#AND I COULD TELL YOU HIS FAVORITE COLOR'S GREEN HE LIKES TO ARGUE BORN ON THE 17TH

[dickggansey]

yo me hago el boludo pero antes escuchaba a la taylor. pero tipo. ANTES antes. en el 2009/2010, cuanso tenía esas canciones country nomás. onda. los temas de red nunca los escuché pq no me cabía que no eran country. mi cancion favorita era I'd lie. onda.

[mountingpulisic]

I'D LIE

i don't think that passenger seat

has ever looked this good to me

she tells me about her night

and i count the colors in her eyes

christian felt as if he was starring as the male lead in a cliche romantic comedy. It was set in london, about two best friends that were in love with each other but in this movie, he called life, he was definite that you did not return the same feelings that he had for you. 

the two of you sat in his parked car overlooking london, indulging in some chinese takeout as you animatedly recalled your date the previous night to him.

you had idiotically given your obnoxious coworker a chance to take you out, having grown tired of him persistently asking. 

and you instantly regretted it. 

recollecting memories of the event, you told christian how you had rolled your eyes countless of times last night you had feared that at any moment they were going to get permanently stuck.

your co-worker was the definition of a loser, and you had hit rock bottom in the dating pool for allowing him to be graced with your presence.

christian listened thoroughly to your rambling, yet he couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful you looked in the passenger seat.

she'll never fall in love she swears

as she runs her fingers through her hair

i’m laughing 'cause I hope she's wrong

and i don't think it ever crossed her mind

she tells a joke i fake a smile

that I know all her favorite songs 

“I’m never going to fall in love, i swear.” you frustratedly whispered, brushing your hair out of your face as you stabbed your sesame chicken with your chopsticks. this was your fourth failed attempt at actually meeting a decent guy, you seem to only attract bottom of the barrel men.

christian half-heartedly laughed but he could swear he heard his heart break a little; he hoped you were wrong.  

he ponders on how long it will take you to realize that he was standing right there, waiting for you to open your eyes, for you to love him back.

christian didn't know how long he would be waiting for you to come to your senses, but promised himself he was in for the long haul.

“hey, how about we listen to some one direction? i know how much you love them” christian bargained, wanting to get you out of your gloomy mood. "i promise not to play their last album. i know how upset you get over zayn's departure."

christian would've done anything to bring back the smile he loved so much, even it meant listening to the british boy band for hours.

I could tell you her favorite colors green

she loves to argue, born on the seventeenth

her sister's beautiful, she has her father's eyes

and if you ask me if i love her, i’d lie

christian watched as you flipped through the color palette, needing to decide on a color for your birthday cake, you two stood in the bakery located in your hometown. he knew you were going to choose the same color you've chosen for three years in a row, sage green. it had been your favorite color ever since you were little, the love for the color had caused you at one point to dye your hair the color.

“y/n, c’mon. just choose the green.” he argued, you two had been standing in the bakery for forty-five minutes now simply because you couldn’t choose between the sage green and lilac purple. even though the both of you knew you were going to choose the color you always navigate to. “you are just going to choose it anyway."

“no i am not!” you argued back, placing the two colors side by side as you determined which one you liked best. 

christian felt as if you secretly loved to argue with him, always having a quick comeback to any comment he made. 

“y/n, your birthday is the seventeenth, you don’t have time to be indecisive. pick a damn color.”

“I’m going to choose the sage green.” you sweetly told the baker, ignoring the cocky smirk that appeared on christian’s face next to you. 

as you discussed the cake design you pictured for your birthday party, christian couldn’t help but admire your features.

you were the definition of perfection in his eyes. his heart had jumped out of his chest when he saw you for the first time at tammy's going away party. it had felt as if all the air in his lungs began to disintegrate. 

growing up, you confided into christian about how you were always told by boys how beautiful your sister was. never being on the receiving end of their compliments.

christian wasn’t blind, your sister was an attractive young lady, but she wasn’t you. 

she didn't have your eyes, the eyes that you inherited from your father, the ones that held so much life and love in them.

she didn't have your nose, the one that cutely crinkles when you found something disgusting, like ketchup.

she didn't have your smile, the one that lit up any room that you entered.

she didn't have christian's heart, the one you didn't even know you were in possesion of.

deep into conversation with the baker about how red velvet was the ultimate birthday cake flavor an older had approached christian.

gently tapping him on the shoulder causing him to turn his head and look down at her sweetly.

“your wife is awfully pretty, young man.” she beamed, gummy smiling at you, still talking to the baker, now with your eyebrows furrowed together trying to get him to understand your reasoning on the choice.

"oh she isn't my wife, ma'am. just best friends."

“son, i’ve been around long enough to know you don’t just look at your best friend like that.” 

christian didn't understand how everyone could see he was in love with you, but you had remained oblivious.

she looks around the room

innocently overlooks the truth

shouldn't a light go on?

doesn't she know i’ve had her memorized for so long?

your birthday had quickly approached. your party was in full swing but something had been missing, or rather someone.

you stood on your tippy toes trying to locate christian, you had yet been able to properly talk to him tonight, having been swarmed the minute you had entered your "surpise" party.

when your eyes finally settle on the familiar head full of curly brown hair, you noticeably exhale a sigh of relief.

if your sister saw you in this exact moment she would have annoyed you to no end, always compelling you about christian and yours unspoken emotions towards each other. you'd just brush her off and assure to her that he did not feel that way about you.

christian's eyes memorized your attire the second they set on you. you had worn simple little black dress to celebrate your birthday, it was something so simple, but it had made look phenomenal.

she sees everything black and white

never let nobody see her cry

i don't let nobody see me wishing she was mine

an hour into the party, christian saw you quickly excused yourself when your slimy of an ex-boyfriend had shown up uninvited with a leggy blonde tucked to his side. 

your relationship with elliot, your ex, had ended in complete bloodshed and had caused you to lose the color in your eyes, now only seeing everything in black and white.

christian placed his drink down and excused himself from the small circle he was conversing with as he hurriedly followed behind you into the back of the restaurant. 

he followed the small sniffles and found you with your head leaned againist the wall, trying to soothe your cries.

“i never liked him, y/n” christian confessed, mimicking your exact position but instead his eyes were closed, letting you softly cry without a pitiful stare focusing on you.

christian knew how you never let anyone see you cry. it was a promise you had made to yourself when you were fifteen after having crying in front of the entire student body when your crush rejected you.

"you never like any of my boyfriends christian." you laugh, wiping away the tears that had spilled onto your cheeks.

yeah because they aren't me he thought.

he stands there then walks away

my God, if I could only say

i'm holding every breathe for you 

christian stayed leant up against the wall with you until you were certain you were going to be able to join the party again without tearing up. 

ushering him to go before you so you could fix your makeup, it didn't go unnoticed by you how your heart began to ache for his presence.

you knew that you shouldn't have felt this way about your best friend, first off it was such a cliche, second off, you knew he would've never felt the same.

valuing your friendship over your constant urge to profess your love, you swallowed your feelings and held you breathe for him.

he'd never tell you but he can play guitar

I think he can see through everything but my heart

first thought when i wake up is, "my god, he's beautiful"

so i put on my make up and pray for a miracle

"pulisic, play me a song." you jokingly ordered christian, pointing towards the guitar that was placed in the corner of his room.

you found yourself tucked in christian's bed at the early morning hours. not being able to sleep you had asked him you could come over, secretly knowing that his voice alone could send you into a peaceful slumber.

"y/n, it's three o'clock in the morning, i'm not playing you a song." he argued, tugging on the covers as you held a habit of hogging them when you slept.

"please, pretty please. if you don't i'm going to tell the world you can play the guitar and all your fans are going to go crazy constantly asking for you to play them a song an-"

"okay!" christian cut in, with his face being planted in the pillow, it had muffled his annoyed groan. the things he does for you he thought as he got up to go pick up the musical instrument.

making yourself comfortable, you looked at him with the widest grin. choosing to ignore him calling you annoying under his breath, you listened carefully as he began to strum the cords on the guitar.

god, he was beautiful.

after he was done playing you the melody, christian made his way back into the bed and began to get settled once more. following his lead, you fluffed your pillow multiple times while trying to get comfotable.

you decided to just sleep in christian's room since the spare bedroom was too far of a journey for your liking, you knew he wouldn't care due to you always sharing a bed when you went out of town with friends, both mending into your respective sides.

"goodnight y/n."

"goodnight christian."

neither of you knew that the other was wishing for the same thing.

a miracle

yes, I could tell you his favorite colors green

he loves to argue oh and it kills me

his sisters beautiful he has his father's eyes

and if you asked me if I love him

If you ask me if I love him, I'd lie

a/n: if you saw me post this two days ago, no you didn't. i like this version so much better, anon i hope you like it aswell.

[hiccanna-tidbits]

HICCANNA MONTH WEEK 1, DAY 1 - TAYLOR SWIFT I'D LIE

***

I don't think that passenger's seat Has ever looked this good to me He tells me about his night And I count the colors in his eyes

He'll never fall in love, he swears, As he runs his fingers through his hair I'm laughing 'cause I hope he's wrong And I don't think it ever crossed his mind He tells a joke, I fake a smile But I know all his favorite songs

And I could tell you His favorite color's green He loves to argue Born on the seventeenth His sister's beautiful He has his father's eyes And if you ask me if I love him I'd lie

He looks around the room Innocently overlooks the truth Shouldn't a light go on? Doesn't he know that I've had him memorized for so long?

He sees everything in black and white Never let nobody see him cry I don't let nobody see me wishing he was mine

I could tell you His favorite color's green He loves to argue Born on the seventeenth His sister's beautiful He has his father's eyes And if you ask me if I love him I'd lie

He stands there, then walks away My God, if I could only say I'm holding every breath for you

He'd never tell you, but he can play guitar I think he can see through everything but my heart First thought when I wake up Is "My God, he's beautiful" So I put on my make-up And pray for a miracle

Yes, I could tell you His favorite color's green He loves to argue Oh, and he kills me His sister's beautiful He has his father's eyes And if you ask me if I love him If you ask me if I love him I'd lie

***

Anna has been best friends with twins Hiccup and Rapunzel for as long as she can remember. When their no-nonsense kindergarten teacher forced the inseparable siblings to make friends besides each other, the off-kilter redhead eating glitter glue in the corner of the room was the one they made a beeline for.

Now, the three of them do everything together. DnD campaigns. Video game nights. Getting themselves sick off candy and junk food when their parents travel out of town and leave them with meal funds they're told to "spend wisely". Hanging out with Hiccup and Rapunzel's spirited shelter dog Toothless, so enormous, gangly, and overzealous that many of the other kids at school are scared of him.

Not Anna, though. She makes it no secret she would die for Toothless and every single one of his lopsided teeth, and to hell with anyone who doesn't love him like he deserves.

Going into their junior year of high school, their friendship is so solid that it's almost unthinkable to imagine it as anything else. Might throw the universe out of whack, even.

Which is why Anna is keeping a potentially world-shattering secret tucked away where no one will ever find it: A name in a heart-shaped box under her bed.

*

"I am never falling in love," Hiccup tells her dejectedly one morning in Weights class. As he trains with the smallest barbels available, his gaze flits to where Astrid Hofferson is pumping iron across the room.

Anna snickers. "Little late for that," she teases.

"No." Hiccup scoffs. "I was only crushing on her. I got out of that situation before it was too late. I'm fine now."

Ah. Still taking the rugby captain's rejection hard, Anna sees. When Hiccup finally gathered the courage to ask Astrid to Homecoming the previous month, she'd told him she preferred dates with a little more meat on their bones.

Hiccup's attempts to make that happen were not going well.

"I'm only trying to show her what she missed out on," he says snidely. "To hell with dating, honestly. Too much drama. And love? Good gods, as if I need that kind of emotional rollercoaster in my life."

"I don't know. Could be fun."

Anna puts down her barbel. Despite not being quite ready, she graduates to the next one.

Maybe if she speed-runs the curriculum for this class, she'll be lifting the same weights as Astrid in a couple months.

"Sure, until they get tired of you." Hiccup sighs. "Then oh boy! It's time to spiral, and not get any scholarships because you were too busy moping about getting dumped to apply!"

Anna forces a chuckle. He's not always the comedic genius he thinks he is, but far be it from her to ever let him know that.

A whistle blows. With some relief, Anna starts to pack up.

"Hey, you never told me how Spiderman 4 was," she says. She didn't make it to the movie with Hiccup and Punz--too much damn trigonometry homework--but she hoped they'd had a good time.

"Oh, it was great!" Hiccup brightens up immediately. "I have to show it to you. You said you don't care about spoilers, right? Because there's this Mysterio and Kingpin teamup that's fucking awesome, and this really shady new mentor figure shows up and tries to bribe Peter with an Uncle Ben clone, and--"

Hiccup has really pretty eyes.

A deep, rich fir tree green around the rims, and a more gleaming, vibrant ferny color in a blot around the pupil. Like sunshine glowing through summer leaves. Unreasonably gorgeous, really.

"Uh...earth to Anna?"

She blinks several times, shaking off embarrassment. "Right! Sorry."

"You good? You were staring off into the void for a while."

At least he didn't notice what exactly I was staring at.

"Yeah, yeah." She sighs. "Just tired. Insomnia, my old foe, our battle never ends!"

Hiccup is, fortunately, none the wiser. But trouble strikes again after school.

Hiccup can't make it to their weekly Friday night Bad Movie Marathon. That in itself is understandable enough--he has an AP Bio exam on Monday, and like hell he's going to screw up his GPA. But when she and Rapunzel drop Hiccup off on the way to her place, Anna apparently looked after him a little too long.

"So." Rapunzel gets a smug look on her face that Anna does not like.

They've been going home from school together since elementary. Their houses are a couple blocks apart--a 10-minute walk, at most.

Nonetheless, Anna gets the distinct feeling this otherwise ordinary stroll is going to feel very long. And very unpleasant.

"When were you planning on telling me you're in love with my brother?"

"What?" Anna snorts as loudly and dismissively as she possibly can. "Punz, that's ridiculous. Where even did you get an idea like that?!"

Because it is ridiculous! ...right?

Maybe if she says it with enough conviction, she can will it into reality.

Rapunzel laughs airily, shaking her head. "It's all over your face, Ans!"

Anna just scoffs. "The only thing that's all over my face is acne and concealer. I mean yeah, you and Hiccup are my best friends, but I don't love him like that. That would be weird."

It very definitely would be. Hiccup's own sister was sure to think that more than anyone.

Would it complicate their friendship if Rapunzel became her sister in law? If Rapunzel ever had kids, would Anna be an honorary aunt, or...and actual by-marriage aunt?!

It's all very strange to think about. Anna aggressively banishes the notions to her head's most isolated corners.

"Okay, then." Rapunzel turns, crossing her arms and blocking Anna's path. Her smug grin deepens.

Anna's chest fills with dread.

"What's his favorite color?"

"Dark green." Anna answers without even thinking.

"Favorite food?"

"Crabcakes."

"Favorite animal?"

"Oh, easy. Crocodile skinks."

"Planned college major?"

"Torn between engineering and herpetology. He likes herpetology more, but engineering jobs are more in demand right now."

"Favorite DnD class to play?"

"Druid."

"Dream hiking spot?"

"Amazon rainforest."

"Dream car?"

"He thinks cars are dumb and every city should install high-speed rail immediately. But if held at gunpoint, he'd want an electric one--preferably one that doesn't randomly catch on fire like your average Tesla."

"Scented candle of choice?"

"Something piney, or kind of a subtle earthy or berry scent. Also sandalwood."

"Instrument of choice?"

"He's not crazy about any of them, but...you two took guitar lessons for a while when you were little. If pressed, he can play a bit. But he doesn't like it because he's got sensory issues with the finger callouses and he feels kind of self-conscious about using a pick."

"Favorite band?"

"Probably Linkin Park, but he'd never openly admit to being that much of an edgelord."

"Birthday?"

"Leap year, but he celebrates on the 28th. He's technically only 4 years old."

"Perfect." Rapunzel is now looking like a cat that devoured no less than 10 canaries, and Anna does not like it one bit. "Now! Do all of those for me, your other totally platonic best friend."

Oh shit.

Rapunzel clearly revels in the panic that flashes across Anna's face. Nonetheless, Anna takes a breath and does as asked.

"Your favorite color's lavender. Your favorite foods are hazelnut soup and cupcakes with cream cheese frosting. Your favorite animals are chameleons, but you have a soft spot for horses, too. Your planned college major is communications, but what you really wish you could do is art history. Your favorite DnD class is cleric. Your dream hiking spot is the Black Forest in Germany. Your dream car is a hybrid--you don't care what type as long as you can get a cute pink or purple paint job. Your scented candle of choice is something flowery but subtle, like...magnolia with a tinge of lilac or something. Your instrument of choice is also guitar, except you don't care about the callous thing. Your favorite band is Walk the Moon. Your birthday is--hey, that's a trick question! You're twins--you have the same birthday!"

Rapunzel snickers, and Anna glares at her. "What are you laughing about? I answered all the stuff you wanted me to!"

"Yeah, but...you hesitated."

Anna hopes to every god that might exist that the blood isn't rushing to her face. "What are you talking about?"

"You answers for Hiccup were a lot faster. Completely instinctual, almost. You took a liiiiittle longer to remember all the same stuff about me."

"So what?" Anna bristles. "That doesn't mean anything!"

"I think it does," Rapunzel sings. She giggles and twirls like a silly anime schoolgirl, relishing the victory Anna has no intention of actually giving her.

Anna puts on her sourest pout. "You're nuts, Punzel. Like I'd ever be in love with your dorky brother."

