welcoming you into the foyer. “Eren! Come here!”

Eren often spent Sunday afternoons visiting his family, so you heard. It was a new habit, one that came to him after almost losing his life and having his mother’s safety put in danger.

So, as it was 1:30 on the last day of the weekend, you had sought him out here, and from down a hallway, he approached, an amused grin appearing once he realized you were here.

“Hey, Y/N. You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said, glancing down at your shoes, then back up at him. “I know you’re spending time with your family and all, but I’m busy next weekend and the weekend after that, and weekdays are no better, so I was just wondering if I could . . . um . . .”

“Sure,” Eren agreed to whatever plans you hadn’t yet planned. “Let’s go.”

Minutes later, you and Eren were strolling down the street, side by side. Your eyes scanned his clothes. Something was rather different, and rather quickly, you pieced together what it was. He was wearing a white shirt with some sort of logo on it. His sweatpants were light blue.

Dressed only expecting to see his mother and father today, perhaps some cousins as well, certainly, but even so, you couldn’t help but smile, knowing what it symbolized.

“You’re not wearing black,” you pointed out.

“Huh?” Eren looked down at his outfit. “Oh. Yeah. I love black clothes, don’t get me wrong, but it’s nice to not be forced to have to wear it, you know?”

He truly meant what he said long ago — that he was done living in the spotlight.

“What have you been doing lately? Since you’re not a rockstar anymore?”

“I don’t know. Nothing. Everything.”

“Those are two different things, Eren.”

“C’mon, you know what I mean,” Eren kicked a rock, his hands in his pocket. “I’ve been hanging out with my family, traveling, trying new foods — oh, you ever try octopus before? Don’t eat it, you’re not missing anything — uh . . . what else . . . I’ve been playing guitar, which is pretty easy even with eight fingers . . . I have time to watch movies now. I can nap. I don’t know, but I’m happy.”

You laughed softly. “Yeah, I can tell. Trust me.”

Eren smiled gently. You were both silent for a second, then, he asked, “Why’d you wanna come see me?”

You hesitated to answer for a moment, but then, you decided to tell him the truth.

“Connie . . . he gave me a bit of a wakeup call. Told me that I was headed down the same path as him. In fact, he warned me to change. Can you believe that?”

For once, in the longest time, Eren felt grateful for Connie’s existence. As stupid as he was, the idiotic, murderous man was correct.

“He’s right,” Eren said.

“I know. I’ve been wanting to reach out to you all month, but I finally just got the courage. Trying to not be like him won’t be easy, but I’m . . . trying. I went to Levi and Armin’s graves. Told them they could rest peacefully now. I started therapy. I’m hanging out with you. I’m trying.”

Eren halted his footsteps. As soon as he heard a sniffle come from you, he moved in front of you, pulling you in for a hug as a few tears streamed down your cheeks.

“I’m proud of you,” Eren whispered. “I started therapy too. Why do you think I’ve started to become so wise? And you know what he told me? He said that grief becomes manageable. I hope his ass is right. He can afford steak, lobster, and caviar with how much money he’s squeezing outta me because I’m there every week.”

Lightly, you chuckled a bit, although it was more of a puff of air rather than a laugh.

You weren’t a fool. There was, perhaps, something that could help you feel just a bit better, even if it couldn’t cure your problems completely.

“I think I need to leave L.A. for a little while, maybe for a month. Maybe a year.”

Eren pulled away from you, surprised to hear such a statement coming from you. Your therapist must have cost a fortune too if they were this incredibly skilled.

“I agree, but, where are you going?” Eren frowned with worry.

You shrugged.

“I don’t know, but in a few weeks, I’m going to briefly trust my companies to Erwin and Jean until I return. I think I want to visit the south, maybe. Aside from touring with you, I’ve only been down there once, but I miss it.” Shyly — an emotion you hadn’t experienced in years, you asked Eren, “Do you want to come with me? Maybe?”

Eren smiled.

He was far from southern. Couldn’t wrap his mind around the sweet tea obsession and being overly friendly to strangers at the grocery store, but he’d go to hell with you if you asked him to. Even now, a few weeks early, he was ready to head home and pack his bags.

After your long walk, you returned to Eren’s childhood home and had dinner with his family.

—

— TENNESSEE —

As an artist, Eren had the ability to travel the world, as grand in size as it was. Flying from state to state and from country to country was a gift, truly, but he never had the opportunity to explore. To sight-see. To witness the way other people outside of Los Angeles lived their lives — something he was very interested in, as he was a nosy person.

While on tour, he was only able to see backstage dressing rooms, hotels, and stadiums. Nothing more, usually.

But, now, as you and him rode in the backseat of a car, staring at gorgeous mountains and colorful, beautiful trees, he had to admit that it was a much better view than the Hollywood sign.

Even so, it wasn’t nearly as beautiful as the woman sitting beside him, staring out of the window with a soft smile.

Around two hours later, you and Eren arrived at a spacious, modern farmhouse with a black and brown exterior that you purchased solely for this trip.

“It’s nice, right? Perfect place to hide away for a while?”

You started walking up the steps, and Eren followed as you continued to speak. “And, listen, I don’t expect you to want to stay the entire time, because, like I said, I plan to be here for a few months if not an entire year, so you can leave whenever you’d like.”

“It means a lot that you asked me,” Eren said. “If it’s alright with you, I don’t wanna go anywhere.”

—

The next three days were spent exploring the surrounding tourist attractions. Together, you and Eren admired nature on hiking trails, drove to Nashville to experience music festivals, and of course, introduced yourselves to southern cuisine.

It wasn’t a total escape from the world of flashing lights and cameras, of course, as you and Eren were both still celebrities.

But, even the simplest disguises — sunglasses and a hat or hood — often prevented people from doing a double take, and you were both able to enjoy yourselves somewhat peacefully.

As the sun started to set, the sky fading from a soft blue to a mesmerizing soft orange, bright and quirky neon signs were now on full display. Nearby, country singers performed on the street with nothing but a nice voice and an acoustic guitar, drawing in small, happy crowds.

People walked up and down the strip with their friends and families.

As you stood there, waiting patiently for Eren, you couldn’t help but admire them.

They all had someone.

Loneliness was starting to creep back up within you like an old enemy, a subtle frown appearing on your face. But, just before those negative feelings could overwhelm the happiness you felt right now, Eren's voice snapped you back to your refreshing reality — unintentionally reminding you that you weren’t alone.

He was here, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

Never had.

Never will.

“Here,” he held out a tiny paper plate with peach cobbler on it. “Have you tried this before?”

Taking your plate as he glanced down at his own, you replied, “Yes. It’s really good!”

Your sudden excitement was all the convincing he needed. He bit into the sweet dessert, tasting the soft crust and sweet peaches. It was, indeed, a heartwarming meal, one that made him smile.

“I get why you wanted to come down here,” Eren said, going in for another bite as you took one as well.

“See?” You sighed happily. “But anyway, tomorrow, I was thinking we could go canoeing. There’s a big lake nearby, and I’ve always wanted to try canoeing.”

“Okay,” Eren grinned.

“We can also go to a spa.”

“Okay.”

“There’s also a cool restaurant I want to try.”

“Okay.”

Amusingly, you grinned, “is there any chance you want to count grains of sand with me too? You’re agreeing to everything right now. You’re the true definition of being down for whatever.”

“You knew that when I agreed to come to the south for a year on a whim,” Eren took another bite of his cobbler. “It’s nice to see you smile again, you know? You think I’m crazy enough to ruin that by turning down something you wanna do?”

“You’re adorable,” your compliment was mumbled, as, truly, it was something you meant to say in your head, but you spoke unintentionally, and Eren’s never-fading smile only brightened — adorably, of course.

Leaning down a bit, he softly kissed your cheek.

“You’re going to get peach cobbler on my face. That’s nasty.”

He ignored your little comment, and kissed your cheek again, all because it made you smile.

—

When visiting a different state for longer than a couple of days, there comes a point when hopping from one tourist attraction to the next, trying an abundance of different foods, and relaxing near some sort of body of water had to briefly end to handle real-life adult tasks and responsibilities.

Typically, you would have had your live-in chef stock the fridge with groceries, and it had become a task that you were no longer familiar with doing.

Every time you opened the refrigerator, there was a variety of food. Always.

However, during your attempts to heal your soul, you left your staff behind in Los Angeles, except for two bodyguards.

Even with Connie locked away, you still faced danger as a billionaire, celebrity, and human being. That was life, unfortunately.

Therefore, when you opened the fridge today, you were quite puzzled to see that — aside from three water bottles and a blue carton of eggs with only two remaining — it was empty.

“Eren,” you called out to the shirtless man in the living room, who just finished showering after working out in the home gym downstairs.

“Yeah?”

“I have to go to the grocery store, I’ll be right back.”

“No, I’ll go, you stay here.” Eren offered, already walking to his room to get fully dressed.

“We could just go together.” Your suggestion went unanswered.

Shortly after, Eren left.

—

Two hours had passed.

The closest grocery store wasn’t far. You hadn’t done such mundane things like grocery shopping in an incredibly long time, but it was just the two of you.

There was no logical reason why he wasn’t back home yet.

You called him, twice, but after following the ringing sounds around your temporary home, you found his phone downstairs in the gym. He must’ve forgotten it while rushing out the door.

Maybe he was having trouble leaving the store.

Maybe people realized who he was, and he was being bombarded by fans. Did he remember to wear a hat or hood? Did he have sunglasses with him? You couldn’t be certain.

Thirty more minutes passed.

You were pacing back and forth on the porch, waiting for a car to appear in your driveway.

What if he was sick of being around you, and he used this opportunity to escape back to California?

Why else would a man who has won Grammy awards be so excited and eager to go to Walmart?

What if he had gotten hurt? What if Connie did something, somehow?

What if he had gotten into a car accident? Or a robbery?

What if he was dead?

“Jacob, can you please go to the local Walmart and see if Eren’s okay?” You said to one of your bodyguards who stood nearby, watching you pace around, biting your manicured nails.

“Yes ma’am.”

Moments later, his car drove off.

Your anxiety was all-consuming. The nausea you felt, swirling around in the pit of your stomach, made you consider hovering over the nearest toilet, but no. You couldn’t go back inside. Not now.

After what happened with Levi, never again would you assume that someone you cared for would return home after leaving.

Around twenty minutes drifted on by with you pacing, pacing, and pacing, only to stop when your phone rang. It was your bodyguard, informing you that he couldn’t find Eren at the nearest grocery store.

He promised to check again. Said he’d try a few other stores as well. He said something else too, but by then, you were sitting on the porch step, crying into your hands.

How guilty your other bodyguard felt — standing there, watching you. Rarely did you ever talk to him, and you hadn’t known anything about him aside from his name, which was Carter, but he was a sweet person, and he wanted to comfort his boss. But he couldn’t. His job was to watch over you and keep his eyes open, and only come in contact with you if it was to push or pull you out of harm’s way.

But you were crying. Sobbing. Assuming the worst.

When headlights came into view, you glanced up from your soaking-wet hands. Eren had barely parked the car before he hopped out — forgetting about the groceries entirely — and rushed up the steps before sitting by your side.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” He asked with great worry, rubbing your back soothingly.

Both relief and great aggravation washed over you.

“Where the hell were you, Eren? I was worried! How long does it take to buy a few groceries?”

Eren turned around, looking at your bodyguard. “Can you give us a minute?”

Carter nodded and decided to busy himself by bringing the groceries in, putting them away, and telling the other bodyguard to come back.

“I’m sorry,” Eren spoke softly. “I took so long because I bought a lot of groceries, and I ended up talking to some people, and just taking my time. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You’re such an idiot,” you cried. “Why did you leave so eagerly, then? Why didn’t you ask me to come with you?”

Eren reached over, swiping his thumb across your cheek as he wiped your tears away. “Because I wanted to surprise you. I bought the stuff to make that salad you like. The one that reminds you of Armin? The strawberry chicken one? I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“I thought you might’ve gotten hurt, or worse,” you sniffled. “Do you know how terrifying it is? Not knowing if someone you’re in love with will make it back home? Damn it, Eren . . .”

Eren pulled you in closer. From where your head rested near his neck and shoulder, you could feel just how fast his heart was beating.

Perhaps, it was from your confession, although, truthfully, it should have been a fact that he was well aware of. After all, Eren always had a place in your heart — something you told him repeatedly.

Love, in its truest and purest form, doesn’t ever simply die.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, so you don’t have to worry about me, okay? I’m not going anywhere. You couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried. You should know that by now.” Eren kissed your forehead. “And I’m in love with you too, but you should know that as well, right?”

A soft laugh escaped you.

When you pulled away from Eren, you stared into charming eyes that gazed into yours with nothing but love, and a tad bit of concern.

“What is it?” He asked.

Your lips were suddenly pressed against his before your new fear of being loved could overwhelm your desire to kiss him. And, god — when his hand cupped the side of your face, lips moving against yourself as if a lost piece of his soul was being restored, it felt as if you were both falling in love all over again, even if you were, perhaps, already there.

— One year later, Eren proposed. He had to outdo himself — create a romantic experience that would shame his former self, who married you in Las Vegas the first time around and tossed together a last-minute wedding. Though, your marriage back then fit the wild love story you once both shared, but, even so, he had the pen once again, and he was determined to write this new fairytale properly. And it would start with the perfect proposal. God, was he nervous. He arranged a beautiful display of twinkling fairy lights wrapped around gorgeous trees, flower petals spread on the ground, and he gathered a few musicians to play the violin as you both approached the desired spot. Much to your surprise, he got down on one knee, looking into your eyes with a hopeful gaze, and asked, “Will you marry me?” Eren rose to his feet and kissed you lovingly after you said yes.