God. Anna feels a pit in her stomach, glancing back and forth between the Haddock household and her aggravatingly self-satisfied friend.

I'm such a fucking liar.

***

YO, HAPPY FIRST DAY OF HICCANNA MONTH YALL

So I actually almost decided to forego TSwift day because I have pretty much maxed out making posts for all the Taylor songs I think are the most Hiccanna-coded, BUT!!! Then I realized I almost forgot I'd Lie, the OG Hiccanna TSwift bop that practically describes Hiccup to a T!!! So naturally I had to make a Thing about it. And, of course, I had to make the moodboard green-themed, since, well...his favorite color's green 💚

Even if that's not actually Hiccup's favorite color, it might as well be, for how much it's worked into his character color motifs and such aksjhdksufhuyh

I usually have Toothless as a cat in modern AUs (or maybe a pet lizard, if I'm feeling especially adventurous) because I just generally don't think he's that dog-coded, BUT! When I found a pic of a ginger cuddling an absolute dog!Toothless if I ever did see one, what was I supposed to do??? Like this dog looks like a lanky little ink gremlin, I wanna be his best friend, too :O Also, the girl with periwinkle nails holding his paw off to the side is Rapunzel, of course!

Speaking of which! It's funny, I've always seen Rapunzel and Hiccup as having a sibling-like relationship (they are just so Dipper and Mabel coded fr), but I've never actually tried writing them as siblings. BUT THEN with the "his sister's beautiful" bit...I needed a sister for Hiccup anyways, so I took a stab at writing him and Punz as twins! Ironically I'm not usually a big of the "falling for your best friend's brother" trope (mainly because if I had any siblings, I would feel like...SUPER weird about them macking on my friends with tongue lmao). But with Punz and Hiccup, I feel like they'd have a pretty close and good relationship, even among some typical sibling squabbles, and would be equally close with Anna. So Rapunzel wouldn't be that put off by Anna being into her brother. In fact, she'd be a little shit about it, I think >:D

Putting that chocolate in the moodboard was a mistake. Now I'm hungry for sugary foods, and my mom's already started giving me enough of a hard time about getting fat XD Luckily I'm poor, so I don't have much extraneous cash to spend on the kind of junk food I write about my blorbos eating!

Although I still smell A Little Treat incoming the next time I go to the grocery store, RIP

Pic credits available upon request!

[fangirl-criminalminds-garvez]

Penelope felt her jaw drop. “You’re trying to tell me that Alvez has been in love with me for seven years?!” She shrieked. “But he was with Lisa for part of that…” Penelope trailed off. 

Tara nodded her head. “You can date someone and be in love with a different person at the same time.” Tara had just finished telling Penelope that Luke  had stayed in love with her since he had essentially started at the BAU. 

I don't think that passenger seat

Has ever looked this good to me

He tells me about his night

And I count the colors in his eyes

Penelope scanned through her memories. Nothing obvious jumped out at her. She remembered when Luke brought her along when he was chasing down the car hacker, Jonathan Rhodes. She had enjoyed being involved with that case. She giggled when she remembered how she had shrieked “I’m precious cargo!” at Luke when he said she was going with him. Instead, she had been corralled into the SUV’s  passenger seat. She also remembered Luke going out of his way to help her off the curb in her heels. 

He'll never fall in love

He swears, as he runs his fingers through his hair

I'm laughing 'cause I hope he's wrong

And I don't think it ever crossed his mind

He tells a joke, I fake a smile

But I know all his favorite songs

She then remembered the night at Spencer’s apartment when Luke had broken the news that he and Lisa had split up. He had said something in passing that he’d never fall in love ever again. Apparently that didn’t include her, if what Tara told her was true.  She then remembered all of the times after she left the BAU, when she’d invited Luke over for movies and talking. A few times they’d moved on to talking about their favorite music. She may or may not have made a playlist with all of the songs he’d mentioned to her. She listened to it whenever she went to work as well as on her way home.

And I could tell you

His favorite color's green

He loves to argue

Born on the seventeenth

His sister's beautiful

He has his father's eyes

And if you ask me if I love him

I'd lie

Luke was a stereotypical Aries -  He was argumentative. He got enjoyment out of arguing with Penelope and playing “Devil’s Advocate” for the worst examples of things. She remembered when he invited her home for Christmas one year and introduced her to his family. She was pretty sure they were all talking about them in Spanish, wondering if they were together or not. Luke had blushed bright red at their conversation and told them in English that they were just friends. And she’d believed that at the time. She’d noticed that Luke and his father shared the same eyes; they were like pools of molten chocolate, but when the sun hit them they had flecks of gold in them.

He looks around the room

Innocently overlooks the truth

Shouldn't a light go on?

Doesn't he know that I've had him memorized for so long?

A week later, Luke invited the team over to his place for a post-case drink. Penelope caught him looking around the room, but he gave no indication of “being in love” with her. But when he caught her eye, she looked down and blushed. Tara noticed and elbowed JJ.

              "I think she's finally figured out how she feels about Luke" Tara grinned

             "Finally!" The blonde giggled.

He sees everything in black and white

Never let nobody see him cry

I don't let nobody see me wishin' he was mine

Penelope remembered when Phil was killed. Luke had put on a front and didn’t show any emotion. But after the funeral, she’d seen him crying. She walked up to him and offered to be his shoulder to cry on, if he’d ever need it. He’d smiled sadly at her. And Penelope felt her stomach drop. That was the moment she realized she loved him.

He stands there, then walks away

My God, if I could only say

I'm holding every breath for you

The day after Luke’s get together, Tara and JJ stepped into Garcia’s office. 

“What can I do for you ladies?” Penelope asked. 

“We saw you blushing at Luke’s house yesterday.” JJ teased.

“What are you talking about?” Penelope asked

“Oh come on, Pen,” Tara said.  “You know you love Luke.” Penelope blushed bright red.

“No I don’t.” Penelope responded. Tara and JJ shared a knowing look. Penelope caught that and rolled her eyes while she prepped the case files for the day. 

He'd never tell you, but he can play guitar

I think he can see through everything but my heart

First thought when I wake up is

My God, he's beautiful

So I put on my make-up and pray for a miracle

Penelope remembered when Luke brought his guitar over to her apartment. He’d softly played a bunch of his favorite songs for her. She hadn’t even known he could play. 

“It can be our little secret” Luke had told her when she’d expressed her surprise. 

Back in the present, Penelope knew she was in love with Luke Alvez. But nobody’d have to know. If anybody asked, she’d lie.

[thenotebookwizard]

Southern Belle (CageBlade Week | Day 4: Surprise)

TITLE: Southern Belle (CageBlade Week 2023 Day Four: Surprise)

FANDOM: Mortal Kombat - All Media Types; Mortal Kombat (Video Games)

RATING: T

SUMMARY:

Everything was bright green and white, broken up with splashes of color from flowers and decorations. Windchimes competed with the soft country being bleated out by the live band tucked away in the absurdly large and overly ornate gazebo, and there were antique tables laid out with more food than even the dozens of people milling about could put away on a Sunday afternoon. Sonya Blade has gone back to Texas - small town Texas - for her great uncle's birthday. No, no one asked her if she wanted to, but she was there anyway. After a fight with Johnny and a long flight, the last thing she wants to do is argue with her grandmother and try to fit into most uncomfortable parts of her childhood all over again. Only, Grandma's not having it and her argument with her not-boyfriend might follow her home. CageBlade Week 2023 | Day 4: Surprise

A/N: Yes. I am from Texas. Yes. These events are real. No. If anything, I downplayed what they look and feel like.

Note: never try to hide anything from a Southern grandma. They know all, have been there, done that before you were born, and will tell you like it is.

Organizations frame the world; governments. Secret societies. Fraternal orders. Organized crime syndicates. After school clubs. Name it, and there is an organization for it. Many organizations inspired fear or loathing or commentary; some were only whispered about and others were shouted down.

And others, everyone knew not to mess with. In the southern united states, there were organizations with such influence and money and power that most people had forgotten they often quietly ruled entire small towns with lace-gloved hands from garden parties, where policy and civic matters were decided over tea and canapes.

Sonya Blade had grown up a scion of those venerable southern societies; not that she paid them much mind or cared to be involved with them. Her grandmother had despaired of ever getting her into a frilly dress to mingle with the appropriate sort of people in small town, Texas. Rare family visits from Austin were fraught with intrigue as Sonya and her grandmother maneuvered and sparred, each working to get the other to give in. Neither would.

Sonya Blade and Sonia Morgan were both indomitable forces of will and neither had ever learned the meaning of 'surrender' (except that it was something other people did.)

Sonya hadn't always won and had found herself frocked in lace and layers standing in a garden, protected from the unforgiving Texas sun only by a flimsy parasol. Sonia hadn't always managed, and heard tales of her rakehell granddaughter racing dirt bikes, mudding in fields, and fighting the local ruffians.

Today, both Sonya and Sonia were a united front. Grandmother and granddaughter both wanted to be somewhere else. Anywhere else.

Sony's great uncle was turning 95. Her grandmother's brother-in-law was hardly her favorite person, and her grandmother couldn't stand him. He was technically a war hero, and Sonya grudgingly respected that about him, if nothing else. His status as a war hero had earned him the right to call up the US Army and 'request' his combat-decorated great niece attend his birthday party, thrown by one of the less savory fraternal organizations of the south.

Sonya hadn't paid attention to which one. There were at least a dozen alone in Exeter, Texas, and they were an overlapping Venn diagram of who was allowed to belong to which - and the more you were in, the more clout you had.

In a town of less than ten thousand people, they had a lot of clout.

Sonya tried not to, but she hated the old man. He was a lecherous, racist, nationalistic old goat with opinions about everything - especially her. While she and her grandmother had battled, Sonia Morgan loved her grandchildren and respected them, even when she disagreed with what they made of their lives.

(Though, she always expected excellence from them in everything they did. Sonya had only gotten in trouble for her local fights if she'd lost. If she'd won, her grandmother never spoke of them.)

Requested my ass.

The Korean War veteran had 'requested' her, and people much higher in the chain of command had cut her orders for 'special leave' to attend. It was tantamount to an order, which is how Sonya found herself back in Exeter for the first time in more than ten years. And why she was wearing her mess dress in the Texas summer, sweltering in the heavy fabric.

Her grandmother stood next to, taking her arm the way she would any of her grandsons, sending the blatant social cue her granddaughter was to be afforded the same respect any soldier was given.

She was grateful, even if her grandmother's perfume was still cloying and overly floral.

Not that her grandmother needed an arm to lean on. Sonia Morgan stood tall and unbowed after almost eight decades on Earth. She had slowed down, but still woke early in the morning and went about her business with vigor and charm. She still spoke her mind, and people still listened when she spoke. Unlike many, she had grown with the times, and got her news from her tablet as often as she did lunch with her friends, and her smartphone was tucked into her purse right next to her make up, ossified peppermints, and a snub-nosed revolver.

"You give him too much respect, dear. Wearing that." She patted Sonya's arm. "The peacock won't give you the respect you're due, so I don't see why you're suffering for him."

Sonya held her tiny crystal flute of chilled champagne with her first two fingers and resisted the urge to toss it back like it was a shot. They'd had this discussion four timessince her arrival last night.

"Because, grandma, I am a soldier in the United States Army and I was granted special leave to attend this event, at the request of retired Army Colonel Pierce Morgan. As such, I..."

Her grandmother hushed her. "I know, dear. I know. Representing the service, etc, etc. He doesn't deserve it. Never has. He came back a hero with a cane and medals on his chest and he's never let any of us forget it. He's done nothing for the community but leech off it, and I swear before sweet Jesus himself, the man thinks he..."

Her grandmother closed her mouth and let out a sigh as another elderly woman in a pink dress wafted past, her own heady perfume stinging Sonya's nose.

"Mathilda. Her grandson is single, you know. She's hardly a pleasant woman, but Eric is a good boy and has a very good job as a welder."

Sonya drained her champagne. She wasn't having that conversation. Was not going to happen.

She immediately regretted the champagne. As fancy as everything looked, they had cut corners. The champagne was definitely the cheap stuff. She'd had enough of the good stuff with -

She'd had the good stuff now. She knew what the difference tasted like. She almost wished she didn't.

She knew her grandmother had stopped her diatribe because it wouldn't be proper to be heard complaining about the guest of honor, even though everyone there likely knew how she felt about her brother-in-law.

And because Mathilda had designs on being the third Mrs. Pierce Morgan and was almost as influential as her grandmother.

It also gave her grandmother a chance to change subjects to her recent favorite: Sonya's impending spinsterhood. She was, apparently, far too old not to be married and adding to the already vast number of people in their extended family.

Sonya did what she was best at when it came to conversations about her personal life: she evaded.

Not just because she had no desire to meet Mathilda's grandson Eric, but because she hated discussing her personal life even more than she hated thinking about her personal life - putting it third place to feeling things about her personal life. Which was far too complicated right then to even consider discussing with her grandmother.

Who just might recognize the name her current personal life was consumed by.

(And just how the hell would she ever explain how she met the infuriating man? Even if they currently weren't speaking, that didn't mean she wouldn't have to explain knowing him. She had enough stupid sappy photos on her phone she kept forgetting to delete to prove she knew him, but 'saved the world in an interdimensional tournament against demons and monsters' was hardly the kind of meet-cute her grandmother wanted to hear about. To say nothing of proving that story.)

"Uncle Pierce is hardly a peacock, grandma. He's more like a rooster. He thinks he's prettier than he is, makes a lot of noise, but doesn't do a lot but strut."

Sonia Morgan huffed. "Until he's in a box, you mean."

Sonya had no idea how to respond to that, so she just kept her mouth shut and grabbed another flute of champagne from one of the waiters rotating around the garden.

(Why Exeter had what felt like a hundred different historic houses with giant gardens she'd never understand.)

The party was picture perfect. Southern belles and gentlemen all standing idly about in clusters, talking and gossiping under the summer afternoon sun in a vast garden meticulously landscaped and decorated in climbing vines and flowers, watered by a discreet irrigation system that could have probably watered two dozen lawns or kept a family in water for months.

Everything was bright green and white, broken up with splashes of color from flowers and decorations. Windchimes competed with the soft country being bleated out by the live band tucked away in the absurdly large and overly ornate gazebo, and there were antique tables laid out with more food than even the dozens of people milling about could put away on a Sunday afternoon.

Not that Sonya wanted to eat. Her stomach was already in knots just being there - and how she'd left things with Johnny the last time they'd tried to talk, just a few days ago.

She'd had to leave before she'd figured out if she was going to apologize or not. She'd had to leave before she'd figured out if she was going to just let him go or not.

Why did it have to be my fault, this time?

"He is quite the peacock, though." Her grandmother lead her through the garden on a path she seemed to know was there without looking, their feet brushing over stones winding through the expansive property. "He wears his uniform as often as he can, and he carries his medals in his pocket!"

Part of Sonya winced at that. She knew how hard it was for soldiers who came home. She knew how much of their identity was being a soldier, how little of their civilian self was left after they finally left the service. She dreaded it and refused to think about it - about being a civilian again. Of not being in uniform. Of not serving.

She could respect his pain there as much as she respected his heroism in the war.

She couldn't respect the way he treated other people. The way he treated her. The way he'd treated her grandmother and his own brother long after he'd come home. Not because of PTSD or reintegration. But because her grandfather hadn't been able to serve - his eyesight had been horrific. Because his grandmother hadn't abandoned her husband for a 'better' man.

Him.

She saw the path her grandmother led her on leading right to him, where he sat at a table, surrounded by old men and a few younger men in uniform like hers. Young enlisted men from Exeter who had come home to celebrate the hometown hero's birthday - possibly even related to her, in some way.

"He's not nearly fancy enough to be a peacock." She didn't know why she was still arguing with her grandmother, other than it was something to say, and she knew she was expected to say something. "I know a real peacock."

She felt herself smiling in spite of herself. She'd called Johnny a peacock once, and he'd just laughed at her. He'd jumped away from the mirror where he'd been preening, wiggling his eyebrows at her - and caught her around the waist, trying to dip her like they were dancing.

"Well, my bright and pretty plumage caught your attention, didn't it?"

She had laughed right along with him. She'd tried to deny it. Tried to argue with him that it was everything about him that wasn't a preening peacock that had caught her attention, but he had just shushed her with a searing kiss before -

She swallowed hard.

"Oh, have you now? Some puffed up poppinjay trying to get your attention, hmm?" Her grandmother poked her in the side. "Some of them might not be so bad, you know."

Sonya laughed softly. "Not all of them, no. But my boyfr - friend - John," she cut herself off hard, hoping to keep too much from coming out at once, cursing herself for her slip. She didn't let Johnny refer to her as his 'girlfriend' so she wasn't going to use that damn word. Or use the name her grandmother just might know him by, "is the biggest peacock of them all. Flashy clothes, gold necklace, fancy car, and throwing his money everywhere, as if that's all that matters about him. Peacocks do it to get attention. Uncle Pierce does it because he thinks it makes him important."

It stung a little to say that, because heroism under fire was important and worthy of respect and recognition, but it couldn't be all there was to a soldier - to a person. It couldn't be the only thing that defined them. Honor. Service. Humility. Respect. Hard work. Discipline. Focus. All of these and more made a soldier, and far more than that made a person.

Sonya knew she was bad at being a person more often than not, but she also knew she was very, very good at being a soldier.

"Boyfriend?" Her grandmother practically cackled, drawing her a few steps away to another path; a longer, winding path that would eventually get them to Pierce Morgan, but gave them plenty of time to talk before that. "You have been holding out on me, Sonya. Tell me dear, who is this peacock who not only got your attention but got you to almost use a word I haven't heard you use since high school."

Sonya wished she had a free hand to rub the bridge of her nose, but she was still holding the stupidly tiny flute of now lukewarm champagne.

Yep. I fucked up.

There was no way to lie her way out of it. Her grandmother could spot her lies coming a mile off and wasn't above calling her on them.

She had to say something. As little as possible was the best plan. The bare minimum. If not less. Could she get away with classifying him as 'Human, male - one. Annoying, rich, annoyingly rich, and full of himself?'

Especially because she wasn't sure they were anything anymore. She hadn't answered his calls. Or texts. Or checked her email.

After what she'd said, she really didn't want to. She wasn't good at apologizing, and she wasn't good at being wrong. She was even worse at being the problem.

She'd made a career and a personality out of being the solution to problems. Often, violently.

"John. Carlton. From LA. More money than sense." She disliked she was whispering. She disliked how she was clenching her jaw. "Peacock. Like I said. Fancy clothes. No fashion sense. Fancy car he drives too fast. Lots of - admirers."

Her grandmother tugged on her arm, pulling her away from the milling crowds to a shaded bench near vast expanse of trellis festooned with patriotic decor and valiant red roses blooming in spite of being planted in Texas. They mingled with yellow and white roses, but the latter were far sparser.

Sonya found herself sitting next to her grandmother, who reached up and tugged Sonya's head around to face her.

"Sonya, you are lying to your grandmother, and I will not have it. Worse yet, you are lying to yourself."

Sonya blinked.

"Grandma, I'm not..."

"Hmph. I'm not done  yet, young lady. I heard the hitch in your voice. That tight tone you used to get with someone when they'd caught you in one of your messes. Either he's an embarrassment you'd rather never mention again or you're in one of your messes again."

Sonya set the champagne flute down.

"It's complicated. Really stupidly complicated."

Her grandmother's face softened, and she looked at Sonya with the stern edge her grandmother always had, but with the softness that came from both love and respect.

"You didn't answer my question. Tell me about him."

"I did!" Sonya folded her hands in her lap to avoid talking with them - a habit her grandmother had never managed to break her of, but she was trying to be aware of for at least that one afternoon. "He's a - "

Sonia Morgan cut her off again. "No, Sonya. Tell me about him. Either he's someone you want to forget and I'll drop the subject or he's not, and I won't. But either way, you will tell me about him. Because if you don't tell someone, you're going fall apart and spend weeks pretending you haven't."

Sonya tried (and failed) not to gape at her grandmother. How did she know?

"Close your mother, dear. There are worse than flies buzzing around these gardens. I'm a southern belle, granddaughter, and if there is one thing we know, it's when a woman is hiding a secret about her heart. There are a thousand tells even you can't hide behind your uniform. People love, Sonya. People look for love or they hide from love. It doesn't matter the shape of that love or the kind of that love, but for all our backwards ways, southerners know the need to give and receive love."

Sonya's hands clenched, then relaxed. "Johnny's - sentimental." She sniffed. "So utterly sentimental. He can't remember half the things he agrees to do, but he can remember what I was wearing the day we met. He's an idiot, but he cares. He cares about what people think of him and of others. He has this stupid image he thinks matters, and maybe it does, but it's stupid. He's - spontaneous. Incorrigible. He's like a big kid, sometimes, thinking things are 'cool' or 'awesome' all the time, even when they're just silly or just there. He cares more than he'll admit, because his 'image.' He's a fighter. He doesn't give up. Ever. On anything. Not on his career. Not on himself."

Not on me.

That thought stung. She was so willing to give up on him. On herself. On anything resembling them because -

She shook her head. She wasn't going to admit that.

She sighed. "He's stubborn. So. Stubborn. He kept flirting with me even when I turned him down...rather harshly. Repeatedly. When I asked him why, do you know what he told me?"

Her grandmother was smiling at her. "I assume it was all manner of uncouth and inappropriate from the look in your eyes."

"He told me I was fun to rile up. He liked making me mad because I was 'hot' when I got mad at him."

Sonia laughed and patted her granddaughter's arm. "You are fun to rile up. I've known that since you were a child. I could get you to storm around my kitchen, waving your arms and ranting at me about how you weren't some frilly stupid girly girl and how you didn't want to wear dresses or go to tea parties so easily."

Sonya narrowed her eyes. "You did that on purpose?"

"Of course I did. I love your fire, Sonya Blade. No granddaughter of mine will be one who doesn't speak her mind and speak it well! Did I or did I not force you to refine your arguments and debate with me until you were ready to scream to the heavens you didn't want to talk another minute?"

Sonya laughed. "Of course you used our fights to teach me to fight better."

"Damned right I did." Sonia glanced about, making sure no one heard her use such a foul word. "You're too smart not to argue right, even when you're mad. And I know you hated every minute of it, but learning to mingle and interact with people so very different from you is important. Even if you hate it. I know I taught you that, too. As much as I taught you good southern manners and to sit up straight and stand up straight, because as much as this world is changing, it's too hard for a woman to be taken seriously if she is seen as soft for even a single heartbeat."

Sonya sighed, her shoulders slumping. "You are one devious woman, grandma. But thank you."

"I am a southern woman. You'll meet no creature more devious, I promise you that. Now then, your 'Johnny' sounds like a man who loves deeply, loves often, and seeks joy - no matter what the more staid around him might think. Boys are good for that, you know. The best of them never grow up, and while that can make them insufferable at times, they will always want to make us laugh or smile or growl at them. Nothing makes them happier than making us feel something in a moment, and nothing gives them more satisfaction than doing something for us. He might have the insecurity of a boy, giving himself an 'image' to protect, but he sounds like he has the heart of a man, which is far more important. You can help him learn to love himself and he can help you learn you are more than you let yourself be. The best of them help us grow as much as we help them, you know."

Sonya shook her head. "He's not insecure. He's over confident, if anything."

Her grandmother rolled her eyes. "You still have so much to learn. Peacocks are insecure about their feathers. They fight each other, hoping to rip out the others' tailfeathers to make sure they are the brightest and prettiest. Your Johnny can't do that in this modern world, so he makes sure he gets the best feathers his money can buy. Trust me on this one, dear."

Sonya looked down at her hands. Could Johnny Cage really have - insecurities like that? She knew he was afraid of being considered a fake martial artist (which she knew was absolute garbage. The man was one of the best she'd ever seen, and that was saying something.)

"Maybe. But - "

"But nothing. Why isn't he here with you, Sonya?"

Sonya knew she could come up with a thousand and one excuses and some of them might even be true. His schedule was packed, and his work kept him busy. She hadn't told him about the event. She hadn't even told him much about her family.

I didn't even think to invite him.

She wasn't sure how she felt about that. She wasn't sure she wanted him meeting her family, because she wasn't sure how far inside her life she wanted to let him get when she might have to chase him back out again.

Sonya wished she was having any conversation but this one right then. Even one about Eric the welder. Welders were respectable craftsmen, and he would know where she could go to get a cold beer and some real food after this disaster.

Even the sound of someone else's souped up sportscar outside made her wince, because thinking about Johnny meant she missed Johnny - who was so much better at these sorts of events than she was. Even if he'd never been to one before, he'd charm everyone and manage to make everyone forget to be disappointed and disapproving of the girl raised in cosmopolitan Austin who had gone off to become a solider.

"I...we had a fight."

What? What did I just say? Why did I just say that? How could I say that?

She felt betrayed by her own mind. How had her grandmother gotten her to admit that?

"Hmm." Her grandmother patted her hand. "Still mad at him?"

Sonya took a deep breath. If she couldn't tell her grandmother, who could she tell? It wasn't like she was going to call up her mother and tell her. She could, but her mother was even better at getting emotions out of her than her grandmother, and she wasn't ready to tell her mother she might be in love with a movie star.

Who just might love her back.

"No." Sonya shook her head and threw back the warm champagne. "I'm mad at me. We fought, and it was my fault. I said stupid things because...well, because. He wanted me to go to a - a work thing - with him. He really wanted me to go. It's important, a big, big deal. For him, I mean. I'm not a trophy to be paraded around, no matter how important it is or how much of a role I played in the success of his - project. I wasn't nice about it."

She was skirting around 'my movie star sorta-boyfriend wants me to go to an awards gala where his new TV show based on their real life adventures on another world was getting bigtime awards' and how much she wasn't ready to be public with him like that.

To claim a relationship.

Tabloids catching photos of them at dive bars and fancy restaurants was one thing. Paparazzi snapping pictures of her in a bikini in his pool was somewhere between mortifying and flattering, but this wouldn't be celeb-watching fans seeing her online. This would be everyone seeing her at a Hollywood event, in a fancy dress he bought for her, getting out of a limo in front of cameras and rubbing elbows with the rich and famous.

Her soldiers would see her on TV. Her parents. Her family. Her friends. Everyone would see her as the arm candy of the action superstar whose comeback story was already Hollywood legend.

She also left out the part where she got so emotional she stormed out of her own apartment and went to sleep on base.

There were some things too mortifying to admit to. Especially to one's grandmother.

She was surprised her grandmother was letting them talk this long. She heard a commotion near the backdoor to the massive plantation home her great uncle's fraternal order met in, and there was quite a crowd gathering. Her grandmother would be mortified if they missed their chance to greet Pierce before he gave his speech - it would be a snub of the worst sort, and a social gaffe her grandmother wouldn't want to have to live down.

Her grandmother laughed. "Talk about insecurities. A trophy! Men are competitive, Sonya, and the worst of them view us as prizes to be won. If he's that sort, then you're best off without him. That's not the man you told me about, though. You said you helped him with his work. You said you're important to him, and he's sentimental. Isn't it possible you're deciding what he thinks based on what everyone around him might think? Or, are you so worried about what others think you didn't stop to think about why he might want you there? Or about compromises?"

"Compromises? What could he compromise on? I can't afford a dress for - that sort of event! We'd show up in a limo, and I can't be seen to be his kept woman! I'm a soldier. An officer. I represent the US Army!"

Her grandmother gave her a look that made her feel five again, griping about wearing a fancy dress to church. They'd compromised then, too. Nice pants and a nice blouse, but not a frilly dress.

They'd bought her dresses she hadn't hated, later. A lot later.

"Can't you go as a soldier? That uniform is mighty fancy, I think. You'd be there with him, all right. At his side. Even on his arm, if his work requires that sort of thing. But you won't be anyone but you. Even if I think wearing a pretty dress wouldn't hurt you as much as you think it might."

Sonya didn't roll her eyes, but it was a near thing. Her grandmother didn't know a damn thing about the kind of event she was talking about, but that was her own fault. But it didn't mean her grandmother was wrong about it. She could ask him about wearing her mess dress. It was allowed for formal events, and that was certainly formal - black tie was required.

She winced. She could have asked him. If he was still talking to her.

"When this is over, Sonya, we are going back to my house. I am going to fix you something to eat, since you refuse to even nibble at the expensive food laid out for us, and then you are going to call that man before you get back on your plane. Even if you tell him to shove off, no granddaughter of mine will leave things like that. You were raised better than to hide from the consequences of your own actions."

Sonya winced again. Her grandmother was right and that stung. She was hiding. And she hated being a coward, even in the complicated mess that was her personal life.

She'd call him. He probably wouldn't answer. All of the things she'd said? She might not answer if he'd called her after that.

She'd probably ruined everything - she was good at that. A good soldier, but bad at being a person.

She heard a familiar laugh, and felt a twinge of guilt and loneliness.

Okay. I'm just depressing myself at this point. I'm starting to hear him everywhere.

She stood up and offered her arm to her grandmother. "I will call him tonight. Before I get on the plane. I promise."

Her grandmother patted her arm again. "Better. Now, let's go get the first painful conversation over with before the old windbag starts to give his speech. Maybe one of us can take ill in the middle of it and we can leave early. Being this old has to be good for something, after all."

Sonya almost laughed at that. Who would have thought her grandmother would skip out on a garden party early?

She was about to make a comment about senior discounts being better than military discounts when she saw him.

He was standing there, shaking her great uncle's hand, a thousand watt smile on his face. He was dressed for the occasion, probably in something he'd 'borrowed' from some costume wardrobe somewhere, but it was nice enough to pass muster.

Though, I never would have thought he could pull off a Texas tuxedo.

He even had a brass belt buckle with his initials on it. (That didn't surprise her as much as the obviously new and obviously expensive cowboy boots.) She was glad he'd foregone the hat, because she wasn't sure if she could take him seriously in a stetson - the bolo tie was bad enough. He obviously had no idea how to wear it, which didn't surprise her a bit. He hated ties in general.

But she had to give him credit for trying. She wasn't sure what she should give him for being there.

"Johnny?"

Her grandmother looked up at and cackled softly. She saw the look on Sonya's face and saw Johnny's face when he caught sight of her, and her cackle turned into a full on laugh.

He smiled at her - not the smile he gave the cameras. Not the smile he gave the audiences. Not the camera he gave fans and interviewers.

The smile he gave to her.

His eyes lit up when he saw her, and she saw him gather every bit of swagger he had around him like a cloak, but -

She'd seen it. That momentary pause. That momentary fear that he'd come here just to be rejected.

That stung. It also tugged at something in her chest, and she wanted to go to him and reassure him and -

Oh fuck. I've caught feelings and now I have to do something with them.

Why weren't there Army regulations and procedures for this? There was a whole section in the damn handbook about shining your shoes, but nothing on how to navigate this?

"That's your Johnny? Dear heart, you might have mentioned he was that good looking. He's almost pretty enough to be a movie star!"

Sonya groaned softly. "Grandma..."

How was she supposed to break that news? Especially when it was apparent to the younger generation there just who Johnny was. There were a lot of stunned, star-struck faces as people stared and tried to make conversation with the comeback kid himself.

She sighed, and stood as straight as she could. Her grandmother had taught her better than to slouch after all.

Sonia let go of her arm and gave her small push. "Go on, then. He's tracked you all the way to Exeter, Texas. Don't know what else you need to know."

Sonya walked out from under the shade and crossed the garden, suddenly feeling - both more herself than she'd felt all day, and shockingly and painfully shy.

She ignored the paths and strode across the grass and right up to him. She wasn't sure what came over her, but she decided to accept his gesture for what it was. He'd tried to do what he'd told her people did: dress for the occasion.

She reached out and straightened his bolo tie, tucking it under his collar - which, thankfully, was not popped.

"Hi."

She was grateful a word came out. It was about the only word she was able to force out right then. She barely noticed the Army servicemen near her hear uncle muttering 'oh shit she's a lieutenant colonel!' and snapping to attention, saluting as best they could, given how many tiny flutes of champagne they'd probably had.

"Hey yourself."

His hands closed over hers.

"So. I know you're already mad at me, right? I figured, how much more mad could you be if I, you know, surprised you to talk to you face to face and maybe have a public fight? See, you left all the info about this on a post it note - did you know you write in all caps? - on top of your special leave paper and well, I just thought..."

Sonya rolled her eyes at him. She held up one finger, hoping he'd wait just one damn minute for her to process and - be a soldier. She turned to the servicemen, and saluted them back.

"At ease. It's a party. Stay sober, and if you can't do that, get a ride back. Got it?"

"Sir! Yes, sir!" They all grinned at each other as they backed away slowly. Their encounter with a randomly appearing superior officer had gone a lot better than they thought it might have, given all the young women hanging around them. (Sonya knew small-town Texas. They were most certainly being peacocks, and at least some of the straight small town girls would see them as tickets out of town. Even if Johnny's arrival had changed the landscape a bit.)

She turned back to Johnny. "You."

He grinned at her, but she saw the fear there in his eyes, and it made her chest ache. This wasn't what she wanted. She didn't know exactly what she did want, but it wasn't this.

"Me?"

She grabbed his hand and tucked her arm into his. She did not tell him he was taking the traditional position of 'being escorted' but she figured it was her small revenge for him showing up - as sweet a gesture as it was.

"Let's take a walk."

"Uh...sure?" He let her lead him away from the crowd of admirers. "I mean, we could go sit down or something. I saw champagne!"

"Johnny, if we stop moving, our every word will be heard, remembered, and discussed for posterity for the next three generations of this town. You're a movie star. They all just remembered I'm an actual officer in the Army, and my grandmother is about to passive aggressively sass the guest of honor for being a tool. We're not sitting down and you do not want that champagne. I think you're allergic to 'cheap.'"

Johnny laughed. "So, the sass is genetic? Makes sense. Grandmother, huh? Can't wait to meet her. But you make it sound like we're being hunted."

Sonya rolled her eyes. "Sass is genetic and southern and I am nowhere near as brutal or skilled as grandma. You will meet her. There's nothing I can do to stop it, and I'd feel sorry for you, but you crashed the party, so it's your own fault. And we are being hunted. We are the most exciting thing to happen here since my great uncle got back from Korea, and everyone wants to know why I know a movie star."

"I'm a TV star too, now." Johnny grinned at her, boyish pride in his new series and success shining through. And this time, Sonya smiled back.

"Yeah. You are. Look, I'm -"

Johnny shook his head. "Nope. Don't you dare. I came all the way to Texas to tell you something, and I'm going to tell you now. Before this conversation goes any further. I know you're blaming yourself and you're all tied up about what you said and how you said it. And yeah, harsh. You weren't nice, but I wasn't listening. Again. I just got excited. I jumped straight to the fun part. Taking you out and showing you, well, showing you my world. Giving you the chance to be the woman everyone looked at and wanted to be. Letting you be seen for the awesome, amazing, and stunningly sexy lady you are."