— Leaving the South was like waking up from a dream — an amazing, beautiful dream, but, even so, you were determined to make your reality just as perfect. And it started with marrying Eren. Not yet had you returned to Los Angeles. Europe was your next destination, as it was the place where you and Eren were to be remarried. Much like your wedding to Connie, the memorable ceremony was held inside a gorgeous castle with lavish candle chandeliers and pretty flowers, esteemed guests, and a beautiful gown that graced your body — every immaculate detail that Levi had once imagined had come to life. Upon seeing you in a gorgeous dress, tears streamed down Eren’s cheeks. He couldn’t believe his luck, getting the opportunity to marry you again. And Jean, who was his best man, having mended their friendship over the last few years, teared up a bit too out of complete and utter happiness for you both. They were all there to watch you walk down the aisle. Not only Jean, but Reiner, Hange, Erwin, Annie, Sasha, and even Mikasa — another friendship that was recently mended. Loving vows were exchanged, romantic gazes cast upon one another. As you stared into the eyes of the man you would spend the rest of your life loving, you said, “I do.” And you said it for the very last time.

—

No longer was your mansion in Los Angeles a place of loneliness. Eren had moved in, and your friends had visited quite often, filling your home with love and laughter, as it should be. It wasn’t long before that very special night came, in which Eren thrust into you softly as he moaned, pressing kisses against your naked skin — touching his lips wherever he could. Never had he come so much in his life. He was almost embarrassed about the way he stuffed you, his pretty wife, and moaned your name like a prayer. That was why, although incredibly happy, he wasn’t surprised when you showed him a positive pregnancy test soon after. The best doctors in the world would guide you through your pregnancy. Having miscarried before, it was tempting to let your pregnancy be consumed with nothing but fear and worry, but this time, you had someone to hold your hand. “I’m right here,” your husband often said. “I’ll always be here.” Giving birth in a hospital bed to a beautiful, healthy baby girl named Nia was one of the greatest, and most chaotic, days of your lives. But Nia had a father who cried upon holding her, and a waiting room packed with family and friends who also adored her. She had you as well, a mother who would protect her and see to it that she wouldn’t ever know anything other than love and joy. And thirteen years later, she was sitting outside on the luxurious patio with you, listening to you tell her your life story, which started with your old friend, and a tiny bakery in New York.

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

♡ — 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠!

🎟: @consuming-karma @lilvampirina @okaystopwhore @chrollohearttags @nanamochii @bunny2612 @cupids-soul @crazychaoticizzy @ramonathinks @averysmolbear @seishirogf @6sakusa @levin4nami @chaotic-on-main @sad-darksoul @gwapbby @katestrophes @ventdavi154 @lovelyless-fiction @svftackerman @musegonemad @moonmalice @inciteterr0r @honeybleed @zeninsbitch @purple-milk24 @itzgabz22 @mooomuu @micafecitoconpan @beaniebanby @anonymousme23 @theitchbbbb @skit-brentfaiyaz @princessos-blog @elliesbabygirl @the-mrs-steve-harrington @kittenbabe00 @magictrump @hetalia-tumbler @hon3y-c0mb @bol0-de-morang0 @thisisketchy @yoongirecs @allofffmypeaches @sasha-glass @getwaves @deluluvibes @p3nislawd @emery-333

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crystallizedday · 3 years ago

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Mkay, so I just woke up & I feel like spitting some facts today while I’m still in my BATDR hyperfix, especially since I’m pretty sure not a lot of people have this idea as well & I wanna get it out there somehow.

So…

The Ink Demon is like… written SO fucking well in this game, or at least as I interpret it.

& I figured this shit out like GRADUALLY.

The first tid bit that hit me like a fucking truck was how CANONICALLY the Ink Demon is in DESPERATE need of any kind of love and affection. While it’s hinted at a little bit in the games, the smoking gun comes from the VOICE ACTOR FOR INKY HIMSELF Sean Crisden.

Yes, I looked through his entire Twitter to find this again just to prove I’m not insane.

Like… even if Sean isn’t caught up entirely on the lore, there’s no reason he would say this only knowing the Ink Demon through his lines. After all, my guy has to be told about the character to voice him, so for him to address this pretty much makes it as close to being confirmed officially as we can.

The second thing that hit me like a truck was the YouTuber Pastra’s review video on the game, where he details how the Ink Demon’s mocking in the last chapter is towards HIMSELF, not Audrey, & he’s just projecting all HIS shit onto her.

Not even I caught this, since I always thought Inky was right about the “your life is a lie” thing due to her not being fully human.

But then Pastra emphasized the “mistake” bit. Audrey wasn’t a mistake, far from it. The Ink Demon, BENDY, was. HE was a mistake, born solely to be a living mascot to entertain, & when he came out WRONG, he was locked away, neglected, abandoned by the man who created him.

So he looks at Audrey, someone who was made by the same man who made him, someone who was treated so much better because of how she came out “perfect”, & tries to bring her down on the same level as he is by berating her.

& while this is stretching a bit, him comforting her at the end feels a bit like he’s trying to comfort himself, tricking himself to believe there is SOMEONE like him, someone who was ABANDONED & lied to, & thus giving Audrey the opportunity to live so he can indulge in that comfort.

It’s a BIG stretch, but god DAMN is it a gut puncher!

Like I’m sure he also did it to manipulate her & shit, but like… he can have MORE than one reason to do shit, & if he really did try to comfort himself like that, if that really is true… then I’m gonna fucking sob, man.

BUT THAT IS NOT FUCKING ALL!!

Cause I got ONE MORE mind blower I had, mainly (but not entirely) on my own after that one!!

& it has to do with Baby Bendy.

A LOT of people think Inky got his mind split in two when he was imprisoned as Baby Bendy due to how different he acts around Audrey.

But I beg to differ.

I think the Ink Demon is ABSOLUTELY still conscious & in control as Baby Bendy. He just couldn’t do shit to anyone before Audrey came about & accidentally freed him (cause I am ALSO subscribed to that theory Pastra addressed in his video), so he just minded his own business.

Perhaps his new emotional responses spoken of in the Keepers’ tapes come from him being more powerless & vulnerable where the only thing he COULD do was cry.

& the reason he acts so friendly towards Audrey once she meets up with him near the city? Because she was kind to him, she actually gave a shit about him. She apologized to him about hurting him & wanted to take care of him.

NEVER in Inky’s life has he EVER had someone genuinely care about him & his well being, something he always wanted from ANYONE but never got. So when he finally has that opportunity with Audrey, he jumps to it, going along with it, even if he desperately didn’t want to visit the Gent labs again.

More evidence of this is detailed in a post by @jupiter-jellies titled “Ink Demon VS Vesty” which I really like (I apologize for the tag, I don’t know if there’s an easier option to showcase the post itself, but I still wanna credit you nonetheless) as it makes sense of the sequences of events that happen from when Baby Bendy first joins your party to when he disappears & the Ink Demon comes to stop you from entering the Keepers’ area. Seriously, that shit blew my mind when I read it cause it explains WHY Baby Bendy went missing & why the Ink Demon would try to stop Audrey from going THERE in particular.

It just makes sense that the Ink Demon was still HIMSELF in both forms, he just acts differently to compensate for his lack of powers & to be given the love & affection he always wanted.

… But then it gets sad.