He sucked in a deep breath. "Only, I forgot. That's me. That my world and not yours. That's my high, not yours. I just wanted you there when I win. When what we went through is transformed into something new and amazing and there is just that modicum of appreciation. Where I could stand at that podium and say 'see her? The badass girl in the show is based on her.' And then watch people see you. I didn't think 'what would being there mean when Sonya went home?' You told me, and, well...I didn't hear it."

Sonya groaned and pushed her shoulder into his, letting herself get closer to him. "You're an idiot sometimes, Johnny Cage. You're my idiot, though. Look. I'm sorry for what I said. How I said it. I shouldn't have gotten so - angry about it. I just got scared, okay? And I'm not good at being scared or being a person or a lot of things that come with you and me."

Johnny stopped them, just for a moment. He put his hands at her waist. He captured her eyes with his, and stepped very close to her. Close enough she could feel the warmth from sun radiating off his absurdly white shirt. "Whoa. No. You are good at being a person, Sonya. You are a person. You aren't good at feelings, but I'm not good at feelings, either. Thing is, I like you enough to get better at them. And I will! Eventually! I don't think about you being scared, because you're you...but I get it. I'm not going to fight with you about it. You said no, and that's that. I'll call my agent, get some model to come with me - because my contract with his agency says I can't go stag - and I'll text you snarky comments about what everyone's wearing all night."

Something fierce writhed through her gut and settled her chest. She heard his words and she knew what he was saying: he had a legal obligation to have someone with him at the event. He hadn't even bothered to plan a backup. He'd just - assumed he could convince her to do it.

But the idea of him going to an event like that with someone else hanging off his arm awoke something in her. Something she hadn't ever felt in a relationship before.

"Don't even think about it, Johnny Cage." She fisted the lapels of his sport coat. "I am going with you, but you are not buying me a dress. I will be going as who and what I am. A soldier. I will be in mess dress uniform and while I will be on your arm, I will be your partner, not a trophy. Not arm candy."

Johnny grinned. His eyes lit up. "You mean this whole time I could have had you come in uniform and I didn't even know it? Aren't the rules about that? Do you know how you look in that? I mean, come on, Sonya..."

Sonya just sighed and rested her forehead against his. "Yes. I can come in uniform. I will go in uniform. It's allowed, because it's black-tie formal. Hell, the Army will love having me there in uniform. Okay?"

His grin twitched and he darted in, stealing a quick kiss. "Okay! Now can we get champagne and meet your grandmother? Since we're not fighting now?"

Sonya glanced around at the tableau of the garden party. She'd grown up knowing some of these people. Many of them had opinions on her. She was there to honor her great uncle and his service. She was supposed to be a proper southern girl, even in uniform.

Using her great uncle's birthday party to introduce her - boyfriend - to her grandmother was probably at the very least uncouth, if not against the rules.

She was okay with that.

Sonya tilted Johnny's head towards her and gave him a much slower, more thorough kiss.

He'd come all the way to Exeter, Texas to apologize to her. To make things right between them - to tell her it wasn't her fault. To tell her he was trying to listen.

"Come on. Let's go meet my grandmother. By now, she's probably made great uncle Pierce wish he was back in Korea being shot at. Just try not to be too LA and you'll be fine. Did you know she thinks you're very pretty? Almost pretty enough to be a movie star."

"Hey! Wait a minute. She doesn't recognize me?"

Sonya patted his shoulder. "She's almost eighty and wishes John Wayne still  made movies. Besides, even if she did recognize you, she would never tell you that. And if you tell her you're a movie star, you'd be bragging. So all you can really say is you're an actor and have steady work in Hollywood, or she'll call you names. She might even bless your heart."

Johnny frowned. "Isn't that a good thing?"

Sonya laughed. "This is going to be fun. For me, I mean."

[iheartchv]

Hi could I get a Bayverse 🐢matchup please?

I'm Macie, she/they! I'm 5'7, plus size. I have curly brown hair that reaches the base of my neck. I wear glasses, have pale skin, green eyes and freckles along my nose, cheeks and shoulders.

I was born and raised in Texas (unfortunately). I have an accent, and while it's not super thick, there are certain words that I say that make me sound like a bumpkin! I'm currently learning Spanish and ASL.

I'm shy at first but I tend to get more chaotic and loud as I get more comfortable around someone. I feel like I'm pretty witty and can mouth off some pretty funny remarks on the fly (thanks to the constant ribbing and chirping my 3 siblings and I gave each other throughout childhood and into adulthood).

I'm currently a laboratory technician but I'm working towards getting my BS in Mortuary Science, wanting to one day owe and operate my own funeral home.

I hate arguing but I'm definitely not a pushover. If I see something messed up, I'm gonna speak up. (I truly feel like I would've gotten up in Leo's face during the "The only opinion that matters is mine" scene. Bad move, my guy.)

While I have made strides over the years to love and accept my body for how it looks, I still have bad days when my confidence takes a hit. Especially when someone made a certain comment to me. Saying that I work in the medical field so I should know how unhealthy it is for me to be the weight that I am. So yeah that was fun 🙃

I love to read, write, sing, paint, sing, play drums, and tour historical cemeteries. I love sweets and just about any Italian or Asian cuisine. My favorite colors are black and purple, but my favorite shade of purple is lavender.

My love languages are physical touch and acts of service.

Thanks in advance 🐢💙❤️💜🧡

You're paired with... Donatello💜

Donnie would fall head over heels for you

Literally

He'd almost trip over his big feet if he sees you

He usually was calm cool and collected

But not around you

Your witty mind mixed with his sass is chaotic

Thats what your friendship started as

But as he got to know you more he started thinking more about you

Even dream about you

... even a spicy dream a time or 2🔥

It was probably when he tried to tell you and reassure you that you were perfect the way you were

He would feel ashamed feeling that way towards you because he didn't want to ruin your friendship

It'd kill him if he never got to see you or talk to you again

But he couldn't help these feelings

From your accent down to your personality he just thought you were perfect

And he wanted to show you how perfect you were... to him

When you two started dating he treats you like a queen

He will do things for you

He will give you plenty of hugs and kisses

He's very supportive and will do what he can to help

You're his world

Your happiness and well being is important to him

"Love you, turtle dove"

🐢💜💖👩

Hope you like your match 👉💜👈

[achingly-shy]

and i could tell you his favorite color's green he likes to argue born on the 17th his sister's beautiful he has his father's eyes and if you ask me if i love him i'd lieee

[aflerglow]

he'll never fall in love, he swears as he runs his fingers through his hair, I'm laughing cause I hope he's wrong

[bleachersgirl]

my biggest fear for fearless (taylor’s version) is not that i’d lie won’t be on it but that i’d lie WILL be on it but it will be the WRONG version. i don’t know how i would cope with that.

[fatalitysficbakery]

Born Psychopath. (Nick Amaro x Black AFAB Doctor!Reader)

Genre: Fluff fluffity fluff.

Warnings: Talks of guns and blood, animal abuse, all that good stuff.

Synopsis: This takes places on the first episode of the Henry Messner case, after Nick is “shot” so to say and finally gets to tell Gil he’s his father. You’re a nurse and Nick’s girlfriend, Zara and Gil both know about you and you come in after Gil finds out. Fluff ensues.

❤︎ Heaven’s Baked Goods (Masterlist) ❤︎

“What would you do if I shot you right now”?

Henry Messner was a 10 year old boy, troubled as could be, with psychopathic and sociopathic tendencies, pushing his little sister Ruby down the stairs, cutting his mom, killing a dog, and taking a little boy hostage. Detective Amaro had finally talked him into letting him go and letting him stay instead under false pretenses that he could maybe see his gun. When Henry realized he’d lied, he was furious.

“All right. You don’t need to do that”. Amaro talked calmly although his mind was racing. He couldn’t die. All he could think about was Zara, Gil, and then you. You and Detective Amaro had started dating roughly 6 months ago, when he and Detective Benson had come to your hospital about an assault victim, you were immediately drawn to him. Who wouldn’t be? He was practically perfect. After that he’d come back with his “nephew” (who you’d later find out was actually his son.) Gil after he’d been injured at a baseball game, after that he’d use any excuse to come in to talk to you. Making sure he was always the front runner if there was a case that’d ended up in your hospital.

“Would there be a lot of blood? Would your brains pour out of your forehead”? Henry asked Amaro with a small smirk on his face, Amaro couldn’t shoot a child. He had two of his own. His best bet was to calm the little boy down enough to disarm him. He’d remembered the first time he’d asked you out, after another case ended up in your hospital and they needed to follow up, he snuck back for a moment after the follow up and invited you out for coffee. It was cloud nine from there. He learned you’d had your own kid, a daughter, Dylan. He’d learned she was 4, her favorite color was green, she loved mermaids, that she and Zara got along extremely well. He couldn’t die tonight.

“Here. I’m gonna show you my gun now. Okay? Here it is”.

“Is this a trick? I don’t like tricks”.

“No, it’s not a trick. Put your gun down and you can take mine”. Nick held his gun out to the boy hoping it would distract him enough so he could disarm him, he hoped that’d appease him but suddenly a shot rang out and he held down the boy swiftly with a loud pained grunt after the gun dropped. Thank God he had the bulletproof vest on and that Henry hadn’t aimed for his head. He desperately needed to see Zara, Gil, and you again. Now more than ever.

———————————————————————

When you’d heard the news you nearly came flying down the hallways to his room where he was getting checked out, you were glad to see him sitting with just a bruise on his stomach. Thank God he wore his vest but you were still upset, you knew all about the Henry case since you’d been the one to check Ruby out in the beginning and you’d told the big dope to be careful but his bleeding heart wouldn’t have allowed him to shoot a kid and you knew that. Hell, you wouldn’t either if you were in the same situation.

“I always forget how much this hurts”. Nick grimaced, looking down at the bruise, you stood leaned against the wall but he hadn’t noticed you yet, too busy getting scolded by Benson. Rightfully, so.

“He could’ve killed you, Nick”.

“Look, I had the vest on. Alright? I knew with the recoil, he’d only get one shot off”.

“And you knew that he wouldn’t shoot your head”?

“I’m not shooting a ten-year-old boy”. Nick rolled his eyes and that’s when you finally spoke up.

“She’s right, y’know? You could’ve died, Detective. That heart of yours is gonna get you killed one day”. You weakly argued, knowing damn well you were one in the same. He scoffed, yet smiled, glad to see you there.

“Uncle Nick! Are you okay”?

“Hey. Uh, y-yeah. I’m fine. Cynthia, Gil. This is my partner, Detective Benson”.

“Hey. Hi. Nice to meet you”. -Benson

“Nice to meet you”. -Gil

Cynthia and Gil came in, you smiled at the two and gave them some space. Benson coming over to you to say hello while the three spoke.

“Hi”. -Benson

“Hi”. -Cynthia

“I’ll give you a minute”. -Benson

You could see the happiness in Nick’s eyes, getting to see his boy. While you and Olivia chatted, your eyes lit up when Cynthia finally revealed the good news. She was gonna let him tell Gil he was his father.

“You guys didn’t need to. I just didn’t want you to hear about it on the news and then-” Nick stammered but Cynthia cut him off reassuringly and that’s when you and Benson took notice to what was about to happen.

“It’s okay. I thought there was something you and Gil needed to talk about…Man to man”.

Amaro’s eyes widened when he realized what she was saying and you and Benson were quick to jump in so they could have the room to themselves, “Hey Cynthia, How about we go grab a cup of coffee”? Benson asked and Cynthia nodded, smiling softly at Amaro and Gil. You had already left back to check-in to give them privacy.

“Sounds good”.

———————————————————————

It was later, you were finally about to clock out and get some much needed rest after a 12 hour shift, gathering your things up when you heard a voice ring out behind you, a giddy smile crept to your lips as you turned to see your boyfriend standing there, holding his keys.

“Need a ride home, Nurse”? He asked, making his way over towards you, his grin never ceasing even when he stood in front of you. Your shoulders slumped slightly and you smiled weakly at him, punching his shoulder gently before finally breaking down into silent tears, “God, fuck you. Fuck you, Nick Amaro”. you repeated and he just held you, he knew that feeling. Fear. He’d been putting his life in danger daily and it wasn’t an easy job.

“I’m fine, Y/n. Hey, hey look at me”. he moved his fingers under your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes and wiping away your tears, “What I do out there…It’s dangerous and I admit, I can be careless sometimes but look at me, Darlin’. All I ever think about is you, Zara, Gil. I do this to keep you three safe…I’m trained for this. I promise your pretty little head, babydoll. I’ll come back to you each time”. he couldn’t promise that, both of you knew that well but at the moment, it eased your anxieties tremendously.

“Just…I love you, Nicholas. I love you so goddamn much, I can’t lose you. Hell, Dylan loves you too. She’s always asking about you”. You laughed through your tears and he pulled you closer, kissing your head repeatedly, the scent of coconut wafting into his nose from the products on your curls.

“And you won’t. You won’t ever lose me, Muñeca. I love you too much to stop annoying you”. he smiled, pulling away slightly, “Come on, let’s go get food. Gil is sleeping over tonight and so is Zara. Along with Dylan? It’ll be good to get all three of them together” he wrapped an arm around your shoulder after pecking your lips sweetly.

You both knew right then and there. You could never ask for better. You’d had it since you met.

———————————————————————

A/N: Jesus fucking Christ. I already have another idea for the next one. I’m gonna write until my fingers fall off.

[angeltreasure]

Hello friend, sorry if this is a silly question but could you explain what the Eucharist is and why it is important? I’m in the beginning of my journey and feel so overwhelmed by google. Have a beautiful day 😊💛

I’ve been saving this ask for a while so this is so exciting! I apologize for my lateness. I usually answer right away but we have had trouble with the WiFi setting up. Anyway! Welcome Anon!!! I am so excited for your faith journey!! Welcome. 😊🙏🏻

Don’t worry, this isn’t a silly question at all. No, it’s a very good question! I am a Catholic, so I will be explaining my Christian denomination believes what the Eucharist is. In fact, this is a VERY important topic to learn about. I will give you my answer then give you some quotes and videos. Hope you enjoy.

The Eucharist IS Jesus Christ. You know how traffic lights are different colors? Red for stop, yellow to caution; slow down, and green for go? Well, you must understand if you choose to join the Catholic Church that the Eucharist is not a symbol. Although the appearance is a wafer bread and tastes like one, it is not plain like a traffic signal. When a priest blesses the host at a Catholic mass, the host transforms into the body of Jesus Christ. You will not see Jesus appear in the priest hand when he raises the host up for that blessing, and you will not taste human flesh when you eat of it. The veil between this world we live in and the afterlife block us so the appearance and taste remain as a wafer host but the substance has really changed into the body of Jesus Christ. Eating the bread means Christ becomes a part of us and makes us stronger in faith! ♥️

Here’s what the Bible says about the Eucharist, taken from my favorite New Testament book called Matthew. I will color the specific verse in the story as red to help you understand what we believe. In the story, Jesus and His disciples were preparing to find a place for Passover. There is a lot to unpack since you are very new to the faith, so I will skip right to the verses of what Jesus spoke. [Passover: “Passover is a Jewish holiday that honors the freedom and exodus of the Israelites (Jewish slaves) from Egypt during the reign of the Pharaoh Ramses II. Before the ancient Jews fled Egypt, their firstborn children were "passed over" and spared from death, thus dubbing the holiday "Passover."”]

….. “While they were eating, Jesus took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to his disciples, saying, “Take and eat; this is my body.” Then he took a cup, and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you. This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. I tell you, I will not drink from this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom.” - Matthew 26:26-29

You see, at this point in time, His disciples did not fully understand the mystery surrounding what was to come. After this night, Jesus was betrayed by Judas (one of His followers) gave His life to die on the cross. In doing so, He saved us from the punishment of all of our sins and opened the gates to Heaven. Back in the past, animals were often given up a sacrifice. Jesus Himself was the perfect sacrificial lamb for slaughter in order to save us from death. This image is the very best that I love that describes the Eucharist Transubstantiation.

I love this one too…

So when you eat the blessed Eucharist and drink the blessed wine done by a Catholic priest, you really do consume the substance that is Jesus’s body, blood, soul, and divinity. Ever hear that phrase, “you are what you eat”? When we consume Jesus, that doesn’t mean we are cannibals, become God, or re-sacrifice Jesus. It means we become a better reflection of Jesus.

Catholics believe in the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist because Jesus tells us this is true in the Bible: ““No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws them, and I will raise them up at the last day. It is written in the Prophets: ‘They will all be taught by God.’ Everyone who has heard the Father and learned from him comes to me. Very truly I tell you, the one who believes has eternal life. I am the bread of life. Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, yet they died. But here is the bread that comes down from heaven, which anyone may eat and not die. I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats this bread will live forever. This bread is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world.” Then the Jews began to argue sharply among themselves, “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” Jesus said to them, “Very truly I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise them up at the last day. For my flesh is real food and my blood is real drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me, and I in them. Just as the living Father sent me and I live because of the Father, so the one who feeds on me will live because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven. Your ancestors ate manna and died, but whoever feeds on this bread will live forever.” He said this while teaching in the synagogue in Capernaum. On hearing it, many of his disciples said, “This is a hard teaching. Who can accept it?” Aware that his disciples were grumbling about this, Jesus said to them, “Does this offend you? Then what if you see the Son of Man ascend to where he was before! The Spirit gives life; the flesh counts for nothing. The words I have spoken to you—they are full of the Spirit and life. Yet there are some of you who do not believe.” For Jesus had known from the beginning which of them did not believe and who would betray him. He went on to say, “This is why I told you that no one can come to me unless the Father has enabled them.” From this time many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him.” John 6:44-66

Fun facts!!!:

Eucharist: “is a transliteration of the Greek word eucharistia, which is itself a translation of the Hebrew word berekah. All three words have the meaning of thanksgiving, or praise for the wonderful works of God.”

Bethlehem: the city where Jesus was born means “House of Bread”!

Transubstantiation: “the conversion of the substance of the Eucharistic elements into the body and blood of Christ at consecration, only the appearances of bread and wine still remaining.”

I saw a poll that only one third of Catholics really believe in Transubstantiation. If you decide in your journey to become part of the Catholic Church, please do not ever forget the words Jesus spoke about Himself to His people and those who read today. He truly is present as the Eucharist and wine.

Did you know there is evidence that the Eucharist is truly Jesus?! They are called Eucharistic Miracles. There are sooo many stories from around the world of bleeding Eucharists that scientists and such have actually tested in their labs to find real they had human blood down to a specific blood type AND material evidence of finding human heart tissue not healthy and strong but distressed! Blessed Carlo Acutis (a young man that passed away that is currently in the process of sainthood here on Earth) created an amazing website that collected examples of Eucharistic Miracles. (See link below.) This subject itself is just extra icing on the cake but don’t fall down the rabbit hole so you don’t feel overwhelmed.

Bishop Barron on the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist

Explaining the Faith - The Eucharist In Scripture

Explaining the Faith - Eucharistic Miracles: Scientific Proof

The Veil Removed, what really happens during a Catholic Mass

I could give you so much more but this was just so wonderful to be able to teach you. Know that it’s ok to feel overwhelmed. The topic of what the Eucharist really is and why it is so important is so rich in history and traditions. I hope I was able to satisfy your curiosity. If you ever have any more questions about it, I highly recommend reading sections about it in the Catechism of the Catholic Church (revised edition) but more importantly, reach out to a Catholic priest or bishop by calling them, e-mailing, or even dropping by in person. I am not part of the clergy at all, so talking to a Catholic priest or bishop, you will be able to answer any more questions you have to the Eucharist and they will explain it so well. If you are interested in wanting to know more about the Catholic Faith, I strongly suggest asking about the RCIA, free classes offered by your nearest Catholic Church which will allow you to explore what the Catholic Faith is and answer any questions you have. No pressure though, but just know we are here for you. I am so happy you were chosen as well by God! I will pray that you have a wonderful, exciting journey! God bless and you have a wonderful day/night as well.

[fatefulfaerie]

Zelink reunion after Botw 2

Sorry this took so long! I hope you like it you beautiful anon you

No Place Like Home

The sunlight breached the dark, abandoned house very slowly, warming strips of wood that hadn’t creaked for months, that had only known the light pressure of the occasional insect, that had not basked in the subtle warmth of a home’s hearth in what seemed like a lifetime.

But the door creaked nonetheless, guided by the gentle push of the hero of the wild, battle worn with dull blue eyes, ripped garb, and a right arm that looked as if it were burnt by the very fires of hell.

Link stared, and he stared, and he stared. When he bought this house it was a purchase born from hope and possibility. At the time, he had imagined making it the princess’ home as well. And of course he did, for a spell.

Now it was desolate and empty as he finally summoned the strength to walk in, with footsteps tired of pacing, a mind tired of marking time, and a heart tired of waiting.

He took a deep breath and he sat down at the table, folding his fingers before him and trying to tame his anger, his sadness, trying to keep his composure as if he was in the company of anyone but himself.

Yet his lungs had other plans, hiccuping uneven breaths. His eyes clamped shut as his body insisted he cry. His head dove into his hand as he broke down, sobbing, weeping, shoulders shaking and heart burning. He couldn’t seem to stop either, his lips slightly parted and salty tears dripping from underused tear ducts down his face and onto the table that supported his elbow.

He wished she would tell him to for Hylia’s sake take his elbow off the dining table, he wished he could look up and see her with both of her elbows on the table, he wished they could laugh about all the silly things they once had to do to keep up propriety, he wished he could surprise her with fruitcake again, he wished he could feel the warmth of this house, the way it turned into a home when she was in it, he wished they could sit by the fire and talk about their future, their wedding, their honeymoon, how many children they were going to have, and how they would always be beautiful to each other how matter how much they aged, how frail and wrinkled they looked, how blind or deaf they got, how no matter what their love would be eternal.

He wished that there wasn’t an earthquake as he was serving the fruitcake, he wished that they had actually gotten to that intimate place by the fire, he wished they had never gone down in those damned caves. He wished…

Link had never cried like this and he knew it. He almost felt guilty for letting himself, but every time he tried to return to the straight-faced composure he had maintained for the past couple months, more tears escaped from his blue eyes.

“Link.”

She said his name surprised and breathless when Link first showed her the Hateno house. He hoped she noticed that he made the table and picked flowers for the vase, that there was a Silent Princess in the vase upstairs, that he made the bed and laid out clothes for her, that he made a reservation for himself at the local inn in case she wasn’t comfortable sleeping with him in the house, even if it was downstairs on the floor. He didn’t need her to notice, but she did. She also noticed how red in the face Link got when she insisted the he sleep in his bed with her.

“Link.”

It got to a point where Link could tell that she was smiling before even looking at her. It was just how she said his name after a while, always with a genuine smile, even when it was against his lips.

“Link!”

Excited. An excitement derived from science and science only, perhaps she was calling him over to share in a new discovery. This used to be Link’s favorite, because it meant that she would go on and on and he could just sit there, admiring her.

“Link.”

Panicked and disturbed, scared and terrified. They had spotted the corpse for the first time and she said his name because she didn’t know what to say. Neither did he.

“Link.”

That one was new. This one was real.

Link’s head popped up and he looked over.

Speechless, he stood up. Eyes red and puffy and encircled with tears.

Aglow with the sunset behind her, he choked a different sob, placing his hand over his mouth.

After a moment to ensure that the other was really real, they took no hesitation to run to each other, Zelda jumping up so that her bent legs straddled his hips. Link supported her where he stood with one hand on her posterior and another on her head, at first kissing her desperately and spinning her around before letting her head fall into the crook of his shoulder. Her breaths, too, were uneven alongside her untempered tears.

Link held her as he fell to his knees, crying and crying and crying tears of happiness. There was so much he needed to say, but he waited, waited until he could be clear and not just a blubbering mess.

“Once everything settled,” Link said. “Wuh-once Ganon was gone I looked for you in those caves for months…I came back here to restock on supplies…”

Link’s voice broke again. He tried not to clutch her too hard.

“I was beginning to think…”

He gave himself a moment. Nothing was coming out right, and he doubted she could understand him at all.

“I am so glad that you are okay,” Link said, the very words weighted with a heart-wrenching sincerity. But Zelda began to giggle, to laugh.

“All that time you were down there looking for me,” she said. “I was scouring Hyrule looking for you.”

Link laughed too, not even caring that they had been so foolish. They were both in the here and now, and after everything they had been through, that is all that mattered. Zelda’s hands sifted and clutched at Link’s long locks, that resembled the color of wheat fields and had such a consistency that Zelda wondered when he last properly washed it. She would ask later.

“You let your hair down,” she observed quietly. It wasn’t that she didn’t want Link to hear her, it was that she was obsessed with the fact that he was so close, that she could whisper in just the soft tones of a lover and he would be able to hear her.

Link withdrew from the exchange to truly see her, to look into her green eyes and not just imagine them, to tuck her hair behind her pointed ear and smile, smile that she was more than just an illusion, that she was breathing and safe and real.

“So did you,” Link observed as well, noticing that her crown of braids were completely gone. It was just a messy bob now.

As if of the same mind, Link and Zelda met their foreheads together, closed their eyes, and breathed in this moment.

“I love you,” Link said. “So much.”

Zelda smiled.

“I love you too,” she said in reply.

They breathed on each other’s lips and their eyes opened again, new tears falling from the green and the blue, from the princess and the knight, from the girl who once hated his guts and the boy who didn’t say a word to argue against it, from the master of the sword that seals the darkness and the goddess incarnate whose powers came too late.

But they would prefer to think of themselves now just as Link and Zelda, the two Hylians that lived across the wooden bridge in Hateno and wouldn’t be leaving for a very long time.

[whump-town]

Counting Down The Days

The real kicker here is that I don't even like Christmas and I don't know at all why I thought of this...

Fluff, not really sad

No Pairings

Spencer has never liked Christmas.

As a child, December rolled in and cast over the city an impossible task. His thin wrist grabbed as he tucked pudding into his sweater and his ears tugged at when he bolted for the door, knowing getting caught one more time would mean child protective services would come back. And each time he picked his mother up off the floor, every time he tucked himself in the coat closet to try and hide from her wailing and shouting, he knew they would see through the veil. His mother wouldn’t survive having him taken away. No one else can get her to take her medication. No one else could read her books in their original forms. German and Arabic and Spanish. And what was the point in reading Don Quixote except to do so in the original Spanish?

But not getting caught shoplifting in December, when all of the staff of every store was watching for just that, is impossible. December met icy cold fingers dragging through his stomach and lying to his mother that he had eaten something while he made her ramen. He can go one more day but she can’t take her meds on an empty stomach.

As an adult, these things have changed drastically. Christmas is great. He really can’t complain. He loves dressing up for Dave’s fancy dinner and turning into a bragging point. The feeling of Dave’s heavy arm around his shoulders, showing him off to his friends. Finally being able to understand what it must feel like to have a parent bragging about you to other adults, even if at a certain point they’re just trying to show up to their friends. That doesn’t change the flush in his cheeks or how nice he feels smiling and stuttering around an explanation of his PhDs. Stomach twisted up and cheeks hurting when Dave finally leans in and relieves the guests with a “see? Kids so damn smart I don’t even understand what he got a degree in!”

He misses Morgan and Hotch.

They’ll come around for Christmas, he knows.

Hank is getting so big and he’s carrying on the tradition of all of Spencer’s other nephews and calling him “weed” but there’s nothing like that big baby smile when he comes in through the door. Tottling steps and an armful of baby. It just makes him want his own kids but for now, he’s content with his nephews. Jack calls him a lot. He got the ability to do math from somewhere but certainly not from his parents -- Haley was an English major and Hotch uses a calculator for basic math. So Reid is generally the only person that he knows who can talk math. Christmas will bring Henry and Jack home from college. There’s speak of a boyfriend but Emily knows only minimally about this from what she’s heard from Hotch and what Jack has told Hotch is also minimal at best. Henry is… JJ gets a lot of radio silence from him but Hotch is quick to assure her that is just typical. Jack did the same thing but now he’s a senior in college and Hotch is lucky if he goes three consecutive hours without some sort of text or call.

“Who is my doctor at home?”

“Do you think Uncle Derek can change my oil? Wait, can I go that long without checking it?”

“What year was Aunt Jessica born? Don’t tell her I asked you that.”

“How old are you again? 53? 60?”

Spencer is just excited to have everyone under one roof.

Hotch and Emily grew up under the kind of parties that Dave throws for Christmas. Tokens to be shown off by their parents and ignored under every other circumstance. Both having been shipped off at least once during their childhoods when they no longer fit a certain look. Emily was no longer young enough to attract her mother’s friends, breast a little too formed, and acne that could not be tamed. Hotch with shadows of bruises that would not heal. Dead eyes that no longer raised from the floor.

Dave’s parties bring out the worst in them. Emily is a very bad influence on Hotch and together they have considerable tolerance for alcohol, they can do some damage. But they’re not loud. Spencer loves to watch the two of them, the way they ease into the night. Hotch warm now, his edges softened to pleased little smiles and thoughtful hums. Emily is chatty, leans into touch, and stretches out like a cat bathing in the sun. The night ends with their soft arguing. Spencer could butt in at any time to the subjects that they talk about but he finds himself far more content to sit and watch. Emily’s toes tucked under Hotch’s thigh and his head turned on the sofa, lazily listening to her speak.

They always approach every subject as if it’s the simplest thing. Let it be Marx, spending the hours in front of Dave’s parlor fire speaking in hushed tones about surplus-value and what makes a commodity. About the ins and outs of Cormac Mccarthy, Hotch loves The Sunset Limited and Emily does not. Whitney Houston and how poor Hotch’s Spanish is and if that’s his fault or hers.

Garcia loves the parties even if it does create a little cognitive dissonance for her. Her parents would hate this but she feels pretty in her gown and no one lets her forget it. She keeps track of the kisses placed on her cheeks. Derek smelling of something woodsy as he leans in with a wink, “you’re very beautiful this even, mama.” And Savannah smells warm and inviting and she gives the very best hugs. “Green,” she whispers, “is very much your color.” How Hotch hums along to songs and always gives in to her request for one dance, his smile growing wild as she steps on his toes.

And Spencer loves that she always asks him to match her. So he’ll proudly come in with his matching bowtie or pocket square. Lending her his elbow as they step in, stepping just out of the way that the right people come to greet him and no one else. Morgan is warm and tight, always squeezing just a little too hard. JJ fussing with his hair.

But it’s only September.

He’ll have to pass through Halloween. Jack and Henry are too old these days to run through the bullpen dressed as whatever fictive hero they have grown obsessed with this fall. Coming up to his desk knowing he’s hidden the largest bowl of candy, that he’ll sneak into their pockets whole-sized candy bars to eat as they trick or treat. At best he might get some pre-game pictures from them both, neither having grown out of their love for Halloween. Jack is still very into dressing up but Henry will still throw something together.

There will be Thanksgiving, a holiday choppily shared between them all. Just showing up at Dave’s randomly or Morgan’s depending on who wins that argument this year. He’ll be lucky to see them all under the same roof. If it’s at Dave’s then he’s guaranteed warm and cozy Hotch and Emily. Both bothering Dave in the kitchen, their lost childhoods always burning the brightest around one another, and exasperating Dave. Maybe Garcia will win her favorite game and Dave will teach her to cook whatever he’s decided they’ll have this year. If it’s at Derek’s then at least he’ll get to see Hank. JJ and Savannah will be there, they’re pretty good friends. Garcia will certainly be cooking something and Derek will be manning the grill.

But it’s months out until December.

And all Spencer wants is unabashed affection.

Dave’s arm around his shoulder and his high sung praises.

Emily snagging him up to dance to “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” and kissing his cheek for the trouble.

To see Matt and Luke interact with the team. Dave’s attention turning to point out his other boys, “knuckleheads but they mean well”. How Tara will take up the empty space left on the couch and butt into Hotch and Emily’s argument, turning warm and comforting like the other two. And Spencer can’t wait to see how similar the three of them are-- you just have to see through the layers.

Until it’s nearly two in the morning.

Jack and Henry are missing, Luke thinks he might have seen them on the back porch.

Emily is sleeping, head in Tara’s lap and feet in Hotch’s. The other two blinking slowly into the fire, glasses of wine warm in their hands and dangerously close to falling.

Matt is sitting on the floor, children spread out around him.

There’s the buzz of conversation still coming from the kitchen. Garcia, JJ, Savannah, and Kristy giggling over wine and gossip they’re certainly not supposed to know.

Spencer looks up at the calendar sitting above his desk and crosses off the day.

He always hated December. He never got to appreciate Christmas. They represented everything he didn’t have, all the things he thought he could never have. But as mid-September leaves a crisp edge to the air, he finds himself counting down the days tell what used to be a measure of his insignificance.

Now it’s the only day that seems to matter. The only day he feels like he matters. Surrounded by the warmth of familiarity. By love.

He misses his family.

[ayyyeisa]

Home

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Mikasa Ackerman

Word Count: 9.7k

Content: Modern! AU, fluff, angst, best-friends-to-lovers trope

Content Warnings: PTSD, alludes to alcohol

Summary: Childhood best friends Eren and Mikasa go through a series of ups and downs throughout their life, struggling to realize what exactly their relationship is

Notes: Thank you to everyone who helped edit this piece! I really appreciated all the feedback you gave me <3

Prologue

They’ve always been told that they’ve been friends since the moment they were born, and it was difficult to argue against it because it really did feel like it’s been a lifetime of friendship. There has never been a moment where one isn’t with the other. It had never been just Eren, and it had never been just Mikasa. No matter where they were and when it was, it was always (and always will be) Eren and Mikasa. The girl, Mikasa, even claimed to have known her friend Eren in her life before, and although he'd never admit it in front of anyone but Mikasa (in fear that his older brother would make fun of it), he did too. At 28, their friendship definitely had quite a few ups and downs, but if they learned one thing during their years of being best friends it was that they both wanted one thing more than anything in the world: to be with each other. That was it. It didn’t matter, when, where, with who, or for what reason. Just to be in the presence of one another was enough to make them happy.

27 Years Ago (4 months old)

Eren and Mikasa were born just barely two months apart, so it was no surprise that they wouldn’t even remember meeting as babies. As their parents were good friends, the couples jokingly tried to make their children be friends too, by making sure they saw each other frequently. Mikasa and Eren’s moms held their babies across from one another so they could see each other again. It was the first time they officially met, excluding the time the Ackerman family came to visit Carla when she gave birth to Eren. The moment baby Eren had set his big, forest green eyes onto Mikasa’s brown ones, he had tried to reach out to her, going as far as untangling himself from the red scarf (a gift given at his baby shower, though because of his size, could not be used as an actual scarf yet) that his mom used to swaddle him. Unfortunately, from his lack of motor skills, the little girl was awoken by Eren's hand. Mikasa shrieked, upset that she was pulled from her sleep. Zeke, Eren's senior by ten years, freaked, immediately apologizing to Mikasa's mom about Eren. "I'm so sorry Auntie! I'm sure Eren didn't mean it. Please don't be mad."