Cause the more I thought about it, the more fucked up it became. The ONLY time the Ink Demon EVER got someone to reach out to him & make him feel cared for… is when he’s in a “perfect” form. Only when he was cute & innocent & TRAPPED against his WILL could he be EVER loved, that if only he came out RIGHT in the first place, then he would DESERVE all the love that Audrey offers him.

If Joey & the others neglecting & abusing him when he came out wrong when he was JUST created didn’t solidify this idea in his head, Audrey treating him like a friend in his “perfect” form & an enemy in his true form DEFINITELY sealed the deal to him.

& it only gets worse.

I was re-listening to Joey talking to Audrey at the tail-end of the game to try & snap her out of the dark mindset Inky put her in when I realized something.

The Ink Demon was RIGHT THERE, listening to his abuser talk directly to AUDREY the ENTIRE TIME, telling her how she was loved & how she’s not this monster, that she was his pride & joy, his ONLY success…

& that PISSES Inky off.

In INKY’s point of view, only after Joey had a creation that WASN’T an abomination did he suddenly have a change of heart, that all it took was to get something he always wanted to be a better person as he completely ignores his biggest mistake that was RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM.

That… has GOT to sting, really bad, to feel abandoned AGAIN in favor of the “better sibling” that Audrey was.

I have a feeling that he didn’t crush Joey SOLELY so he couldn’t get through to Audrey. I think he also did it because he couldn’t take LISTENING to him talk like this anymore, to be reminded that he was a failure that didn’t deserve the love that Audrey got, & lashed out to shut Joey up.

This is ALL very headcanon-y, but… it really does paint the Ink Demon in a more complex & tragic light.

The Ink Demon was NEVER just a mindless monster that killed whatever it wanted on sight. He was capable of emotion, & he could’ve potentially been capable of being something so much more if only he got the proper care & reassurance he DESPERATELY needed.

& GOD I love his character for it, he’s my favorite character in the game BY FAR because of this, GOD I hope this is canon so I can give massive props to the writers for this game!!

#bendy and the dark revival #batdr #batdr spoilers #bendy and the dark revival spoilers #ink demon #ink bendy #bendy #baby bendy #audrey #batdr audrey #audrey drew #joey drew #sean crisden #ink demon character studies #day’s morning ramblings #thank you for reading my essay XDDD #I apologize for the shitty quality for the cutscenes #i just wanted to throw some images in here to spice up the rambling & compliment it a bit #hope ya don’t mind

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millersdjarin · 2 years ago

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Some Invisible String

Chapter V: One Single Thread of Gold

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader (afab)

Rating: E (18+ only!)

Summary: Ten years after Reader left Joel for reasons he still doesn’t know, they find themselves together again in a town called Jackson. Joel has questions he’s too afraid to ask; and Reader dreads having to give the answers.

Chapter length: 4.2k

Warnings/Tags: injury recovery, light angst, SMUT, crying during sex (but in a happy way), happy ending, unprotected p in v

Chapter Four (Previous) | Series Masterlist | Fic Masterlist

notes: final chapter! thank u for reading, i hope you enjoy ❤️

ps since tlou has new fans from the show (YAY!), just a heads up that this is post TLOU part 1 and following the details of game canon vs tv show canon, so spores for example. so, spoilers ahead for the story ❤️

“See? Told you she wouldn’t believe us.”

“I do,” I find myself saying, blinking at Ellie and Joel in their kitchen like each of them has just grown a second head. “I do believe you. I just…holy shit. You can breathe in spores, and everything?”

“Yup.”

I stare at Ellie with wide-eyes. Her sleeve is rolled up, revealing her bite. I never thought I’d see a healed bite from an infected. “Jesus,” I breathe out. I reach down for her arm, then ask, “Can I?”

Ellie nods and lifts it up to meet me, letting her forearm sit in my hand. I run my finger over the scar, feeling its raised bumps and wrinkles, completely dumfounded by the fact that this is an actual infected bite but it’s not red and angry, threatening to turn its victim at any minute; it’s been there for a year and a half. It’s healed, just as if it was from a dog, or something. Except it is absolutely, without question, the kind of bite that should’ve rendered her a clicker by now.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” I let her arm go. “I assume you don’t tell anyone about this?”

Rolling her sleeve back down, Ellie shakes her head. “No. We agreed it’s safer that way. Only a few people know.”

Something warm spreads in my chest. “I’m honoured to be one of them,” I give her a smile, hoping it comes across as genuine as I mean it to. “My lips are sealed. It’s pretty amazing, though, right? Did you get bitten when you were with Joel?”

“I…no. No, it was before that. We actually met because we…”

Gently, Joel continues for her, “We were going to the Fireflies. They thought she was the key to finding a cure, but…it didn’t work out.”

The vaguest hint of a frown works its way onto my face. I study Joel where he’s leaning against the kitchen counter, delicious arms folded over his chest, his jaw working away. I’ve never been able to describe what it is about him that I pick up on when he’s lying. All I know is that I know a lie from Joel when I hear one.

He looks at me like he knows that. Like he’s saying Not now.

“Damn,” I say to Ellie, then offer her a smile again, “you got a badass scar, though. Not that you can show anyone it, but still.”

She laughs a little. “I guess so.”

“So you came all the way from Boston to Wyoming together? How the hell did you manage that?”

“A whole lotta luck,” Joel says with a wry smile.

“And teamwork,” Ellie adds.

I laugh. “I’m impressed.”

“You survived on your own, too,” Ellie says. “That’s also pretty badass.”

“It’s very badass,” I agree, but resist a shudder at the bad memories from the last decade that instantly pour into my mind.

“We should get you sitting down,” Joel says, gesturing to my leg. It is starting to throb; we’ve been standing here talking about all this for a while.

I nod and start hobbling to the living room. Joel puts his arm around me to help, and to be honest I probably don’t need it, but I will take any opportunity I can get to be close to him. Our kiss from this morning is still fresh on my skin like it only just ended. I can feel his lips, his breath, his hands; a perfect ghost of him all over me.

“Ellie, why don’t you go get the horses ready, then we’ll head out for a ride? I just gotta talk to Tyler over here before we go.”

My heart leaps in my chest.

Ellie raises an eyebrow. “Who the fuck is Tyler?”

Joel gives me a smirk.

“That’s what he used to call me,” I explain with a nostalgic smile, remembering the first time he called me it. “I’m from Tyler in Texas. When we first met, all we knew about each other was we were both from Texas.”

“Aw, that’s cute,” Ellie laughs. She points her thumb towards the back door and says, “I’ll go get ready to ride. Do you wanna come with us?”

“I should probably get some rest,” I reply. “But thanks.”

Then, when Ellie is gone and out of earshot, I turn to Joel where he stands by the living room window. He’s got one thumb hooked over his belt, the light from the window shining around him, making him into a lovely silhouette. I’d ask him to come closer, to kiss me, to even just hold my hand, but I have a question first.

“So,” I say, leaning back against the sofa, “why’d you lie back there? About the cure?”

Heavily, he sighs. Steps over to me, sits down, rubs his hands over his face.

Then, he tells me.

“And…she doesn’t know,” I clarify after the whole story is out there in the open. Like a mist in the room, lingering, waiting for my reaction.

“She doesn’t know.”

I exhale. His hand is sitting on his knee now, his other running over his beard with his elbow propped on the arm of the couch.

I’m not surprised he did that for Ellie. Rushing through an entire army of Fireflies to save her life. I’m not surprised in the slightest, and I also know why he kept it a secret.

What I am, though, is so fucking in love with him that it hurts my chest; and this only makes it stronger. I reach out and take the hand on his leg, threading our fingers together.

“Do you feel that you did the right thing?” I ask, looking at his side profile.

“There ain’t a doubt in my mind,” he answers without hesitation, then turns to look at me. “I’d do it a thousand times for her.”

A smile tugs at my lips as my chest blooms with affection. I squeeze his hand, trying to come up with words that don’t just sound cheesy, that don’t sound like I’m making fun of him. “Who knew you were so soft?” I ask. Which, okay, is partially teasing. But not entirely.

He chuckles. The smile on his face is so precious to me, and I think I’ve seen it more in the past week I’ve been here than I ever did in our five years together back then. He just looks so light. Still weighed down by the weight of this world, of course, and not without his own grief or fears; but, God, he smiles like he means it. Like he’s not afraid to anymore. Like the fear of the smile ruining everything has lifted from him.

Naturally, I can’t get enough of it.

“I think you did,” he answers my question, sincere.

“Hm, I think the Joel I fell for was a little rougher around the edges,” I smirk, fully teasing now as he turns his body towards me and leans over me, brushing his hand over my cheek.

His eyes locked onto mine, he rasps, “I can still be rough around the edges. If you want me to be.”

With my hand on the back of his neck, I lean in and kiss him. Because he’s so fucking handsome, he’s here, he’s Joel.

There are still thoughts in my head that keep trying to push through; thoughts of doubt, of worry, of fear. I don’t know where this is going, where I’m going, or what I should assume about either of those things.

But with his lips moving against mine, I force the thoughts away, because I’ve waited so long for this feeling and I’m not about to ruin it as soon as it’s started.

“I gotta go,” he says against my lips, rueful. He lifts up his thumb and smoothes it over my bottom lip. “We’ll pick this up later?” He asks, hopefully flicking his eyes between both of mine.

I nod, biting my lip. “Please.”

When Joel gets back, he makes us dinner.

The three of us sit around the dining table in the living room, a candle in the middle of the table, flickering along with the fireplace across the room. It’s been two decades since I had a home-cooked meal like this; sitting at a table, inside a house, safe and warm. With people I know and trust.

Ellie and I talk about movies and music, teasing Joel for his taste in both. We talk until it’s late and Ellie is yawning while Joel tells her that maybe she should get some sleep. She protests, claiming she’s ‘not even tired’, to which Joel responds, “I’ve heard that before.”

But after a while, she gives in to the tiredness so obviously weighing at her, and stands up from the table. “Alright. I’ll see you guys in the morning. Thanks for dinner, Joel.”

“Night, Ellie,” Joel says, watching her as she walks towards the living room. “Sleep well.”

“Night,” I say with a smile. Ellie gives us both a wave, lifting her arm up high without turning back, and then she’s up the stairs and gone.

I look at Joel, and warmth settles in my chest. The light in here is warm, mostly coming from the dim lights in the living room now, along with the candlelight flickering over Joel’s face. It casts highlights and shadows and I want to reach out and touch them with my fingers, with my mouth.

Reaching across to him, I run my fingertips over his knuckles, and he smiles, twisting his hand so he can take hold of mine and squeeze.

“You want some wine?” He asks into the comfortable quiet.

“Love some,” I reply. “Can’t remember the last time I had any. Decent stuff, at least.”

He pours a deep, red wine into two glasses, and when he comes back to the table, he doesn’t sit back on his seat. Instead, he pulls away a chair and turns to me, perching on the edge of the table, his legs at the same level as my shoulders. Then he holds up his glass for me to tap mine against.

I do. “What are we toasting to?” I ask, looking up at him from under my eyelashes, drinking in more than just the wine; his heat, his hard thighs so close to my face, the way he’s looking down at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. Like we’re not living in the end of the world. Like we’re just on a regular date at his house, drinking wine after sunset.

“Think we got a lot to toast to,” he says after taking a sip. With his spare hand, he reaches out, and brushes some pieces of hair back from my face. “This, right here, for one.”

Smiling, I lean into his touch, closing my eyes. My lips press into his palm before he lays it on my cheek. “Agreed.”

His lips spread into a small, contented smile. I put my spare hand on his waist, then slide it around so it’s pressed against his back. We just drink our wine like that, sitting with a hand on each other, existing in one of the only quiet moments we’ve ever had together. It’s just us, right now. It could be that nothing else exists. Just us. Just him, leaning against the table, gazing down at me like I’m something precious he can’t take his eyes off of.

When I’ve finished the last of my wine, I put my glass down on the table, and make use of my newly freed hand to rub it up his thigh. He sighs, swallowing the last of his.

“You wanna go to bed?” I ask, letting my voice run soft and sultry.

“I’d love to,” he says, “just one thing first.”

“Hm?” I hum, pressing my forehead into his thigh, right against the denim of his jeans. His hand slides back into my hair, gently playing with it. I can feel heat rising in my belly, a need to be closer to him just thrumming through my veins.

“Don’t tell Ellie, but I’ve been working on a little somethin’ for her. The shed out back, Tommy and I have made it into her own space just for her. I thought she’d appreciate having a place to call her own.”

I look up at him and smile. “She’ll love that.”

Joel nods. He stares at me for a minute, pondering. “And…since we’re talkin’ about living arrangements…”

Dread shoots through my stomach, piercing through any of that rising arousal that his touch had ignited.

He doesn’t want me to stay.

That has to be it, right? He’s been thinking about it, too, ever since I got here. I don’t blame him; how can he ever trust me again? How can we ever—

“I was wonderin’ if you wanted to move in.”

Oh.

Well, that brought my racing thoughts to a shuddering halt.

He seems to take my silence as apprehension, because suddenly he’s nervous, trying to explain himself, “Only if you want. I know it’s…I know a lot has changed, especially today, and I really was going to offer for you to live here before we…you know.”

I swallow down the lump of emotion that has made itself at home in my throat. I’m just staring up at him, wide-eyed, probably looking like I’m on the edge of tears.

He wants me to stay.

Fucking fuck, he doesn’t just want me to stay in town; he wants me to stay with him.

“You…” I stammer. “You want me to…”

He holds up a hand like he’s trying to calm a situation, one that actually doesn’t need calming, but the look on my face probably suggests otherwise— “Now I know it’s sudden, and if you want to ask Maria for your own place, she’s already suggested some…or…unless you don’t want to stay here at all?” Doubt creeps into his features, a jolt of anxiety I so rarely see.

“No!” I manage to squeak out, tightening my grip on his jeans. It doesn’t seem to clear anything up for him; he just frowns. “I mean, no, I…I don’t want to leave,” I say, finding that I mean it. Why wouldn’t I mean it? Why the fuck would I ever want to leave this place? And now that I have Joel…

Fuck, I have Joel.