The woman just let out a light-hearted laugh. "It's alright Zeke. Look, Mikasa is fine now. Besides, her and Eren seem to be getting along pretty well," she said as she watched the two babies looking at each other, arms flailing like an octopus's legs in an attempt to reach each other. Mikasa had gotten a hold of an end of Eren’s swaddle scarf and was lightly tugging at it, while Eren continued to reach forward until his small hand lightly touched Mikasa’s forehead. They were giggling, almost as if they were keeping a secret.

23 Years Ago (5 years old)

It was their first day of first grade. They had been smart enough to go to school a year early. Yes, they. Mikasa refused to start school without Eren, and he refused to go without Mikasa. They were a team, never leaving each other’s side. The teachers were a bit surprised at first when they refused to sit with different people, but they soon got the message. Many actually found it quite cute. Eren had many girls crushing on him (yes, he was a very cute boy, and eventually grew up to be a handsome man). Although the girls didn’t completely understand their emotions at that age, they refused to believe that the cute boy prefered Mikasa over all of them. This of course was bad for Mikasa since it led her to having enemies from a young age. Even if she didn’t need total protection from them, she still had Eren to help. He was, however, useless when his own fangirls chased him around the playground. Though he always proudly claimed "As if I would even think of hitting a girl,” Mikasa was there to help him out when they chased him.

Not even a week in, Eren had met a boy named Armin-- a short and shy young blonde, who always seemed to be in the little library corner of the classroom. He was as smart as Misaka and Eren, if not smarter, therefore he also started a year early. The older boys were constantly making fun of Armin for his short stature, yet what caught Eren’s eyes the most was how no matter the power difference, Armin did not seem to back down. Even as the bullies picked and teased at him, he held his head high.

When Eren approached one day to ask why, Armin would simply state “I haven’t lost yet if I refuse to back down.” And it was that bravery, even in the most dire of situations, that had Eren grinning.

Hands on his hips, he announced, “my name is Eren, but you probably already knew that. And that girl over there,” Eren paused to point at Mikasa, who was watching from across the room to make sure Eren wasn’t getting himself into trouble, “is Mikasa. Let’s all be friends. Mikasa! C’mere! This is Armin and he’s super cool and smart.” After gesturing her over, he turns back to Armin with a grin on his face. “Mikasa is super cool too. She’s smart like you, and really strong. She’s my best friend, and I’ve known her my entire life. I just know we’ll all get along,” he said happily while readjusting his scarf.

And right he was, for that was the beginning of the trio’s epic friendship.

21 Years Ago (7 years old)

He took her hand, and led her to his horse. Just like how the leaves were swept away by the wind, so were they. If you watched, you’d see the horse getting smaller and smaller as they rode farther away. But maybe, if you listened, you would hear the princess’s and prince’s joyful laughter- a truly happy ever after ending for them.

“No, no, no, no!” That’s not what happened in my dream! If I remember correctly, we lived in a castle!” Eren exclaimed. He didn’t know where Mikasa got that dream before.

“Well, I’m just telling you what I saw in my dream. Maybe you’re the one with bad memory,” she snapped back, a frown on her face as she lightly tugged on the red scarf he always kept around his neck.

For the past couple months, they had been dreaming of being together in a number of lives. They often fought about them in front of Armin, constantly asking him which one of the two dreamt the right dream. Poor Armin. Luckily, the boy had a knack for reading any and every book he could find, and he decided to do something about it before the fight could escalate again.

“Maybe you two remembered different parts of your old life, and maybe even different lives. You never know, you could have been a prince or princess more than once,” he proposed.

Mikasa’s brows quirk in confusion. “You think so?” she asked.

Eren, on the other hand, fully trusted the other boy, knowing just how smart he was from all the reading he’s done. Grinning, he proudly stated,“Don’t doubt Armin, Mikasa. He’s super smart. I bet he’s right with just about everything.”

“Really?” the girl excitedly asked. “Wait, so Armin, do you know how babies are made?”

Omake:

Eren: “Of course he does! He read it in a book and told me. A stork plucks a baby from a pond and delivers it at night.”

19 Years Ago (9 years old)

“We were super cool ninjas with powers! Like Naruto!” Eren exclaimed, jumping, kicking, and punching the air as if he was fighting an imaginary person. His red scarf danced and swayed along with him as he energetically moved around. He briefly paused to glance at Mikasa, excited to see her reaction, when he saw her expression. It had his previously bright, green eyes dulling into a light grey color. Furrowing his eyebrows, he asked, “You okay Mikasa?”

She sat there, a worried look on her face. “Eren, will my mom be okay?” Even though she was young, she knew something went wrong when her mom had her. Her mom was always happy, yet sad when talking about Misaka's birth. She overheard one night from her parents that having Mikasa was very difficult for them, let alone having another child.

This question always broke his heart- no matter how many times he’s heard it. He stared at her for a moment before slowly walking to her, unwrapping his scarf off his neck. He stopped right in front of her-- her head right below his chin-- before taking his scarf in two hands and wrapping it around her neck instead. Finishing up the last loop, he messily placed the last few inches on top of her head before taking a seat next to her on the couch.

“I don’t know Mikasa. I don’t know. But you’re going to be okay, I promise.”

Eren had said “you’re” not “it’s,” and she couldn't be more thankful. The little boy could not promise that everything would be okay, but he could promise that she would. Why? Because she still had a home. Because he was there. And he always would be.

“I’m right here. And if you ever need more comfort, whenever and wherever we are, I’ll just wrap that scarf around you again,” he stated confidently. He hugged Mikasa, who in turn hugged him back before they laid down facing each other.

“You’ll really do it? You’ll wrap the scarf around me just like you did in the dream I told you I had last night? That one’s my favorite dream-- but I like all of our other dreams too. Promise me we’ll always talk about them. No matter how old we are, we’ll still tell them to each other, okay? Promise me,” Mikasa prompted as she rested her hand in between them.

It was no surprise when Eren gave her a small smile while stating “Promise,” before reaching out with his hand to interlock his fingers with Mikasa’s.

18 Years Ago (10 years old)

At ten years old, Eren was starting to believe what the other boys in his grade were saying about girls. At first, he tried to fight back and ignore their stupid antics, but he hated the fact that people thought Mikasa was stronger than him. He didn’t want her protection; he wanted to protect her.

“Why does she always speak for you, anyway?” one of them would ask.

“She’s a girl; shouldn’t you be stronger?” another would add.

“Don’t forget that girls have cooties.”

“She’s just plain scary too.”

Eren could feel his cheeks heat up at the comments, and if the boys were paying close attention, they would’ve seen his eyes turn a stormy grey. Whether it was from embarrassment of being below Mikasa, or anger of someone daring to badmouth her, he didn’t know.

“Don’t say that about Mikasa. Girls should be strong, and there’s nothing wrong with not being quiet and dainty,” he loudly proclaimed. But while his heart was burning to continue defending Mikasa, a part of him couldn’t help but hate the situation he was in. Why was Mikasa always the one to protect him, and why did it bother him so much?

Weeks had passed, and Mikasa noticed how Eren seemed to be avoiding her. Was it what everyone was saying about them? Or was it something else? The only other thing she could think of was when she gave him a nice punch (a well-deserved punch at that) for being an idiot and getting into trouble again. Because of him, they both had to stay in the classroom writing apology letters during recess-- it’s not like she was going to let him fight those bullies alone. But he couldn’t be THAT mad at her, could he? The jerk sort of deserved it. It broke her. But, Mikasa being Mikasa, she decided to confront him today.

“Eren, why are you ignoring me? Are you okay? Did something happen?” she asked.

“I’m not ignoring you, okay? Why can’t you just let me be and do my own thing. You’re not my mom, and I'm not your kid brother. I don’t need you around all the time, and I definitely don’t always need your help.” Eren spat, irritated.

Just as he was about to leave, Mikasa spoke again. “So you’re saying that I’m not important.”

Eren, caught off guard, froze. “No! I never--”

“You’re saying that those other boys, your other friends, are more important than me and that what they think matters more than me.” Mikasa clarified, tears starting to swell up in her eyes.

...1 second...

...2 seconds…

Gears were turning in Eren’s head, realizing what he’d almost done to their friendship-- what he’d almost done to Mikasa, his Mikasa, his best friend. He could feel his anger subside, and Mikasa saw his grey eyes slowly brighten to green. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. Why don’t you come over today? We can play tag and hide and seek… Or I could even play with the dolls you made. You made one of me, right? Just the two of us. I promise this won’t happen again.”

“Good. I like Auntie Carla’s cooking. We’re walking home from school together, okay? Like old times,” she simply stated before walking away. She was not going to take any chances of Eren saying no. Of course, Mikasa expected his previous response. As much as Eren had been avoiding her, she truly trusted him to always come back. He always did. She could bet her life (and heart) on it.

17 Years Ago (11 years old)

Lunch was going well for the first day of 6th grade. It was an odd transition from eating with classmates in their grade level to being able to eat with just about anyone that attended their school. Eren, Mikasa, and Armin were finishing up their lunch when they heard a voice.

“Your long black hair is… really beautiful, by the way,” a boy with ash-brown hair shyly says to Mikasa. His blush was evident on his light skin and he could barely look at the girl. His name was Jean Kirstein, a new classmate of the trio’s; and he annoyed Eren to no end. Who did this guy think he was? It was their first year at South Paradis Junior High-- there were so many other elementary schools that fed into here that it was unlikely that they’d know all their classmates. And yet, this boy was already coming straight up to Mikasa and complimenting her hair. Mikasa was a rare beauty and Eren’s best friend; she deserved the best and only the very best. He wasn’t going to let some horse face of a boy take a chance with her.

Armin noticed Eren’s frown and how his eyes were a dark grey. He honestly considered teasing him: “Of course you’d be the petty, jealous type.” That’s all he had to say. It was fairly easy, and Armin was quite sure that voicing that thought would have Eren in a stuttering mess trying to deny it all. He’d probably be so busy denying it that he would’ve spent more time arguing with Armin than acting on his jealousy. Though against his better judgement, Armin kept his mouth shut, allowing Eren to speak up.

“Mikasa,” Eren said softly as he grabbed a piece of her hair, “aren’t you trying out for the martial arts team? You should cut your hair. You could get into an accident.” Eren didn’t even bother glancing at Jean; he opted for keeping his gaze on Mikasa as he waited for an answer.

“Yeah… you’re right. I should probably cut it,” she stated as she absentmindedly grabs the same strand Eren was holding, their fingers grazing one another in the process. Eren would never admit it, but his fingers burned right where his and Mikasa’s briefly touched. The physical contact didn’t last long, but he could still feel the warmth she emulated when he went to bed that night. He didn’t know why, though.

13 Years Ago (15 years old)

It wasn’t until sophomore year of high school that Eren realized just why he felt that way-- why he always had the urge to protect Mikasa to the point that her being stronger than him made him angry, why he was always hit with an overwhelming feeling of jealousy whenever Jean was anywhere near her, why his skin started burning at her slightest touch. It wasn’t until sophomore year of high school that Eren realized just why he started to look at his best friend a little differently, why she always lingered in his thoughts a bit longer and a bit more than everyone else.

He was, unfortunately, stupid enough to make homecoming plans without Mikasa. Last year, the two of them and Armin had all gone together, but Armin was finally going with Annie this year. It was of the utmost obviousness that those two had something going ever since she transferred to their school in 7th grade. Annie was a quiet girl who usually kept to herself, maybe occasionally speaking with Bertholdt and Reiner since they transferred from the same school. But otherwise, it seemed as if only Armin was able to break through her shell. It was honestly quite ironic how Eren and Mikasa often teased Armin for his incapability to express his feelings, when he could’ve easily pointed out theirs. The ache in his heart when Annie was away --the way he constantly missed her and wished she was around-- was no different from what Eren and Mikasa secretly told Armin when they were apart. How could Eren and Mikasa not know?

“Historia asked me to homecoming,” Eren had told Mikasa one night after they both respectively finished martial arts and baseball practice. He could see the small glare she gave him, as she stared at him for what felt like hours without saying a word.

“Okay, then just ask her out.” Mikasa didn’t even try to hide her annoyance.

“It’s not like that. I don’t-- There’s nothing-- We’re not like that. I think she’s just pretty bummed that Ymir moved and needs a friend. You know she doesn’t have that many ‘cause her dad’s been sheltering her. You can come with. I told her that I was planning on going with you,” Eren replied. It’s not like he wanted Mikasa to feel left out or unimportant. One of his friends needed his help, and he would never-- could never-- turn his back on a friend. They were the most important people in the world to him, almost on the same level as his parents, Armin, and Mikasa. Of course he would be there if one of them ever needed a hand.

And it was because Mikasa knew him so well that she tried to control herself. Mikasa wanted to argue-- wanted to tell Eren that there were plenty of other people Historia could’ve asked. She had Sasha, Connie, and Jean too. She could’ve even asked her. Why did it have to be specifically Eren? She was jealous, she acknowledged that, because all she ever wanted was to be near Eren. The thought of him belonging to some other girl hurt so badly. For him to have another home besides her, for her to not be able to call him her home-- she didn’t know if she wanted to even be alive if that were to happen. Eren was everything to her. But another part of her just wanted to let it be. If Eren was happy, and as his best friend, shouldn’t she be happy for him too? All she ever wanted was to be near him. Romantic relationship or not, she already had that. Eren cared about her and Armin more than anyone in the world; she has everything she’s asked for. Shouldn’t that be enough?

“No, it’s ok. You don’t need to explain. She needs a friend, and I think you should go. Jean and I were talking in class today. He actually offered for us to join their group because Sasha and Connie wanted to do a whole extravagant group meetup, with pictures and food and everything. I’ll just tag along with them,” her lips drew into a straight line in an attempt to smile. She knew Eren well enough to know that he knew --that she knew-- that he knew that it was most definitely not okay. But to her dismay, neither acknowledged the elephant in the room nor the growing tension between them.

Eren didn’t want to. He was too busy feeling the blood rushing through his ears at the mention of Jean asking Mikasa out. There was only one other time he remembered feeling this jealous-- it had been all that time ago, when they first met Jean back in 6th grade. The horse face had told Mikasa her long, black hair was beautiful, and while Eren agreed, it pissed him off to no end that someone other than him was looking at Mikasa. Of course, it was no surprise that many boys and girls were looking at her-- she was beautiful and strong and everything that a woman should be. But having random people look at her didn’t compare to the jealousy he felt when it came to Jean. Eren wanted Mikasa all to himself. But what right did he have to whine and complain when he was the one to bring up taking Historia to the dance? Jealousy was an ugly feeling, and he hated how accustomed he had gotten to feeling it. Stupid Jean, stupid world, stupid homecoming, stupid him. Oh how he hated himself more than ever for putting himself in that situation. All he ever wanted was to be with Mikasa, and here he was doing the opposite-- here he was starting a small rift between them. One stupid statement, and he already felt far, far away from home.

12 Years Ago (16 years old)

It was concerning, really, how months later, Eren and Mikasa still couldn’t address the divide between them. While the two often got into small arguments before, they were usually solved within a week, if not immediately. This was the first time that it ever lasted more than a few days, if this could even be considered an argument. They were talking, but something felt off-- both of them could feel it. Mikasa didn’t want to push boundaries. Eren was still her friend; he was safe and nearby, so could she really complain? As for Eren, he could feel the ache of Mikasa’s absence run deeper than his heart. It made him sick in a way he couldn’t completely describe— like he was homesick or something.

While he saw her everyday at school, she often paired up with Armin or Jean instead. While he ate lunch with her at the same table as their friend group, she usually spent her time listening to Sasha ramble on and on about meat and food and the so-called cute senior in her culinary class named Niccolo. Even when he was sitting right next to her in the driver’s seat as he dropped her home after practice, their conversations ran shallow. He missed their inside jokes and their talks about their dreams. For months, he’d been wanting to tell her his recurring dream of one of their past lives. How every night, his sleep would send him to the peaceful mountains of Switzerland, where he lived in a tiny cottage with her. They were alone-- isolated from society-- and they often needed to fish, hunt, and gather their own food, but they were together. They were together and they were happy, and God help him, that’s all he ever wanted.

He wondered that of the many other dreams she’s had of what they presumed to be their past lives, if she saw that same dream too. He hoped so. He hoped that when he was away, she felt that same ache too. He hoped that in the same way no one could ever replace her in his heart, no one would ever replace him in hers. Call him selfish, but he wanted Mikasa all to himself-- wanted to be the only person that would ever claim her heart. He didn’t want anyone-- not Jean, not even Armin-- to have Mikasa. So why was he letting her slip through his fingers?

It wasn’t until months later, near the end of summer, that the two finally resolved whatever issue was going on. With school out, Historia rarely saw anybody outside her friends, and even then, she was only really comfortable around Eren-- only he knew the pain of missing someone. Historia knew he was suffering. He never told her-- never really told anyone except Armin-- how he felt about Mikasa, but Historia could see the longing in his eyes whenever he gazed at Mikasa and the sadness they held whenever he talked about her. And it was for this reason that she refused to leave Eren alone. He needed a friend, and so did she. There was no way she’d abandon him-- no way she would abandon anyone in need.

Over summer, the two started volunteering at homeless shelters and orphanages. They’d occasionally invite the whole group over: Sasha, Connie, Jean, Mikasa, Armin… There were days that the seven of them would volunteer during the day and go out for dinner in the evening to catch up. But the amount of time that the group met up was nothing in comparison to the amount of time Historia and Eren spent together. It was evident in the way they talked at their group outings, and it didn’t help with the growing tension between Eren and Mikasa either.