There are no words. None that are good enough, big enough, to express the overwhelming feelings that are bubbling up inside me.

Instead of talking, I stand up, lean into him, and kiss him.

He makes a pleasantly surprised noise, his hand staying on the back of my head as he lets my lips press to his, my hand going to mirror his. I open my mouth, feel him sigh when he opens his too, moving our lips together slowly but passionately. Desperately. Because it’s the only way I can think to tell him how I really feel.

Maybe in another life, I’d have said it’s too soon. That we’re rushing into things.

But we live in a world where one of us could die any day. And after everything, after all this time, I don’t want to waste any more time.

If he’ll have me—I’ll have him.

“So is that a yes?” He pulls away for a second and gives a nervous little chuckle. His thumb strokes at my cheekbone, his eyes looking down into mine, glowing in the candlelight.

I nod. “Yes, it’s a yes,” I say. The heat is back in my belly again, feeling his knee pressed up between my legs, his face so close to mine and breath blowing against my mouth. “Yes, it’s a fucking yes, Joel. God, I—” I kiss him again, because I can’t not. “I can’t believe this.”

He laughs into my mouth and kisses me quiet, bringing up his other hand to cradle the other side of my head, his fingers tangling in my hair again like they did this morning. I sigh, unable to resist, and melt at his touch. At his mouth. At him.

“Joel,” I say, breathless, “Joel, will you please take me to bed?”

He laughs again, a breathy chuckle that brushes into my mouth before trailing down my neck along with his lips, pressing closed-mouthed kisses all along my jaw. “Can you make it up the stairs?”

“For this, yes.”

When he pulls back, he’s grinning, showing his teeth and the wrinkles around his mouth and eyes. I dive in and kiss at each line, each mark of his life, everything he’s been through, all his laughs and tears and shouts and smiles—

“Joel,” I find myself whimpering against the corner of his mouth.

His hands, steady on my waist, squeeze me. “You alright?”

Tears are stinging in my eyes and nose. I try to swallow them back, press my nose into his neck. “Take me to bed,” I beg again, this time in just a breathy whisper, “Please.”

His hands are precious and gentle on the back of my head again, cradling me in his warm palms, his fingertips threaded into my hair. I’m sitting on the end of his bed and he’s bending down to kiss me, my head craning up to meet him as best I can. I’d strain to reach him forever if that’s what it took. If the only reprieve from the stretch was his hand on the back of my neck. It would be enough.

He pulls away from my lips for a second and breathes against me. “Goddamn,” he curses.

I stroke his forearms, running my fingers through the hairs there. “Yeah,” I breathe, “yeah.”

“You know how long I’ve wanted this?” He asks.

I didn’t used to. I thought he’d never want this. Want me.

But now…

I nod, and pull him down further, wanting to be closer, closer, closer. “I think I do.”

Carefully he backs me up along the bed, crawling on top of me as I shuffle up towards the pillows. I try to kiss him as we move but it ends up too clumsy and my leg kind of hurts as I’m crawling backwards, and he chuckles at my efforts, settling above me once I’m lying down.

The backs of his fingers trace down my face. He gazes down at me, his eyes glittering in the warm, dim light of his bedroom. I want to dive in, devour him, let him devour me, feel him as close as possible because I’ve wanted it for so fucking long—

But he’s so soft above me, so comforting and familiar and new all at once, and I could just as easily just stare at him like this forever, the look in his eyes, gazing like I’m something he wants. Something he needs.

“Do I have something on my face?” I tease, just a little shakily, not sure what else to say. “You’re staring.”

He shakes his head once. “Sorry. Can’t help it.”

I smile up at him, press my hand to his cheek. “Me, neither.” My other hand moves around to the back of his neck, and I dip it down below the collar of his shirt, feeling at the heat of his back, pushing it down as far as it’ll go. He stifles a moan, letting his eyes flutter closed. “Joel,” I whisper against him, pressing our foreheads together, “how many times do I have to ask you to fuck me?”

His breath hitches, catching in his throat. “You technically haven’t asked me that at all yet, darlin’,” he replies after a beat.

“Well, then, I’m asking you now,” I pull away to meet his eyes again. Lightly, I curl the hand that’s under his shirt, running my fingertips over the small of his back, digging them in just a little. “Please, Joel. Take me. I’m yours. I’m—”

He dives in before I can say anything else, opening his mouth against mine and kissing me with a new, fevered urgency. He holds himself up above me with his palms on either side of my head, and at the feeling of his tongue brushing against mine, my hips instinctively buck up to try and find some friction.

Without moving his mouth from mine, he shifts his legs, gently using his knee to push mine apart and then settling it there between them. Slowly, as he kisses me so quickly and passionately that I only just register what he’s doing, he slides his knee up and presses it against my centre.

It feels fucking incredible. I’m throbbing already, pulsing for him, desperate for more friction. Another instinct, to grind down against his thigh, pushing myself further against him as he kisses me like his life depends on it.

One of his hands moves a little so his fingertips are brushing over my temple, pushing bits of hair away from my face. I let the hand on his cheek slide back into his hair, taking a handful of it and pulling, revelling in the choked moan he lets out against my mouth. The vibration of his voice is intoxicating, and I wonder, not for the first time, how it’d feel against the place that his knee is currently pushed against.

My hand on his back scrapes again, digging my nails in probably a little too hard, but he doesn’t complain; his lips break away from mine with a loud smack, and I’m about to protest, about to pull him back in when they start to messily trail down my jaw in sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. I gasp, my mouth falling open. His mouth is so warm, so wet, I can hear him breathing through it with his nose right up at my ear, can feel the heat of his thigh where it’s pressed against me—

“Joel,” I gasp out as his mouth settles at the pulse point on my neck. He starts to suck, and I can feel just enough of his teeth that I know it’s going to make a mark, the suction pulling sparks of pleasure from my neck all down my body.

He hums in approval as I put my other hand on his waist, above his shirt this time, but starting to ruck it up, pulling it from the waistband of his jeans.

“Joel, please…”

“Mm?” He trails his lips, open and hot, back up to the underside of my jaw, and waits there. “What do you need, darlin’?”

“I need…”

Pulling himself away from me, he takes a careful hold of my hands, withdrawing them from both under and over his shirt. He takes them, entwines our fingers, then presses them down against the pillow on either side of my head. “I’ll give you whatever you want,” he promises in a low, husky voice that I have literally dreamed of hearing say that for God knows how long—“just tell me what you need, darlin’, and I’ll do it.”

My mouth suddenly dry, I swallow, gasping for air even without his lips on me. He licks his own, glancing down at my mouth, hungry. “I already told you,” I say, breathless and squeezing his hands, “I need you to fuck me.”

One side of his lovely lips quirk up into a smile. He leans down, kisses me, this time soft and close-mouthed. Then he presses our foreheads together again, and his breath is hot and fast against my face. I want to lean up into him, kiss him again, feel the burn of his beard against my skin, let it mark me up. But before I can, he whispers, “I’ve wanted to hear you say that for too damn long.”

Then his hands are leaving mine, and he leans back, pulling far enough away that I can feel the loss of his body heat. He sits against my thigh, one of his still pressed just not quite hard enough to my middle, and I’m just about to pull him back down again when he takes his hands and starts to unbutton my shirt.

Oh, fuck.

The way he does it so carefully, calloused fingers working expertly on each one, just slow enough that it drives me insane. He watches his fingers, hunger growing in his eyes, licking his lips with every inch of my skin that he exposes.

Then, when all of the buttons are undone, he first meets my eyes for a quick moment with a grin, then takes hold of each side of my open shirt and flings them aside, revealing my bare stomach and bra.

“Oh, darlin’,” he exhales, gazing at that part of me like it’s the most incredible thing he’s ever seen. All I can do is lie there, watching him watch me, feeling as his hands press against my navel, slowly sliding up my ribs, to the curve of my breasts, back down again. “You’re so beautiful.”

Sudden, unexpected emotion bubbles up in my throat.

I never thought any of this would happen. Hell, I thought I was going to die not two weeks ago.

When I left Joel, I thought I’d never see him again. And I thought that, even if I did, he’d not want anything to do with me.

And yet here we are, and he’s not just here, he’s mine, touching me with such care and desire and lust and I, God, I can’t put into words how it feels to have him like this—

“Hey,” his soft voice breaks me from my tumbling thoughts. His eyes leave my torso, and I swear to God I feel the lack of their heat. He meets my gaze instead, a soft frown of concern creasing his forehead. “You alright?”

Frantic, I nod. I need him to know that I’ve never been better. I have literally never, in my life, felt like this. I reach up for him, taking hold of his face and bringing it down to mine, not quite pressing our foreheads together. “Joel,” I whisper. He lifts one of his hands from my stomach, brushes the backs of his fingers down my face. “I’ve literally never been happier.”

He smiles. A beautiful little tilt of his lips that has me feeling just as much heat between my thighs as I do with his touch—

Speaking of, I grind down on him again, and my eyes flutter closed at the sensation. I need more. I need more, but he’s still hovering over me, concerned, and I realise that he’s not just brushing his fingers over my cheeks to touch me, he’s brushing away tears.

Tears.

I’m fucking crying. We’re supposed to be having sex, and I’m fucking crying.

Humiliated, I feel my cheeks flush bright red and immediately rush to wipe away the tears. “Sorry,” I croak out, finding more tears in my throat ready to fall, “God, I’m—I’m sorry, I’m fine, I promise…”

He keeps stroking my face. For a moment he watches me, and I can see in his eyes that he’s not judging me. He still looks a little bit worried, but as he looks between each of my eyes, he asks, soft, “Are you sure?”

And I nod in an instant. “I really am,” God, I can’t believe I’m crying. I’m still crying. “It’s just…” The weight of the last decade—fuck, the last two decades, who are we kidding—feels like it’s weighing me down and lifting all at once, suddenly washing over me in a wave that I can’t find my way up from and I don’t know if I want to.

Joel nods like he understands. Leaning down, he kisses away the newest tears on my cheeks. “It’s a lot,” he says, gentle. “I know. After everything.” The hand that isn’t on my cheek moves from my ribcage, instead taking a hold of my hand again, and putting it on the pillow by my head like before. “I’m here, darlin’. Alright? I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Feeling just a little pathetic, I sniff. “I’m alright,” I promise him. My hand finds purchase on the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair.

He gazes down at me for another long moment, his free hand stroking at my hair. I close my eyes into the touch, focus on him, his breathing, his body over mine, protecting me. Keeping me there, because it’s the only place I want to be.

“I just love you,” I find myself whispering with my eyes still closed. At the confession, a small shot of dread shoots through my stomach in an instant, and at first, I can’t quite bring myself to look at him. But as the silence stretches on, I have to.

I open one eye first. A part of me expected him to get up and leave.

But I don’t know why. Because instead, he’s just staring down at me, a new softness on his features that I don’t think I’ve ever seen before. His lips quirk into a small smile. His eyes are glistening, disbelieving. “I love you,” he breathes out. I feel the words on my skin, sinking into my bones.

Relieved, I close my eyes again. Then I feel him kiss me, soft.

“I love you,” he says again. “I always have. I always will.”

Feeling a fresh wave of tears threaten to fall, I nod and press my nose into his cheek, grasping on to the back of his head like it’s a lifeline. It kind of is. “Can you please be inside me before I embarrass myself by crying again?” I whisper into his ear, not totally unaware of the fact that I sound even more like I’m crying now. Which, I’m not. I don’t want to cry anymore. I’ve cried enough.

His chuckle is breathy and warm against the shell of my ear. “‘Course I can,” he gently nips at my earlobe, then in one smooth movement, he pushes his knee right up against my still very clothed pussy and I let out a cry. Pleasure shoots through me, and the tears subside to make way for a gasp that pulls out of my lips.

It all happens very quickly, and yet very slowly, after that.

One minute, we’re both still clothed and kissing slowly and softly. The next, I’m tugging off his shirt, he’s unhooking my bra, putting his head between my breasts and kissing the centre of my ribcage with an open mouth. I undo his belt clumsily, push his jeans down to his ankles. He kicks them off and climbs back on top of me as soon as he can, helping me out of my own jeans. It takes a bit of working around my bandage, a distant pain still throbbing away over it.

He looks up at me and raises his eyebrows. “You tell me if this starts hurting,” he says, not a suggestion.

I nod. “I will.”

He wastes no time getting back to my lips, one of his hands travelling all-too slowly down my body towards my centre. I ruck my hips up into his touch, and soon his fingers are pressing against my bare skin, right above my clit where I need him.

“Joel,” I say, “touch me. Please.”

He obliges without a word, sliding the tips of his two fingers down through my folds and towards my entrance, gathering wetness. I hear the slick of it, feel it, and he takes it up to my clit before pressing there in earnest.

“You tell me if it don’t feel good,” he murmurs against my lips. “Need this to be good for you.”

Desperate, I nod, clutching his head with both of my hands as I press my hips up into his delicious touch, the circles he’s making around my clit.

His fingers are inside me, then, thumb pressing against the precious bundle of nerves that he seems intent on pushing on.

“God, Joel, that’s just—that’s just right,” I gasp.

He smiles against my mouth and keeps going, slowly pumping two fingers in and out of me, stretching them apart a few times to get me ready. The sheer anticipation of having his cock inside me is enough to have me pulsing, getting wetter and wetter by the minute.

He readies his cock, holding it against my entrance. Looking into my eyes, he smiles, and presses the tenderest of kisses to my lips. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you…” the words fade off into a breathless whisper as he slides inside me, past my folds and right to my core, so hot and warm and wide and, God, fuck, it was so worth the wait—

I cling to him, scratch my nails down his bare back. As he starts to thrust, slow but not hesitant, he attaches his mouth to my shoulder and sucks. With one hand stroking my hair, he brings the other back to my clit, working it in time with his thrusts.

“Jesus…God, you feel so good…” he grunts against my neck.