Seeing them together, seeing them so happy-- seeing Eren so happy without her-- had Mikasa feeling things. Was she missing something-- a component or aspect that maybe was pushing Eren away from her? Or was she too overbearing? What did Historia have that she didn’t? There must be a reason why Eren seemed to be wanting to spend more time with the other girl as opposed to her. She missed seeing Eren’s smile and his happy, green eyes. She was both angry and hurt, and while she knew she had no right to speak, for she was Eren’s best friend, not his lover, she could only take so much before snapping.

She hadn’t meant to say it; at least, not out loud and most definitely not in front of Eren, but her jealousy got the better of her. Historia and Eren were once again telling the group about some project they went on the other week to help orphans in a different country. They were laughing and reminiscing about the troubles they went through during their time there when Mikasa spoke.

“We get it. You guys had a great time,” her voice dripping with disdain as she glared at Historia. It wasn’t until Mikasa noticed everyone staring at her that she realized the rudeness of what she had said. Hesitantly, she said “Sorry. I’ve, uhh, I’ve had a rough few… months. I’m just gonna go,” before hastily leaving the table.

“Wait!” Historia called after her.

“We haven’t even ordered anything yet, aren’t you hungry?” Jean added.

She ignored them both, though, and opted to continue walking out of the restaurant, even as the others tried to call out after her.

Armin used that distraction to nudge Eren’s side. “Eren,” he whispered sternly, grinding his teeth together. “It’s now or never. Don’t let it get worse. Are you really going to let her go?”

And it was because Armin knew both Mikasa AND Eren so well that he didn’t doubt that it was all he needed to say to get the guy moving. Not even a second later, Eren was scrambling off his chair and past his friends as he hurriedly followed Mikasa.

“Mikasa! Mikasa, wait. What was that? What’s wrong?” he asked. One of his hands was gripping her arm and holding her in place. He had tugged at it lightly so that Mikasa was slightly facing him, and his eyes desperately searched hers for an answer.

“Nothing,” she stated, trying (but failing) to keep her composure. It’s not like she could come out and say “Oh, I’m jealous of Historia. I hate how she spends a lot of time with you because I secretly love you, Eren.” She could barely admit that fact herself, let alone confess it to someone else.

Eren stared at her in wait, desperately wanting to know what they had and where they stood. Anyone watching could’ve easily seen it in his eyes. “Please,” he begged when she remained stubbornly quiet. “Please tell me what’s wrong. Don’t you miss the way things used to be? What’s happened between us?”

“Historia--”

“Historia and I are just friends! I already told you that, back during homecoming. Why did we drift apart just because of that? Why did it seem like you weren’t interested in talking to me anymore? Why did we stop hanging out everyday?” Eren urged Mikasa to answer. He was already fighting back tears, when one question that had been nagging at him the past few months made its way out his mouth. “Why did we stop talking about our dreams?! Didn’t we always promise to talk about them? Have you given up on a useless idiot like me?”

Seeing Eren cry stopped Mikasa in her tracks. She stopped trying to get her arm out of Eren’s grip and settled for looking at him straight in the eyes, near tears herself. “Eren,” she says with soft urgency. It was only then, when he felt her sad gaze on him and lack of resistance against his grip, did Eren completely let go of Mikasa. She grabbed both his shoulders, giving him the slightest shake. “Don’t say that about yourself. Please. You’re not a useless idiot. It’s just-- I… really missed you. I’m sorry. I know you told me that you and Historia were just friends, but I didn’t like how jealous I felt. I wanted you only by my side, because it’s always been Mikasa and Eren, and Eren and Mikasa, and seeing you with someone else-- I… I don’t know. I guess, I’m not used to having to be apart from you. More than anything in the world, all I want is to be near you. When you kept visiting Historia and spending the summer with her, it just felt like you didn’t need me around anymore, or that you maybe didn’t want me around,” Mikasa confessed, her blush evident.

If Eren heard her correctly, then maybe she was feeling the same ache that he’d been feeling. Maybe, just maybe, she did love him the way that he loved her-- not as a sibling nor a best friend, but something more. He raised both his hands to grab her face, never breaking eye contact.

She could see how his previously gray eyes had started shifting over to green. Mikasa lifted her hands to hold onto his wrists needing to stabilize herself, as she felt like she would faint at any moment with the way Eren was holding her. Since when did his touch start making her knees so weak? And since when did his gaze start making her self-conscious and nervous?

“Mikasa,” Eren whispered, closing his eyes. He didn’t think he’d have the courage to look at her when their faces were close-- so close that their foreheads were nearly touching and he could feel the warmth of her shaky breaths on his face. “I’ll always want you with me,” he whispered softly as he tried to lean in. He wanted to kiss her-- wanted to know what it’d feel like to have her lips on his-- but what if he was wrong about his assumptions? What if Mikasa didn’t feel the same ache in her heart as he did? What if he was just like family to her and nothing more? If he kissed her and he was wrong, it’d for sure ruin their friendship, and the rift between them that they were currently trying to heal would be damaged for good.

He was too busy worrying about all that to realize that Mikasa, too, wanted to kiss him. He didn’t even realize the slight tilt up of her head nor the way her fingers lightly squeezed his wrists before she stopped in realization that he wasn’t actually going to kiss her. Neither of them wanted to make the first move in fear of ruining what they had-- whatever it was. And so instead, Eren went limp and rested his forehead against hers, eyes still closed, and Mikasa did the same. They didn’t move until Mikasa’s stomach growled.

“I knew you were hungry. It’s 7 o’clock and you usually eat an early brunch,” Eren laughed.

“Eren, your eating habits are worse than mine. You’re probably hungrier than me. Let’s go back inside,” Mikasa snapped back with a smile.

Things felt normal again and both were the happiest they’ve been in months. Their friendship was okay. Romantic relationship or not, they were still Eren and Mikasa, and Mikasa and Eren-- they were still each other's best friend. They were together, and to them, that’s all that ever mattered in the world. They were home.

10 Years Ago (18 years old)

Many moments from the next few years were filled with awkward silence or slight tension, ones caused by the fight they had at 16. It was like the rift never fully healed, and that made it much easier to get into small fights. Maybe it was because much of the problem itself never went away. The arguments grew from insecurities and miscommunication; they were two teenagers stupidly in love, yet too scared to say anything. Regardless, it was Eren and Mikasa, and so the fights never lasted too long.

It was the last weeks of summer before the two had to go off to college, and unlike two summers ago, Eren made sure that they were making every last moment count. From getting ice cream to hiking at nearby state parks, Eren came up with plans to hangout every single day. He had to, especially because they’d be spending the next four years apart. Both were originally going to Purdue University, along with quite a few of their friends. Eren was going for aviation, Mikasa for elementary education, Armin for political science with a minor in oceanography, and Jean for business.

Unfortunately, times were cruel and news channels were filled with stories of a possible onslaught of World War III. It seemed surreal, but the growing tensions across many countries of the world had many people worrying if it was actually possible. Eren, in particular, found it interesting enough to change his mind about college. He still wanted to fly-- wanted to know the feeling of freedom-- but first and foremost, he felt a strong duty to protect his country because it’s where the people he loved lived. If the possibility of an oncoming World War III was true, Eren wanted to be prepared. He still hadn’t brought it up to Mikasa or Armin, his decision being so last minute.

He had spent countless nights contemplating on whether he should go or not. If he entered the military, he’d be signing his life away for four years. That’s four years of not being able to always see Mikasa, assuming he’d be able to hide it from her. He just had to keep his decision a secret long enough for Mikasa to not be able to follow him in. Eren knew that she wouldn’t hesitate to drop everything if it meant being able to be with and protect him, but if Eren cared about her the way he claims he does, shouldn’t he be protecting her too? They should be equals, not whatever this was. Just this once, he wanted to be the one protecting, even if it meant being apart from her.

And so, that’s how he came to the decision the night before Decision Day to enter the military as opposed to Purdue. It broke his heart and worried him to no end that for the next four years, he’d be far away from Mikasa-- far away from home. What if something happened while he was gone? Something bad, and he wasn’t there to help her through it? Sure, Jean and Armin would be there, and Mikasa would surely meet other people too. But would they be able to be there for her in the way she deserved? He knew Mikasa better than anyone else, even Armin, so could anyone really live up to his expectations of what he wanted for Mikasa? All these questions ran through his head as he drove Mikasa back home from the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, another one of the trips he planned.

Mikasa, not one to not notice Eren’s changes in behavior, glanced over at the driver’s seat, wondering why Eren suddenly got quiet. “Eren?”

At the sound of her voice, Eren was immediately pulled out of his thoughts. But one look at her, and he was filled with sorrow again. Soon, he’d have to leave her and it’d be another four years or so before they would be able to return to the old days, if going back to the old days was even possible. For all he knew, this could be the very last time they’d talk to each other like this again. These last few days could be the very last time that Eren and Mikasa, and Mikasa and Eren are a thing. He wanted to make the most out of it-- whatever time he had left. “Mikasa,” he stated before pulling over to the side of the road. He wanted to be sure he could clearly see her face, without any distractions. “Let's get out of here,” he continued, looking her in the eye.

She stared at him, observed his movements, the color of his eyes. They were a mix of green and gray, much lighter than his usual forest green eyes that signaled his happiness, but not exactly the stormy grey eyes he had when he was angry or sad either. It confused her, because in the rare times that she didn’t know what he was feeling, his eye color usually gave it away. But this time, it’s like he was both happy and sad. “What do you mean?”

Eren was practically quivering in fear that she’d be angry or reject what he was about to offer. But he kept reminding himself that these last few days would be the last time he’d see her in a long while. They’d be apart for the first time since they were born, and he wasn’t sure how either of them would be able to handle it. He looked away to gather his nerves before turning back around and taking a deep breath.

“Don’t be mad with what I’m about to say. Please.” Eren waited for her nod before continuing. “The night before decision day, I actually decided I was going to be joining the military-- the army. And before you even think of telling me you’ll join too, don’t. You needed to decide by decision day, so there’s no point in joining now if we’re going to be in different regiments. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just wanted to do this to protect everyone, while not influencing any of your decisions to pursue your dreams…” he paused again, waiting for Mikasa’s reaction.

The girl wanted to scold him for making such a hasty and dangerous decision. She didn’t know where to begin. The military was a four-year commitment, which meant that they’d be apart for four years. Would she be able to handle that? They had never been apart for anywhere near that long. And what if the military changes him? Even if he didn’t get deployed, he’d still have to go through basic training and the like. She had heard stories of how the military, even just camp, changed people. What if some part of him never comes back from that? Would he still be her Eren-- the same Eren?

“Mikasa, stop thinking about it. Let’s just… enjoy what time we have left of summer break, okay? I told you this because I was hoping you’d say yes to what I’m about to ask you. For the last few days of summer, let’s go to Switzerland, in Crans-Montana-- in between the mountains where we went on that band trip junior year. Remember how Armin and I climbed the balcony on the third story of the building, just so we could spend the night talking about the most random things? We stayed up till sunrise and nearly got caught staying together in the same bedroom,” he chuckled. “Let’s go there again. Just the two of us. Mikasa, come with me. It wouldn’t be home with you.”

Mikasa, who was shocked and deep in thought, could only manage to give him a small smile before taking the opportunity to reach over the console and grab one of Eren’s hands. “One condition: you wrap this scarf around me one last time, okay?”

6 Years Ago (22 years old)

“Hey Mikasa, have you heard from Eren? I don’t think I’ve received any letters from him in a while,” Armin said.

Their usual group was having a meet-up at their favorite restaurant, a celebration for finishing finals; they’d be graduating in less than a month’s time. And yet, there was a sort of sad or empty feeling to the group, as Eren wouldn’t be home for another 6 months or so. He had to finish his military contract, and there was no way for him to visit at the moment due to his most recent deployment.

“No, I haven’t; the last letter was from a few weeks ago. I think he’s busy. Last I heard, he was deployed somewhere in the Middle East,” Mikasa replied softly.

“Have you told him already?” asked Jean. He gently placed his arms across her shoulders from his seat next to her.

Even from across the table, Armin could see the ring glistening on his finger. He had read somewhere that only about 7% of men actually wore engagement rings; he wasn’t surprised that Jean was of that percentage. It matched the diamond on Mikasa’s hands that were resting on the table. Armin didn’t know how to feel about the entire thing. Mikasa did genuinely look happy, and she deserved every bit of it. So did Jean, especially after all that he’d done for Mikasa when Eren wasn’t able to be there for her. It wasn’t really in his place to judge— what did he know about love? It had taken him years to spend time with Annie, and even then, it took many more awkward conversations and longing glances for them to establish the bond between them. So maybe it did make sense for Mikasa to accept Jean’s proposal. While everyone felt Eren’s absence, he was sure that he and Mikasa felt it the most.

Jean was always there to comfort Mikasa, even when Armin couldn’t. He never overstepped his boundaries, knowing that it was improper to make a move on someone whose heart belonged to someone else, but as the time between Eren’s letters lengthened, the more Jean found himself attending events with Mikasa, or being left alone to study for classes together since Armin wanted surprise Annie, until one day she started smiling at him almost the same way as she did to Eren. A part of him initially wondered if Mikasa really did love him, or if she just appreciated his presence. But those doubts didn’t last long because it just wasn’t like Mikasa to do something like that.

Mikasa was glad that he did believe her when she said she loved him, because she did. Jean was kind and funny; he was hardworking, empathetic, and an amazing leader. She saw how he treated his peers and subordinates with respect and often put himself in their place to make sure they received the best treatment. He also smiled at her in this certain way. She couldn’t describe it, but it made her heart flutter. She loved having him around because he was one of the only people that filled the void of Eren’s absence. She loved when he would pull out a chair for her on lunch and dinner dates, when he brought her breakfast at her dorm in the mornings, and when he helped her put on her jacket even when she didn’t need help. She loved him-- Jean; she really did. But she also knew a part of her would never really let go of Eren, not completely.

“No, I haven’t,” Mikasa stated hesitantly. “I thought he should find out in person, especially since it’d be awkward for me to ask him to be my maid of honor when he’s not even a girl,” earning snickers from Sasha and Connie, who were also seated with them.

“Wait, so you guys have been engaged for months now, and Eren still doesn’t know?” Annie asked, her voice blunt.

Armin lightly kicked Annie’s foot under the table. “Annie,” he softly warned. The two stared at each other as Jean attempted to break the awkward atmosphere.

“No, it’s all good. We wrote to him saying that we started dating, but I guess we’re waiting to tell him about the engagement. He’s on Mikasa’s side after all. He deserves to hear it from her, whenever she’s ready.”

. . . . .

It wasn’t until Annie and Armin were on their way home from lunch did Annie dare to speak again. “Correct me if I’m wrong,” she started. “But Jean’s just in denial that Mikasa is prolonging the engagement because a part of her will never stop loving Eren,” she tells Armin

“I don’t think he’s in denial… Just that, a part of him-- well, a part of all of us-- know that Eren will always have a place in Mikasa’s heart. It doesn’t mean she won’t move on with her life. Though, I will admit that I think Jean deserves someone who will love him completely.” Armin said. And though Annie remained silent, he knew her well enough to see the slight hesitation in her actions, as if she was contemplating on whether or not she should say something. “Eren’s always been adventurous, wanting to explore the world rather than stay here; he’s always been a small distance from Mikasa and me, no matter how close we try to be to him. I think--” he paused, trying to process his thoughts into words. “I think that he just needs time to understand what she means to him. They both do.”

1 Year Ago (27 years old)

The wait for Eren’s return came by slowly, and the way he took the news of Mikasa and Jean’s engagement was quite anti-climactic. Everyone in their friend group expected more, but he was just blank and glaze-eyed for what seemed like months after he returned home. Even years later, not much of his behavior changed. The military had not been what he expected. He went in excited to serve his country-- determined to protect his people and loved ones, no matter the sacrifices he had to make. But the horrors that awaited him were beyond anything he could imagine.

Everytime he closed his eyes, he could hear bombs, screaming, and gunshots, along with the sights of blood and blurred vision. He’d somewhat grown accustomed to it, at least on the outside. He no longer jolted at the slightest touch or immediately stood alert at loud noises. Unfortunately, he still felt far, far away. There were times when he didn’t feel like he was safe or at home, but in fear of worrying Mikasa and the others, he opted for staring blankly at his surroundings.

He could practically hear his mom nagging in his ear “How many times did I tell you to NOT join? Did I not tell you that the army isn’t worth it?”

Eren almost agreed. Almost. Because while a selfish part of him wished he stayed with Mikasa, he couldn’t exactly regret leaving. Yes, more than anything in the world, he wanted to be with her; It had been his dream when he was younger, and still was his dream now. But how could he compare his happiness to the lives of millions, or more importantly, his friends?

He hoped his unhappiness didn’t show too much-- hoped that his friends wouldn’t see how his jaw clenched in anger at the thought of not being able to be with Mikasa the way he was in his dreams.

But they did, at least, Armin and Mikasa did. They noticed because this new Eren, so emotionless and easily irritated, wasn’t him. It broke their hearts to see him so different. It broke Mikasa’s heart to see the caring and determined boy she grew up with-- the one that would do anything for his family and friends-- was just… gone. Her heart ached because she had waited so long, waited 4 years to see him again, only for it to seem like he never even came back. She wanted nothing more than to be able to hug him, ask him what the matter was, and tell him everything was going to be okay because she was there-- the same way he always did when she was out of it. She wanted to tell him she lov--. No, she couldn’t do that, because it wouldn’t be fair to Jean. It wouldn’t be fair to Jean who always cared about her well-being when Eren was gone, who never overstepped when he sensed something going on between her and Eren. It just wasn’t right for her to be saying any of that last part to Eren.

Not that it would change anything. It was like he was always angry. And whenever someone asked, he’d just rudely brush them off. Which is how Eren and Mikasa got into this position: as if the past few years have not already been filled with awkward glances and underlying tension, Eren and Mikasa were, once again, fighting.

Eren could only bite his cheek while shaking his head, “That’s just the thing, Mikasa. You don’t understand. You would never be able to, and you’ve just really been pissing me off lately. God, I hate you.”

“No, no you don’t. I know you, Eren,” she insisted softly.

He hated how it didn’t phase Mikasa, as if she was expecting him to say that or that his opinion didn’t matter to her. But while this was so, he hated even more her unwillingness to give up on him. Why wouldn’t she just let go. He doesn’t deserve any type of kidness-- not after abandoning her for some stupid dream in the military, not after letting some other man claim her, not after all the awful things he had to do while he was in the Middle East. He didn’t deserve any kindness from Mikasa-- he didn’t deserve her.

And yet, he was angry that Jean was with her, because even after everything Eren had done, he still wanted Mikasa to be his. He wasn’t mad at her-- God no, he could never be mad at her-- but he was mad at the entire situation and all his conflicting emotions.

His anger got the better of him, of course, and he continued speaking. “Don’t you think your life is so pitiful? I might be fucked up in the head, but at least I’m not stuck in a long engagement, working a regular 9-5 schedule like some robot who’s following orders. I actually have some interesting things going on in my life,” Eren sneered. He internally cringed at the harshness of his words when he saw Miaksa recoil. He hit her where it hurt, he was sure. Good. Maybe if she hated him, it’d be easier for him to move on with his life without her beside him.

It took Mikasa a second to recollect herself. She honestly wanted to cry, but with the way Eren had just treated her, she did not want to give him the satisfaction of it. “Okay,” she tried to calmly say. “You clearly don’t want me around, so I’m just going to go,” she stood up from the table they sat at before walking away. Maybe Eren was too far gone-- too far changed after his military service-- too bitter at how life turned out for him. She deserved better, right? It was okay to walk away after what just happened. Slowly taking off her red scarf --the scarf he had given her so many years ago when they were just 9 years old-- she didn’t dare to look back. It was too bad she didn’t-- if she did, she might’ve caught Eren shedding a tear before quickly wiping it away.

Present Day (28 years old)

“Mikasa, we need to talk,” Jean stated firmly. It had been months since Eren and Mikasa’s big fight, and while everyone in their friend group knew something happened, no one was actually sure what exactly went down. Years of being Eren and Mikasa’s friends taught them to stay out of it. They’d solve it eventually-- they loved each other too much to stay apart forever. Which is the thought that solidified Jean’s decision to do what he was about to do. “I think we should break our engagement,” Jean announced slowly and quietly, as if it pained him to say it-- it probably did.

Mikasa reached out to grab his hand, “Jean--” she started before pausing.

Jean outstretched his hand in a gesture to let him continue.

“I’ve thought about it a lot. There is no doubt in my mind that you do love me. I know that. But I also know that you’ll never love me in the same way you love Eren. Even after everything, you still have his scarf. Mikasa, love like what you guys have-- it doesn’t happen often. Don’t let him go,” Jean’s voice cracked at his own advice.

Mikasa couldn’t deny it-- she could only stare at him sadly while apologizing. What for? She didn’t know. Maybe for leading him on? Or not loving him as much as Jean deserved?

“Hey, it’s okay. I love you. I want you to be happy, and if that means letting you go, then I will learn to live with it,” Jean gave her a small smile.

It made Mikasa want to cry. She probably hurt him a lot, with him always knowing he wouldn’t live up to Eren, and yet here he was, being understanding, a gentleman. He was letting her go. “Thank you,” she whispered before she gently kissed his cheek.

And before Jean knew it, she was gone. Just like that. Everything seemed to run by in a blur that he hadn’t even realized how much time had gone. One second, he was watching Miaksa leave, and the next, he was sandwiched between Connie and Sasha at a bar. He had a drink in his hand that he didn’t even remember buying. Had he been drinking?

“Yo, you seem out of it, man,” Connie stated while hooking his arm around Jean. It earned him a nudge from Sasha, who muttered something about letting Jean wallow in his despair a little longer. He had just let Mikasa go after all-- someone who he’d loved for over a decade. “Uhh what I meant to say was, I hope you know that you deserve someone who will love you with all their heart, and all of their mind, body, and soul. Someday, you will find someone who makes you happy, then you’ll forget just how much this hurts,” Connie says, him and Sasha rubbing Jean’s back in comfort.

. . . . .

Mikasa was never one to back down from confrontation, so even she found it surprising when a week later, she still hadn’t talked to Eren. It’s not that she didn’t want to, but rather, didn’t know how. Luckily, Eren was impulsive as ever, and so everything seemed to fall back into place when he showed up at her doorstep one day.

“Hey,” he says with a short breath, as if he was trying to hide his exhaustion from running or whatever extraneous activity he was doing beforehand.

“Hi,” Mikasa replies, looking at his disheveled hair and the sweat-stained neckline of his shirt. Did he rush over here?

“I heard from Jean… about umm… about what happened,” he pauses, seeming to take a moment to gather his thoughts. “I’m sorry for all the trouble I caused you-- what I’ve been causing you. But I just wanted to tell you this before I lose my courage: I’ve uhh I’ve been having this dream for a while, practically forever. Of all our dreams, our past lives-- presumably, at least-- this one is my favorite. We were together in Switzerland, in this small cabin. There were trees everywhere and mountains in sight. Nothing ever really happened, except… normal everyday things. We hunted, fished, gathered wood… it was simple, but I was really, really really happy. I was happy because I was home with you. Those nights and my memories of that dream kept me going, even during my hardest times.” He notices how she was slowly registering what he said, so he gives it one last push. “What I’m trying to say is--”

“I know, sorry it took me a second,” Mikasa lightly laughs. “Why did you come back?” she dares to ask. It was a little awkward, like they haven’t been friends for the past 28 years.

Eren could only smile before grabbing her hands in between them, slightly hesitating. He grips them a little more tightly as if to stabilize himself. “Because we’re Eren and Mikasa, and Mikasa and Eren. Because you’re my best friend. Because I love you. Because you are my home, and I’ll always find my way home back to you.”

[livingforthewhump]

Paladin Series Characters

Because I did this instead of writing so I might as well post it :) Here’s a more formal intro for the ones you’ve met as well as the ones you haven’t!

Paladin (27)

Each city has a Hero that acts as law enforcement and receives federal funding. Paladin is his city’s appointed Hero and is known for being charming and adored by all. His powers are telekinesis and général mind magic. He likes to be in control of a situation. The Heroes of various cities have an underground human trafficking operation where they can get whumpees, but Paladin had never found one he liked until Caroline walked through his door.

Caroline (18)

Rather than going to college, Caroline decided to try and see if she could apprentice under Paladin, since they have the same powers. Like everyone else, she was enthralled with Paladin. She’s kind of spunky and hipster and likes discovering things no one else knows about. She’s usually very sarcastic, and she has claustrophobia.

Hugo (20)

He is a college student in the city, and he changes his major so often that he probably couldn’t even tell you what it is. He has definitely had enough caffeine in the past hour to kill three grown men, and has probably not spoken to another human being in over a week. He struggles with depression and feels isolated ever since cutting ties with his family because he’s bisexual and had a boyfriend freshman year of college. Said boyfriend left him when he discovered his powers, which are basically that he can absorb his opponent’s attack and use it against them.

Vert (18)

Vert is part of The Agency, an undercover group that is dedicated to taking down the Heroes because of their corruption. He joined two years ago. He likes facts and reason, and is the Softest Boy. His parents named him Vert because he was born with green eyes, but as he grew up they turned hazel. Green is still his favorite color, though, so it’s okay.

Sai (21)

He is very protective of Vert, basically his big brother. He also opposes the Heroes, but rather than join The Agency he trained himself with knives and used his parkour skills to become a self-proclaimed Villain, as he is in complete opposition with the Heroes. He is very morally gray, which people who know him would never guess since he’s very charming and sociable. He takes great advantage of the fact that he can drink and never stops making gags of it around Vert and the others when they’re back on their bs. He’s also an art student.

Iris (19)

She is new both to The Agency and the the city, as she was sent there on assignment. She really likes girly self-care things and even though she’s an amazing cook she still eats mostly junk food. She’s super sweet and loves classic rock. Although she’s taking a couple years off of school, she wants to be a therapist one day.

Thaddeus (19)

They’re a college history student, a certified Nerd, and they’re Iris’ partner. They like finding obscure old tv shows and movies and WILL argue that Star Trek (TOS) is better than Star Wars. They garden and go to the farmer’s market a lot (they’re kind of a homebody) so they can spend time cooking with Iris and listening to her favorite music. Although they’re not a part of The Agency, they know what’s going on and are fully supportive of Iris as long as she’s not pushing herself too hard.

Siren (18)

She’s new to the city but knows a lot about The Agency. Mostly avoids people despite being passionate and sweet when you talk to her. She’s incredibly work-oriented but enjoys spending time in nature and being spontaneous when she has time. She’s an idealist and opposes everyone who uses their powers: heroes, villains, or vigilantes. Although she spends her time working towards a better world, she has a dark side that few see.

—

Picrews I used:

Caroline, Iris, and Siren

Paladin and Hugo

Vert, Sai, and Thaddeus

Tag list below the cut (because I want you all to see my children):

@castielamigos-whump-side-blog @twistedcaretaker @lonesome--hunter @poppys-writing @endless-whump @jkoo7jkoo5-baby-susan @mostlytryingtostayalive @shadowylemon @cherryblossomskye @utopian819 @whole-and-apart-and-between @written-to-death @ill-eat-you-if-you-cross-me @villain-enthusiast @hurting-fictional-people @kixngiggles @onestopheroxvillain @lave-e @bibliophilelifestyle

[3mmafr0st]

Hard to Hate Chapter 2

Fred Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 1678 Warnings: Swearing, angst, enemies to lovers, eventual smut? Taglist: @intpeach​ @aria-dne​ @allthebestmenarefictional​ Ask me if you want to get added to the list! Chapter 1, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15,

Read the Russian translation Here

The smell of cut grass permeated the air as I took a deep breath in. The moments before practice were always the best, the still static feeling in the air. Quidditch was my only escape from what plagued my mind. Suddenly I was jostled out of my state of calm by a rough hit to the shoulder by Marcus Flint. 

“Get your head in the game, Lestrange, we’re gonna need it for the match against Gryffindor.”

“Like I’m the one whose going to need it, Flint.” Everyone knew that I was the best chaser on the team, but Snape, as much as he loved me for being a Slytherin who was good at potions, he was a raging sexist. He probably had some trauma or something, but that was no excuse, and for that reason, Flint was captain. Sadly, I had to take orders from this absolute asshole. We ran drills for about an hour. I was just getting into my groove. Every drill was executed perfectly. We were going through drill number twenty-eight again, which was my favorite, as it meant Flint had to relinquish the quaffle for the first time in a while. Warrington passed it to me, and I quickly zoomed down the pitch towards the goal posts, faking twice and then throwing it right through the hoop as Flint caught the rebound. Everything was perfect and I gave Warrington a quick high five. I celebrated a little as we set ourselves up for the next drill, when all of a sudden, something struck my chest. 

The force of the bole made me lose my grip on my broom for a split second and I tilted over, plummeting out of the sky. Panic began to set in as I reached out for my broom, quickly grabbing it and flying back down to the ground, back to safety. Adrenaline was coursing through my veins, and I finally looked down at my chest to process what had happened. A splattering of red and gold paint littered the front of my uniform. I turned around to see Cassius hitting the ground, hard, and I ran over to him. He groaned, turning towards me, the same red and gold patterning splayed over his uniform. Marcus flew to the ground, being covered with paint as well. I knew immediately who it was. 

“You absolute dicks!” I screamed, looking around frantically. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as my top two suspects, along with a few others, ran towards the exit that headed to Gryffindor tower. I looked to Flint to make sure that he had Warrington, and then ran after them, abandoning my broom, wand in hand.

I was already so far behind them, but I knew exactly where they were going to be. I stormed my way up to Gryffindor tower, but came to a problem getting in, the painting that guards the entrance of their common room. It took me a minute to figure out exactly how to get her to let me in. Her singing could be heard all the way down the hall, and everyone in Hogwarts knew that flattery would get you everywhere with the Fat Lady. I walked up to the portrait and began the compliments, telling her all about how amazing her voice is, how good she sounded. 

“Well, clearly you aren’t Gryffindor but I like you, come in,” She told me. The minute I passed the portrait, the facade fell, and my fury settled. 

“Weasley, get your ass down here this instant!” I yelled, making one of the younger kids, Creevey I think, stick his fingers in his ears. I hear shuffling upstairs and it didn’t take long to see Percy Weasley, Head Boy of Gryffindor, dragging his two younger brothers down the stairs. It amazes me that the two of them are somehow related. 

“I know they did something obviously, but what happened?” 

“These two almost killed Warrington with their stupid prank!” 

“Oh come on, Lestrange, he wasn’t that high up,” Percy smacked Fred in the back of the head and looked back to me.

“I’ll be taking them back to McGonagall right away, thank you for letting me know.”

“That is not what’s going to happen here, locomota wibbly!” All three of the Weasley boys fell to the ground, as their legs failed underneath them.

“That’s it Lestrange, you’re in for it!” Percy exclaimed, his voice cracking from the sheer anger halfway through the sentence. 

“No, Weasley, I don’t think I am,” I mused, as I left the common room, shutting the door behind me. I said goodbye to the Fat Lady, before hurrying off to my own common room. 

Once I made it back, I shut the door behind me quickly, and leaned my back up against the door, just a little out of breath from sprinting down that many stairs. 

“What the hell happened to you?” Melody was sitting in the common room as always, waiting for me to come back from practice so we could study and get our homework finished. “You’re early, and a mess, so something must have happened.”

“The Weasley twins decided to grace us with their presence during practice, took Warrington right out of the sky,” Mel’s hand immediately goes to cover her mouth in shock.

“They really did that, that’s a lot coming from them.”

“Not really, it’s only a step further than what they normally do. It was only a matter of time before they pulled something as stupid as this.” The two of us laughed and talked for a little while, just like normal, with dumb contemplative questions and talking about muggle stuff. Ever since the third year, Mel has been teaching me all about the muggle world, everything out there is just so interesting and amazing. Strange, if you think about it, the daughter of the two most prolific Death Eaters known and a muggle born witch being best friends. The two of us jumped out of our seats as loud knocking and banging could be heard from the outside of the Slytherin common room. I looked around for a minute, my eyes wide. 

“Ms Lestrange, you are to come out here this instant!” The shrill, angry voice of Professor McGonagall was muffled by the stone walls. 

“What the hell did you do?” Mel’s voice was in that whisper yell that kinda made you panic a little more than you should. 

“I may have made a stop at Gryffindor tower before I came back here.” Mel smacked me in the back of the head and I couldn’t help but whisper yell a little “Ow!”

“You’re an idiot sometimes, you know that? Go and answer McGonagall, running and hiding is only going to prolong the inevitable, hell, it’ll probably make it worse.” I rolled my eyes at her, even though I knew she was right. I sighed and got up to open the door. 

“Good evening, Professor, what can I do for you?”

“My office, Ms Lestrange, immediately.”  And with that, she turned around and began to walk towards her office. I followed behind, internally panicking about the inevitable punishment that I would be getting because of what I did, not that I regretted a thing, it was totally worth it. 

The minute I stepped into the office, the fog of tension was so thick that if it was real, I wouldn’t be able to see three feet in front of me. Percy, Fred, and George all sat on the other side of McGonagall’s desk, each with their own brand of scowl. I walked over to them, but just far enough away from the brothers to feel comfortable. McGonagall walked behind the desk and sat in her chair, the same color of green velvet as her robes. 

“So does anyone want to explain to me why we’re here, or do I have to do that as well?” Her eyes were accusing, making me yearn to just walk out that door. Of course, Percy spoke up. 

“Earlier this evening, Ms Lestrange stormed into the Gryffindor common room yelling for quote “Weasley.” So by default, I thought of the twins, who are known for causing general trouble and mischief. When I came downstairs with the two, she informed me that the two knocked Cassius Warrington off his broom during a prank the twins pulled at their quidditch practice. When I told her that I would turn the two of them into you, Professor, she proceeded to hex all three of us and leave us in the common room.”

“Thank you. Mr Weasley, now, does anyone else wish to add to the information being presented?” I tried to hold my tongue, but.I couldn’t help it.

“Professor, I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but with how high up Cassius was, combined with the paint filled balloons being launched at us, the two of us both fell off of our brooms. I was quick enough to get back on and land safely, but if Cassius hadn’t landed like he did, he could have been seriously injured or worse.” Once I started the sentence, I just couldn’t stop. Fred looked as if he was going to try and say something but George gave him a look that said,’don’t you dare,’ and he stopped in his tracks. 

“Mr’s Fred and George Weasley will both be getting two weeks detention for this, and Ms Lestrange, one week, is that clear?” McGonagall said, clearly not wanting to deal with this any longer. I wanted to argue that two weeks detention was not an equal or fair punishment for near murder but I held my tongue, just wanting to leave. 

“After classes, you will all be reporting to the Transfiguration room, is that clear:” I nodded and so did the twins. The professor dismissed all of us, and I left as fast as I could, not wanting to be near them for longer than I had to. 

I guess I had five hours of the Weasley twins to look forward to tomorrow, absolutely bloody brilliant.