“Joel,” I plead, “please…harder, faster…I need you…”

My words pull the loveliest of moans from his throat and it’s like he melts beneath them, beneath my breath and my hands, pushing himself further inside me so the head of his cock is reaching as high as it can go, gently pushing against my cervix. Before he starts going any faster, he pauses, panting in my ear, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Joel, I can take it…”

“Your leg…”

“I’ll tell you if it hurts. Joel, please…”

He lets out a shuddering breath.

Then, he does just what I ask him to do.

It’s not painful. But it is a lot.

His dick hits the highest point inside me he can get to, and it’s so sensitive, it feels like he’s fucking up into my belly button, thrusting so hard that it meets resistance at the top of each curve of him inside me—

His finger gets harder against my clit, too. And, fucking hell, if it wasn’t intense before, it’s fucking overwhelming now.

Not-quite-painful pleasure sparks through from deep inside me to every inch of my body.

“Darlin’,” he gasps, opening his mouth against my neck in pleasure, as his pants get more frantic and his thrusts more erratic. It feels so good, and I’m just pinned underneath him, my left knee pressed into his hip, the other leg still flat on the bed.

His thrusts are jolting me, and there’s definitely pain coming from my wound, but it’s absolutely nothing compared to the feeling of him inside me, fucking me into the mattress as I feel the sweat on his skin—“Darlin’, you feel so good, wrapped around me like this…wanted you for so long, so fuckin’ long, thought about this so many times with my hand on me—” he keeps spilling words, filthy words, into the place where my neck meets my shoulder, and I lap it all up. His voice is like sweet, husky syrup to my ears and I hold him there with his words buzzing into my skin, letting them carry me away to a place where it’s just the two of us, just his cock sliding in and out, fucking me just like I always dreamed of it, his finger still rubbing earnest circles over my clit—

It comes over me suddenly, builds up unexpectedly. “Joel! Joel, I’m gonna…”

He kisses the shell of my ear, all hot breath and wet spit, “Do it, baby, come on my cock…come for me, darlin’, I gotcha…”

And I do. Pleasure rises and rises and rises and then drops, a strangled cry finding its way out of my throat before Joel presses his hand over my mouth to swallow the sound. He moans along with me, and when he lifts his head from my neck, the look on his face keeps me riding my orgasm for just that little bit longer. Totally relaxed in pleasure, his eyes fluttering as they struggle to stay open, his mouth hanging open with spit glistening on his lips. He comes, then, inside of me, and it spills down my thighs with each push back in and out.

I stroke the back of his head as the aftershocks from my high milk his pleasure out for as long as they can. I can feel the release of his muscles, the last of his orgasm fading and leaving him flushed and hot and lovely inside me.

I pant against his cheek. He breathes against mine, fast, taking deep breaths. He’s still inside me. I don’t want him to ever not be.

So when he goes to pull out, I twist my leg at his hip so my foot presses into the base of his back, anchoring him there. “Stay,” I say, pleading, “please. Just for a minute.”

Wordless, he nods, and leaves precious little kisses all across my face and neck. Peppers them down my chest as far as he can go with the way I’ve got him pinned in place. I could keep him here forever. Inside me, on top of me, all around me. His hair is wet with sweat, beads of it dripping down from the back of his neck and onto my breasts.

Jesus.

“Joel,” I whisper. It feels like I’m only ever going to be able to say his name again. “That was…Jesus, Joel, that was good.”

Breathy, he chuckles. “Better than good,” he says. Then he pulls away, and I feel the cold nip of the air start to tickle against my skin, the wetness between my thighs getting cooler. Goosebumps raise on my skin, and Joel notices. “Sorry, darlin’, I’m gonna have to pull out now. Get us cleaned up a bit and warm.” He sounds genuinely sorry, stroking my face as if in consolation.

I sigh, but I know he’s right. Nodding, I give him one last, long kiss on his mouth. “Hurry back,” I say when he climbs off of me and heads into the bathroom.

Hearing the gentle slosh of water, I close my eyes, and feel the cool sheets beneath my skin. There’s a mess between my thighs, dripping down onto the sheet. We should probably have put a towel down. But.

I am about to tell Joel as much when he comes back in with a warm, wet washcloth, but then realise he’s brought a towel with him, too. Too little, too late.

“We made a bit of a mess,” I say, letting my head loll towards him on the pillow. He chuckles in the quiet dimness of the room, the low light flickering over his bare skin.

“Nothin’ we can’t clear up,” he replies, settling between my legs again. Carefully, he wipes at my skin with the washcloth, clearing away my own wetness and his release. I sigh, enjoying the warmth, the way he rubs absently at my knee with his spare hand. He cleans himself up next, then tosses the washcloth across the room.

“Scooch,” he says gently, pushing at my hip. “I’ll put a towel down.”

“Joel, I think you’re about a half hour too late with that,” I smirk, but do as he asks so he can lay the towel over the mattress, spreading it as far as he can.

“We can clean the sheets properly in the morning,” he announces, the grabs the comforter from the floor—I don’t even remember when it got there—and carefully brings it up over my body.

I sigh into the cool fabric and feel the mattress dip beneath Joel’s weight. He crawls into bed beside me, and soon his arms are pulling me against his chest.

I settle with my head over his ribcage, my leg hooked over his as he lies on his back. The covers are pulled right up to my neck, and I take a moment to pull the corner over the top of Joel’s chest, only just avoiding my face.

“Joel,” I say, quiet.

“Hm?” He murmurs as his hand absently rubs circles into my shoulder. His eyes are closed, his other hand propped under his head. When I look up at him, he looks more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him, blissed-out and content. It’s such a beautiful sight that I debate resisting the tiredness in my body and just staying up to watch him like this.

I lift my hand, take hold of his cheek. Turn him to face me, then lean in and kiss him. “I’ve always loved you,” I whisper against his mouth. “I need you to know that.”

His eyes crack open to look into mine. “I always loved you, too,” he strokes at my bottom lip with his thumb. “Now, come on. Let’s get some sleep, alright? Been wantin’ to hold you to sleep for a long time.”

Warmth blooms in my chest. I kiss him again, just once, and snuggle in closer before putting my head back where it was.

And, just like the invisible string that seemed to tie us together all this time, I sit comfortably in this space, letting all the tangles and the knots in my mind unravel. What’s past is past, and we’re here now.

After everything, after the good, the bad, letting this thing between us come back from the dead—

We’re here.

{❤️end❤️}

notes: ah i can't believe it's finished ❤️ thank you SO much for reading and enjoying this fic with me, all your responses have made me so happy and i'm just so glad it's brought some of you joy. i hope you enjoyed the final chapter! i'm considering maybe writing some one-shots set in this universe at some point, or some little drabbles, so keep an eye out for those :)

love u, take care of yourself! ❤️

ps: as always this is post-apocalyptic and a fanfiction but in real life don't forget to always practice safe sex babes!

taglist below

@rosymythologies @lover1307 @rh1nestonecowg1rl @pinkrose1422 @lavenderhhze @abbyhaslongshorts @trippoverrt @emilianamason

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